#or maybe she would wake him up in the middle of the night because she moves too much when sleeping

[peanutpinet]

BABE!!!! We absolutely need a second part to Little Things, we need to know how their relationship develops and see Sylus fall in lover with reader's soul. PLEASE BABE PLEASE!!!

Welcome to My World - Sylus x Fem Reader (Sequel to Little Things)

Request: Craving for a sequel to this w/ reader actually going back to her world and sylus just defying all odds shshshshs these kinds of fics are so interesting love em <3

A/N: Just a lil something for those who wanted to see what would Sylus be like if he were to actually come out of the screen and into our world (still having his evol but is not addressed). Also if anyone is a Kpop fan, I just want to say, do have a listen to Aespa’s Welcome to My World. It embodies this fic so much and am putting some of the lyrics into the story! I hope you guys enjoy!!

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

Also, if you haven't read Little Things, the "first part" of the story, do have a read. Will be link here. But you don't have to read it and can just read each of these fics seperately

Warnings: Fluff but mainly ANGST, Isekai Theme, Will be Going back and Forth between LADS universe and our universe, slow burn because Sylus is tryna find you :))

Funfact: I remembered the TV Show: Westworld and how the characters of the game gain conciousness when writing this fic

Songs to listen to: NCT Dream - Broken Melodies, Aespa - Welcome to My World, NCT Dream - Like We Just Met

N109 Zone - 01:48 AM

It was in the middle of the night. When all are asleep, people in the N109 zone, those in the shadows have only started to wake up and get on about their day, including Sylus. Slowly awakening from his slumber, Sylus saw the girl that was beside him, fast asleep. Her chest was rising and falling in a steady motion; indicating that she was in a deep sleep.

Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to scootch a bit closer and caressed the girl’s cheek. But as he did, the girl immediately grabbed his wrist tightly and jerked awake. “Who the fuck…w-where am I?!”

Hearing the girl’s words, Sylus knew. “You’re not her…”

Real World - 09:28 AM

You woke up with a pounding headache but slowly regained your consciousness, you noticed how the bed wasn’t as big nor was it as warm as when you were used to. Jerking up, you took in the room you were in. The bright white ceiling was the first thing you see, the smell of alcohol and blood was faint but you could smell it, and then you heard a beeping noise which made you turn and saw that your hand was hooked onto a monitor and an IV drip.

Whipping your head around, you search for your phone until you find it and immediately look at the date when you suddenly get a notification from both Instagram and Twitter mentioning the new update for Love and Deepspace.

“I’m back…” you sobbed yet your fingers glided across the screen of your phone, pressing the game that you swore you were in

As the game loads, you see the cutscenes of all of the characters and can’t help but feel emotionally overwhelmed whenever you see Sylus’ cutscenes.

Once the game loaded and you could hear that cafe jingle along with those familiar red eyes, you tried to see whether or not anything had changed in the game other than the new updates but when you clicked on his tall figure, the lines he said were nothing out of the ordinary. Even in the text message icon, you couldn’t text him like you did when you were in the game.

“Was it all just a dream?”

“Y-you’re awake!!” you heard someone talk and as your eyes looked at the doorframe, it was the nurse

You soon found out that you had been in a coma for a little over 2 weeks yet it felt like you were in the game for 2 months, maybe even more. Your best friends came to visit you every day and now that you’re awake, they were bombarding you with food, life updates, and all.

For once, you actually didn’t feel as lonely as you were when you appeared in the game.

Maybe it truly was all just a dream…

From a distance, a black crow was watching your interaction with your friends from a tree that was just outside of your window. After some time, the crow eventually fled and flew away from the tree.

N109 Zone - 04:18 AM

Sylus was beyond pissed. He took MC to where he took you in the beginning to get your evol and aether core checked but additionally, he wanted to know if you were truly not in the MC’s body. Sylus’ worker questioned as to why he brought MC again to check her evol and aether core, confusing the Onychinus’ leader.

Even when the two came home, the twins didn’t notice any difference from MC. What’s wrong with everyone? You’re not MC and it goes the other way as well. Why were the twins pestering MC who to Sylus, was not you.

“But boss, Miss Hunter and you have known each other for over 2 months now. What do you mean she’s not her?” Luke questioned, genuinely confused at his boss’ attitude

“She’s not. Have you forgotten who taught you both how to cook the simplest meal? The one that bought you those bulletproof vests?” Sylus demanded, something, anything about your sudden disappearance or at the very least, anyone other than him remembering your existence

“It’s Miss Hunter, though?” Kieran replied, making Sylus groan. “Just, leave me alone for the next few days” Sylus left the room and walked past MC who grabbed his wrist, making his brow arch in confusion.

Sighing, Sylus turned to see MC. “What is it that you want?”

“Where are you going? I went through all the trouble to get the N109 zone and I want answers regarding the aether core” MC demanded but Sylus just chuckled and used his evol to remove MC’s hand from his wrist

“You already have the aether core you’re looking for. Why don’t you go back and ask your doctor about that? I have other matters to attend to. Like why are you here instead of her” Sylus mentioned, walking away until MC talked to him

“You’re always mentioning her but you never mentioned her name. Who are you exactly talking about and what does it have to do with me?” MC questioned and this time, Sylus grabbed her by her neck and pinned her to the nearest wall

“Don’t tempt my patience. I only have so much left ever since your attitude shows up instead of something else I want. From here on out, I could care less about your little quest. You can even have that brooch you’re wearing to get in and out of the N109 zone without getting harmed. But I want you to leave. Go back to your doctor, that fish man of an artist, or fake hunter for all I care. When I come back to this place, I hope that you’re not here anymore. Or you’ll hurt even more” Sylus warned, releasing MC as he went who knows where.

Sylus went into his car, the car that you love to drive in. Though you were just a soul in MC’s body, he could immediately tell the two of you apart. What scent do you like, the small trinkets that you would buy to keep his things more organized, some small keychain plushies that he would put on his keys which is in contrast to his scary look.

You might just be a soul that just so happens to be in MC’s body, the body of a person he should’ve been interacting with, the one he should’ve been bound to. But why does his heart feel incomplete? Why does his soul long for your own.

Gripping onto the steering wheel, Sylus looked at the plushie you put in this car. It was a koala, one of your favourite plushies, because you told him that you looked like a koala when Sylus carried you around. “I swore to you that if this were to happen, I would find you. Regardless what happens, I will find a way to get back to you. Our stories’ unfinished, sweetie. Wait for me. I’ll do anything to get back to you”

Real World

It’s been several months since you woke up. You still played the game but not as often anymore. You got a job at your friend’s office as a secretary. It pays well, you and your friend are roommates, life has been going fairly well that you barely played the game that provided you comfort.

One day, however, there was a bouquet of red Carnations mixed with pink Camillas on your desk with a note attached to it. “I hope this gets to you. If this ever reaches you, it means that I’m another step closer to seeing you again. There’s this uneasy feeling I’ve been feeling since you were gone. I promise I won’t stop finding you”

Confused, you asked everyone, including the delivery man who delivered the flowers to you but no one knew where it came from. It didn’t even mention your name and only a description of you.

Brushing it off, you thought it must’ve been some kind of prank until several more flowers reached you. One after another, there were notes along with the flowers which all made your heart clench because whoever this person was, it seemed that either you left a very deep impression on them or this was some sort of stalker.

“Did the first one reach you? I’m getting closer”

“I hope that you’re eating well. Wait for me”

“It seems that you’ve forgotten about me once more. No matter, I’ll be sure to jog your memory once we meet again”

Another year has finally passed and the bouquet and notes kept on coming until you saw the flowers and notes that came in. Instead of the usual red Carnation or pink Camillas or even sometimes Forget me nots, this time it was a bouquet of black and red roses with a note of a familiar handwriting and scent.

“I’ve finally found you. You said that you were worried about me finding the real you but to me, you’re just as perfect as your soul. Your face, your body, it matches your soul perfectly. And even though you might’ve forgotten about me, I assure you that my love for you is still the same like we just met. Perhaps in the game, I would allow you to go live your life without me because it’s safer for you. But here, looking at you, I can feel myself coming alive once more. Whether you try to move on, I know that there’s a lingering feeling behind your pretty head thinking of the possibility. And you would be correct, sweetie. I’m fulfilling my promise to you. For there is no love greater than mine.

P.S: we should thank Mephisto for always managing to find you when I couldn’t

-Sylus”

You were in shock. Sure, there was a small voice, hidden behind all your to-dos, your schedules, your wants, likes, needs. A faint voice telling you of the possibility that perhaps Sylus was the one to send you all those flowers and notes but you were in your world, the real world. You would lock that faint voice and never think about it again. You were realistic. There was no way that a fictional 3D man would send you all of that.

And Mephisto? He’s a bird. A mechanical bird that is tied with Sylus. Everything seemed ridiculous. You couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day until your boss called you for a sudden meeting outside of the office and at a restaurant.

The restaurant was filled with high-class people, some were doing business with another while others were simply finding ways to spend their money. Suddenly, it reminded you of the time when you were in MC’s body and Sylus would take the two of you out to dinner.

Remembering Sylus, the flowers, and the note, you decided to excuse yourself to the restroom but in reality, you decided to log into the very game you downloaded to seek comfort. The nostalgia was coming back. They made a new update and introduced a new male character. Once your game loads, Sylus is still in the game and when you poke him, thinking that he’ll respond like how he would when a player hasn’t logged in for so long, he surprises you.

“You’re probably wondering why am I not responding to you in a way that you expect. Well, why don’t you check my messages on the message feature, sweetie?” Sylus mentioned and immediately, you went to open the message feature in the game and once again, you were shocked with what you read on the screen that you had to cover your mouth.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, kitten? I’m sad that you’ve forgotten about me but I’m genuinely happy with how you’re living your life so far”

“But if I were to tell you that I want to be apart of your life here, would you accept me?”

You were given the chance to answer him, to reply to this sudden message but your boss had already called you back and unfortunately, you had to go back to the table and sit beside your boss.

As you were about to sit down, you heard that familiar soothing voice that always calms your nerves; especially when you’re in the N109 zone. “Is this your secretary that we’ve been waiting for?”

Immediately, you looked up and met with those soft bright red eyes behind small glasses. The white hair you’ve gone through with your fingers was styled like how you first met him. The figure sitting in front of you was wearing a soft grey sweater and black jeans.

And that smile, that smile that you’re so used to seeing everyday is now showing in front of you again. “Pleased to meet you, sweetheart. Shall we begin the meeting?”

Throughout the meeting, you tried your best to pay attention and jot down all the notes you needed. You struggled for a moment and even towards the end, you stutter your thank you and goodbyes until the white-hair man called you.

“Waiting for someone, sweetie?” you heard that damn voice as you could feel all hairs on your skin stand up

Turning around, you finally got a good look at him. All of his 190cm height was towering over your figure. Your actual real-life self and not the MC you created in the game.

