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from-izzy · 6 months ago

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proposing to you | nct dream

“Marry me,” he started, “Carry a part of me wherever you go too.”

pairing » nct dream (individual members) x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!, marriage au! (well it leads to it)

genre » it's all just fluff and vibes here hehe, dreamies who are all very much in love with you, mark's one makes me chuckle, renjun's one makes me wanna squish his cheeks (i miss him 😭), jeno's one makes me melt, haechan's one is chaotically (?) romantic (in my opinion), jaemin's one makes me want to have pets again so bad, chenle's one makes me want to splurge and treat myself, jisung's one is too adorable for me

word count; estimated reading time » 4303 (total); ~16 mins (total)

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » nicknames; members to reader (love, bubs), lots of kissing, ...not proofread---

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

my very first time doing something like this. this scenario has been in my head for some time and i finally had the time to sit and write it all 🥰 (and also because sem 1 results come out later today and this is my way of forgetting about it uhm 🤠)

this is my personal take on how each member from dream would propose to you!! i tried to make them all with similar word count but i can't help but to get carried away with some 🥹

Mark sits on the stool, one foot on the ground while the other is on the footrest, making sure that his guitar is tuned properly and that the new strings that he bought yesterday are set up properly. To ease his tension he strums random chords and raps random words on top, making the other Dreamies lovingly judge (and tease) him. Jeno would be tasked with calming him down, while Haechan does the exact opposite of what Jeno is doing, purposely annoying him to get his mind off his nervousness. Either way, it worked well to get the lovesick boy from the reason why they’re all gathered today.

“You both are too loud!” Renjun says when Chenle adds random notes to Mark’s singing, belting high notes that are out of his range whilst also purposely hitting them off-tune.

“She’s probably going to walk in and think we’re crazy,” Jisung whispers to the boy who scolded Haechan not long after, who decided to join in on the chaos.

“Well, the point is that she doesn’t see the chaos right now…” Jeno lets out a nervous grin, turning his head to the still-closed door, “Maybe one of us should stand outside and text someone in the room or something.”

“No,” Jaemin crosses his arms, “This is funny,” taking out his phone to start recording, making the other three facepalm at how he’s indirectly contributing to the chaos.

In the end, the noise and chaos were too loud for anyone in the room to realise the door opening. When he noticed you from the other side of the room, hand over your mouth, cheeks rising at the scene, his voice cracked and his cheeks blushed instantly. Mark’s voice cracked and his coughing caused the other boys to be immediately disciplined, rushing to their scheduled spots in their room as Mark mutters an “Oh crap…” thinking that everything has all been ruined.

You tried to keep your laughs at bay at your pouting boyfriend, but the image of him being silly only made it harder for you to wipe the smile off your face. But soon after, you realise the decoration around the room and the heart-shaped balloons and the unique balloons shaped like rings. Understanding how this is a different occasion to a date that you expected him to set up, you blurted a quick “No, I didn't see anything!” and rushed out the door, heart beating fast at the possible connotations behind the set-up.

It will forever become a memory that you two will always bring up whenever and wherever. A slight mention of it would instantly bring out a shy Mark who hides his red face in the crook of your neck, forever in love with you.

“Ah! That proposal was supposed to be perfect.”

Your mind replays the scene back again. After running out of the room, you waited around five more minutes, trying to calm the beating against your chest. When you did enter back, your eyes were only focused on Mark who started performing the little piece that he has prepared for you. Your body sways to the rhythm and the sweet melody of his voice and Mark who kept his eyes on yours for the majority of the performance only made the moment even more special. You remember the way you hopped on stage, only wanting to be held in his arms and unable to let go. Eventually, you did and Mark got down on one knee with the ring that he had prepared for this moment. Reminiscing the time always made you chuckle and Mark pouted and groaned, knowing that you were lost in that time once more.

A kiss lands on his lips, wiping the pout effectively from his lips, “It’s perfect because it was you, Markie.”

Renjun is pacing around the room, making sure the decorations are placed at their designated spots properly. He would circle the room countless times, making sure the flowers were fresh and presented in the way that he liked whilst his hands busied themselves with playing with the case of your ring; that he hopes will be on your fourth finger soon.

Mark massages his shoulder, relieving his body tension. Jaemin has his camera ready to take pictures whenever he can, making sure not to interfere with the small bubble that Renjun would create with you. Jisung, being more responsible than the older members most of the time stands still with a proud look on his face while Chenle gives him a thumbs up along with Jeno as well. Haechan is just as encouraging; Renjun’s threat to make sure he didn’t cause trouble playing in his head.

“I think everything is set up,” Jaemin says as he takes more photos of the venue to add for the memory book.

“You’re playing a very important role here,” Haechan comments, a hand resting on his hand, “Don’t mess it up.”

Jaemin replies with a slightly menacing smile, “Don’t mess with me, Lee Haechan.”

“To be honest, everything will go well as long as Renjun doesn’t go blank as soon as she walks in,” Chenle teases the older boy at how in love and speechless Renjun would be around you.

“True,” Mark gives him an encouraging thumbs up, “But you’ll be fine. She’ll be here any minute now actually.”

You received instructions through text from Jeno about meeting at a place, a dress code and a time “when you should open the door (don’t open it before!)”. The text is odd and when asking Renjun about it, the tips of his ears growing red from each passing second tell you that he does know what’s going on but it's cleer he wouldn't tell. You couldn’t ask any more questions after he pulled your face into his for a quick kiss, hushing you from any more questions.

When you walked in, outfit in line with the theme of the room and matching with his, Renjun’s heart melted once more, falling in love with you all over again. You slowly walk towards your boyfriend, eyes flickering around the area and taking in the decorations as well as giving the boys a smile and greeting back. When Renjun is infront of you, he playfully bows, momentarily stumbling and losing his balance. You cup his cheeks when he lifts his head, kissing his lips, not bothering about the camera capturing it all.

“W-Woah,” Renjun stumbles with his words, “That was nice.”

“This whole place is nice, Junnie,” your boyfriend is relieved by your words, “You look beyond nice, by the way.”

Few minutes later, Renjun takes his position on the floor and Jaemin captures it the memories with his camera: the way it dawned on you that he's proposing, to when you finally sealed Renjun’s love and to the way Renjun takes your lips after.

Jaemin smiles behind the camera, capturing all the moments to make a physical memory of it all.

Including getting extremely closer than he said he wouldn’t take a better picture of the band around your finger.

“So this is why you made me dress up?” Taking in the fragrance of the flowers that Jisung gave as a token of congratulations from the rest of the boys.

Renjun nods, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

Jeno and his little smile that would reach his eyes. That was one of the first reasons why you fell for Jeno but to him, it’s his default expression whenever he sees, thinks of hears anything related to you. At the start of your relationship, he’s shy about receiving and giving you affection but you didn’t mind initiating the skinship, hugging and pecking his cheeks that would gradually lean towards his lips. He loves the skinship from you even in front of the rest of the boys who would tease him about it.

“She loves you,” Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at the goodbye kiss you gave him.

“I love her more,” he replies, his eyes filled with heart shapes.

As the relationship developed and you got a little place with him, Jeno would slowly be the one who initiated the skinship, hugging your waist to sleep and keeping you close to him whenever he could. Even outside, he would be the one to link your hands together first and show his love through the bouquet of flowers from the start of any date.

“These bouquets just keep growing bigger and bigger each time in my opinion,” twirling the gift around in your hand while the other is in Jeno’s.

Your boyfriend kissed your head, “It didn’t really change from the first one, bubs.” Content with the little giggle you gave as he watched the elevator take you both to the floor where he booked the last dinner where you would be his girlfriend and the last anniversary as boyfriend and girlfriend; the start of a new title to the both of you.

His hand is stashed in his pocket where the ring is and he couldn’t help but gulp nervousnessly. The dinner went smoothly with the courses that Jeno pre-ordered and throughout the whole date, he loves the way you fill the atmosphere with the times that you didn’t spend together for the day, him updating you on his day too. He would never be tired of hearing your voice and the eye smile on him is a clear indication of that.

“I’m going to go to the restroom,” Jeno says as he kisses the back of your hand. He approaches one of the workers there, asking for the largest bouquet that he has ever given you in their back room where he dropped it off hours before the dinner.

You’re preoccupied with taking pictures of the view from the windows that span from the floor to the ceiling but your boyfriend’s reaction comes into view and your phone screen rests on the table once again, ready to greet him. What you didn’t expect is when Jeno kneeled to one knee, arms outstretching the flowers he had with the opened box nestling between its petals.

“Jeno?” You asked him, tears beginning to fill up your eyes.

“I thought it would be nice to ask here, at this place. We always spent our anniversaries here and even today,” happy with how the corner of your lips rises with the event, “Will you marry me?”

It took you less than a millisecond to respond with a nod and a loud “Yes”. When Jeno stood from his position, your arms were immediately wrapped around his, hiding your lower face behind his shoulder.

“I thought you were shy.”

“I am,” heat rising to his cheeks, “But I wanted to make this special for my very special girl.”

The Dreamies have never seen Haechan so nervous before. It bought them back to the times when he was crushing on you, blushing and being giddy all the time at the thought of you. They remember how Haechan was asking Jaemin for advice for the outfit on your first date that you prepared, and he rocked up with something really formal for a casual date, mixing up the place for the restaurant as a similar four-star restaurant. It would be something that not only you would tease him about, but when news spread to the Dreamies, they used it as the main thing to tease him about whenever he was being mischievous. It did die down quickly as after learning that the memory is very fond to you, the teasing wouldn’t work against him anymore.

The necklace that Haechan gifted you that day would be a reminder of the happiness that he has been giving you from the start of the journey and just like the sun pendant that reminds you of him, you love how just a glance of it knocks out all your worries that life may have weighed you down with.

It all seemed to be a recent memory, but that was quite a long time ago for everyone who knew what happened. Now, Haechan is waiting for you to come back home after a night out with your friends and earlier in the day, the boy who was pacing around the room about what to wear to his first date with now is now pacing around the jewellery store on the perfect ring on your hand.

He talked with the boys about his proposal plan to which the others have chipped in and helped him with. In the end, some of their advice is taken on board, but most of them made him grip his hair and made him say, “I’m just going to wing it.”

To which Mark replied with, “Sure, dude. If it doesn’t go ‘well’, it’s another thing to tease you about.”

In all seriousness though, he wants the proposal to be perfect; just like how you are to him. He plops down on the bed, raising the box to the ceiling as he looks at the diamond he worked hard for. At the sound of the front door creaking and your voice greeting him from the other side of the house, he pockets the jewellery in his sweatpants, jumping from the cotton to greet you.

Your arms were outstretched and Haechan brings you to his embrace immediately, “How was your day?”

“So good,” your voice muffled with the hug, “We bought friendship rings,” pushing him away slightly to show him, “We thought about this so much but we thought it’s so pretty that we couldn’t not get it.”

You realised that as much as Haechan smiled at the decoration around your finger, it didn’t go unnoticed that he was playing with the hem of your jacket. An eyebrow perks up from that and you give him a kiss on his cheek, asking him what was wrong.

He took a deep breath, took the box from his pockets, got down to one knee and opened the jewellery to you for the first time, “Marry me,” he started, “Carry a part of me wherever you go too.”

Growing up, you were never able to have pets. Your dad is allergic to cats, one of the pets that you’ve always wanted, and your mum isn’t sure of how well the family would take care of another life due to how busy life is. You totally agree with her because pets should be well taken care of as much as any other kind of life form.

When you and Jaemin were financially ready to get a place for yourselves, one of his first promises was to get a pet that you wanted. Through motivation and a lot of saving, making sure that you were both ready to take care of another life and doing all the research on how to take care of cats, you and Jaemin finally adopted a pet to take care of. Jaemin is also thankful for the added company in the house as your work schedule wouldn’t match with his and that would mean that one of you would be alone in the house. Having another pet would make the house more lively and less lonely. With gradual time and more financial stability, you were able to adopt two more that you both love equally.

“We should get another one,” you comment as Jaemin turns off the bedroom lights.

Your boyfriend hums at your thoughts, knowing exactly what you mean. He slips into the covers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to his warmth, “You really love taking care of others, don’t you?”

You close your eyes and hum a response, exhaling at the comfort of him next to you. “You know how I am.”

“I do, bubs. I do,” and he really does. With how your eyes light up whenever you take care of the people around you, always loving how you’re able to help out others whether it be him, your family, his family or the three cats that are sleeping soundly in the living room, it comes naturally that he’s thought of settling down with you permanently for the rest of his life; and having a little mini you or mini him later down the track. Similar talks have happened in the relationship and he thought that it would be perfect to make it happen soon.

No more words were said that night but Jaemin kissed a final kiss onto your soft lips and made a mental note to prepare for another life chapter with you. A few days later, he was able to speed through his work, being able to finish early to see the ring that he had been monitoring through the website. As soon as his eyes landed on it, he immediately thought of you and that’s how he made his final decision to buy it.

Thankfully, you had a later end to your work today and that gave Jaemin enough time to prepare a small, quick dinner as well as dressing the three cats into little outfits that would be fitting to wear in a wedding.

“Come on, Luna,” he says as he struggles to get her paw in, “I don’t have a lot of time and I want to make mummy proud!” With this, the cat seemed to comply instantly and Jaemin squished the cat’s cheeks in thankfulness.

With each cat, he securely attached a note on their ventral side: Love, Marry, Me, and plans to release each cat one by one from the bedroom when you come in. Jaemin just made it in time, quickly scooping up all the cats into his arms, and rushing to hide in the bedroom.

“I’m home!” You routinely shouted, “Nana?” Confused about why the house was so quiet, especially when knowing that Jaemin finished work a long time ago. “Maybe he went out and forgot to tell me?” But that’s quickly proved wrong when pipping hot homemade food were neatly set out on the table. “Luna! Lucy! Luke!” Calling out to your three cats, wondering how none of them rushed to the door like they usually would.