On one side, you wanted to talk, to question him if all of this was just another one of those visions you used to have. On the other, you wanted to jump at the man in front of you. To cry in his arms as he holds you close. But nothing. You were frozen in your spot as this Sylus look-alike smirked at you and held his index out which suddenly a black crow rest on.

“Is, is that…” you managed to utter, making the man in front of you chuckle

“Mephisto. An actual crow this time” he said, extending his hand out so the black crow was within your reach

Extending your own index out, the black crow, Mephisto went onto your index and you instinctively stroke its head. “We never stop looking for you, you know”

You look up to see those eyes that once were filled with rage now filled with sadness. Sighing, you tried to remind yourself that this is the real world, not your game.

“I'm sorry, sir. You must've gotten the wrong person. I don't think we’ve met before this meeting today. Your bird must be very friendly to have gone on another person’s hand” you mentioned, intending to return the black crow, still not believing that the man and bird in front of you are who you think they are

But instead, the man in front of you turned and took something from his pocket. “Is that so? Well then either you don’t want to remember what we’ve been through or Mephisto might’ve gotten the wrong person. Then how about we reintroduce ourselves to one another?”

“I’m Sylus, this is Mephisto. We were from a faraway land called the N109 zone. For the past year, I've been building my multimillion security tech company” Sylus mentioned, extending his hand out, revealing the brooch that you once wore as a promise to Sylus to stay by him

Shocked to see the brooch, you stutter at your words but Sylus noticed this and gently took one of your hands which you didn’t deny. “I meant what I said and I’m keeping my promise. My only regret is I couldn’t come find you sooner”

“H-how? This has got to be a joke. You’re not real. You’re not actually here. I must be dreaming again. I’m going mad” you started to lose your mind but Sylus pulled you into a hug

“Tell me this isn’t real then. Tell me that you don’t see me. Tell me that you don’t feel this warmth we both have wanted for a long time. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll gladly walk away from you so that you can continue to live your life as is but don’t expect me not to want to be a part of your life. Don’t think that even if I walk away today, I won’t try my best to still keep an eye on you” Sylus stated, whispering into your ear, kissing right below your ear

Taking in his calming leather scent, you slowly sob in Sylus’ chest as he strokes your head, calming you. “You’re such a stubborn crow” you finally hug Sylus, indirectly accepting him back into your life

“I know. But it’s worth it. I finally get back to you. Though I can’t offer you as much as I would when we were in the N109 zone, I do promise you that I will be here this time. I’m not letting you go that easily. So, you’re willing to let me back?” Sylus asked, making you chuckle

“Welcome to the real world, my world, Sylus” you said, getting on your tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss but instead, Sylus turned his head, held your neck and leaned for an actual kiss

A/N: Ngl, I was simping over my own writing of this. Where can we find an irl Sylus T^T

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

hii i was wondering if you could do logan with reader that owns a cat and the cat acts JUST LIKE HIM and he cant stand it until reader points it out. thank you!!!!

I loved this request! I have my own little cat, so I wanted this to be as well written as possible. I'm sorry it took so long to be posted. I hope you like it! If you do, please like, comment, and reblog! It really helps me with motivation to keep posting on here <3

This is my kitten rocket 🤭

Logan was never afraid to meet anyone in your life. He had met your friends and family; he met your colleagues and even your old roommate, but for some reason, everyone is telling him he should be afraid to meet your cat.

Logan can remember every warning he got from the people in your life when they found out he hadn't met your cat yet. "Oh, that's her baby" "Oh he has brought a lot of joy into her life since she found him, he really is her number one" "That cat hates anyone that comes over-I swear it's crazy" "Her cat is just very territorial, very protective" "Make sure you wear shoes, he goes for the toes."

He scoffed at these warnings, it's still just a cat. He wanted your cat to like him, of course he did but he also wasn't afraid to meet the damn thing. He knew you loved you cat, that was your baby, and you took care of him more than you took care of yourself something Logan hated, but he didn't think it mattered what a cat thought of him.

You usually would stay at his place after a night out, but for the past few dates, you two went back to your place instead. It wasn't a big deal, but you were worried for how your cat would react to a strange man coming into his territory. "He just doesn't like people Lo', I don't want him to lash out at you." He could hear in your voice how worried you truly were, and he tried his best to reassure you that the cat and him would get along just fine.

He lied to you. Logan can't stand that fucking cat and that cat has it out for him too. The first night the cat didn't even come out of hiding, it completely broke your heart and Logan ended up leaving a bit earlier than planned because you were worried for your cat's wellbeing, as he was leaving he heard you cooing at the cat calling him your baby and your handsome man and though he'd never admit it aloud a twinge of jealous did echo through Logan's chest. The next night the cat did come out of hiding, just so he could attack Logan's legs. When Logan didn't kick him across the room like he wanted to you came and put the cat in your bedroom. "I am so sorry!! Are you okay??" You exclaimed while you closed the door to your room before trying to check on his scratches even though they healed before you could. He grumbled... sort of whined a bit too, and honestly, he was enjoying the attention, so maybe he milked the injury? Sue him.

What really pushed him over the edge was your cat literally pushing him over the edge. It was around 1 in the morning, and you had just fallen asleep. Logan was holding you in his arms and trying his best to fall asleep himself when the door to your bedroom creaked open. Logan, now fully awake, sits up, trying not to disturb you and is greeted with a sharp meow and sharp little claws to the stomach. "Mother fucker" Logan mumbled under his breath as he pushed the cat off of him, "why are you even in here?" he asked quietly so he wouldn't wake you but sharply enough to try and scare the cat away. The cat meowed louder than before as if he was arguing back and went to lay on your chest, purring as he curled himself into a ball. Logan was pissed but he tried to stay cool and just ignore the cat, then around 4 in the morning, Logan was awoken to his body meeting your bedroom floor. When he stood up, he looked at the bed and saw your fucking cat in his spot. "That's it." Logan had enough and grabbed a blanket before going to the couch.

You woke him up hours later, very confused as to why he was on the couch and was replaced by a cat in the middle of the night. "Baby?" You asked softly, handing him his cup of coffee, "don't. Just don't." He grumbles and sips his coffee, sending your cat a glare as he walks around smugged.

Logan refuses to lose against a damn cat!

It's just a stupid cat, not even 4 months old yet. So why was he letting its behavior get to him so much? Because it was your cat, and even if Logan wasn't ready to admit it yet he really did love you and for some reason you loved that asshole cat more than the world so for fuck sake that cat will like him even if it is the last thing he does in his very long life.

Honestly, it was truly ironic if Logan took the time to think about it. Your cat was a grump. He didn't want people around unless he allowed them to be around, and even then, he wanted his distance. But not when it came to you. When you were around, that cat was glued to you and had the loudest purr Logan had ever heard, and your cat really did get protective of you. It was something Logan had never seen before. Usually, cats don't care, but if you came home upset, the cat wouldn't settle down until you did, too. If he took the time to really think about it, maybe he could see the resemblance the cat shared with another grump you have allowed into your life that you loved more than the world.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

[notes-of-nari]

Straykids as the "friendly ghost"

Lee Know

• You had heard that your new apartment was possibly haunted but you didn't believe it at first. As there wasn't any paranormal activities to be seen. Well… Maybe except for the fact that since you moved here your cat seemed to have a new habit of zoning out and staring at the wall with wide eyes.

• Oh and except the fact that you would sometimes wake up in the morning to find the stuff that was on your table, on the ground. You would end up scolding your cat as you believe that she is the culprit.

• One day you had to suddenly leave for a three day overnight workshop at your college. You were very worried about your cat because there was no one to take care of her and you couldn't ask your neighbors for help because it was against the apartment building's rules to have pets. So the only thing you could do was give enough food that would (hopefully) last for three days. The three days you spent at your college was some of the most painful days you had ever spent. And you could finally understand the reason why your mom would worry so much when you used to be away from home. Finally the three days came to an end and you hurried home. However when you opened the door of your apartment you were met with.... a man sleeping on your sofa with your cat cuddled in his arms. • He opens an eye, sees you and immediately disappears. WELL.... seems like you had finally met the ghost that was known to haunt your home. You check on your cat to find that she has been well fed and has also been supplied with fresh water to drink. You realize that it must be the ghost who took care of your cat. And you are thankful. • You don't see him much, except for a few rare occasions when you see him in the middle of the night seated near your window while your cat sits on the window sill , both looking out. • One day you hear someone clearing his throat behind you. "uhmm she wants to go outside." he says pointing to your cat who is seated near your door. He becomes your cat's official translator and message bearer?

• It takes one year for you to even get to know his name

• you wake up in the morning and sleepily walk to the hall to find him sitting on the corner of your table. He is pushing your flower vase to the corner of the table slowly with a finger. "Minho! Nooo.." Welp too late he slowly blinks at you before he pushes the vase to the ground and disappears.

• has the habit of randomly appearing behind you and screaming "boo!" , "ice creammm" or whatever phrase that pops into his mind, right into your ear.

• exam week was stressing you out so much that you were entirely dependent on caffeine until you find a hot bowl of ramen with veggies and eggs on your table. For the whole week you are provided with food and a nagging ghost who is against you pulling all nighters to study.

• Seemingly prefers the company of your cat's over yours

• Some nights, you see him standing in your garden gazing at the moon with a forlorn expression while your cat sits next to him. Bangchan / Changbin / Hyunjin / Jisung / Felix /Seungmin / I.N

[tame-the-lion-writes]

fae(?) bunny shifter reader x konig

I love it when konig calls reader haschen (and forgive me for not using accents on letters--I don't know how to add them on my computer). Hence why I love the idea of reader being a literal bunny (and yes--this is inspired by that one manwha I forgot the name of, but disregard that!)

There's really no sane explanation as to how Konig ended up with you in his bed. And I don't mean in a sexual way though it is hard to keep his eyes off you considering the fact that you're stark naked. As far as he knows, Konig hadn't drunk that night. Definitely didn't take any drugs. All he did was scoop up that rabbit that's been begging for food on his back porch, after he'd made friends through edible offerings. (Otherwise, the tiny rascal would be digging up his garden again.) Let it--her?--snuggle close into his side on a particularly cold night, when the first snow began to fall.

Then he blinks, and the girl is gone--replaced once again by that fluffy little thing.

Konig panics for a half second, wrenches the blankets from his bed. As if a whole human being could hide under already-flattened sheets. Once he realizes you're not there, though, he once again takes the bunny in his ginormous hands and continues to stare. Because what the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Over the next few days, he doesn't dare keep the rabbit in a cage, or kick it out again. He just observes it intently like one would waiting for water to boil. But nothing ever happens when he's ready for it--the girl appears only when his back is turned, when he's exhausted. When he's blinking away sleep in the morning light. There in a flash, and gone again. He genuinely thinks he's going crazy, especially when food starts piling up in random places. The closet. Between the couch cushions. Food too big and too much for a mere bunny to move. But surely that's impossible. He's never taken to folklore or spells or--

Then he installs a camera.

"She is magic!" he once yelled, shoving the bunny in a visiting soldier's face. Meanwhile the rabbit's nose just twitches, innocent and seemingly oblivious. All he gets is a weird stare.

"Sir, I think you need to see a doctor--"

"Magic!!!"

_

Bonus Thoughts:

You're not even a stray. Not even wild. You have a cottage a little further into the woods, but your human neighbor's been awfully generous despite having caught you stealing a few times. Whatever. Free food is great. Free anything is great. Not to mention the TV and microwave, and other gadgets you've never seen before. Hence not realizing what the hell a camera does, and why he's now extra manic after he installed one in his room.

Speaking of benefits, you also no longer have to get your steps in. He carries you around in his pocket wherever he goes. So now you get to see the world, too--the farmer's market, the gas station, etc. And when you seem particularly interested in something, he buys it right away. Now you've got a little corner of trinkets from your mini-travels, all for you.

Oh, and lots of chin scratches. Pat pats. Naps in his lap because you fit there so perfectly.

Will he ever see you--live--in your human form for more than .5 seconds? Maybe. Maybe it happens in the middle of the night, when he wakes up to a weight on his chest, and your hair sprawled across his shirt. Maybe it happens, and you just give him a slow, sleepy blink, and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Maybe he's yours now, and he hasn't realized it.

His bunny. Your man.

[heavyhitterheaux]

“Maybe next time, check your surroundings”

You and Jack were currently trying not to look at one another because you knew that it would end up with the both of you laughing when Neelam was trying to be serious about the situation that occurred a few days ago.

However, that was short lived when you two made eye contact making Neelam’s face harden.

“This is NOT funny, you two.”

“Says who?” Jack asked her as he was trying to wipe away tears from his eyes. Seeing this sent you into a fit of giggles all over again.

“I swear the two of you wake up and ask yourselves what can we do to make Neelam’s job harder today and the two of you succeed every single time, I swear.” She responded as she rubbed her temples.

“Nee, come on. It’s not that big of a deal.” You told her as you laid across Jack’s lap and she instantly rolled her eyes.

“Not a big deal? A picture of your boobs are literally on the internet from your late night backseat shenanigans.”

“So are Rihanna’s.” Jack added and you quickly nodded.

“Oh, don’t even give me that. At least she was at an EVENT. The two of you were fucking in the backseat of Jack’s car.”

“Hmm, speculation! They don’t know that!” Jack yelled and you started laughing all over again.

“Do the two of you take anything seriously?”

“Define serious for us one time. And I thought it was a pretty good shot of my boobs anyway. Besides, we know you can make this whole thing go away.”

“Not the point Y/N!”

“Hey, at least I’m with my husband and not some random guy! Now that would send people over the edge. Besides, what's a little side boob action?”

“Y/N! THEY COULD SEE THE WHOLE BOOB! BOTH OF THEM! THE PICTURE IS SO CLEAR THAT THEY CAN SEE YOUR PIERCINGS IN THE PICTURE!”

“Oh, I hope they got a good angle of me, but it’s clear that they definitely did.”

“Hey, Nee, at least we didn’t break any beds this time.” Jack told her as he pulled you onto his lap and hugged you from behind.

“I will never forgive the two of you for waking me up in the middle of the night for that complete utter nonsense. Now I see why Urban says all of the time that the two of you make him sick.”

“I just love my wife, look how pretty she is. Stop hating.”

“We all know she’s pretty and no one is hating. You two are going to have 20 kids if you don’t get a damn grip.”

“He happens to always have a good grip on my thighs when he needs to.” You commented and Jack couldn’t help but to smirk.

“ENOUGH Y/N! ENOUGH!”

“Okay, are we done here? I need to go and get my wife pregnant.” 

Neelam sighed and knew deep down that the two of you would probably do it again and knew that there was no stopping you.

“Maybe next time, check your surroundings.”

“Sure, so they can get a show.”

“Y/N THAT IS NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

[skyland2703]

…ok so I got inspired <3

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Thesis in the tags

[beeholyshit]

Sleeping time

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

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[emacrow]

Danny had a very rough week of not sleeping....

Five days straight of non stop ghost hunting, barely focusing on whatever their parents new inventions were and sabotaging them..

Then Saturday began...

There was skulker with him, ghostnapping and chasing him at 12am in the morning to 3:20am in some new extravagant hunting ground in the ghost zone which ended up backfiring on him later when it wasn't even his hunting ground as the original ghost owner started chasing skulker.

Then there was Johnny and kitty argument and dragging him along as an unwillingly victim because johnny was flirting with some ghost girl as he was trying to fly back to his family portal around 4am.

Accidentally crashing into Youngblood ship who rather excited to play again for the 28th this week and it fucking Saturday man..

He finally back home at 10am.. only to noticed that his parents left him to go on some honeymoon field trip since Jazz was in gotham for her collage and part time job as a assistant turned into a full time therapist in Arkham because she actually got a break through with Scarecrow with his childhood trauma and the Arkham are still flabbergasted by her abilities and immediately slapped her a full time sponsorship.

He tries to go back to sleep only to get notifications at 11:03am from tucker that Techno and Vortex teaming to cause a full blown out town wreacking havoc with a literally tornado dragging machines into it for some grand plan which was a fucking pain in his ass because his thermo also got caught in it.

Danny is dragging himself back to his bed after souping both Techno and Vortex, flopping onto his bed to finally catch those zzz when it about 6:29pm

Only for fucking Vlad to start his own bullshit with a new invention.

Danny is about to fucking snap at this point, vlad doesn't know what he released over a week of sleep deprived danny.

Maybe because how tired he was at that moment to not noticed the ray gun that vlad had looked oddly like the one his parents were making yesterday only to get hit by it directly...

Only to noticed he not in his bed anymore..

He was in snow.. iced cold snow in the middle of freezing temperatures and near some icy like palace..

He could cry right now..

He thought he got sent to the Far Frozen, welp this would be a great spot to take some much needed sleep. His mind is too muddle right now to even takea glance on small his form is now at the moment.

Flying a bit loopy through the icy palace, not noticing humaniod like giant crystallized statues with a S on their chests blinking some kind of alarm.

Making himself right at home as he made a nice snow like fluffy blankey that Frostbite once taught him whenever he went through his daily shots and stay the night there..

Drifting off to sleep finally with the sound of the silence..

He was already too far gone into unconscious to be awakened at this point..

Unaware that his presence brought alert to a certain Superhero.

Whom found a tiny little boy in the Fortress of Solitude, sleeping peacefully like the dead despite his heart beating very very slowly to health concerning matter.

Trying to wake him up only brought him a tiny punch to a face so hard and fast that it actually hurt him.

Which made Clark froze as he realized that punch actually hurted...

Which brought a major misunderstanding that slowly became a much bigger one later on in the dna scanner.

[vivwritesfics]

Marshmallow

Her bed is too comfy for Bucky. But she has a solution

Fluff, fluff, so much fluff - but also I haven't written for this man in so long, it was like coming home

Her bed was like a marshmallow. Now, to most, this was no bad thing. But Bucky Barnes wasn't most. He was a soldier, Sergeant James Barnes. He wasn't used to comfort.

They'd met in such a normal way for a super soldier. Bucky had been trying to date, he'd been trying for so long after… everything, that he'd given up hope.

But there she was, reaching for a coffee that wasn't hers because she was too tired to proper comprehend it.

Her own name was called just after (Bucky definitely hasn't been listening while she ordered her own coffee, who said that?) and Bucky picked up her coffee and carried it to the outside table she'd been sitting at. There she was, ready to lift his coffee to her own lips.

“I think you've got mine,” he said with a warm smile as he showed her her own name written on the side of her cup.

She paused, pulled the coffee away from her mouth and looked at the name on the cup. Her head fell forward, embarrassment written on her face. “And my name isn't Bucky,” she said and pushed the cup of coffee towards him. “What kinda a name is that, anyway? I've never met a Bucky before.”

“It's a nickname,” he began as he slipped into the seat opposite her and placed her coffee down in front of her. He held out his flesh hand. “The name's James.”

“How do you get Bucky from James?”

Things progressed from there. Conversation was easy, in a way it hadn't been on any of his other dates and, by the end of the night, he was asking her to dinner.

It was dinner. And then a movie date. And then the library. Picnic in the park, nature walks, they did it all.

The first time Bucky stayed over (which took some convincing. They'd been seeing each other for three weeks and she'd determined that, after watching movies on her couch, it was too late for him to travel through the city back home), he'd just laid awake, sleep unwilling to find him.

He couldn't sleep, anyway. Not with her sleeping on his flesh arm. He played with her hair, touch gentle to not wake her. A little while before he met her, he would have seen a monster as his vibranium fingers played with her hair.

It kept happening. It was almost like Bucky couldn't stay away. And, every time he slept in her bed, she ended up sleeping against him in some capacity. Laying on his arm, head against his chest, holding his hand as it was wrapped around her middle.

He'd get used to it, he told himself. Lay there long enough and he'd fall asleep eventually.

Well, that wasn't how it was panning out. Bucky remained away, plastering a smile on his exhausted face the next morning so that she wouldn't worry about it. For now, it was working. For now, he was happy to wear that smile while they drank coffee on her couch, her feet in his lap.

It was his third night in her bed and Bucky was exhausted. Maybe this was the point where he could finally fall asleep beside her, holding her close.

But no, that wasn't the case. Of course it wasn't, Bucky never got that lucky.

She'd started the night laying on his chest, lips parted as soft snores left her lips. Bucky had his arm around her, keeping her close as he shut his eyes and tried to force himself into sleeping (which we know didn't work).

She rolled away from him in her sleep, releasing him completely. Bucky stayed there, laying on his back as he looked at her. She looked so pretty when she slept, and he couldn't stop himself from being jealous.

Pushing himself up, Bucky sucked in a breath. He rubbed his hand over his face, momentarily shutting his tired eyes. Even with his eyes shut, it offered him no rest.

It was, well, bullshit.

As carefully as he could, Bucky climbed out of the bed. He tried to leave the sheets undisturbed, to keep her asleep. But there was little he could do to stop himself from reaching over and kissing her cheek.

He left the room after that, feet quiet and carefully as they carried his heavy, muscled body away. He pulled the door as close to shut as he could without it clicking shut.

Loose in the apartment, Bucky didn't know what to do with himself. He got himself something to drink and just looked through the fridge. He sat on the couch, patting his thick, muscled thigh as he silently flipped through channels.

But there wasn't much he could do. Part of him debated laying on the floor and attempting to sleep, but he couldn't. Not when she was in the next room, probably searching for his warmth.

Through his boredom, Bucky remained quiet. He couldn't imagine anything worse than waking her up, not when she was sleeping so peacefully.