Suddenly, the door to your room opens and you gasp, scared that an intruder is in your house but out comes all your three cats in different, cute attires. “Oh!” Kneeling on the floor to get a better look at them, “Did dadda do this? Hm?” Picking up Luna with his little white dress, rubbing your nose on hers. “What’s this?” Reading the ‘Love’ message on her stomach. You set Lucy down, picking up Lucy in a similar outfit, “Marry…” Your eyes widened, looking at a groom-like dressed Luke who sat patiently, licking the back of his exposed paw. Sure enough, the final and last note makes your jaw drop.

Jaemin emerges from your bedroom, smiling at how you look up at him in shock. He kneels on the floor, “I was supposed to let them out one by one but they got excited," he shrugs with a smile. "As much as I would love another pet,” he hinges the velvet box open, “If you would like to, I would also love a mini you or mini-me.” A hand rises to your gaped mouth, eyes staring at the cushioned ring. “But first, will you marry me?”

It seems that Luna, Lucy and Luke were on board with the idea, jumping on your lap and resting their little paws on your arms. Sure enough, you nod and verbally express your actions. The “Yes” is all Jaemin took to carefully place the three nosy cats away from you, sliding the new ring on your hand and pulling you into a kiss.

During ring shopping, Chenle would look around the places he could find and spend a lot of time window shopping on all the rings that were available in your size. He invited Jisung along on the journey and the younger boy was more stressed than him with how he was handling the situation. From the very first store, he already has about five rings that he’s thinking would be perfect for you. Jisung gave his input on each one which Chenle is thankful for, but did minimal in narrowing down the options. He even asked the other members, but it was still the same result.

In the end, after visiting all the stores that he had listed, Chenle purchased about ten rings from each store. The employees are used to customers who are stuck between multiple choices as a symbol of love for their partner. But they weren’t prepared for Chenle to cross his arms, calmly exhale point to the rings and say, “I’ll just take them all.”

Jisung tried to save his wallet but after deep thinking and checking the return policy, he decided to buy all the ones that his heart couldn't let go of. He'll figure out what to do with the rest of the diamonds later. Because of his massive purchase, on the day of the proposal, he looked calm and collected but inside, his heart was beating like he just ran a marathon. It was running so fast to the point that you asked him if there was something troubling him when you laid on his chest to sleep last night. Chenle shook his head firmly but from the way his finger trembled a little when he was patting your head, you couldn’t help but to question him once more.

“It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

After some time, your raised eyebrows relaxed, “Okay. Tell me if it weighs too much and whenever you’re ready, okay?”

And he’s so excited to tell you what is on his mind soon. The thought of finally being able to spoil the love of his life for the rest of his life excited him so much that with the boxes looking similar across the stores, he didn't realise that he also grabbed the one that he hadn't decided on the previous night. When you nodded to his proposal, too stunned and speechless from happiness to speak, the different ring to his expectations when he opened the velvet box made him let out the famous Pikachu face.

“What?” You chuckled and tilted your head in confusion at his reaction, completely unaware of the boxes hidden under the bed.

“N-Nothing,” well, it looks like he'll explain later but with the happiness written on your face and the kisses you showered him with, maybe he'll just gift the rest of the spares to you.

“Don't be so nervous,” a hit lands on the side of Jisung’s arm from Chenle, “She'll love this.”

In the early stages of dating, you were always sharing your date plans with him, planning most of them. You made sure Jisung didn’t mind them because being in a relationship isn’t only about one person. Jisung loves the way you talk enthusiastically about all the places you want to go with him and all the activities that you want to do with him. Jisung would give you that adorable gummy smile, eyes shaped like crescent moons whenever he did so. Those small event plans became more detailed, expanding into different topics naturally such as proposals, weddings and honeymoon places and Jisung being in love with everything about you, would mentally take notes of what you love for each occasion.

“I promise,” Jisung stops your words for a second, “We will do them all together.”

There was a time he was caught writing it all down on his phone to which Chenle teased him endlessly, the other Dreamies joining along at their youngest being in love. It’s not that he will forget the things that make you happy, he just wants to be able to see it all so that he can plan the perfect proposal. They promised to help him with every step when he was ready.

Today is that day.

Jaemin tells him that the hinge of the engagement ring’s box would eventually break with how much he’s fiddling with it but it’s the only way he could distract his nervousness.

“Maybe you should recite your speech once more,” Jeno clears his throat, opening the paper in his hand.

“Jeno loves Jisung, guys. Look at him,” Haechan teased his same-aged friend. His bear-like friend would chase him around the room and Jisung would be shouting at the two to be aware of the decorations around the room.

You came in through the chaos, the door opening inwards where Haechan stops abruptly to avoid his face smashing against the wood and Jeno back hugged him as a result of that. You peeked behind the door, confused but smiling at the two. Before you could question what was going on, Renjun kicked Haechan out the door and welcomed you in.

“He’s not prepared for this,” pointing at your boyfriend who hides behind Jaemin. “Stay here while I talk to Haechan for ruining this moment.”

But the moment wasn’t ruined at all because just looking at how your Pinterest board came into life and the boys slowly giving Jisung the spotlight while you walked down towards him, everything is indeed beautiful and perfect.

“Oh wow,” you breathed out, “It's like my Pinterest came to life.”

Hearing that is the biggest compliment to Jisung who spent hours analysing your saved folders of wedding venue inspirations, trying to find a consistent theme. He gifted the teddy bear on his hand to you, pecking your lips and pulling away with a deep red blush across his cheeks. He readies himself to his rehearsed position after, “Will you marry…me?” Endeared by the way you hide your face behind the teddy bear. Yet, your answer is clear without your words.

Just like how he gives you a kiss on the lips with a “Yes” from you and the silver band around your finger that sealed your happily ever after.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿

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mcflymemes · 1 year ago

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AS SAID BY DORIAN PAVUS * assorted dialogue from dragon age inquisition, updated version

i don't care what they think about me. i care what they think about us.

i like you. more than i should. more than might be wise.

discretion isn't your thing, is it?

all this dancing, politics, and murder makes me a bit homesick.

i suppose it really depends. how bad do you want to be?

living a lie... it festers inside of you, like poison.

i'm a man of many talents. what can i say?

the moment i saw you, i thought "there's a man who knows quality."

if you don't come through this, i swear i'll kill you.

i'm curious where this goes, you and i. we've had fun. perfectly reasonable to leave it here.

here is my proposal: we dispense with the chitchat and move on to something more primal.

i tease you too much, i know.

i'll have to find something we can do that doesn't involve teasing.

time to drink myself into a stupor. it's been that sort of day.

i see you enjoy playing with fire.

i like playing hard to get.

i'm not suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity.

if it's a trap, we escape and kill everyone. you're good at that.

talk to me. let me hear how mystified you are by my anger.

oh, i'm not arguing. just pointing out the ridiculously obvious.

if you choose to leave your door unlocked like a savage, i may or may not come.

now... what was i talking about? ah, yes. me.

i am apparently an incredible ass at accepting gifts.

i prefer the company of men.

would you prefer me bound and leashed?

sometimes the ones you love are also the ones who disappoint you the most.

you are the man i love, [name]. nothing will truly keep us apart.

the things you ask are just... very personal.

sometimes... love isn't enough.

there will always be an "us." we'll just be... farther apart, for a time.

i had no idea something like you was possible.

i'm imagining what you would look like in a dress.

i've never seen you smile so much!

i have no idea what you're talking about.

you stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.

you're shaping the world for good or ill. how could i aspire to do any less?

my footsies are freezing, thank you.

don't you ever bathe?

you're not suggesting we're similar.

watch where you're pointing that thing!

i'm not wearing a skirt.

it's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal.

i only meant to say i'm very sorry for your loss.

we can continue this dance forever, if you wish.

i'm saying we should be careful what we assume when it comes to such matters.

demons don't appreciate a man with good hair.

what i wouldn't give for some proper wine.

your outfit's entertaining. i'll give you that.

he had to leave early on account of assassination.

it's nice to know you have friends.

i'm here to do what is right.

come on, just answer the question.

they were asking me about you. personal things.

you said we'd be ass-deep in trouble. this is more like knee-high.

so what's your estimation? think we can win?

you can't call me pampered. nobody's peeled a grape for me in weeks.

you startled me. you're always so... nondescript.

you're a special and unique snowflake. live the dream.

i wanted to see you make flowers bloom with your song. just once.

you've done a lot less dancing naked in the moonlight than expected.

i've never seen anyone in this part of the world do it.

i realize there's more to you than that.

have i offended you?

for hating the outdoors, you sure seem to like bad weather.

i can't figure you out, [name].

you don't play their stupid game, they send an assassin or three your way.

i can't believe you're scared of magic.

i'm going to take that as a compliment.

still don't like me, [name]? after all this time?

[name], i owe you an apology.

i suspect people will use any excuse to hate us.

why be ashamed? power should be respected, not swept under the carpet.

maybe you're not a complete moron.

i just need to know you're capable of higher thought. for my own comfort.

it would take work. and soap. lots and lots of soap.

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coffincestuous · 4 months ago

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kit9 progress report #9

happy september!!! progress report time!!

to start, we’re given these images:

ashley doesn’t look her best here :( she’s pissed off. there are bags under her eyes. she has a bruise on her face (or blood?). this is not a girl who is having a good time

then we have… this? we’re back to the woods!! i wonder who Square Head and Cone Head are?? i wonder what ashley SAID!!! and what’s with the colorful flowers at the bottom??

(not to mention, they could totally sacrifice these people, and pretty easily too!)

next, we finally have some development progress reporting from kit9!! apparently episode 3A is super long & they’re trying to find a place to end the episode and start another one (4), but they haven’t been able to. they’re adding another several months to their estimated release date, which was previously “sometime in 2024” and is now “sometime in 2025… maybe”

they say, once again, that episode 3 (A and B) will be bigger and longer than episodes 1 and 2 combined, so episode releases won’t be as quick as they had been previously

finally, we have an episode three preview clip!!! it’s titled “voicemails” and the thumbnail is julia on the phone

a summary of the video for those who don’t want to watch, or can’t:

julia and andrew are in julia’s room. she tells him to listen to the voicemails she’s been getting on a daily basis. he declines, saying he’s “had [his] fill,” but julia insists

julia thinks that they’re from ashley, but she doesn’t know for sure because the voice is distorted. the voicemails contain graphic descriptions of julia’s “oncoming, painful and slow death” and then talk about how andrew would rather have sex with ashley than with julia. julia is disappointed in andrew’s lack of reaction to the upsetting content of the voicemails, and implies that he was previously upset about julia receiving these messages, but now he doesn’t care

she brings up the fact that she thinks ashley is sending these messages to her, pointing out that only ashley would use the word “floozy,” and andrew (probably lying) denies thinking that ashley has sent these.

julia disagrees, asking if he really thinks that some girl from college is pretending to be his sister and claiming that they’re a little too close, just to get julia to break up with him? he counters with “it’s working, isn’t it?” julia again disagrees, saying that she really does think that ashley is sending these messages. andrew then mentions that people teased him and ashley in high school for “keeping it in the family.” julia says that his relationship with ashley can seem incestuous, to which andrew reacts by slamming the phone back on the receiver, and getting really pissed at julia

julia gets scared of him, which makes him backtrack very quickly and clairify that he’s upset that julia would “think so lowly” of him. he says that he thinks she’s a wonderful person, while she thinks that he’s a “piece of shit” who “probably fucks his sister.”

julia then starts crying, denies thinking that he and ashley are having sex, and apologizes for starting a fight. andrew hugs her and says it’s fine, it wasn’t a fight, but he’ll “forgive her” either way

finally, andrew decides that they should “stay in after all” and it ends with julia saying she forgets what she even wanted to talk to andrew about

it’s fun to see andrew’s more… “genuine” side, even if he’s kind of an asshole. i guess “authentic” is a better term there. i think there’s an interesting contrast between how he acts with julia versus how he acts with ashley, and i’m so glad that we get to see more of him and julia!!! his lack of reaction to the threats against julia is so, so telling. it makes me think back to the part of episode 2 where andrew can bring ashley into the cult party and the cultist calls ashley a bitch and he immediately gets in the cultist’s face to defend her. there are some similarities between how he acts when he has upset each girl, but he doesn’t excessively compliment ashley when they fight. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley crying when he’s rough with her. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley breaking up with him because they’re not dating and she’s his sister

(chosen family is just as valid as blood family, but with andrew and ashley, their codependency shines)

i love how manipulative andrew is. don’t get me wrong, i’d absolutely hate him irl, but i love him as a character. he’s an asshole. he’s charming. he knows what to say to get people (like julia) to feel guilty of accusing him of something he’s thought about on more than one occasion. he knows that if he acts mad towards julia, that she’ll start fawning and apologizing, and he uses that to his advantage. he is not normal (affectionate)

and i’m glad we get solid “proof” that andrew is just as bad as ashley. before, people have argued that there’s plausible deniability, but now?? omgggg. especially when he’s hugging her, saying to julia the things he wishes he could say to ashley instead… they make me crazy. absolutely insane. i am so fucking excited for episodes 3 and 4

#tcoaal #the coffin of andy and leyley #devlog #coffin.txt #tried something different this time #i hate tumblr’s mobile image limit

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madhatterbri · 6 months ago

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Deal | D.P. Part 3

Summary: Hello! Not sure how many parts you’re willing to write but I just started reading Deal & I need fem!reader’s backstory. Who was she before? Her relationship with Liv? How was Uncle Howdy able to recruit her? Did she always have a crush on Damian? Does she secretly want to break away from the Wyatt Sick6?

Author's Note: Thank you for reading my story. I hope you like it. ❤️

Damian Priest Masterlist

Deal Part 1 and Part 2

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy @fallout-girl219

Y/N sat in the Wyatt Sick6 locker room alone. The only light in the room flickered quietly. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her thoughts lost in the various catacombs of her mind. She used to be so.... different. What happened to her?