Except she wasn't sleeping peacefully. It was the absence of him that woke her. She knew something was wrong, she just couldn't place it. But then she woke up and Bucky was gone. That was what was wrong.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and slipping her feet into her slippers, she walked out of the bedroom.

“Buck?” She called, voice groggy as she walked towards the couch. He turned his head, watching as she made her way to him and climbed up onto the couch. Throwing one leg over his, she seated herself on his lap and wrapped her arms around him. “What're you doing out here?”

His hands were on her hips as he looked at her. “Couldn't sleep,” he replied and pulled her towards him.

The kiss he placed against her lips was soft, sweet, slight beard scratching against her cheek as he moved towards her neck.

“I missed you,” she replied as she settled against him.

Suddenly, Bucky's lips stopped moving against her neck. He released a sigh and pulled back to look at her tired face. “Do you wanna know why I haven't taken you back to my place yet?” He asked and she nodded her head, fingers dancing across his chest in a soothing manner. “It's because I don't have a bed.”

“You don't have a bed?” She asked, looking up into his blue eyes.

He shook his head. “No, doll, I don't have a bed,” he repeated, his own fingers moving up and down her sides. It wasn't ticklish. No, it had her damn near falling asleep. “I tried to sleep on a bed, got an expensive one for my apartment. Had it for a week before I got rid of it. When I tried laying on the floor, I actually got to sleep.”

Suddenly, she was standing. She grabbed two pillows from the sofa, held them against her chest and grabbed his hand. “C'mon,” she said and led him over to the empty corner of the room.

Throwing the pillows down, she sat and laid the blanket down on top of her. She patted the space beside her, looking up at her with her pretty eyes.

Bucky sat beside her. She pulled the blankets over his legs and then pushed his back against the pillow. “Doll,” he began as she rolled over, resuming her position from earlier. “You don't have to do this.”

“I want to,” she replied and kissed his shoulder.

“But you back-”

And then she was hushing him, shutting him up with a kiss. “Let me do this for you. Besides, if things get uncomfortable I can always lay on you, right?”

“Right.”

She settled down against him, eyes shutting. But seconds later, Bucky had her in his grasp. He rolled her over until she was laying on top of him and kissed the top of her head. “There,” he said against her hair. “That's better.”

And, that night, Bucky Barnes fell asleep.

[pathologicalreid]

Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

i saw you were taking requests and so i got inspired: aegon x sister!wife in which they have a complicated relationship (not as terrible as his and helaena’s) but she gets all protective over aegon when he’s burned because she saw what aemond did and because she’s with child but no one knows so she blurts it out while arguing with aemond after confronting him in aegon’s chambers so aegon wakes up to her being all wild for him and instead of him saying “mummy” he says “i’m sorry” or anything that’s going to make us tear up!

Request: Since you’re open to requests (I don’t know if you write for Aegon), would you consider doing an Aegon one where it’s hurt/comfort after the battle/burns with his recovery. Maybe with some angst? 👀

Request: Otto demands more babies from you but Aegon says no because he loves you in his own way and doesn’t want to love you. One of the pregnancies left you in bad shape and Aegon got scared

Warnings: mention of misscariage, incest, forced marriage, mention of attempted murder (Aegon), choking

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

At three and ten, you woke up to a red stain in your bed — you flowered. According to your Septa, it meant that you were a woman. According to your parents, it meant that you were ready to marry your brother, Aegon, and give him children. 

You always dreamed of marrying a Dornish prince. When you were little, your father had taken you with him to visit the Martells. You'll never forget the beauty of the water gardens and the feeling of the warm sun on your skin. 

Unfortunately, you were the eldest daughter of Queen Alicent. Your hand was promised to Aegon since you came out of your mother's cunt. 

There were no smiles on any of your faces when you married in the Great Sept of Baelor. Aegon kept sighing during the ceremony, disinterested and wishing for it to end, and you were picking at your fingers until drawing blood, terrified of the moment he would take you to bed.

You did your duty as husband and wife. You gave him a child — an heir. Your father was smiling wide at the beautiful silver haired babe in your arms, proud of his daughter, while your mother had tears in her eyes and called you her brave girl, having gone through the same thing when she was a girl. As for Aegon, he was in a brothel, getting drunk and wetting his cock. 

‘’Where is the babe?’’ he asked when he returned in the morning, the sun rising outside the Keep. 

You were exhausted from giving birth, and sore in places you didn’t think you would ever be. You were not in the mood for conversing with your unfaithful husband. 

‘’She is sleeping,’’ you replied. 

‘’She?’’ Aegon frowned. ‘’It’s a…girl?’’

The disappointment in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. ‘’I apologize for not giving you a boy.’’ 

After that moment, Aegon became kinder to you. 

He didn’t know how to be a father, but he knew that he didn’t want to be like his father; a man who pressured his first wife to give him a boy — an heir —, and drove her to her death from trying.  

A daughter was good, it was great. 

She quickly became his whole world. He took her on Sunfyre — against your approval —, read her stories at bedtime, and let her put flowers in his hair when they played outside. Your heart was fond every time you saw them together. 

‘’I want another,’’ Aegon said to you in the quiet of your bedchamber one night, his hand covering your flat stomach. ‘’Our daughter needs a brother…or a sister to play with.’’ 

You were seven and ten when you almost died during a miscarriage. Pregnancies were known to come with complications amongst the Targaryen women — miscarriages, stillborns, abnormalities —, and yours had been no different. 

Aegon had woken in the middle of the night to blood soaking the sheets. He shouted for the maester, dread filling his whole body at the thought of losing you. You were asleep for three days, which made the maester nervous. 

‘’No more,’’ he promised when you opened your eyes, refusing to put you through the risks of another pregnancy. He would not know what to do without you. 

When King Viserys fell and Aegon ascended the throne, a war ensued and Aegon ended up badly injured. Burns and broken bones. 

It was now your turn to stay by his side and pray the gods for his recovery. 

You had left shortly for the maesters to change his bandages, and found Aemond looming over the end of Aegon’s bed when you returned. 

‘’Was it worth the price?’’ 

Your brother’s head snapped in your direction in the doorway at the sound of your voice, but he ignored your question. 

You closed the door and stepped closer, eyes narrowing. ‘’You did this to him.’’ 

Aemond remained silent. 

‘’I saw you, Aemond. At Rook’s Rest.’’ Your gaze shifted to Aegon, lying motionless with half his face and body burned. ‘’I wasn’t going to let him go to battle alone and drunk. We didn’t choose this marriage, but I care enough to follow him on dragonback when he’s being reckless. I stayed behind, hidden through the forest. I could see all.’’ 

The room fell silent, the only sound Aegon’s labored breathing echoing.

‘’You burned him.’’ Your voice quivered with anger and disgust. ‘’You burned him and let him fall to his death! How could you?” you demanded, your voice trembling with rage. “You’re his brother! You were supposed to protect him, not burn him alive!”

Aemond observed you, his face cold and detached. ‘’Sacrifices must be made in order to ascend to our victory, sister. Aegon has the fire but lacks the wisdom and knowledge to rule.’’

‘’And you think you would make a better king?’’ you shot back with a huf. 

Aemond's eye darkened at your words. He stepped closer to you and grabbed your neck in a strong grip, but didn’t press. ‘’Watch your tongue, sister,’’ he warned in a low, menacing tone.

‘’Or what? You’re gonna burn me like you did Aegon?’’ you retorted, defiance in your violet eyes.

His grip on your neck tightened and the air was cut off instantly, your breath halting in your chest. Panic surged through you as you looked at him, your eyes wide with fear. His face was inches from yours, his grip unrelenting.

As if he had sensed your distress, Aegon spoke your name. It was more of a mumble, a weak wheeze, but you heard it. You both heard it. 

Aemond released his grip, shocked and stoic, and watched as you hurried to Aegon's bedside. He was half comatose, his eyes closed as he let out a soft moan.

You gently caressed his cheek. ‘’I’m here, my love,’’ you said, bringing your other hand to your neck where Aemond had grabbed you. 

He had always been gentle and kind compared to Aegon, especially toward you and Helaena. Never you would have imagined Aemond would put a hand on you. His behavior had changed since the death of your father. He became reckless and impulsive. Even your mother had been saying so. 

You heard footsteps, telling you Aemond was leaving, and without raising your head you said: ‘’I will pray you cut yourself on the throne and decay like our father did.’’

—

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[greatunironic]

eddie wakes up in a strange room. this was not particularly unusual for him, historically: he’d spent most of his twenties waking up in new and interesting places (including a handful of jail cells). but after eddie, the label, and the los angeles superior court system decided it would be best if he stopped drinking and doing blow, it stopped being such a regular occurrence.

so it’s almost alarming to him, now, to be blinking up at an unfamiliar cement ceiling with the raging bitch of all headaches and generally feeling like he got hit by a truck, got whiplash in a crash with the way his neck aches. he’d think he was hungover like all those times before except for how sharp the pain is, bright.

he worries, briefly, he’s relapsed, or someone’s slipped him something. but he remembers what him and the boys had been up to, before this, and he thinks it’d’ve been a strange night indeed if someone roofied a c-list (b-list if he’s feeling charitable) musician at a fucking frozen four game.

because yeah, eddie remembers: they’d been third row, watching the wisconsin ladies clean up and cheering for jeff’s kid sister like she was about to get olympic gold. (she probably would, someday. her and that mayfield girl who played defense were looking down the barrel at a 2026 run apparently.

eddie’s been to a handful of games over the years, when touring and recording allows them to go. he’s resolutely never been a sports guy but he’ll admit, when pressed, that live hockey is pretty dope. to say nothing, of course, of how jeff would probably murder them all in their sleep if they didn’t rep the red and white for lottie.

(and also — and this is between eddie and his god alright — but lottie’s coach? standing back there in his suit, hair styled and dialed, snapping his gum, yelling at the refs? kind of doing it for him, okay. worth the price of admission, even if the tickets weren’t free.)

when he thinks harder — which hurts too — the last thing he clearly remembers was someone from the beavers scoring, bringing their lead to 5-1, and a slapshot from the other team getting out over the boards and nearly taking out some lady’s popcorn. someone behind them in the seats said, “jesus they’re getting desperate, eh?”

then shit goes dark on him, not even a fade to black, but a full on smash cut, roll credits black, and the post-credits scene is where ever the fuck eddie is at the moment. it smells like human and cold and icy hot, so obviously, he thinks, he died and went to hell like all the church ladies said he would back in hawkins, or probably just a locker room. what the fuck?

he blinks at the ceiling, at an interesting water stain on the cement texturing. he’s in the middle of wondering where the rest of his band has gone if he’s here alone, fucking abandoners, when a sweaty redhead with the bitchiest expression he’s maybe ever seen enters his field of vision.

“you’re alive,” she says.

eddie blinks again. “why do you sound so disappointed?”

“yo coach!” she shouts, already on the move away from him. “he’s alive!”

he tries to sit up, but that makes the pain in his head worse, and also draws attention to the fact that his back also hurts. he squeezes his eyes shut and makes a truly embarrassing noise of pain — if pressed, he’d call it a whimper — and a pair of big hands land on his shoulders.