"Hey, Y/N!" Liv squealed and wrapped her arms around her neck in a hug. Y/N smiled. It wasn't every job that a girl could work with her best friend. Two women who were just trying to make their own path in the WWE. Currently, their eyes were set on the women's tag titles. They had a match that very night to achieve their dream.

The crowd cheered the moment they won the titles. All of their hard work finally paid off. They stood in the middle of the ring with their belts hoisted high. Y/N walked in front of the camera. She vowed to the women locker room that they would become the longest reigning women's tag team champions in WWE history.

Three months. That's how long it took for them to lose their titles. Y/N was holding them back. She knew it. The internet knew it. Unfortunately, Liv knew it. When they lost their rematch, Liv lost it.

With a chair in hand, Liv aired her grievances for the world to see. The chair came down on her back before the last one connected to her knee. Y/N was curled up. The bleach blonde grabbed her hair. "You cost us our titles by talking too much,"

Y/N held her knee as she lay in the middle of the ring. Her words swirled around in her head. She was quite the trash talker. Always looking for a fight, she never turned down anyone. Referees and medical ran to her aid once Liv left the ring.

The doctors estimated she would be out six to eight months. It felt like an eternity. Y/N followed all of the doctor's advice perfectly. She knew she had to be back to get her revenge. As the day for medical clearance grew closer, her self-doubt grew as well.

Y/N was back to compete, but now felt lost. The gimmick she once loved now felt like a burden. It was as if the ghost of her former self had a choke on her. No one wanted to be around her. All her friends stayed clear from her, except Damian Priest.

Before her drastic change, they were friendly to each other. A simple greeting here and there for politeness. When they were on the same brand, they started to talk more. As they did, she found herself falling for him. He was funny, kind, and smart.

Their dynamics changed when she returned. He was still friendly to her, but it was different. Damian seemed to want to keep a distance from her, but a friendship nonetheless. At least she wasn't completely alone. Until he stopped having as much time for her to focus all of his attention on Judgment Day.

One night during RAW, Y/N walked the hallways alone. She felt hopeless. Maybe she shouldn't have come back to the WWE. A door slowly creaked open to her right. The words Wyatt Sick6 written in red on the door was the only indication of who was inside.

"Come join us," a distorted voice spoke to her one night. "You will never feel alone again,"

The night Uncle Howdy told her everything she needed to hear. All she wanted was a place to belong and she found it. They may have been a little strange, but so was she. All he expected from his little family was loyalty. She happily pledged it.

It didn't take long to see the group would cause chaos on the RAW brand. Uncle Howdy kept his promise. She wouldn't be alone, but now she felt like a pawn. His pawn. Everything Y/N wanted to do had to go through him. She hated it.

He vetoed her going after Liv Morgan because it didn't benefit his needs. He would have to get a kickback for his family's services. Yet when Damian walked into the scene, everything changed. Uncle Howdy saw the opportunity at gold. Y/N would get her revenge. A win-win for the group.

Her thoughts were cut short when the locker room door opened and closed. She stared at the floor. Uncle Howdy moved to stand behind her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. They remained in silence.

"You got your revenge. Now it is my turn at happiness. Tell me everything I need to know to crush him,"

#fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe fanfiction #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest fanfic #damian priest x reader #damian priest x y/n

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lullaebies · 4 months ago

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Hi! It's been awhile since we last spoke but I hope you're doing well ❤ I noticed your post about writing prompts and I was wondering if you'd be interested in a little helaegon family fluff project? ^_^ I've been making art about the Green siblings flying with their dragons and currently working on Aeggy&Sunny but I'd also love to make a close up for both Helaena and Aegon. So I thought I'd ask if you'd like to write a little fluffy story about then taking the kids on a day trip. Maybe it's Maelor's 1st flight. Bonus cute points if Jae&Jae also have their baby dragons with them. I just need to imagine them being happy, even if it's just for one day. Maybe we could inspire each other? :) ❤

a/n: my bestie <3 yes it has been too long since we last spoke! but absolutely, you know i love family fluff. I decided to go for a Maelor first flight/first interactions with his family's dragons - this would probably count as an au because he would be a little bit older than canon (i'd imagine 5!). It ended up from his pov too, but all riders get a bit of interaction with their dragons, so I hope it works well <3

The wheelhouse rides up Visenya’s hill, bouncing to the gravel of the road.

Maelor sits in between his siblings, holding their hands. Jaehaera squeezes at his hand every time a harsh jut takes place, while Jaehaerys gives out a yip at each bounce, giggling softly shortly after. The horses outside neigh loudly, and Maelor kicks his feet to their gait.

“When there?” the boy asks their parents, who were sitting in front of him. Maelor’s mother, Helaena, sighs softly, a breezy chuckle to her voice, while his father’s face contorts to a wide, exaggerated smile, with his eyebrows nearly reaching the sky.

“I’d answer, but you hadn’t sufficed with my answer the ten times before, twerp,” Aegon says. “I don’t think you will this time either.”

Maelor blinks at his father. And at his mother, when she slaps father’s shoulder, asking him to not be all that snarky. Maelor doesn’t care all that much; all he could think of is the dragons he is going to meet. They could fly as as high as papa’s eyebrows!

His mother had made many embroideries with dragons for him to hold. He has one on his blanket, and one on the banner of his wall. He brushed his fingers against the needlework often. He had gotten a glimpse of only one dragon in his life, his uncle’s one. Big, burly Vhagar, who was big enough to see from his window; father calls her a flying mountain.

But then again, Jaehaerys says Shrykos is the size of a dog, and mother says Dreamfyre is the color of lavender flowers. Father says he named Sunfyre for the sun, and Jaehaera says “Morghul is Morghul,” without much explanation given.

And Maelor? He has his little egg, in that container that warms the underneath of his bed. What would it look like? He wonders. They say it could hatch soon. Mama had told him it is Shrykos’s egg, it would likely look like her. And papa says Shrykos is Sunfyre’s and Dreamfyre’s, and in that case, “he should get to know them all.”

He is jittery in his seat. He turns his gaze from his father and mother to his siblings looking between them for an answer. “When there?”

His parents snicker both, staring at them three.

“Eh…” Jaehaerys tries to estimate with some undecipherable count with his fingers, while Jaehaera’s gaze flicks to the window.

“Now,” his sister says, coming up from her seat even before the wheelhouse stopped fully. She squeezes his hand, tugging at it at the same time for him to rise. Jaehaerys jumps to stand before him, and Maelor rushes to do the same. His feet rattle the wheelhouse with little jumps in his place, waiting for the door to open.

“Maelor, you will trip, sweet,” His mother warns, lighthearted in tone.

“Ser Rickard,” his father raises his voice in a merry timbre and looks out of the window. “Release my dragons before they chew the damn door!”

Ser Rickard does. Maelor’s siblings hum chipperly and jump to the ground without waiting for assistance, holding his hands all the while. His mother squeaks to stand as his legs hit the ground.

“Haera, Rys, be careful!” Helaena says. “Maelor, all is well?” She worries for a moment, while Maelor looks at the big, big building he sees in front of him. A dome of sorts, with big, walls and doors of dark stone. The rumble underneath it, underneath his feet, feels almost alive.

It springs Maelor’s feet into life, skipping ahead. “Let’s go mama!!”

His siblings follow, as do his parents, as do his guards, all flying in.

—

Maelor makes rounds around the head dragonkeeper as they wait for the dragons to be let out. He doesn’t quite understand whatever the man is saying, except a few words here and there that he heard his family saying lots. He knows Jaehaera is counting his spins in High Valyrian, he knows numbers, from one to two and ten, to be exact, but the older dragonkeeper’s words are fancy, with rolling sounds that sound draconic.

He tries to copy the rolling ‘r’ to little avail, but that doesn’t stop him from trying right up to the point he hears a familiar name coming from the man’s mouth. Morghul. His sister perks up, coming forward. From the depths of the pit, a first dragon comes forward, charcoal black scales that seem to resent light upon them. Maelor steps back when he notices his dark horns, keeping by his mother’s skirt.

Up close, a dragon looks unreal to him. Uncle’s flying mountain is big dot in the sky, and mother’s embroideries remind him of her harmless bugs. He hasn’t expected Morghul to be so… scary?

Morghul is Morghul, and his gaze is as piercing as his sister’s when she’s angry. The rest of his family are very calm as his sister's fingers brush against the dragon’s sharp teeth. “The hellspawn grew bigger quickly, huh,” his father notes. Hell?

His mother hums. “He may be able to be saddled soon,” she says, running her fingers through Maelor’s light curls.

“Dont remind me,” Aegon says, fiddling with his fingers. “She’ll forget I exist then,” he looks down to Maelor, who was watching them both. He reaches to ruffle his hair. “Like you are starting to even without one, little twerp.”

Maelor scrunches his nose and shakes his head, moving to embrace his father’s leg. “Not true!”

His father hums, letting him hang off of his leg. He slowly relaxes as when he smooshes his cheek against his father’s side.

Until a woosh of green sweeps through the room, and Maelor holds onto his father tight. A loud shriek is heard as the form breaks out with it from the dark of the pit, lunging at his brother. A dragon slightly smaller than Morghul topples Jaehaerys, a long green wingspan twinkling under the light.

A dragonkeeper rushes after and wipes his forehead as he sighs - the head dragonkeeper grunts and then dismisses himself to help the novices to bring the bigger dragons. Maelor looks towards his brother, his heart bouncing more than his feet now. The dragon looks like it is made of his grandmother’s jewels, but those can scratch you, too.

“Dohaeeeras!” Jaehaerys yells chipperly, rolling around with the dragon that tried to nuzzle his face. His giggles echo around the room. Maelor breathes in, as he understands the dragon is Shrykos. She does not remind of a dog, but of a rampant pony.

“Sunfyre’s hatchling through and through,” his mother comments to his father.

His father snickers. “The derangement is from your dragon.”

“Is it?” his mother asks with a smile, as a big, big dragon the color of lavender flowers is brought in. His mother steps forward and away from him, saying some words he can’t understand. Mama’s dragon? Dreamie, with her silver-glistening scales and pale blue eyes.

The dragon looks at his mother once, listening with a cocked head, and looks towards his brother and his dragon. Dreamfyre’s steps are loud on the ground, and she cranes her big head and opens her mouth to grab Shrykos by tail, pulling the younger dragon back gently.

Shrykos answers her with shrieks, resistance and threats of the short breaths of fire. Dreamfyre lets Shrykos go when she starts beating its wings, returning the threat of flame with a whistle of her own flame, just barely touching the green dragon. Shrykos seems to shriek towards Morghul for help, the black dragon coming to help the green. Mother chuckles, seeing Dreamfyre swatting the two with her head, and his siblings come beside her, copying their dragons and playing against their mother.

Maelor hides behind his father. His bones feel wobbly now.

And then one more dragon enters the room. The last one, father’s, golden like the one on father’s shirts. Aegon ruffles Maelor’s hair again and then moves to greet and pet the dragon. “Hello,” his father tells Sunfyre with a big smile.

And in the chaos of dragons and riders in the room, Maelor feels very small, very jittery, and even very lonely. Thick tears cloud his lash line. He wipes at his eyes. He needs to be brave. His parents and siblings thought he would be ready to meet their dragons, that he would be prepared to get his dragon.

“There is someone you should kn…” his father starts. He turns back towards Maelor when the boy wipes at his eyes, trying to make them disappear before he notices. “Son?”

The golden dragon looks at Maelor with his equally golden eyes. Maelor stays frozen when the dragon steps forward to him. He lowers his neck, and his big nostrils take a whiff of him. Maelor’s own nose is full of snot, he doesn’t even know what the dragon smells; some tears fall.

And then, Sunfyre brings his snout, and pokes at it lightly against his forehead, ruffling at Maelor’s curly, silver fringe. The dragon voice is rolling some guttural ‘grrr,’ more familiar to Maelor as similar to the calming purr of the Keep’s cats.

Maelor sniffs away his tears when his father crouches beside him. Patting his back lightly. “Don’t fret, he is used to crying twerps. I daresay he even likes them,” Aegon chuckles, glancing at his dragon. “Will you pat him? I think that will please him plenty.”

Maelor licks his small lips, and offers a shaky hand. It reaches the dragon’s chin, touching the gold of his scales. It doesn’t feel too different from touching his own egg; coarse and warm. He soon gains the courage to reach over with his other hand too, and Sunfyre nearly chirps.

Maelor giggles, a big smile drawn on his face. That laughter echoes in the room now, and his mother and siblings notice it too. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played with their mother on the ground no better than their dragons in the air, but with one word from mother his siblings ran towards him.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed from under Sunfyre to reach him. Jaehaerys pats his head and showed him how he pats Sunfyre under his chin, and Jaehaera wipes his glassy eyes and kisses his eyebrows, saying “good” when his face is clean. Mother comes closer, and bends to kiss the top of his head, saying “well done.”

And his father — he looks around the room, seeing his siblings’ dragon batting their wings around Dreamfyre, as if in request — and turns to his mother. “We could take them for a ride, couldn’t we? There is time.”

His siblings perk up looking at their mother with bright pleas.

“I think so. We came all this way already, why not?” Helaena says with a grin, and looks at their children. “Would you like that?”

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys nod and squeal happily, babbling. Aegon looks at Maelor, almost stealing his snotty nose with his thumb and index.

“And you? Would you like to ride Sunfyre with me, twerp?”

And Maelor regains the giddiness in his legs, the glimmer of a gold dragon giving him back the glint in his eyes. He nods; with his family, with their dragons, he is ready to fly out.

#aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #prince jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #maelor targaryen #sunfyre #dreamfyre #team green #shrykos #morghul #my fics #reqs #hotd fic #hotd #hotd imagine #heretherebebookdragons #answered #this was so cute to me i love writing maelor #: ' )

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

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Rusty | Chapter 1 | S.R

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When you find a handsome cowboy in need of assistance at the side of the road you make the decision to help him, despite the personal risk.