“out, out ladies i got this! hey!, hey, man, don’t move just yet,” says big hands.

“yeah, no problem, i don’t want to anymore,” eddie says. he stirs up the will to open his eyes again and very nearly slams them back shut. because of course the person staring down at him is fucking coach hottie snackycakes himself. he’s even better looking in person, too, big droopy eyes, lips as pink as his bubblegum, and shiny, jesus christ. he’s still got eddie by the shoulders, hands warm through the thin cotton of his flannel and tee — because eddie’s always been more fashion than sense, wayne always said, and it’s even worse now that the paps are on him—

“oh, fuck this is gonna be all over tiktok later, isn’t it?” he moans.

“maybe not.”

“don’t lie.”

“listen, eddie — it is eddie, right?” asks coach hottie. “i’m steve. coach harrington. faughnsie — lottie, i mean — she said you’re eddie. her brother’s guitarist? what do you remember?”

“more like he’s my singer,” he says, “but sure. and not much.”

“well, you’re gonna be okay,” says coach hottie — steve. “it really wasn’t that bad, and it was probably too fast for anyone to get it, unless they already had a camera on you. you took a puck to the head when one popped up. i’d apologize but it wasn’t one of my girls who did it, so. anyway — you weren’t out for long, which robbie says is good — she’ll get a look at you in a second — but you got your bell rung pretty good. and you’re gonna have quite the shiner, trust me.”

“speaking from experience?”

“oh, yeah. closer and faster too.” he gently raps his head with his knuckles. “too many concussions too early ended my nhl days, in fact.”

“oh. oh shit, sorry, i—“

“don’t worry about it, man, it happens,” he says. “and if it hadn’t, i wouldn’t be here.”

“at the frozen four.”

“yeah, sure, that too.”

“what?”

“what?” steve waves him off. “anyway, i’m just glad to see you up, ish, and talking. looked pretty scary, from the bench.”

“i really don’t remember,” says eddie. “but i’m sure i’ll see it on tiktok later, like i said — at least, my unconscious, bleeding form.”

“i got up there pretty fast, so i doubt it,” says steve.

eddie blinks, twice. “you—?”

“you were behind my bench, and you. well,” he says with a shrug, but he’s clearly a little embarrassed, finally putting those hands away — weapons of eddie destruction, he thinks — and shoving them into his pockets of his tight slacks. “i should be getting back out there.”

“do you? you’re murdering them pretty good, unless i black out and missed them getting four more goals,” eddie says.

the corners of steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles. eddie thinks he might just pass out again. “no, we’re still gonna cinch it, i think. looks bad, though — first time coach missing the final period so’s he can hit on the cute musician who got his clock cleaned by the biscuit.”

“oh,” he says. swallows. “uh.”

steve’s crinkly, smiley eyes go wide. “unless—“

“no less!” eddie shouts and then immediately winces. at a better, less damaging to his more than slightly concussed noggin, volume, he says, “more, actually. because pretty sure i shouldn’t be left unsupervised, and i’ve clearly been abandoned by the band, so—“

“so,” says steve.

“coach, two minutes!” someone calls.

“so, i was hoping maybe i could keep hitting on the hot hockey coach back at his?”

“i’m at the ramada inn,” he says, “and i got tape to watch for the finals.”

“i live for room service,” eddie tells him seriously. “and i’m suddenly very into wisconsin sports teams.”

“coach! go time!”

“yeah?” he asks.

“yeah.”

“COACH!”

he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “i gotta — but, uh, later?”

“pick me up in twenty?”

“probably more like half an hour, with stoppage,” he says.

someone bangs on the door. “COACH!! let’s boogie!!”

with one last look, wide eyed and smiling, steve leaves. eddie watches him go. he’d heard hockey players were caked up but lord — eddie is about to convert to a new religion, or maybe found one, over the stretch of those slacks.

“damn,” he says quietly.

“gross,” a woman says. eddie startles and looks to the side, where a lanky brunette with a bob and an undercut is staring at him, unimpressed. she’s in some get up that screams athletic trainer, and there’s a white board in her hand.

“how long have you been there?” he asks.

she raises an eyebrow. “long enough, and honestly, i don’t know if that counts as a you rule for him, or a you suck for you,” she says and does not elaborate when he asks. “also don’t look at him like that. it’s steve. he’s basically my sister.”

“yeah? any tips then?” asks eddie. “i promise i’ll only use them for good. well. mostly.”

“god,” she says with an expansive eye roll. “you’re gonna be a nightmare, aren’t you?”

a cheer goes up outside the room as the teams, presumably, take the ice again. eddie, head throbbing, concussed, embarrassed, grins. “sure hope so,” he says.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Part Six

Steve wakes with a start, yelping and then immediately panicking when the bed covers feel constricting – it passes almost immediately when he realizes where he is and what woke him.

“Hi Eddie,” Steve sighs, blinking the rest of the way awake. He rubs at his crusty eyes, the bedside clock glowing three forty seven at him. Great. “What’s up buddy?”

“Stee,” Eddie says quietly, like he somehow understands the sanctity of the middle of the night, “ow. Dead later,” and then he makes a noise like a fly buzzing. Or a bee. It’s a fair attempt at a gentle ‘bzzzz’ing noise.

Steve sighs, “okay buddy lets go.”

Eddie turns at the top of the stairs and goes down them on his butt, which Steve’s pretty sure he would find amusing if he wasn’t half asleep and half annoyed.

The ground outside is cold enough that Steve hisses when his bare foot hits it, and he does a silly hopping jog to follow Eddie onto the lawn. It is a bee, and it’s moving sluggish and confused on the grass. The weathers getting colder, the time of year plus...probably it’s old?

Steve knows fuck all about bees, but he’s pretty sure individual bees don’t live for that long, and that maybe they sort of hibernate in the winter? Or something? Isn’t that what all of that honey is for?

Maybe they could bring it into the warm and give it some sugar water or something, Steve’s pretty sure he’s heard that from someone, somewhere along the line, “okay little bee guy, here we go.” Steve uses a finger to encourage the fuzzy bee onto his hand.

Steve stands; there’s very faint, and probably first of the year, patches of frost on Eddie’s tent. It hasn’t formed anywhere else, so it’s probably not that bad yet, but still, it’s chilly enough that Steve hops back across the lawn with some urgency.

In the kitchen, Steve says, “here Eddie, you take him,” and transfers the bee into Eddie’s cupped hands. He mixes a tiny mount of sugar water in the bottom of a glass, with no idea at all if it’ll help or not. The bee should probably be asleep, right? Steve can’t remember ever seeing a bee at night, so he assumes they go to bed like sensible bees.

Steve drops a tiny bit of the sugary mixture onto Eddie’s palm, right in front of the bee’s face; he drinks it, so Steve does it again. “Okay, I think we should all try and get some sleep. Eddie, you want to sleep on the couch?”

“Sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah,” Steve rubs his arms, making ‘brrrr’ing noises and generally pretending he’s in arctic conditions. He points to the door, “cold outside. Warm here.”

Eddie cocks his head, but seems to get it, so Steve takes the bee, setting it dead center on a couch cushion, and goes back to bed.

Steve wakes again at a much more normal time; blinking at the nine thirty now on his clock and thinking that is way, way better. He wonders vaguely if the bee lived, but he doubts it. Eddie will probably be sad about it; like the bird.

If that was even sadness; if Eddie even understands the concept of death. Steve has no way to know what Eddie thinks about it.

He heads downstairs; vaguely planning his day. He needs a coffee and some breakfast, then get ready; they probably need some groceries. Working opposite shifts to Robin really sucks; he hasn’t seen her once yet this week. They talk on the phone though, and she swears she's working on Keith. He should check when he goes in later for a day they both have off so they can hang out; if such a thing even exists.

Maybe the kids will come over for a movie night; Steve does now have unfettered access to all the newest releases...and is it sad that Steve’s lonely enough that he wants to invite over that bunch of mongrels? Maybe, he’s not going to think to much about it.

Steve sets the coffee going then heads into the lounge; Eddie’s curled up into a tight ball, his spine bent at a really fucking weird angle and his tail wrapped around himself; Steve knows then that he’s never seen Eddie sleep before, because he’s definitely never seen whatever the hell is happening here. It’s like a cat. Or a snake, maybe. The way he’s all curled up tight on himself; makes Steve’s back hurt just looking at him.

At the other end of the couch is the sad, still, little body of the bee. Steve stares at it, listening to the faint noise from the kitchen; the coffee pot gurgles a little.

Eddie blinks awake, unwrapping himself.

“Morning Eddie.”

“Morning Stee,” Eddie blinks sadly at the bee, and then, very gently, leans over and nudges it with a claw tip, “dead?”

“Yeah buddy, I’m sorry. But at least he was comfortable, right? Warm and...sugared up.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, watching as Steve scoops up the bee and following him into the kitchen. Steve very nearly puts the bee in the trash can, but veers off at the last moment. It feels a little wrong, throwing the little dude out; he also doesn’t know what Eddie would thinks and feels vaguely like Eddie might...judge him.

Steve heads outside and deposits him in a plant pot instead. When he comes back in, Eddie’s raiding the fridge, “pear inied. Grapes inied. Celery inied.”

Steve sighs, “I know buddy, I’m sorry. I’ll go and get more, okay?” Steve goes out to the freezer in the garage and comes back with a whole bag of frozen peas, and that seems to completely make up for it. He pours Eddie a bowl of peas, and himself a bowl of cereal, sticking a spoon in both. He downs the coffee so he doesn’t have to make two trips.

“Couch, TV?”

Eddie nods, following Steve. Eddie turns on the TV since Steve’s hands are full, and they sit side by side on the couch, Eddie very carefully using his spoon.

“Called?”

“It’s a toothbrush.”

Eddie watches from his seat on the floor next to Steve; he’s high enough to easily lean his elbows on the counter top.

“Why?”

And ‘called?’ Steve can handle all day long, but ‘why?’ has rapidly become a tricky thing to navigate.

“To clean.” Steve grins big as he can, clicking his teeth together, “teeth.”

“Teeth,” Eddie snaps back, then turns to the mirror, clicking his teeth at himself. “Eddidie clean teeth?”

Steve snorts a laugh, and Eddie looks at him, tilting his head but smiling too. Steve figures that a solid ninety five percent of the time, Eddie’s just happy to be involved.

“Okay buddy I think I have…” Steve rummages in the cupboard under the sink, “ah ha!”

“Ah ha!”

“Here you go,” Steve unwraps the new toothbrush, really, really fucking glad it’s a different color to his own. “Steve’s is blue, Eddie’s is purple.”

“Purple.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve wets the bristles of both, and then puts the tiniest little dab of toothpaste on Eddie’s before putting the proper amount on his own.