A/N - just pretend for me that the episode Rusty took place before Believer and 300.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - some direct quotes taken from 15.07 Rusty, vague mentions of the events in 13.22 Believer and 14.01 300, depiction of injuries, Spencer’s intrusive thoughts, swearing.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

He’d watched the sun ebb across the sky, from where it began at its midday position directly overhead, scoring laboriously down, not impeded by a cloud in the expanse of blue.

He witnessed it leisurely recede across the stratosphere, edging lower and lower on its slow descent towards the horizon. With each passing hour the heat dwindled, the sweat that had gathered on his temples and forehead was drying and crusting against his skin.

The earth beneath him started to cool, unhurriedly, or perhaps he just got used to the temperature which seeped through the layers, beneath the denim of his shirt, further permeating his t-shirt until it scorched the skin of his back.

The black stetson, which was originally used to cover his eyes from the assault of the sun, was now resting on his chest.

It started growing darker around a half hour ago at his estimate and it wouldn’t be long before the darkness encompassed him, literally but maybe even figuratively too.

Maybe out here on this isolated stretch of desert miles outside of town, would be where former FBI

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid would meet his end.

His heavy and tired eyes fluttered. He’d tried to fight it for hours now, desperate to stay awake in case a car passed by on the baron road. In all the hours he laid there, not a single one had. And now it was getting dark, the likelihood of a car even seeing him from the road was slim.

He gave over to it, closing his eyes as his fingers drummed against the dusty ground beneath him. He was taken back to a conversation of years passed, he could practically hear the thrum of the jet's engine as she spoke.

“All this talk of alternate realities, where do you think you’d be in a parallel universe? You know, one of your imagined futures?” Jennifer tucked the blanket tighter around her body, the BAU jet’s AC up high.

Spencer closed his book while his eyebrows furrowed in curious contemplation at his friend's question.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head lightly.

“Come on,” she gave him an almost knowing look. “If you weren’t an FBI Agent, what would you do?”

Spencer inhaled through his nose, the cool air tickling his sinuses before puffing the breath back out.

He glanced over his shoulder, then over JJ’s to check no one else was within ear shot.

“Promise not to laugh…?” He asked and she nodded slowly with a twitch at her lip. “A cowboy.”

He could still see the look of amusement coupled with confusion at his admittance. The way she couldn’t quite contain her smile, but also the way her forehead crinkled.

“A cowboy?” She repeated, as though doing so might help her make sense of his words.

“Yeah. I’d, uh, you know, have some horses, a few cattle; be surrounded by nature.” A slightly dreamy look washed over him.

Even now laying in the dirt as the sun set that same smile appeared on his grossly chapped lips. Even as his mind succumbed to the idea that he was to die out here, he couldn’t hold back.

Since he was a little boy he’d been oddly fascinated by cowboys and the old west. He was just five years old the first time his mother had read him The Log of a Cowboy, a nineteen-oh-three novel by Andy Adams.

The story followed the journey of young Tommy Moore, who is helping drive three thousand circle-dot longhorns along the Great Western Cattle Trail from Brownsville, Texas to Montana. It was written, he discovered at a later age, as Adams' response to unrealistic cowboy novels that were being penned at the time.

Spencer had clung to the normalcy of it. He’d never had a regular life, and knew most likely that he never would given his unusually high IQ.

Something about that tale had stuck with him his whole life. He kept the idea at the back of his mind, wondering if one day, once he retired, he might seek to find a piece of that which was spoken of in Adams' story.

“And what would you do with cattle?” JJ’s lip was still twitching, curling up a little at the corner as she imagined her straight-laced, suit-wearing best friend as a cowboy.

“You know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em…I hadn’t really thought about that. But I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged.

“Wow, I was…I was not expecting that.” She sat back in her chair, nodding somewhat appeasingly. A part of her could picture it, no matter how far-fetched the concept seemed.

After everything Spencer had dealt with in his life, maybe being a cowboy was the change of pace he so sorely needed.

He’d gone on to tell her how he envisioned the team there, even in his parallel universe they were still special to him, just as close as they were now. He spoke of how JJ ran a flower shop on Hickory Street with the boys helping out after school. Will was also there, an old-timey sheriff who protected the townspeople from trouble.

Rossi ran the saloon, where most of said trouble occurred. Penelope had a sanctuary for wounded animals, Alvez was a rancher. Simmons was a blacksmith while Tara and Emily owned the only hotel in town.

They were all happy in this timeline. Apart from the odd bar fight at Rossi’s, his make believe town was safe from all the evils of the world. He and his friends could live out simple lives, not to be perturbed by serial killers and rapists and the like.

But it was all conjecture, an innocent fantasy created in Spencer’s head of what he imagined his life could have been like. But in reality he was an agent of the law, he’d taken an oath to protect and serve. His alternate universe was nothing more than that.

Until it wasn’t.

The final straw, the last nail in the coffin of his illustrious career, was Benjamin Merva. After nearly dying at the hands of the cult leader, he knew it was the end for him.

With Merva’s blade at his throat, he remembered thinking, I can’t do this anymore. Two weeks later he stood in Emily Prentiss’ office handing her his resignation.

It briefly crossed his mind to teach full time. He’d been working more and more at Marlborough over the last few years and they’d always told him if he ever decided to leave the BAU there was a permanent position for him there.

But the thought had been short lived, barely a blip on his radar. And somehow he circled back to that conversation with JJ a few months prior to his abduction by the cult.

None of his former teammates could wrap their heads around the idea of Doctor Spencer Reid moving to live on the outskirts of Bandera, a small town fifty three miles outside of San Antonio, Texas.

He spent nearly his entire life savings on a ranch with almost sixty acres of land. It consisted of a single story wooden lodge in which he would live, fitted with a wrap-around porch for which he pictured himself relaxing in a rocker whilst watching the sunset over the rolling hills in the distance. It included a large barn, outhouse and stables, as well as a second, smaller lodge which was also habitable.

He equipped his own lodge minimally, a couch, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and some bookshelves. He had the bare minimum kitchen appliances due to his inability to cook and his unwillingness to learn.

He brought a whole new closet full of clothes more appropriate for the setting. Crisp, pressed shirts were replaced by denims, flannels and plain tees, his converse and dress shoes were tossed in lieu of sturdy work and riding boots.

On behalf of a car, he brought a horse, a beautiful three year old, blue roan American Quarter Horse named Willow and to begin with purchased two cattle.

Now two years later he had four more cattle and two more horses. These two were stallions, both American Quarters, one black named Franklin and one brown called Wilbur.

Somewhere not too far away was the sound of hooves padding around in the dirt and the occasional huff of impatience from the large beast. Spencer’s eyes opened again and he cautiously rolled his head to the side in the dust. His eyes met the cloven hooves and thick blue-grey legs of his trusty steed.

“Willow,” he spoke, causing another huff of air to leave her mouth. “A dog, I should have gotten a dog. Lassie would be of much better use right now.”

Willow cantered around him, as though frustrated herself that they were still here after all these hours. She’d nudged him a few times in his ribs with her muzzle, silently asking her owner what was going on.

This was supposed to be a safer alternative to working at the BAU. After almost having his hyoid bone claimed by Merva he’d decided he’d put himself in harm's way for long enough.

But upon travelling back to town after taking Willow for a morning saunter into nearby Pipe Creek, he’d come across a wild horse at the side of the road.

The mare didn’t appear, on first glance, to be injured in any way but she was certainly a little skittish as he approached. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay before going on his way.

She was a flaxen and elegant beauty. Her chestnut-red coat billowed like a flame under the blazing sun and her golden-blonde mane like a wild halo as she galloped around in haste.

As he neared her on Willow’s back, his own steed seemed to agitate the other and she started to buck and neigh in fright. Not to be easily perturbed he tried to calm her with a series of “whoa girls,” and gentle pats of her back.

But then the wild horse let out a piercing sound, her back legs lifting effortlessly off of the ground and kicking Willow in the neck.

Willow herself had bucked at the impact, her front legs rising. Unprepared, he hadn’t been holding her reins and one foot hung at her side out of its stirrup, causing Spencer to slide back on her saddle.

He quickly tried to grab hold of something but coordination had never been his strong suit. It had taken him months worth of lessons to even be able to ride a horse and although he was an efficient rider now, it hadn’t improved his motor skills.

And so he slid, and he continued to slide as Willow raised herself on her haunches until she was almost vertical. His one foot was still in the stirrup, and as he fell his knee twisted with force, the same knee he’d been shot in so many years ago.

He swore he felt the tendons ripping beneath his skin and he screamed out in pain whilst trying to dislodge his foot. Once freed he flew to the ground, back slamming into the dirt with a thud and a groan.

He glanced up, pain searing through his body as Willow lowered herself back to the earth. The second horse was galloping wildly, still screeching out in fear. Willow approached it and Spencer groaned out, not wanting his own steed to be hurt by this out of control creature.

As expected, the wild horse bucked at Willow again but Willow trotted out of her way this time. Spencer slithered a hand out into the dirt, clicking his fingers at his mare to come to his aid. But instead of his own horse, it garnered the attention of the wild beast who suddenly ran at him with a fearsome gait.

He heard the bone in his arm crunching under the weight of the creature's heavy hoof as it galloped over his outstretched limb. He screamed loudly, the sound getting no further than the lonesome desert and petering out into nothing.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

If Spencer Reid screams out in pain in the desert and no one is around to hear him, is he going to die alone?

He still had his old cell phone, he only kept it at Penelope’s insistence at being able to get in touch with him, check he was doing okay living the life of a hermit. He only used it to speak with his old team and as such, didn’t often take it out with him.

Right now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, next to his empty coffee mug and the book he’d been reading over breakfast. And now due to the oversight, he would no doubt die out here.

Willow trotted a little closer, bowed her head near to the ground and nudged Spencer in the ribs again, as if this might make him miraculously stand up and take her home.

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. “Shoulda got a dog. Man’s best friend, that’s what Alvez always said.”

Willow simply nudged him again and he rolled his tired and sore eyes.

Gritting his teeth, he decided to try and sit again. He braced his forearms against the ground, trying to turn a blind eye to the pain that rippled through his left extremity at the small movement. There was almost certainly a bone broken, maybe more than one.

Attempting to ignore the way the pain spread up and down his arm, causing a fire to burn through his entire upper body, he pushed himself against the dirt in an attempt to sit up right. The throbbing in his arm combined with the swell of discomfort down his spine made another booming groan erupt from his lungs and he moved no more than a few inches off the ground before, panting with the exertion, he fell back against the dirt.

Even if he was to get into a sitting position, he had no doubts that he wouldn’t make it any further. Without looking he knew his knee was swollen, ballooned up so much it was now pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to walk even if he could stand.

“Well, Willow, I guess this is the end of the road.” He closed his eyes, folding his good arm across his chest and leaving the other in the dirt at his side. “It’s ironic really, all those years at the BAU, all those times I thought I might die. This is not how I expected to meet my death.”

He felt oddly resided to this fate, almost feeling some kind of twisted relief. There really was no point in panicking, there was nothing he could do.

May as well lean into it, let it happen.

Keeping his eyes closed he breathed out through his nose, accepting that this was the way his life came to an end. They’d probably never even find his body and if they did it would be too scavenged by vultures to make a positive ID. Probably for the best, he couldn't imagine Garcia or JJ or any of the others having to identify his decomposed and ravaged remains.

He felt himself drifting swiftly, the heat and lack of hydration making him implausibly sleepy. He didn’t fight it, he let the tiredness wash over him. But before he could succumb entirely, his ears pricked at a sound off in the distance.

His eyes shot open once more and he tried to turn his head towards the road beyond the desert. If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard the sound of tires on the gritty asphalt.

***

It was getting dark and you felt your eyes growing increasingly heavier. You’d been driving for hours, days in fact, stopping only for gas and to stock up on snacks and energy drinks.

Thinking of which, you loosened one hand from the steering wheel and reached blindly for the can sitting in the cup holder. Your hand wrapped around the lukewarm metal cylinder and brought it to your lips without taking your eyes off of the road.

The liquid was warmer than the can itself and you grimaced as it trickled down your throat. Grumbling under your breath you replaced the can in the cup holder and wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

You were heading for the border via desert roads and inconspicuous towns. You needed to lay low until you reached Mexico where you could keep your head down, keep your nose close to the ground.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t meant to end this way. Your plan had gone wrong somewhere along the line and now you had to keep driving, until you reached your destination.

You were tired to your bones, the dull ache from driving countless miles seeping deep into every muscle. But you couldn’t stop. You had the push through and keep going no matter how exhausted you were.

You found yourself on a long stretch of desert road after passing through a small town, its signage declaring it Pipe Creek, Texas. The AC rattled through the car, almost blocking out the hum from the radio.

You couldn’t afford to use a GPS system, if you knew where you were others could know where you were too. You’d brought an old paper map early into your journey and if your bearings were correct you should be passing through the town of Bandera within a few miles.

You stifled a yawn and despite your better judgement, took another sip of the warm energy drink. It wasn’t warding off the tiredness, only making your heart thump heavily and a little erratically in your chest.

You stifled yet another yawn, eyes closing for a fraction of a second longer than was safe but the road thus far had been desolate.

However, upon opening your eyes there was suddenly a large and imposing creature standing several feet in front of your speeding car.

Your eyes grew wide and you slammed on the brake, the speed in which you’d been travelling forcing the vehicle to spin a little on its axis, gravel crunching under tires.

You tugged on the wheel as the car turned to the right, trying to straighten up as you came to a sudden and screeching halt. You breathed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the huge beast through your windscreen in the glow of your headlights.

The horse blinked several times at you, as though trying to convey a message but it remained on the road.

You exhaled loudly, keeping the engine running so as to keep the lights on, you threw open the door and stepped onto the asphalt.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” You glared at the horse, not daring to come too close in case it was vicious.

The horse blinked a few more times before bowing its head towards the side of the road. You frowned at it, watching it slowly canter in the direction it nodded.

“Okay, good.” You nodded with a frown as it walked off. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you, you crazy horse.”

As you turned back to your open door, over the sound of gravel crunching beneath the horses hooves, your ears picked up on another sound.