“Here you go.” Steve hands it over, and then Starts brushing his teeth. Eddie holds his own brush, watching Steve closely in the mirror before attempting it himself. His movements are slow and cautious, be he definitely gets the idea.

Steve rinses his brush under the water, leaving it running as Eddie does the same. Eddie has no trouble dropping his toothbrush into the cup next to Steve’s.

Eddie explores the bath next; all this shit must have been here when Eddie spent a night in the tub, but Steve was beaten to hell and still a little fucking high on Russian truth serum when all that was going on, so he honestly doesn’t really remember much of those first couple of days. “Called?”

“Shampoo. It’s to clean hair,” Steve tugs on his hair to demonstrate, “hair.”

“Eddidie clean hair?”

“Uh. I mean, if you want to?”

Eddie gets the cap open, squeezing the bottle carefully and sniffing the hole, “good.”

Steve’s current shampoo smells like apples, and Steve realizes what’s going to happen just as it’s too late to stop Eddie from sticking his tongue out.

Eddie smacks his lips together, looking truly disgusted, “fucking gross.”

“Hey! Language!” Steve takes the bottle from a grinning Eddie. He looks so pleased with himself Steve can’t stay mad, “damn kids,” he sighs. Eddie definitely got that one from Max, the little reprobate. “Okay, if we’re going to do this, in the tub.”

Eddie points, “in?”

“Yup.”

Eddie manages it, hoisting himself up and the flicking his tail and sliding his ass over the edge, “Eddidie in tub.”

“You got it buddy,” Steve takes the shower head down, pointing it away from Eddie while it warms up, then moving it a little onto his tail, “feel okay?”

“Warm,” Eddie reaches out to feel the water, “good.”

“Okay, here we go then.”

Eddie sits patiently, head tilted back as Steve wets his hair down and then adds the shampoo. Eddie’s hair is thick, like, insanely thick, and it takes a bit for Steve to work the lather in. The individual strands are thick too, coarse and a little wiry. The back of Eddie’s scalp feels strange too, like his skull had ridges on it; lines that all join together right at the back of Eddie’s head. You’d never be able to see it through his hair.

Steve goes through half a bottle of conditioner on him, but Eddie sits patiently through all of it, flicking his fingers through the water, even when Steve combs it through and catches on snags, Eddie’s doesn’t complain at all. He tilts his head back easily when Steve directs him to, “okay, nearly finished.”

Once they’re done, Eddie climbs out of the bath and onto a towel, sitting on the floor while Steve dries his hair; he gets the idea and dries his arms and torso himself. Steve’s so used to looking at him that he doesn’t find the lack of belly button and nipples at all odd any more. Just looks normal. Looks like Eddie.

“Okay buddy, just let me grab a shower, and then you can help me write a grocery list,” Eddie follows Steve into the bedroom, watching as Steve grabs clothes before heading for his shower. Steve clicks the lock on just in case; Eddie’s not exactly worked out stuff like boundaries or personal space yet.

When Steve comes out, Eddie’s waiting patiently, sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, wearing his yellow sweater.

Part Eight

[cressidagrey]

The Witching Hour - Chapter 1 - Nesta

Summary: 

5 Times members of the Inner Circle get absolutely terrified by Azriel's...whatever she is, and 1 (of many) times Azriel thinks that his witch was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Warnings: 

Nightmares, mention of the blood rite, friends with benefits sort of relationship, stabbing (in the past), magical mental health care (sorta)

(super pretty dividers by @cafekitsune)

The night air was crisp, but not cold, a welcome reprieve from the summer heat.

But none of this was calming down Nesta's racing heart, even when she stamped down the panic that rose in her chest.

She shielded the bond from it as well as she could, not wanting to wake up Cassian...again.

Nesta didn't know what it was but...but somehow the nightmares that involved the Blood Rite were...worse than even the ones that involved her father dying...the ones that involved that gods-forsaken cauldron.

Somehow the Blood Rite...somehow that was leaving her in a state of panic that nothing could touch. Not even Cassian. And he tried. Her mate did try.

She tried to. She tried everything...making herself so busy with training and work that she should fall into bed with pure exhaustion...sleeping with Cassian and hoping that maybe the pleasure of that would wipe away the nightmares…

Nothing worked.

Nothing helped. Each time she closed her eyes, the same images would invade her mind. The endless days of battle, the gruelling journey through the mountains, the horrors of the Blood Rite...they all appeared with a sickening vividness that made it seem like she wasn't just experiencing a mere nightmare, but actually reliving those horrible days.

It made her throw up and want to cry...want to roll herself together in a miserable little ball because she didn't know what else to do anymore

The panic rose in her chest, making her heart pound in her ears. She was getting desperate, desperately searching for a way to make the nightmares stop. She was considering sleeping outside, on the balcony in the night air, just for a change of scenery.

It seemed ridiculous, but...but at this point...at this point, she'd try anything.

She took a shaking breath, her hand gripping the balcony railing tighter, her knuckles turning white. The night air, usually so calming, was doing little to ease the tightness in her chest.

She was contemplating going back inside and trying to sleep again...just closing her eyes and hoping that maybe this time she would experience something different...when suddenly, she heard the flapping of wings...

Nesta turned her head towards the sound, her senses on high alert. The wings sounded large, powerful, and...familiar.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Azriel appeared before her, slipping over the balcony railing, shadows swirling around his shoulders. "Nesta," he greeted her calmly, giving her a slow nod...like it was totally normal for him to appear on her balcony in the middle of the night.

"You weren't there at dinner," she blurted out because she hadn't seen him since this morning.

"I had a late dinner with an old friend," Azriel answered. Azriel's response made sense, even if the notion of a "late dinner" with an old friend sounded strange to Nesta. But then again, who was she to judge? Azriel spent most of his time being the Spymaster of the Night Court, so she supposed it shouldn't surprise her that he had...odd friends.

"Oh," was all she could manage in response.

"I didn't know you had friends." She immediately regretted her words but Azriel just chuckled.

"Just the one," he promised her, as he leaned against the railing next to her. She caught a sense clinging to him that she couldn't place.

She eyed him carefully, her eyes taking in the mysterious shadow clinging to him. It was a scent that she couldn't quite place, but it was oddly...familiar, too.

Azriel chuckled again, his voice still as calm and steady as ever.

"Just the one," he repeated. "An old friend, from a long time ago."

"Can't sleep?" He asked quietly, his voice a deep rumble.

She gave a slight nod, not looking at Azriel. The nightmares were the one thing she didn't want to discuss with him or anyone for that matter. She didn't want them to know how weak she was, how she still couldn't get a rein on her emotions and her thoughts. She didn't want them to think any more of her as a fragile, broken thing than they already did.

The thought of it, it made her sick.

But...but she had a feeling that Azriel wouldn't judge her, or look at her in that way. Maybe she could...maybe she could ask for help. Or at least...let him know that something was wrong.

She swallowed hard and then said, her voice hardly more than a whisper: "No, I can't...I can't sleep. The...the nightmares."

Azriel gave a nod as if he already knew. His voice was still that same calm and steady as he said, "The Blood Rite?"

Nesta gave another nod. How had he guessed so easily? But then again...it wasn't that hard to guess. The nightmares hadn't started until after that event.

But at least these days she didn't wake up with her entire room engulfed in silver flames anymore.  She took a shaking breath, fighting to keep her emotions in check. She wasn't a child. She shouldn't be affected by this. She shouldn't be this much of a mess...

"I am surprised you didn't wake up Cassian when you got up," Azriel said suddenly.

Nesta’s eyes widened a little bit at that. Was she that obvious? Did she look that shake? She had hoped she'd done a better job of putting up a mask in front of the others.

"I didn't want to bother him," she replied quietly. "Let him sleep...I wake him often enough."

"He's your mate," Azriel said evenly. "He would want to be there for you."

His words were like a punch to the gut. She knew that her mate would want to be there for her, and would want to help her. Hell, he probably would already be here, holding her, comforting her...if he knew how bad the nightmares were.

But...but she didn't want to burden him like that. She couldn't keep burdening him...

"He tries to comfort me and then he gets no sleep as well. And I will not be the reason why he has a moment of inattentiveness that ends up costing his life, just because I can't control myself," Nesta hissed.

Her voice was bitter as she spoke. She hated admitting it, saying it out loud...but it was true. She was a burden. She was holding Cassian back, making him waste his nights trying to soothe her instead of getting the rest and preparation he needed for a mission.

She couldn't keep doing that to him. She just...she just couldn't.

A silence fell between them then, her words hanging in the air. She didn't know what Azriel was thinking, what was going on in his head. But he didn't try and refute her words, which only further confirmed the terrible thoughts swirling in her mind.

Another beat of silence, as Nesta let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

Another beat of silence, as she let the terrible, awful thoughts swirl through her head.

Then, quietly, as if he had read her mind. "You are not a burden," Azriel said.

"You are not a burden," he repeated, his voice even. "You are anything but."

She didn't reply, just continued staring out over the railing, her hands gripping the cold stone until her knuckles turned white. She was a burden, she knew that. And she didn't know why he was lying to her, trying to convince her otherwise.

"I have nightmares too," Azriel said suddenly.

Her eyes widened and she jerked her head around to look at him. Wait, what? Azriel had nightmares?

Her mouth opened, an astonished question on her lips, but Azriel didn't give her the chance to ask. He continued in the same even tone as if it was no big deal: "And many of them are about the Blood Rite too."

Her mind was reeling at his confession. Azriel had nightmares about the Blood Rite? The strong, mysterious warrior, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court?

She couldn't even process the words. And he said it so casually, so nonchalantly as if he was merely discussing the weather and not admitting to being tormented by such horrible, painful nightmares.

"Even now, 500 years after it happened."

His voice was still emotionless, still so calm and steady, even as he admitted that.

It was unfathomable. How...how did he manage to survive through 500 years of these nightmares? She barely could make it a week…

She couldn't even fathom what it would be like, to have those memories torment her for 500 years and counting. To have no hope of them ever stopping.

A silence fell between them, her mind reeling at Azriel's confession. She was about to ask something, to say something...when he suddenly spoke again.

"You want them to stop? The nightmares?" He asked, his voice quiet, yet with a hint of command in it. A hint of that darkness within him, the shadows that swirled around him like an ever-present cloak.

Her eyes widened, a shiver running down her spine at the command in his voice. She gave a slow nod, not trusting her voice to speak.

Somehow...somehow the shadows around him seemed to swirl and dance a little faster, seeming almost excited at her nodded response.

She would give everything for these nightmares to stop

Her voice was a mere whisper, but the honesty in it seemed to resonate like an echo in the night's silence.

She would give anything to stop reliving those memories, to stop seeing those images, to stop...to stop feeling this pain. Anything, she'd give anything for that respite.

Azriel continued to regard her with those dark eyes, those shadows whirling around him. A part of her wondered, for a moment, just what the shadows were thinking. Did they know what Azriel was about to offer, what he was going to say? Was that why they seemed so excited, so anxious…

"Then let's go." He said that so easily as he held out his hand for her and Nesta took it.

In a heartbeat, she'd taken his hand, her slender fingers closing around his. His grip was warm, strong, and...and it felt oddly steadying. Like an anchor to the ground.

The shadows engulfed them in a swirling vortex of darkness. For a moment, her heart thundered in her chest, a brief moment of panic at the feeling of being lost amid the shadows, at being so far from the ground.

But then...then the shadows seemed to shift, Azriel's firm grip on her hand the only anchor to reality, to the ground.

A moment later, the shadows faded away, and she found herself standing in a street in Velaris.

"I thought you couldn't winnow at the House of Wind," she said weakly.

"No winnowing. Shadow Walking," Azriel corrected her absentmindedly.

What? She had no clue what even was the difference.

"I am only wearing my nightgown," she hissed at him a moment later.

For the first time since they'd left the balcony, Azriel turned towards her, his eyes taking in her appearance, raking over her form.

His dark eyes scanned over her frame, her pale nightgown and slippered feet. For a moment, she felt self-conscious, almost shrinking back from that gaze...but then a smirk curled his lips.

"Don't worry, she won't care," he said drily. "She's seen a lot worse. And a lot more."

“It’s the middle of the night!” she protested next. 

“It’s a full moon. She’s pretty much nocturnal during this time of the month,” he waved her off. 

What kind of friend was this even?!

"Who is she?" Nesta demanded as Azriel led her to a door that was looking...harmless.

"Just a friend," Azriel said simply, his step not faltering as he led her towards the unassuming door.

It looked ordinary, so much so that a passerby would never guess that there was anything special behind it.

He didn't elaborate on the mysterious "she" who was behind the door...and Nesta had a feeling that he wouldn't, not until the moment she would see his friend for herself.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as they approached the door, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation swirling within her.

Azriel was being infuriatingly coy about everything. He wouldn't tell her who they were visiting, how he knew this person, or why this person could help her.

All she could do was follow him towards the unassuming door, her nightgown swishing around her ankles.

When they reached the door, Azriel gave her a slight smirk, as if silently saying, "Ready to find out?"

Nesta shot him a glare back, her eyes narrowing. If he was trying to drive her crazy, he was doing a good job of it.

She had about 5 different insults on the tip of her tongue, but before she had a chance to voice any of them, Azriel pushed open the door, revealing a...darkly elegant interior.

Her breath caught as she stepped across the threshold, her eyes scanning over the elegant yet dark interior of the shop.

Dark tapestries hung on the walls, illuminated by the dim light of the numerous candles scattered throughout. The scent of various herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the lingering scent of something...stronger. There was a...mysterious energy to the place, a sense of something ancient and powerful.

And then, Nesta came eye to eye with a pitch black...something. Golden eyes with slitted pupils watched her from the darkness and she froze. Like a cat, it stared at her. But for a cat, it was...too big. Too tall. It would at least reach Azriel's waist.

Her heart quickened at the sight of the...thing, watching her with its unblinking golden eyes. It was like a cat, but wrong, far too big to be a house cat. She was frozen, her body tense as she held the gaze of the feline creature before her.

She was about to whisper to Azriel what the hell this thing was if he could explain this...but it was Azriel who broke the silence.

"Hello, Bella," Azriel said, his voice smooth and even.

His words sent a small shock through her, her eyes widening as she stared between the strange cat creature and Azriel. Bella? This creature was named Bella.

Azriel continued, as if oblivious to her shock, "I hope you don't mind me bringing some company this late at night."

The feline creature...Bella...huffed in response, seeming to look at Azriel with those golden eyes, as if silently judging him.

For a moment, Nesta was convinced that the creature would attack them, throw them out of the house, but then...

Suddenly, Bella turned her golden gaze back to her, those feline eyes seeming to scan her from head to toe.

And then it moved.

Bella moved with a fluid, almost graceful motion, its jet-black fur rippling as it stepped out of the shadows, its golden eyes still on Nesta.

It was a cat. A massive cat. A huge cat. Big enough that it would reach Azriel’s waist. Bella yawned, showing a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. Nesta thought she was going to faint

The cat-like creature circled her, its movements slow and deliberate. Her heart was still thundering in her chest, her eyes wide as she followed Bella's every movement, half prepared to flee if the creature attacked.

Nesta tried to remain steady, to keep her breathing even, but her heart was racing, drumming against her chest.

Bella continued circling her, those golden eyes never leaving her form for a second. It was like the creature was studying her, silently judging her, and it made her feel...uncomfortable.

"Oh, she likes you," a female voice said. "Did you bring us a toy, Shadowsinger?"

The new voice startled her, and her head jerked to the side just in time to see a woman moving into the room, stepping out of the shadows near the back of the room.

The woman was…utterly gorgeous, with green eyes and long red hair cascading down her back. 

Her eyes widened as she took in the woman before her, her body covered in a gold satin nightgown that clung to her curves and left very little to the imagination.

The woman -who could only be called a Goddess - smirked and was amused as she took in Nesta, her eyes scanning over her from head to toe in the same manner as Bella had.

She was clearly taking in every detail, her gaze sharp and unwavering, as if evaluating every bit of her appearance and body.

"I am not a toy," Nesta bristled.

"Of course not," the woman said with a smile, her voice smooth and silky. "But you are  very pretty."

The compliment sounded more like a statement, like the woman was judging a painting or a piece of jewellery. Her words were not rude...but they didn't hold much kindness, either, more like simple facts.

And they didn't do anything to soothe that flicker of envy that had arisen in Nesta at the sight of the other woman's beauty.

"We are in need of your services, Cate," Azriel said at that moment. Cate. Such a normal name...for such a woman. Her ears were pointed but...Nesta would have bet anything that she wasn't High Fae. She wasn't sure what she was but she wasn't...

Her eyes darted to Azriel, who had stepped up next to her, his gaze on the woman - Cate, it seemed she was called - with an expectant look.

"Services?" Cate repeated with a raised brow, her eyes flickering between them, before a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. "And what sort of services can I render you, Shadowsinger?"

Her mind was spinning to try to make sense of the exchange, of that subtle… undercurrent of something that lay just beneath the words.

It was almost like there was a conversation happening she wasn't privy to, like they were speaking in a language she didn't understand.

She glanced at Azriel, trying to read his expression, but he was giving nothing away.

Cate's smirk widened as she took in both of them, her green eyes scanning over them with that sharpness that made Nesta feel more self-conscious of her own plain nightgown.

Azriel, meanwhile, remained as stoic, his features betraying nothing of his thoughts. He seemed to be waiting...but waiting for what, exactly?

The silence seemed to stretch on between them, the tension so heavy that Nesta could almost feel it pressing against her skin.

But then Cate moved, the silky fabric of her nightgown flowing around her as she took a few steps towards Azriel. Her eyes were still on Nesta, a smirk still on her lips as she purred out, "Why don't you tell me what services you require?" The woman's voice was low, almost sultry, and her eyes...her eyes were still on Nesta, studying her still.

Azriel's face remained expressionless as he spoke, his voice calm as he said, "She is in need of your help. She's been having nightmares. Bad ones. The same ones, over and over."

Cate's face changed into a look of understanding, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she took in the information. Her eyes flickered towards Nesta before returning to Azriel.

"The same nightmare," she repeated, her voice now thoughtful, before adding, "Every time?"

Azriel gave a grave nod, his voice steady as he replied, "Yes. Every night."

Cate's eyes widened just a fraction, her face taking on that thoughtful expression again, as if contemplating the information.

The woman suddenly moved towards a small table on the side, gesturing with a, "Sit. I'll make us some tea." Cate's words caught her off guard, her eyes widening a fraction…At that moment, Bella the cat walked over to her and rubbed herself against her legs.

Nesta froze for a moment, half expecting the creature to bite her. Instead, the cat merely purred as it rubbed its head against her shin. She glanced at Azriel questioningly, but he only shrugged in response, seemingly well used to the cat’s…usual antics. 

She took the hint, stepping over to the nearest chair and hesitantly taking a seat.

The room was so still, the only sound was the soft rustle of Cate's nightgown as she moved to prepare the tea, the occasional purring of the cat…now letting itself be pet by Azriel, leaning its massive head against his thigh. 

Azriel relaxed. She had never seen him that relaxed before. The shadows were swirling around Bella, the cat lazily swiping at them and that was that. 

Nesta, on the other hand, was anything but relaxed.

"What is she?" Nesta hissed at Azriel.

Azriel's expression remained unchanging, his gaze fixed on Cate as she moved about the room, preparing the tea. "Cate?" He repeated, not looking at her. "She's a witch."

Nesta's eyebrows shot up at the revelation. A witch? 

A witch. The one time she had been confronted with the idea of a witch had been in Illyria. Devlon had been terrified at the idea of Nesta being a witch.

Her mind immediately flashed back to her time in that cold, wretched camp.

Devlon, the sneering face of the war-camp lord. The memory of that small village, the whispered conversations…She couldn't help but remember the fear in Devlon's eyes when he confronted her about the rumours about her being a witch. He'd almost looked terrified like the mere thought of a witch was enough to frighten him.

And here in front of her, a witch stood before her, preparing to make her tea. She tried to keep her nerves in check, but her heart was hammering furiously.

Cate set the tea set down on the table in front of them, her movements graceful and fluid, like every move was a performance.

"Don't worry, I haven't eaten anyone in centuries," Cate quipped as she brought the tea to the table. "You can ask Azriel."

Cate's words startled her, a jolt of...fear mixed with surprise rushing through her at the woman's casual mention of potentially eating someone.

Slowly, Nesta turned back to Cate, trying to control the pounding of her heart in her chest. "You...haven't eaten anyone. In centuries," she repeated, unable to keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Cate gave her a smile that was full of teeth as if she knew exactly what effect her words were having on her. She seemed to find the whole thing amusing, her green eyes sparkling with humour, as if she was enjoying the fact that she was frightening her.

Azriel started laughing.

Nesta turned towards him quickly, utterly bewildered by the sound.

He was laughing. Azriel was laughing, his eyes sparkling with...amusement at the look on her face.

"She's joking," he said, his voice laced with humour. “A poor sense of humour, but still a joke.”

"You tend to like my sense of humour," Cate quipped, seating herself, a smile playing around her mouth. "I have never eaten another fae or faeries, I promise you, Nesta Archeron," she said easily.

Cate's words should have reassured her, but still, there was something about her that made her feel...unsettled. Cate moved with the grace of a predator, her every gesture full of a...confidence, a power, that was hard to ignore.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Cate's smile grew wider at the sound of her question, her green eyes lighting up with amusement.

"Azriel told me, of course," she said, her voice smooth and silky.

Her gaze flicked over to Azriel, who was still watching the interaction with those calm hazel eyes.

It was...annoying. He was just watching them, like this was all some sort of game to him. Was it all just...a game?