Turning back to where the horse had meandered, you squinted into the darkness, focusing your hearing.

“H-help? Please?” A crackly voice met your ears.

A shiver passed up your spine, suddenly on high alert.

“Is someone there?” You called back, not daring to move away from your vehicle.

“P-please? I’m really hurt.” The voice came again.

The horse had stopped walking now, you could just make out its figure in the dark. To its left was another figure laying in the dirt.

“Uh, you okay?” You called again, still not daring to come closer.

You didn’t trust this situation, you were a naturally suspicious person and this didn’t sit right with you. The horse had been used to get you to stop and you had no doubts if you were to go over to this person who claimed they needed help you’d find yourself in grave danger.

“No I’m not okay!” The voice grew exasperated. “I fell off my horse. I’m fairly certain I’ve broken my arm and twisted my knee. I can’t move.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, huddling against the side of the car.

“No offence mister, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying to you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No! I swear! I’m a…” he trailed off and sucked in a breath. I’m a what? What did he plan on saying? I’m an FBI Agent? It had been years since he’d left the BAU but the habit to announce himself as such still lived inside of him. “I’m in a great deal of pain.”

You clutched yourself tighter, rolling your lip between your teeth in silent contemplation. He did sound in pain, but he could have just been a good actor.

“Look, I’m really not itching to get murdered tonight and I’m kinda in a hurry.” You scuffed the toe of your sneaker in the dirt.

“You can’t leave me here!” The voice begged. “You’re the first car to pass in hours! I need to go to the hospital.”

“I…I really have to go.” You shuffled towards the open car door.

“So you’re just going to leave me here to die?” The voice turned sour. “Because that’s what will happen. If I don’t die of dehydration or starvation, I will undoubtedly be eaten alive by all manner of animals that live out here. Hell, my horse will probably turn against me if she’s not fed soon. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

You grumbled under your breath, looking between the car and the shadowy figure on the ground. With a huff you spun towards the vehicle and climbed onto your knees on the driver's seat. Reaching across the central console you popped open the glove compartment and withdrew the item sheathed inside.

He heard you land back in the gravel before the sound of tentative footsteps getting closer. The dirt crunched under your feet, your eyes flitting between the silhouette and the horse who was ambling around. The item you’d gotten from the car was being held in both hands, pointing at the figure on the floor.

As you drew closer you started to make out some features. He appeared to be tall, even laying down, slim build with a mop of dirty curls brushing against the ground. He wore jeans, a denim shirt over a white tee and a black stetson laid on his chest.

He blinked a couple of times as you came into view, trying to lift his head to get a better look at you. But what he saw made the colour drain from his face and his eyes bulged from his head.

“What the hell?” He tried to shuffle backwards but he couldn’t move due to the pain coursing through him. “What are you doing?”

The barrel of a revolver was staring at him between your hands, pointing directly at his head. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he scrambled to move but his limbs were uncooperative.

He stared down the barrel of countless guns in his time with the BAU, not to mention the fact that out in these parts many people carried shotguns. He wasn’t usually so perturbed by seeing weapons, even when they were pointing at him, but this was an exception.

“You really hurt?” You stepped a little closer until you were standing right by his booted feet.

“Yes!” He tried to insist. “P-please put the gun away.”

You didn’t at first, keeping it levelled at him while you gave him a once over. One of his knees was clearly swollen under the fabric of his jeans and his left arm was bent and disarticulated. He genuinely didn’t seem as though he could move.

With a sigh you lowered the gun, tucking it in the waistband of your own jeans. Cautiously you came closer to him until you were next to his chest where you knelt in the dirt next to him.

His eyes were piercing, a deep intense brown with flecks of gold that glistened in the moonlight. He had high cheekbones and a chiselled jawline which was peppered with a few days worth of stubble. His parted lips were plump and chapped.

Did he have to be so attractive?

“Can you help me up?” He asked, pouting slightly.

“I can try.” You shrugged.

Shuffling closer you placed a hand on his shoulder, using your other hand to take hold of his. He flinched a little at your touch but you assumed it was due to the pain.

You used your grip on his shoulder to manoeuvre him, peel him away from the ground and pulled the rest of his weight using his hand. He groaned deeply as he started to be lifted, the agony evident on his tongue.

He tried to assist you even though the movement felt like it was sending daggers down his spinal column. He used you to anchor himself, steadily pulling him into a seated position. Once he was up, you let go of him and sat back on your haunches.

“Now what?” You asked with a curious look.

His face was contorted from the pain, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes downturned.

“I…I have no idea.” He groaned. “There is no way I can stand.”

“Should I call paramedics?” You picked up his stetson which had fallen into his lap and ran your fingers along the brim.

“I think that might be wise.” He agreed, pinching his eyes closed as the pain flooded through his limbs.

Keeping hold of his hat in one hand you drew your cell phone from your pocket and dialled 9-1-1. It was only when the phone was already to your ear that it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was.

You’d been so careful up until now, was this handsome cowboy going to be your downfall?

You noticed the way your voice pitched and cracked as you informed the operator of what had happened and tried to explain where exactly you were with a little help from the stranger.

Somewhere between Pipe Creek and Bandera. You’ll see a car. And a damn horse.

Within a few minutes you were off the phone.

He was leaning back against his good arm, hand braced against the dirt behind him. His eyes were still closed and you saw his face twitching with each surge of pain.

“So, uh, you new at this?” You waved the stetson in the direction of the horse who was still ambling around.

He opened his eyes and looked between you and his trusty steed.

“No, I just…there was this wild horse and I was trying to check to see if she was okay. She got spooked by Willow and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He closed his eyes again.

“Willow? Cute.” You smiled slightly at the great beast. “A little intimidating.”

“She may look that way but she’s incredibly docile. Maybe a little unpredictable in new scenarios but on the whole she’s pretty placid.” His eyes squeezed tighter as another wave of pain thrummed along his spine.

“Uh,” you continued looking between him and the horse as a thought occurred to you. “Where does she go when you get taken away to the hospital?”

His eyes opened again, landing on you in a look that told you it also hadn’t occurred to him either.

“You, uh, know how to ride?” He tried his luck.

“No I don’t not.” You scoffed. “I’m a city girl. I know nothing about horses.”

“She’s incredibly intelligent. She knows the way home, she just needs the impetus to get there.” Once again his eyes fluttered closed.

“Meaning?”

“She’ll walk beside your car, show you the way. But you’d need to feed her in order to keep her going. I can get her to do it without the treats but you’re a stranger to her.” His fingers dug into the dirt, the ache that spread up and down the length of his back was brutal.

And then there was the pain shooting through his left arm and the throb in his old knee injury. This was not the day he had planned.

“So you’re proposing I take your horse home?” You scoffed at the ludicrousy of it.

“She won’t make it back on her own.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but stopped short when it caused a new eruption of pain.

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” You shook your head, still fingering the stetson.

“I’ll admit it's a little unorthodox, but I can’t leave her out here.” He forced his eyes open, pleading with you.

“I told you, I’m really in a hurry to get somewhere.” You shook your head. “I called the paramedics, I did the good Samaritan thing. But as soon as they get here, I’ve really gotta go.”

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Seems like that’s none of your business.”

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” He shook his head lightly but even that caused him to wince. “It’s late is all, I was just wondering where you had to be in such a rush.”

“Never you mind.” You grumbled. “But the sooner I get there I can finally rest. I’ve been driving for days.”

“Do this for me and you can spend the night at my ranch.” He whined slightly as he spoke.

“Excuse me?” You shuffled in the dirt.

“Oh gosh,” he huffed. “Not like that. I’m not…I’m not hitting on you. I am undoubtedly going to have to spend the night in hospital, I have a spare lodge on my ranch which doesn’t get used. If you get Willow home for me, you can spend the night, you must be tired.”

You shuffled again, still for some reason playing with his stetson in your hands in an absent mind. He was looking at you with a pleading expression, begging you to do this for him. But it all seemed too weird.

“You’re willing to let a stranger stay in your home without you even being there?” You clicked your tongue.

“If it means Willow gets home safe, yes.” He sighed.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” You reached forward and placed the stetson atop his head gently.

“I really don’t have a lot worth stealing. I mean I have more horses and cattle…nothing really worth anything unless you're a rancher which clearly you aren’t. I’m willing to risk it.” He once again tried to shrug but groaned at the effort.

“This is insane.” You shook your head, unbelieving you were even considering this.

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal circumstances but I need to go to the hospital, and I also need to get Willow home. And if you continue to drive all night you’re going to end up in an accident. In a weird way it’s kinda a win-win situation.”

“Until I rob you.”

“You’re not gonna rob me.” For the first time a smile spread to his lips, the pain momentarily slipping away from his features.

It was a damn nice smile, one which you were sure it was impossible to say no to. But nonetheless you tried.

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” You swallowed.

“I'm good at reading people.” His smile grew a little. “You have a trustworthy face.”

“Oh do I?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

“Mm hmm.” He nodded, seemingly forgetting all the pain he’d previously been in. “A very trustworthy, very pretty face.”

You swallowed again, shuffling backwards in the dirt slightly in discomfort. Spencer averted his eyes at his omission. The pain must have been going to his head, maybe it was due to the dehydration. It was unlike him to be so bold.

“Oh jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine, fine I’ll take your stupid horse-”

“Willow, her name is Willow.”

“I’ll take Willow home for you and I may or may not stay at your ranch and then I may or may not rob you.”

“And then you may or may not pick me up from the hospital in the morning? Assuming I’m allowed to leave so soon.” His smile was growing, but the pinch of pain was back in his eyes.

“Are you for real?” You hissed. “No, no I am not doing that.”

“I don’t have a car, and the nearest hospital is just outside of San Antonio, like forty five miles southeast of here. How do you expect me to get home?” His smile faded.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” You suddenly pushed yourself to your feet. “I don’t have time to hang around this little Podunk place. I have to be somewhere.”

He was silent for a moment or two, looking up at you under the wide brim of his stetson. His eyes shone in the moonlight and caused your stomach to coil into knots.

“Fine.” He spat. “Just go, sorry I bothered you. So much for that southern charm.”

“Never said I was from the south.” You rolled your eyes.

You fell silent and in the distance you both noted the distinctive sound of sirens. Seconds later you saw the red and blues lighting up the dark stretch of road, heading in your direction.

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

“You're off the hook, you did your good deed now you’re free to go.” The man scoffed, a sarcastic twang evident in his voice.

“Goddamnit,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Fine, I will take your damn horse home.”

“Willow.” He corrected you and when you looked back down at him he had a mildly smug smile on his lips.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You huffed.

Soon the ambulance was screeching to a stop next to your car and two paramedics jumped out the front of the vehicle.

You stood aside while the cowboy, who told them his name was Spencer Reid, explained what had happened with the wild horse and how he’d ended up on the floor unable to move for hours.

One of the paramedics got a stretcher out the back of the vehicle while the other delicately helped Spencer to lay back down in the dirt. The stretcher was brought over and lowered down as far as it would go.

“This might hurt a little, sir.” The woman, who was near his head, spoke.

“Mm hmm.” Spencer grit his teeth, readying himself for the pain.

The female EMT tucked her gloved hands gently under Spencer’s shoulders while the man wrapped his around Spencer’s ankles.

You hovered near the horse - Willow - arms tucked around your waist. You curled in on yourself at the howl of pain that erupted from Spencer when he was lifted onto the stretcher. The EMT’s were quick to strap him in and lead him across the bumpy ground towards the ambulance.

“Sorry, can you give me a minute?” His voice pierced over the sound of the wheels on gravel before they stilled.

He looked towards you and beckoned you closer with an almost imperceptible motion of his head.

“My keys are in my right front pocket.” He cast his eyes downwards.

You drew your lips into a tight line and huffed a little. It felt like crossing over a line diving into the pocket of a stranger but you’d moved so far past this being weird it almost seemed normal. You fished in his pocket and pulled out a loop of keys.

“The biggest one, that’s the key to my lodge. Inside the lodge on the hook is another key for my other cabin where you can stay the night. The linen is fresh and there’s clean towels on the back of the door in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in my fridge.” He told you.

“And how do I find it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, keys dangling from your index finger.

“Willow will show you the way, she’s well trained. Oh, her treats!” He used his good hand to pat the pocket on his shirt.

You huffed once more, manoeuvring around the EMT’s to his other side and freeing a ziploc bag full of apple and carrot slices.

“The stable is a little way left of my lodge, you can’t miss it. There are two other horses there, her paddock is the one on the far right. Can you take her number down?” He glanced at the paramedic nearest him. “Have someone call her when I’m discharged?”

The paramedics clearly sensed there was a strange story here but neither wanted to ask. Instead the man reached for a clipboard tucked inside the van and handed it to you.

It was a patient intake form and he pointed with one finger towards the emergency contact section whilst handing you a pen.

With a sigh you took it, scrawled down your number and - without hesitation - a fake name before handing it back to him.

“Thank you for this. I owe you one.” He offered you a meek smile.

“Oh you owe me more than one.” You grumbled as they set about lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

You watched them load him, the man staying in the back of the cab while the woman closed the doors and went to the front. Soon the engine was starting back up and the ambulance turned back towards the way it had come and drove off, sending particles of dust flying in its wake.

Holding a stranger's keys in one hand and a bag of fruit and veg on the other, you turned back to the horse - Willow you kept reminding yourself - who was seemingly watching the ambulance retreat with her owner.

Cautiously you stepped closer to the giant mare, hesitant steps, holding up the bag of goodies.

“Say, Willow?” You rustled the bag and she turned to look at you. “What do you say you show me where you live?”

Willow seemed to perk up and trotted closer to you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say the beast was smiling at you.

You opened the ziploc bag and pulled out a slightly slimy slice of apple and dangled it in front of her eye line.

You started walking backwards towards your car whilst keeping your eyes on Willow who was following appeasingly, eyes trained on the piece of fruit.

When you reached your car you held the slice in the palm of your hand and proffered it towards her. She gratefully took it, large gums spreading across your open hand while she shuffled the slice into her mouth.

You grimaced at the feeling, her saliva coating your hand in a muddy, sticky mess. You wiped your hand on the thigh of your jeans.

“Gross. So gross.” You sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Why the hell am I doing this again?”

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid au #cowboy spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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spindle-girl · 1 month ago

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Daybreak 1.1

Let's get started

It was a second chance for humanity as a whole, and they’d gone and screwed it up from the start by coloring the city gold, of all colors. ... All put together, the light that bounced off of the city and reached skyward gave the clouds linings that were gold, not silver.

i wonder how much of this hate for gold is because of Scion's attacks or Khepri's portals. probably both. i do like the gold lining, seems like a fun visual.

Plaques were recessed into three of the four faces – the fourth had come free and fallen after the collision. Each plaque bore an etching of a face, a name, a date of birth, a date of death, a message. ... They were part of an initiative by an independent cape, a hero turned rogue, helping out.

with all the anti-cape stuff that's popped up so far and knowing it continues later on, i'm surprised projects like this aren't talked about more. a genuine moment where a cape is doing something nice with their powers. maybe this guy is an outlier or the other stuff the capes get up to weights more than it--which is fair since even the apartment stuff in Ashley's prologue is enough to get pissed off at--but with how much hate the Advance Guard gets in this section it seems forgotten that the whole reason the crowd is getting angry is over something a cape provided being destroyed by an accident anyone can do.

The crowd, too, seemed to realize that the situation had mostly de-escalated.

sigh

The summer heat was holding out through the start of September, making things just a little more uncomfortable, tempers a little shorter.

Ah! an estimated date. i want to try and keep track of all these to work out a proper Ward timeline since the one on the wiki is lacking.

We’d called him the second cape after Scion, but he might well have been the first, after all.

hello Vikare, congrats on getting mentioned in the first chapter instead of the first interlude. moving up in the world. if there's ever a parahumans 3 you might get a pov chapter. really tempted fate naming yourself after Icarus.

“Work,” I said. “They wouldn’t fire me, especially if I explained. I’d get in trouble, maybe, but I wouldn’t mind much. Job is… a seven out of ten fit.”

i'm down right jealous rn. 7/10 seems great for a job

As in most things having to do with law or bureaucracy, it took longer than it should have, for a relatively simple process. I hurried to the high school once they were done with me, and I arrived rather late.

Victoria is going from one bureaucracy to another lol

We had grass and fields, yes, but it was coarse and the ground beneath wasn’t usually landscaped. The area was large with large trees left untouched in the corners, chain link fence separating the field from the roads on two sides, the grade school formed the third boundary to the west, and the high school formed the fourth boundary to the north. The ground was uneven, more hilly than flat, and there were still large stones here and there, and a seemingly out of place play structure for the grade schoolers.

nothing much to note here, just that the paragraph made me remember some good memories.

Point_Me_@_The_Sky: If you stop by? I set up tarps by house. Make sure they still there & no water getting through? Lost cause maybe ~P.5 ... My destination wasn’t in the high school, but was across the street. It was an open building with a partial second floor. ... My office was the closest thing I had to a home, in this world. ... I’d rigged up tarps to keep the water off that corner of the house, but some of that moisture had been coming up from below.

okay. this is just sad. literally calls her office her house

I opened a notebook and began searching through it. I found the name before the internet succeeded in connecting.

this is about Victoria finding the cape who was building the pillars. i have no idea why there was a whole arc of the Undersiders sneaking into the PRT to steal their database. it seems like New Wave had access to it all if she can find random capes in her collection. should have just walked in and grabbed it while they were out heroing.

From: Deferent.I@Mail Subject: Re: Damaged Pillar I already heard. Advance Guard were on the scene and let me know. Will have it fixed tomorrow. Thanks.

this just makes it seem like Deferent has access to much faster internet than Victoria does if they can check their emails and respond relatively quickly while going out and building as many pillars as described earlier. dunno, it's out of place with the descriptions from Victoria booting up her computer and the glowworm chapters. maybe he got better tech to be able to respond to stuff quicker?

She spent a lot of time palling around with a biotinker called Blasto. She kept going back to him to pair up. Might have been boyfriend-girlfriend, even. That ended when the Slaughterhouse Nine passed through Boston. We don’t know what happened to Blasto, but we can guess it wasn’t good.

rip Blasto. Defiant didn't care enough to note what happened to you

“She did her time,” I said. “She made a mistake, she paid for it as much as she was able. We don’t have enough good jails and so she’s free, and it looks like she’s trying to do good. That’s pretty decent, really. She’s not the enemy here.”

this will be interesting for later. i am surprised in general that Fume Hood is getting brought in this early. i vaguely know what happens to her so I guess it makes sense she gets some focus early on

End thoughts:

i'm like the story so far. while Victoria is obviously weary of there being a coming conflict between capes and non-capes, i think there are a few lines hinting at her feelings of separation from them. namely how she doesn't like the pillars, which seem to be for the civilians. tbf, it could be her not wanting reminders of Gold Morning or a reminder of the Leviathan fight where after there was a similar memorial that a quarter of her family was on. i could understand that.

nothing wrong with the story, but i really don't like the patrol group or Gilpatrick. reminds me of the rotc guys at college

#parahumans #ward lb #arc 1 daybreak

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saturdaysky · 5 months ago

Text

First Lines

I was tagged by @mithrilwren to post the first lines of my last ten fics! What a fun trip down memory lane this was.

1) fray (Ludinus/Essek; feelbad manipulation + an intentional gap between wants and needs)

"Such a fanciful tradition," he chides, watching the light play on Thelyss' bright braids. The candlelight of his bedchambers paints them fetchingly gold. Thelyss sits with a prim tiredness on the bed, holding still while Ludinus slips the buttons of his high collar back into place. They have begun to take all of their meetings here, in recent months.

2) discretion, written with @mllekurtz (Caleb/Essek; power dynamics and clothing)

“You wore this to the court today.” The words do not feel quite real coming out of his mouth.

3) growing sunlight (Caleb/Essek; a post-canon homecoming)

Caleb shuts the door against the afternoon sun, sealing them into comfortable privacy. The curtains on his windows are likewise shut, but light seeps through them anyway, casting the room in a warm, muted glow. Dimmed daylight will gather here for hours; like a little bubble of sunset just for us, supplies his mind. He is too glad to resist whimsy. Essek's visits always make him so.

4) if only for a moment (Caleb/Essek; time travel, grief, love, a leave-taking)

It was supposed to be five minutes into the future, but Caleb is pretty sure he fucked that one up. The lurch in his stomach tells him so, as does the treacle-like quality of his perception, and the way the spell writhes in his mind.

5) the end; to hold the sun (Caleb/Essek; a Calamity AU set minutes before the city falls from the sky)

It is done. It is done.

6) brothers (Beau & Essek talk about their estranged brothers; canon-with-a-twist AU)

Essek's shoulders are tense in a way that's gonna ache later, his frame drawn tight against the endless blue sky above the bay. He leans on the salt-crusted railing and stares out at the armada gathered for the peace talks. "I am still a Thelyss," he whispers in Undercommon. "They cannot take that from us." To Beau's ears, it sounds like a prayer.

7) sanctuary, a claiming (Caleb/Essek; werewolf/witch dark fairytale AU)

The night is red. Above the Wildwood, Catha’s gentle silver eye has waned into sleep at the end of its long cycle, leaving only the ruddy gaze of its sister to light the forest. Tomorrow, Catha will wax anew into wakefulness, but tonight, when magic is strong and bloody in the air, Ruidus’ dark creatures come out to play.

8) a shape made by our hands (Caleb/Essek; in a decaying timeline, Caleb meets Essek as a child.)

The spell is almost up. He’s gotten what he came to this timeline for, and when he returns to his own, this reality will decay into nothingness like an echo. The clock ticks unrelentingly in Caleb’s head; he estimates he has at least an hour. Maybe two, maybe less; time magic is an inexact science, as it turns out.

9) fulcrum (Caleb & Trent review proper torture techniques)

He is deep in the bowels of the sanatorium and has been for three days. Caleb is doing his best not to let that fact peel him out of his head.

10) poisoning the well (Caleb character study, ft. Trent's incessant, inescapable praises)

There is the splish-splash-splash as the Nein travel through the drenched Aeorian tunnel, and then Ikithon’s voice slithers into his head, parting the layers of Caleb's privacy with ease and blotting out all other sound.

I tag @mllekurtz @ariadne-mouse @chronurgy @burningdarkfire @annundriel and anyone else who wants to do it! Tag me in, I'd love to see your first lines.

#my writing #shadowgast #my fav of these is prob 'if only for a moment'. most fun one to write was all the fairytale set dressing in 'sanctuary a claiming' though #but each of the things i have written was fun to chew on at the time

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tzifron · 1 year ago

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At a time when the CDC estimates that nearly a quarter of adults who have had Covid have also experienced long Covid symptoms, when research is showing a rise in the number of heart attacks across all age groups — but most especially among 25- to 44-year-olds — when researchers are finding evidence that Covid overwhelms the immune system to the point where it may not be able to protect against certain cancers as well, the narrative that many in the media are pushing — that infections don’t matter and it’s time to move on — will cost lives. “We know that people are more likely to wear masks if they understand how high the risk is. Or if they understand that it’s airborne and not droplets, so like six feet apart isn’t enough, and we actually need to keep masks on because it lingers in the air,” says Griest Schwartzman. “But a lot of people still don’t know that, or they’ve been made to believe that maybe it wasn’t that serious, or they don’t have a clear understanding and don’t know people that could clarify that for them. It really harms people that don’t have access to the health literacy they need to understand themselves how at risk they are,” they added. “And that’s not their fault. It’s the fault of a lack of accurate health and science communication.” It’s also the fault of the media.

#Covid #long covid

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starlightkun · 8 months ago

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⇢ teaser word count: 2.2k | series word count: 67.8k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ estimated release date: saturday, may 18, 2024 6:00 p.m. eastern time ⇢ series masterlist

The air smelled like blood, burned electrical components, and whatever horrible odor came from blood getting onto electrical components as they sparked. All the blood wasn’t human, you could tell that, too. Skipper blood always stung your nose like rubbing alcohol. It was pitch black in the space you were hiding in, or maybe it was just nighttime. You should be scared, but your heart wasn’t beating fast for some reason.

Two pairs of heavy footfalls. One was heavier than the other. Walking, so definitely not Skippers. Both were still too light to be heavier races.

They slowed to a stop outside your hiding spot, and you really hoped they couldn’t read the Outspacer controls that would open the otherwise impossible-to-see door. After all, it was a language that had been dead for hundreds of millions of years, there was no way—

“Hey, Zennie, you got a read on these?” A man’s voice came from nearby, muffled by both the wall and presumably a helmet as well. Human, or related species.

You couldn’t hear this ‘Zennie’s reply, as it most likely came through the comms in his helmet, but you could hear the man’s side of the conversation.

“Oh, of course, how dare I, a mere meatsack, doubt your high-and-mighty artificial intelligence,” he replied with fake deference. “Yeah, yeah, I know that’s not what you meant. Alright, so just tell me which one’s the self-destruct button so I don’t press it?”

“Move, Wong, before you blow us up.” Another voice interjected. “ZEN? You said it’s a passageway? Oh, safe shelter. Bit different, don’t you think? Mind translating the dead language right the first time?”

He paused as he probably listened to Zen’s reply, then continued, “So? You know which one’s the open button?”

You couldn’t go anywhere. The hideout you were in was designed to hold only a few people for weather emergencies, to be structurally sound; not to have a back door in case you needed to escape intruders. You just had to hope Zen was completely wrong and they wouldn’t get it open.

Click.

There goes that.

The door dematerialized, and the rancid smell from before became even stronger. A man peered in barrel-first, and you recoiled back from the sudden light flooding your vision. You couldn’t press yourself any further back into the corner, but you still turned your head away to shield your sensitive eyes.

It only took a couple strides for one of the men to reach you, the other stayed back in the hallway, keeping his rifle fixed on you. The man stood over where you were sitting on the floor—your legs had gotten tired of standing after so long—and lowered his gun slightly so you could see the entirety of the front plate that covered his face. It was a reflective shield that gave you no clue to who was behind it, only let you see a warped, thinned and stretched version of yourself cowering in a corner. His armor was an improved version of the standard issue United Human Navy, if the insignia on both of his shoulders didn’t make that clear enough. It looked the same as the standard issue, but the heft of his footsteps had belied a weight difference that wasn’t explained by his stature or build, so it must be the grade of material.

“Are you hurt?” His voice came through an external speaker on his helmet. He was speaking in standard human. You couldn’t detect any sort of odd stiltedness or lag that sometimes happened with computer-assisted translations. He was assuming you understood standard human, and you did.

“No,” you replied, slowly uncrossing your arms to show your hands first, that you didn’t have anything hidden in them to attack him with. You still weren’t scared, for some reason.

“Oh, she’s pretty,” his companion commented from the hallway. The two of them must be sharing helmet feeds, as the one in front of you was definitely blocking most of you from his sight.

“Wong, shut it.” The outer speaker had been turned off for that, but it was still pretty clear to you.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Can you stand?” His weapon was still at the ready, his finger resting above the trigger.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d wiggled your fingers and toes, and it felt good to do it. “Yes.”

He stepped back, the unexpressive mirror of his face shield watching as you pushed up from your half-sit half-crouch, bracing yourself against the wall. Your body instinctively took a deep breath to try to recover from the sudden exertion, but the vaporized Skipper blood burned your entire respiratory tract, and you coughed and spluttered trying to force it back out, catching yourself on the wall on your forearms to stay upright. The odor made your head swim, your eyes water, and your chest hurt like someone had put gasoline in your lungs and struck a match.

“Okay, woah, woah.” Two gloved hands were on your arms and back, helping you stay up. His voice was muffled again as he switched to his in-helmet comms, “Xiao, get over here! We’ve got a survivor! Yes, really, just look at my stream.”

Then, his voice was projecting to you once more, “Breathe, breathe.”

You felt the roughness of a thumb wiping at the tears running down your cheeks, the durable material of his glove scratching against your skin. He grabbed the front of your shirt collar, pulling it up towards your face at the same time he firmly pulled your hand down that had been covering your mouth as you wheezed. Positioning the material over your nose and mouth into a makeshift filter of some sort, he continued holding it there for you as you took a few breaths.

“Better?”

You nodded shallowly. The smell of Skipper blood still cloyed to your throat and lungs, but the shirt helped keep more from entering.

More footsteps from down the hall, then another pair entered the shelter.

“Holy shit…” Someone breathed out.

“I know, man,” the voice that you were already pretty sure was ‘Wong’ from earlier replied.

“How long has she been in here?” A fourth voice asked, belonging to the footsteps getting closer to you.

“I don’t know,” the man already with you answered. “Wong and I just found her while clearing this sector.”

“Okay, well, you mind, Captain?” He said indicatively. “Can’t examine my patient through you.”

“You got it?” The captain asked you, shaking the collar slightly.

You took it from him, holding it over the bridge of your nose yourself as he had been doing for you before. Looking into his face shield where you were pretty sure his eyes should be, you nodded firmly this time.

He didn’t step back until you felt another pair of gloves grabbing your elbows where he had been. The newcomer’s uniform differed from the others’ in one way, he had a neon green rectangular patch on his right arm below his UHN insignia, as well as a few other places—intergalactic signal for medic. It was removable for the wearer’s own safety, and his in particular was slightly askew, as if he’d just slapped it back on in a hurry.

The medic flipped through the pockets of a pack strapped to his thigh before pulling out a small disc of clear plastic and pushing that against your hand. “Here, this’ll work a lot better than your shirt.”

You accepted it, and he helped you orient it the right way over your nose and mouth. It was apparently a mask or rebreather of some sort. It wasn’t exceptionally bulky, and you could feel that there was some sort of fine mesh material on the inside. Immediately, you could tell the difference. The air coming into your lungs carried only the slightest tinge of lingering burning electronics smell, and while you could tell that there was Skipper blood, it didn’t burn, or make your head spin. It was just unpleasant.

“There. How’s that?”

You gave him a thumbs-up, the standard human gesture for good, since they all seemed to speak standard human. The mask didn’t allow much room for talking.

“Alright, good. Are you injured?”

You shook your head.

“Do you feel pain anywhere?”

You shook your head again.

“Good, good. I have more questions, but we should get somewhere you can breathe. Give me a second.” He looked upwards as if talking to the heavens, and his outer speaker turned off. “Liu? Professor? Did you finish clearing the building? Alright, ZEN, got readings on air quality for her?”

After a pause, both the medic, Xiao, and the captain, who had been hovering behind him the whole time, nodded.

“Thanks, ZEN.” Xiao’s speaker turned on, “Here, our teammates found somewhere that you can breathe. It’s going to be a little bit of a walk, though. Is that okay?”

You nodded. Your legs would just have to deal.

“It’s not pretty out here…” The only one that hadn’t been identified to you in passing called out as a warning from his position in the hallway with ‘Wong.’

You turned around and pushed off the wall as your answer.

Stepping into the hall, you knew why you had smelled that particular concoction of smells. Just off to your left were two dead Skippers, their uniquely-articulated hind limbs that gave them their distinct gait—and consequently, the questionably flattering nickname from humans—stuck out at awkward angles now. Dark purple sludge seeped out from under their armor, Skipper blood. On the outside of the armor were smears, streaks, and splatters turned a gleaming ruby red under the emergency lights, human blood.

You couldn’t see any dead humans, or pieces of them, in this corner, but you remembered what the captain had called you. A survivor. Which meant there were others who didn’t survive.

“Come on.” It was the captain who ushered you the other direction from the Skipper bodies. “This way.”

Their helmets must have been mapping out the facility as the unit cleared it and displaying a route in all of their HUDs, because the four of them moved as if they knew the building like the back of their hand. The captain and Xiao flanked you on either side, with Wong at the front and the fourth unnamed one at the rear. You couldn’t tell if it felt more like a protection detail or a prisoner transport.

You kept your eyes on your feet not only so you didn’t have to see all of the mutilation, or to keep from stepping in something, but to avoid the unsettling, cold dread slowly sinking over you when from the moment you caught a look at the first dead human you passed by with her remarkably in-tact face, dandelion yellow blouse and lab coat, and realized you didn’t recognize her. When you inhaled sharply and shot your eyes down to your feet, you could tell that the captain noticed. He turned his head just ever so slightly towards you, off of the consistent path it had been before, and he paused, then went back to keeping watch.

They weren’t kidding when they said it was a bit of a walk. You could feel the muscles in your legs get sore, then start twitching, then start shaking, but you didn’t even consider asking to stop.

“Woah, Liu, slow down!” The captain ordered into his headset. “Okay, yeah, I see it. Don’t touch anything. We’re just sweeping right now, remember?”

“Great, the kid’s found more toys,” the one behind you snorted.

Xiao and Wong suddenly erupted into more laughter than that statement warranted you were pretty sure.

Wong then informed him with a snicker, “Mic’s on, Ten.”

“You say that as if I wouldn’t have said that to his face, too,” the one now finally identified as Ten retorted.

“ZEN, the mics, please?” The captain sighed. “Thank you.”

“Now he’s going to whine that we were shit talking him behind his back,” Xiao groaned. “Again.”

“Well we are,” Ten laughed.

“If he just stopped acting like a baby, Captain here wouldn’t have to step in and put him in time out all the time,” Wong clicked his tongue.

“You think he’s the one in time out right now?” The captain replied dryly.

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle into your mask, trying to cover it up with a cough when all four of their reflective shields whipped around to face you, as if they’d forgotten you were there. After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, they all shifted back into their watchful stances.

The captain suddenly spoke again, “Yes, Professor? Okay, sure… ZEN, put that on everyone’s HUDs.”

The lack of commentary from any of them for seemingly several minutes was startling, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what this ‘Professor’ was showing them.

“We’re going to have to go back there after dropping Xiao and her off, aren’t we?” Wong was the first to speak.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Ten sighed.

“Or already know the answer to,” the captain said. “If she has any wounds that Xiao needs to tend to, one of you will stay to keep guard. If not, it’ll be Ten and Wong with me to meet up with Liu and the Professor, and Xiao will stay with her.”

“Alright, Ten,” Wong rolled out his neck. “Rock paper scissors?”

⇢ series masterlist | blog masterlist

#kun #kun x reader #wayv x reader #nct x reader #wayv #nct #kun imagine #wayv imagine #nct imagine #i: kun #f: frankenstein complex #fc: teaser #text #mine #writing #bias tag #kunkun

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angelkhi · 1 year ago

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mirrorball - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

series masterlist part two>>

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic

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inneedofsupervision · 4 months ago

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I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 4)

Happy begrudgingly steps aside and walks after Tony into the diner. The billionaire skillfully ignores the gasps of surprise and the poor attempt to take pictures of him secretly as he strides straight up to the counter. "Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go." "Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir." "Excuse me?" Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register. "Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath. Happy makes a choking sound behind him. ___________________ Or, how Tony Stark gets sassed by some high schooler working part-time and makes it his mission to figure out what he did to make this kid he'd never seen hate him. If that means annoying the hell out of said high schooler, that's not his problem.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Chapter Summary: Tony makes the first move.

Read on Ao3

"Sir, your order will be delivered in approximately thirty seconds."

"It's about time. I am famished."

Tony pulls the cap deeper into his face before glancing up from his StarkPhone. The voice of his AI rings with a hint of judgment out of the phone speaker. "It certainly would have been quicker if you ordered from the shop at Forest Ave and not Manhattan, Sir."

He grins at that. "But where is the fun in that, Friday?"

Tony squints at the silhouette of a person walking purposefully in his direction. He puts his right ankle over his knee, the embodiment of relaxation. Catching the paper bag flung at him with ease, the corners of Tony's mouth draw up into a self-satisfied grin. What could be better than the magnificent smell of tacos and victory? The reason for his markedly good mood stands a few feet before him, staring him down with a heat that makes Johnny Storm look like a matchstick.

"I hope you choke on it."

What a sight.

Peter Parker in a Taco Bell server uniform, looking earnestly pissed off. Tony should take a picture while it lasts.

"Nah, what kind of harsh greeting this is after I've made it possible for you to get a free ride with the Staten Island Ferry. How did you like it? Took some selfies with the Statue of Liberty?"

God, could the kid's glare turn any more vile?

The teen crosses his arms over his chest. "You can use the Staten Island Ferry for free. You didn't do anything."

"Listen to that," Tony praises mockingly. "Should have expected the smartest student of Midtown High to catch on quickly."

The kid narrows his eyes at the comment. "What do you know about Midtown High?"

He ignores the teen's question and bites into a taco.

"How is your strikingly looking aunt doing?" he asks instead, noticing how the kid stiffens up at the question.

"Could be better," answers the teen slowly. The hesitation in his answer makes the corner of his lips tug upwards. It entertains him immensely how the kid fishes for information, trying to estimate how much Tony truly knows about him.

The man decides to humor him.

"Oh, I could imagine. If my nephew traipses across the city far past his curfew, I'd be worried sick, too. You're quite lucky as she's working a double shift, not knowing anything about your little side jobs. She's probably thinking her darling nephew is at home, sleeping like a little angel."

The kids stares at him, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a thin line.

"What are you working so hard for, huh? What could a high schooler like you need three jobs for, Mr. Parker? Yeah, that's right. I know about you playing Mr. Fix-It for your school pals and the little photography quip for the Bugle."

Tony stands up, pulling out a hundred bucks. He steps over to the teen and slips the bill into his breast pocket.

"That's for buying a new camera. Maybe you get some better motives than Spider-Man." He sniffs. "How about Iron Man? Rumors say he got a new suit. It's very photogenic."

Clapping the teen on the shoulder, he is about to walk past when a hand wraps around his wrist.

Peter Parker looks about ready to punch him in the face.

"Even if I did tell you what you did, it wouldn't change anything. Because you fail to recognize that your actions cause repercussion, and I am sick of it," spits the teen before letting his arm go.

Tony's eyes widen before he grins in self-satisfaction.

"Ha! I knew there was something!"

Parker looks at him like he lost it. "That's what you take from this? Are you serious?"

The billionaire pays no attention to Parker as the teen stomps down the direction he came from, too busy celebrating himself for trusting his hunch and being right. It needs Friday's voice to make him look around and notice he's the only person left in front of the fountain.

"Sir, Mrs Potts asked you to keep from picking fights with employees, especially minors."

Tony rolls his eyes.

"Friday, please. Where did that look like a fight?"

"You are right, Sir. I apologize. It seems more like a case of bullying."

Tony lifts an eyebrow.

"Did you forget what the kid did to me? Who's side are you on, Friday?"

"Sir, you demanded a minor and underpaid employee of a Taco Bell to deliver your order from Manhatten to Staten Island in the middle of the night with a shop of the same brand meters away from your current location."

"Are you trying to guilt trip me? Cause it's not working."

"I am merely appealing to your understanding of humanity and responsibility, Sir."

He takes the rest of the food and throws it into a bin. "How am I responsible for a teen using a fake ID to work in the middle of the night? That stunt of teen revolution is his problem, not mine."

"Sir, you are being childish."

"Bold of you to assume I'd care if you call me that when I hear that from Pepper all the time."

"Sir, it would be best to keep from irritating Mr. Parker any further. I am afraid you will find yourself in more trouble than Mrs Potts and the PR Team can prevent from happening."

Tony snorts.

"Please, what could that kid do? Cause another scene at a new Fast-Food place? The pace with which the kid is fired and newly hired is astounding."

"Sir, you have been responsible for Mr. Parker getting fired from his last two part-time jobs. It won't come as a surprise if further confrontation leads to a situation that will be hard to handle."

Rolling his eyes, Tony unlocks his car. He slides into the seat and takes off his sunglasses.

"I believe it when I see it, Fri."

#peter parker #spider man #iron man #tony stark #marvel #spider man fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series #spider man fanfiction #iron man fanfiction #friday

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shivsroy · 2 years ago

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“It is not for me to judge my brother. History will tell that story. I can just give you a couple of instances about him. You probably all know we came across the first time during the War, for our safety. But the engines of our ship let go and the rest of the convoy sailed on without us, leaving us adrift. They told us—they told us, children—that if we spoke, or coughed, or moved an inch, that the U-boats would catch the vibrations through the hull and we would die right there, in the hull. Three nights and two days we stayed quiet. A four-year-old, and a five-and-a-half-year-old, speaking with our eyes.

So, there's a little sob story. And uh—once we were over, our uncle who was, so to speak, a character. He, um, well—they had a little money. And they sent Logan away to a better school, and he hated it. He just hated it. He wasn't uh, he wasn't well, he was sick. And he mewled and he cried, and in the end he got out and came home, under his own steam. But when he got back our little sister, she was a baby, but—she was there by then. She, uh… He always believed that he brought home the polio with him, which took her. I don't—even know if that's true. But our aunt and uncle certainly did nothing to disabuse him of that notion. They let it lie with him.

I… loved him, I suppose. And I suppose some of you did too. In whatever way he would let us, that we could manage. But… I can't help but say, he has wrought the most terrible things. He was a man who has, here and there, drawn in the edges of the world. Now and then, darkened the skies a little, closed men's hearts. Fed that dark flame in men. The hard, mean, hard relenting flame that keeps their hearts warm while another grows cold. Their grain stashed while another grows hungry. And even has the temerity to tell that hard—funny, yes, but hard—joke about the man in the cold.

You can get a little high, a little mighty, when you're warm. Oh yes, he gave away a few million of his billions, but he was not a generous man. He was mean. And he made but a mean estimation of the world. And he fed a certain kind of meagerness in men. Perhaps he had to. Because he had a meagerness about him. And maybe I do about me, too. I don't know. I try. I try.

I don't know when, but some time he decided not to try anymore. And it was a terrible shame. Godspeed, my brother. And God bless.” —Ewan Roy

#succession #4x09 #ewan roy #logan roy

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azrielsshadows42 · 4 months ago

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A Court of Scales and Fire III

Eris Vanserra x Female oc

A/n: there is not alot of Eris in this one, but more of the friendship between Cassian and Y/n, not alot of Everest either.

Note: I couldn't think of a way to integrate this naturally in the story so, Imma just say it here: Everest can increase and decrease in size.

Pronunciations: Eletheria-> El-leh-th-air-ree-ah, Remiel-> Reh-meal, Rajani-> Rah-jah-n-eye, Penitent-> Pen-ni-tint, Amari-> a-maar-ree

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of utm

Word Count: 2.8k Chapter 2 Character Moodboards

Bold + Italics = Mind speak (colour will change depending on who is speaking)

Bold = Ancient language

---Y/n's Pov---

Cassian held me in his arms as he flew us across the forest of the middle. It had been about ten minutes since we'd first lifted off and we hadn't covered much ground. "So, you are from the Night Court, right? And that's where we're going?" I asked looking at him, he looked to be in deep thought, but my question brought him out of his head. "Yes, is that a problem?" Cassian questioned, sincerely wanting to know if that would work for me. For being my almost would be capturer, he's really nice. "No, just, remind me where that is, and perhaps an estimate of how long it will take us to get there, my mission is kinda time sensitive"

He nodded in understanding, then looked up in thought. "Well, the Night Court is the northern most territory of Prythian, so... a while?" I turned the information over in my head for a bit, if memory serves me right, he was telling the truth, but wasn't there this teleportation thing fae people could do here? What was it called? Willowing? Maybe not everyone could do it, or maybe you can only do it for yourself, like you can't take other people with you.

"So, what is this mission of yours anyway? "Cassian quizzed, more to pass the time then for actual interrogation, if his casual tone was anything to judge by. "Just, tracking some fae who made questionable life choices" I sort of side-stepped the question, more so I wouldn't have to repeat myself when we got to our destination. He chuckled at my answer. "Were you sent on this mission alone or-" "Yep" I interrupted him, and I almost winced, I said that way too fast. There was a long stretch of awkward silence between us, only his wing beats and the air whipping around us filled the void.

It started to become downright unpleasant, I needed to say something. "What are you?" I blurted out, Cauldrons what is wrong with me? "I'm an Illyrian" Cassian responds a little confusedly "No, no I meant like, what's your occupation, what do you do for a living?" He stays quiet for a bit, probably thinking how much he should reveal, understandable. "I'm the night court's general" I laughed, man that's funny. He just stared at me, not saying anything "I- What? ...Oh, you're serious? damn" He then laughs as well "Why is that so surprising?" he says with a smile "I think I'm quite intimidating"

"Well...." I trailed off in a high-pitched tone, he gasped in mock offence. "How dare you, I am very intimidating, and I embody the position of General, thank you very much" I stifled my laughter. "You've definitely got the build of a general, it's just, the authoritative tone that strikes fear into the soldiers that hear it is lacking" He huffed and turned his head away with a slight pout. At least he could take a joke, I was starting to like him more and more.

He opened his mouth, about to say some sort of light-hearted retort when he suddenly stopped and looked ahead again. "What's wrong?" what had happened in the three seconds between playful banter and rigid shoulders? Cassian doesn't answer, I go on high alert, if he drops me, I know Everest will be there waiting, she won't let me fall, but then he'd know of her existence, and I don't trust him enough for that.

He glances at me, like I'm something that's going to get him in trouble, and quickly looks ahead again. What the hell? after a few more seconds of silence, he speaks, "That was Rhysand checking in, he says he'll send Mor to come pick us up, get us to the Night Court a lot faster." I do not know who either of those people are, but the name Rhysand sounds familiar, like I definitely should remember it. "How?"

"Mor can winnow" Huh? she's a widow? How is that supposed to help us? He must have read the confusion on my face because he then clarified: "She's going to teleport us there" Ohhhh, she can Willow, that makes much more sense than her being a widow.

He slowly descends into the forest, though we seem to be on the outskirts seeing as the trees had thinned out significantly. Once we landed, Cassian gently put me down. Dark mist appeared in front of us for a split second, then they were gone, and in their place stood an absolutely gorgeous high fae in a maroon dress and red lipstick, gold jewellery adorned her wrists and pointed ears. This female is so beautiful, I might just change my sexuality. Gold hair ran over her shoulders in waves. I am certain her hair is what mating bonds are made of.

"Rhysand told me we'd have a guest" she says, directed to Cassian, I knew I was staring, and it's rude, and I should definitely stop but holy shit, I wish I could pull that kind of dress off, the kind that hugs your curves with a slit up to your thigh. She then turns to me "Hi, I'm Morrigan, but just call me Mor, everyone does." I realise that now is the perfect time to break out of my staring "I'm Y/n" She smiles at me. "Well, Y/n, are you ready to see the Night Court" her eyes shone with pride at the mention of her home "Not in the slightest, lead the way!" I respond which earns a small giggle from her. "Cassian, c'mon, or we're leaving you" He makes his way toward us. "Fair warning, there's going to be a long drop" Cassian says to me. "I can handle it" They both look at each other with raised eyebrows but don't comment. "If you're sure"

---Cassian's Pov---Before landing---

"You've definitely got the build of a general, it's just, the authoritative tone that strikes fear into the soldiers that hear it is lacking" I incredulously huffed and turned my head away from her with a fake pout. I'm about to inform her that my voice most definitely does strike fear into any disrespectful soldiers when Rhysand's mental claws scraped down my shields.

It has been more than half an hour since you last checked in Cassian His voice invades my head, sounding a little peeved.

Aww, did you miss me? I could feel the mental eyeroll he sent to me, clearly annoyed by my lack of guilt for not updating him.

Have you found anything? I heard Y/n ask me something, but I didn't catch what, focusing on making sure Rhysand didn't get too frustrated with the results.

You could say that I replied, glancing at the female in my arms because yes, I had found something, it just was not what he was expecting.

Cassian, I don't like the sound of that, what are you trying to say? I could feel her body tense as I continued to ignore her questioning.

I'm saying you should expect some extra company. He sighed deeply.

I'm sending Mor to winnow you, and our new guest here, then I expect an explanation. His voice left my mind, and I turned towards Y/n, her jaw tense, eyes scanning my expression. "That was Rhysand checking in" I explained "He says he'll send Mor to come pick us up, get us to the Night Court a lot faster" I searched for a place to land, which was much easier to find now that we weren't in the heart of a forest. "How?" She inquired, her body relaxing slightly. "Mor can winnow" Y/n looked confused by that. "She's going to teleport us there" She nodded in understanding.

When I landed, Mor was already waiting for us, Y/n was gawking at her, quite obviously, and it took all my self-control to resist laughing. Mor's eyes fixed on me, a hint of amusement shone in them. "Rhysand told me we'd have a guest" I smiled at her a little guiltily and shrugged. They exchanged introductions, then prepared to winnow to the house of wind. "Cassian, c'mon, or we're leaving you" Mor waves me over, just as I get to them, I remember something. "Fair warning, there's going to be a long drop"

Y/n shrugs one shoulder, casually responding "I can handle it". Mor and I regard each other sceptically before facing her again, eventually, Mor relents. "If you're sure"

She places a hand on both of our shoulders, then the world warped, and the stomach-turning sensation of winnowing overcame us. Quick flashes of the territories zoomed by as we went, reaching the house in a matter of seconds. I instinctively caught Mor before she fell, my wings flaring out to catch the wind and slow our descent. Y/n plummeted straight down, but she spread out her arms and legs, increasing her surface area, then transferred the gravitational energy to momentum once she hit the ground, seamlessly falling into a forward roll and standing up again like nothing happened. She turned on her heels toward us, a smile on her face, I had to say, I was impressed, not many could pull off something like that, especially not that smoothly, come to think of it, she also had no problems while we were flying despite how far she could have fallen, she must be used to hights.

Once Mor and I had joined her on the roof, we went inside. Everyone was right there waiting for us, Feyre sitting on the couch, Rhysand standing behind her, Nesta was on the other side, leg crossed over the other, her latest smut novel in hand, nose buried deep, and Azriel stood in the corner, shadows perched on his shoulders. Amren sat on the love seat, so short her head didn't even reach the top of the back rest

Feyre stood from her seat, Rhysand followed, only stopping once he was beside his mate. "Welcome to the Night Court, I am Rhysand, and this is my mate, Feyre" Feyre smiled kindly at Y/n. "That's Amren, my second in command, Azriel, my spymaster and Nesta, Cassian's mate" Rhysand introduced the rest of the inner circle, gesturing to each of them as he said their names. "Who are you?"

"I am Y/n, Y/n L/n"

"Well, Y/n, please follow me"

--- Time Skip ---

Rhysand brought us to the dining room, all of us took a seat, She sat at the edge of the table, I placed myself next to Y/n while Mor sat opposite of her. There was some food placed on the table, light snacks to pick on, everyone else picked off of the plates occasionally, but after what happened I was starving, eating almost two entire platters by myself. Light conversation had been passed around the table, Y/n mostly stayed quiet, just listening. Rhysand interlocked his fingers in front of him, leaning his fore arms on the table. The questioning was about to begin.

"Y/n, where are you from?" A nice easy question to start, nothing harsh, but will also tell us if she's from Hybern or one of their allies. "I'm from Eletheria" We all looked around at each other, none of us, not even Az or Amren, knew where that was. "It is a sub-territory of Rask" The atmosphere became tense, every one of us knew that well Rask hadn't joined Hybern in the war, they were inclined to do so. "Rumour of Hybern planning a war to gain humans as slaves again had been floating around for over a century, it created a divide within the population of Rask. Some believed that Hybern was right, and we should ally ourselves with him, others, including King Rajani's brother, disagreed.

Decades of debates and small bouts of civil war resulted in the land being divided, Eletheria gained full independence just over six years ago, with his brother, Remiel, as King." She explained.

The entire inner circle let out a discrete collective sigh of relief, they had not invited an enemy into their home. "If it gained independence over six years ago, why have we not heard of it?" Mor asked with nothing but curiosity, it seemed I'm not the only one who thinks we can trust her. "The King of Rask was not particularly pleased with having to give up some of his power and land, so he has kept quiet about it. More and more refugees are crossing the border, so King Remiel has been occupied with increasing good infrastructure for people to live in. He has not had time to concern himself with putting us on the official map, which is probably a good thing, as to not make Eletheria a target."

Rhysand nodded, agreeing with her statement. "Why are you here, in Prythian?" All eyes fixed upon Y/n, what he really wanted to ask was 'why were you under the mountain?' but this question was safer, in the event that she didn't know what had happened with Amarantha, we would have to explain the fifty years of chaos, and nobody wanted to do that. "I am on a mission for the King"

"What kind of mission?" Az asked, the first words he'd said since we'd arrived. "One of the most abundant gemstones in Eletheria is Opals, recently we have discovered a new vein of them, though these are no regular stones. They have properties, similar to that of the Illyrian siphons, they can store magic. Upon further research, two different types have been found, Amari, and Penitent. It has been revealed that Penitent opals become unstable once imbued, and after one took out half the research facility it was in, an order was sent out to collect them, so no more damage could be done. Most fae gave them over willingly. However, a group of illegal weapon smugglers found out about the opals, about what they could do.

They began hoarding and stealing any stock they could find. An informant told us that a shipment of opals was sent here. It's my job to find them and return all of the stolen opals back to the crown for safe keeping"

I guess that would explain why this was time sensitive. "Two days ago, in the south, between summer and autumn, there was a power surge, would you know anything about that?" Amren interrogated, piercing eyes locked on her like predator and prey. Her words were accusing, I almost wanted to wince at the tone.

Y/n, to her credit showed no signs of discomfort, she looked up thoughtfully, pondering the question. "When I first got here, I found one of the temporary camps I suspect they used, there was only one fae present left to cover their tracks. In his attempt to get rid of me, he set of one of the opals, that might have caused the short power surge you speak of" Amren did not look convinced but refrained from pushing the matter any further.

It was Feyre who spoke next "Mor will show you to your room for the night, feel free to make yourself at home, and don't be afraid to ask for anything" Mor and Y/n stood from the table "Thank you, High Lady" She dipped her head in respect. "Please, call me Feyre" She nodded, then followed Mor down the hall to the guest bedrooms. Once they were out of earshot, I asked "So, how are we gonna help?"

"I'm not sure we should" Azriel admitted, looking toward Cassian. "What do you mean? Of course we should help her!" My voice was filled with incredulity. It just makes sense to help her, so why wouldn't we? "I'm with Cassian on this this one, this could affect us to, dangerous weapons in the wrong hands is not something we need to deal with, we have enough on our plate, better to stop it now before it gets out of hand" Feyre added. She studied Rhysands face to see if he agreed with her statement.

Rhysand considered this for a moment. "Her story makes sense, and if she is telling the truth, then Feyre's right, but she could be lying, especially if she is from a place that's just gained independence, she might be here as a spy to find weaknesses should they ever need it."

I hated to admit that he had a point, but I just feel like we can trust her. I sighed "So what are we going to do?" My eyes fell on Rhysand's violet ones, but he didn't meet my gaze. "We keep an eye on her until we know for certain she is telling the truth, for now, be aware of what you say around her, try not to talk about anything that could be used against us." We dispersed to our respective places, Rhysand, Feyre and Amren returning to their homes, while Az and I went to our rooms, Nesta made her way from the table to the couch and continued reading.

A/n: So, this chapter was supposed to be twice as long as it is, but I need to post an update so, here you go.

Chapter 4

Tag List: @imma-too-many-fandoms , @rcarbo1

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

#eris vandaddy #acotar #a court of scales and fire #eris vanserra #cassian #eris x oc #acosaf #eris fanfiction #eris fanfic #autumn court #inner circle #night court #feysand #nessian #mor #acotar humour #acotar x dragons

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