Nesta couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation at the thought. And at the fact that he seemed perfectly relaxed while she felt like she was ready to jump out of her skin

Cate noticed the irritation on her face and her smile grew wider, a spark of mischief in her eyes as she took in her expression.

"You're annoyed, aren't you?" Cate said smoothly, her voice full of amusement. "Annoyed that Azriel hasn't told you more about me, hasn't warned you about the 'scary witch'."

She couldn't help but flinch at the accuracy of Cate's words. She was annoyed. Annoyed that Azriel had brought her here without properly preparing her, without telling her more about the woman she was about to meet. It all felt...like a power play.

"It's not about you, it's about that mate of yours," Cate said with a shrug. "The General and I have had a rather...tumultuous past."

"With that, she means that she has once stabbed Cassian on general principle," Azriel jumped in with some amusement. "He has never forgiven her."

She felt her eyes widen in surprise, not just at the revelation that Cate had stabbed Cassian, but at the casual way Azriel mentioned it.

And yet, somehow, she suspected there was a lot more to the story than that...and that there was also a lot left unsaid between the two of them.

Cate rolled her eyes at Azriel's comment, her voice full of dry humour. "Cassian has always been one for holding a grudge, hasn't he?"

Her gaze flicked between the two of them, her mind swirling with questions...and curiosity.

There was a history here, between the two of them. A history filled with, it seemed, a whole lot of tension and...probably a lot of violence. And yet, they still seemed friendly. Even close, in a way.

Nesta was dying to know more, to dig deeper into the complexities of their relationship, but they were both being so...cryptic, answering some questions while conveniently ignoring others.

"Now," Cate spoke, her voice soft, "How long, exactly, have you been having these nightmares, Nesta?"

Her attention snapped back to Cate at her question, the mention of the nightmares sending a pang of anxiety through her.

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady as she answered, "A few months, now."

Cate's face grew serious at her reply, the amusement and mischief in her demeanour fading away, replaced by a look of concern. She leaned back in her chair, studying Nesta intently like she was trying to discern something from her expression.

"A few months," she repeated thoughtfully. "And they're every night?"

She gave a small nod, her heart rate picking up at the intensity of Cate's gaze. She didn't like how perceptive those green eyes were, how it felt like the woman was able to see straight through her, straight into her mind.

"They get...worse, every time," she muttered, her voice low. "Louder, more vivid."

She could feel Azriel's eyes on her as she spoke, the weight of his gaze heavy on her skin. But she didn't look at him, too focused on Cate, on the witch studying her so intently.

"The Dreamcatcher Spell," Azriel said, his voice even. "Can you cast that on her?"

Cate's eyes flicked to Azriel for a moment, a flicker of some undefinable emotion passing over her face before her gaze returned to Nesta. She took in the Shadowsinger's request, considering it for a moment.

Finally, she nodded, her voice calm and cool as she replied, "I can. Yes."

Her heart skipped a beat at Cate's confirmation, a mixture of anticipation and...fear stirring inside her. The Dreamcatcher Spell. She had no idea what that was, what it would do. But Azriel seemed to trust Cate.

"What..." she began, faltering briefly before steadying her voice. "What exactly does that spell do?"

Cate's expression was calm as she replied, "It's meant to help with vivid, recurring nightmares." Her eyes, though...her eyes seemed to hold a flicker of something else, something that made her stomach twist. "It won't help you get rid of the nightmares altogether, but it will...ease them, a little. Blurr them around the edges. Make it possible for you to go back to sleep...it blunts the emotions attached to these memories."

Her breaths came out a little faster at Cate's explanation, her heart rate increasing at the thought of...having the nightmares be eased, even a little. It sounded...too good to be true, almost.

She glanced at Azriel, whose expression was unreadable, before turning back to Cate. "And...there's no drawbacks? Nothing I should be worried about?" Cate gave her a shrug, the corners of her lips turning up in a small smile.

"Do you really think Azriel would trust me with his sister's mind if he hadn't had me cast the same spell over him dozens of times?"

His sister? He claimed her as his sister? 

Her head snapped towards him, but Azriel just inclined his head. 

Azriel trusted her The Shadowsinger, who was always so careful, who was so skilled at maintaining his secrets, trusted this...strange witch enough to let her cast spells on his mind?

"There's nothing to be worried about. The worst side effect could be a headache," Cate continued. "And that would be from an unskilled witch."

Her eyes flickered back to Cate, her mind still struggling to sort through the implications of all this. Azriel really did trust the woman and...

She wanted to believe her. Wanted to trust Cate's words, and believe that there were no dangers or side effects.

But a small part of her mind was still sceptical, wary of letting someone—a witch even—mess with her mind.

"How much does it cost?"

Cate's smile widened at her question, a hint of sharp teeth visible as she leaned back in her chair, her hands coming to rest on the armrests.

"You are wary about letting me mess with your mind, aren't you?" she said smoothly, her voice full of humour. "You're thinking, 'What's the price I'll have to pay for this?'"

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her voice steady as she asked again, "How much?"

Cate's smile grew into a full-fledged grin as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"I'm not going to take your firstborn if that's what you're worried about," she said, her voice still amused. "I don't want gold or jewels or anything of the sort."

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction at Cate's words, her anxiety receding slightly at the reassurance that she wouldn't have to pay anything like those things. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more...a catch.

"Then...what?" she asked, her voice still a little wary.

Cate's expression didn't change as she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flickering over to Azriel for a moment before returning to Nesta.

"You don't need to worry about that," she finally said, her voice calm. "Azriel and I…We've...done each other a few favours, over the years.""

Her heart leapt into her throat at Cate's words, her mind swirling with more questions. Favours? Azriel had asked favours of the witch? What kinds of favours?

"That's all?" Nesta insisted, her eyes narrowing a fraction. It didn't sound like that was, in fact, all. The way Cate kept looking at Azriel, the way she said they had done each other ‘favours'...

It sounded like there was a lot more to that than she was being told.

Nesta shot Azriel a look, her eyes narrowing at his seemingly relaxed demeanour. He was being so...unfazed by all of this. So calm, while she was the apprehensive one. He really didn't seem concerned about her letting Cate cast the spell.

Nesta let out a breath, letting her eyes focus back on Cate.

She also hadn’t expected to be led into a chalk circle in the middle of Cate’s living room…or for her to light the candles with a wave of her hand…

Nesta watched in complete befuddlement, her eyes wide as Cate began to chant. The language sounded...foreign, guttural, the words flowing out in a steady rhythm.

She had expected...something different. She had no idea what, but it wasn't this.

Her breathing was uneven, her heart pounding in her chest, the sound almost drowning out the strange language.

And then it was done. 

Nesta watched as Cate finished her chant, the final words reverberating through the air like a spell. For a moment, the room was utterly quiet.

And then...nothing happened.

She stared at Cate, waiting for...something, anything. But the witch just kneeled there, peering at her through half-lidded eyes.

"That's it?" Nesta asked, her voice coming out hoarse and a little shaky. "It's...done?"

Cate gave her a small smile, not saying anything, just watching her with that intense green gaze of hers.

She shifted a little in her position, feeling strangely...naked under the woman's stare.

"That's it," Cate agreed. "What did you think was going to happen?"

She swallowed, feeling a little foolish for her question. She didn't really know what she was expecting. Something flashy, maybe. Or some...sign, some kind of indication that the spell worked.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice a little sheepish. "I suppose I thought...it would be more dramatic, somehow."

Cate let out a chuckle at her words, the sound rich and amused. "That's what everyone expects," she said. "Some grand gesture, some great wave of magic."

She lifted her hand, a small flicker of green magic dancing over her fingertips. "The truth is," she continued, "most spells are not as interesting as people think they are."

"Most?" she repeated, her voice curious. "So some are?"

Cate's lips curled into a small, sharp smile at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

"Oh, some definitely can be," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "It depends on the witch, really. Some love to show off. Others...prefer the subtle approach."

"Don't let her fool you, she loves to show off," Azriel said drily.

"Only for you, shadowsinger," Cate shot back, flirtation clear in her voice. And then, somehow the last thing Nesta had expected…The last thing was for her to gain her feet, cross the room and kiss Azriel. Right on the mouth.

She could only watch in stunned silence as the kiss deepened, as the Shadowsinger's hands came up to caress Cate's face, to pull her closer.

It was so...unbelievable. So unreal. But also...so...hot.

She kinda wished Cassian was there. 

The thoughts swirled in her mind, her body heating up just from watching them. Watching Azriel lean in to kiss this dangerous, gorgeous witch with effortless grace like he'd done it a thousand times.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the kiss ended. Azriel stepped back, his cheeks flushed and his breathing slightly uneven.

Cate, on the other hand, looked completely unflustered, her hair still perfectly arranged, her expression unruffled. She simply smiled at him, a secretive, intimate smile, before turning back to Nesta.

For a moment, all Nesta could do was sit there, utterly gobsmacked, her mouth still hanging open slightly.

Finally, she found her voice, forcing out, "Uh...How...long has that...?"

Because, judging by the casual intimacy between them, this...relationship, or whatever it was, definitely wasn’t new.

Cate let out a small laugh at her question, her eyes sparkling with humour.

The look in her eyes was almost...predatory, as she added, "We've been… friends… for a very long time, haven't we, shadowsinger?"

At her words, Azriel's cheeks darkened, his ears turning slightly red as he let out a grunt of assent.

Nesta’s eyes darted to Azriel, taking in his flushed cheeks and averted gaze, the way he shifted his weight slightly, as if uncomfortable. It was so rare to see him off-balance, so rare to see him anything but completely composed.

And it was all Cate's fault. This witch somehow had the Shadowsinger flustered and blushing like a schoolboy.

"We've had...quite the history," Cate continued, her voice smooth and velvety.

Her words were cryptic, and somehow also laced with innuendo, as if there was a whole world behind them, a world full of…memories.

Nesta couldn’t help but wonder just how...intimate their 'history' was.

"Now, if the nightmares persist, have Azriel bring you back to me. Otherwise, you should be nightmare-free for the next few months,” Cate said easily. 

She nodded numbly, her mind still trying to process the implications of all this.

Nightmare-free for the next few months. That was good. That was...incredible, actually.

But her mind was still swirling with so many other things…mainly Azriel and Cate and this...history of theirs that she knew nothing about.

"And…" she began, faltering slightly as she tried to gather her thoughts. "If I...do need to come back..."

Nesta trailed off, her eyes flickering to Azriel as she thought of what she was about to say. It felt intrusive, and yet she couldn’t help herself from asking, “What are your…rates?”

Cate raised an eyebrow at the question, tilting her head as a small smile curled her lips.

"My rates?" she repeated, amusement clear in her voice. "Well, that depends on the…service, I suppose. Some things can be done for a few gold coins."

The look in her eyes, in Azriel’s eyes, said some things couldn’t be bought.

Her mind was still trying to process the implications of that, when Cate spoke again, her voice now completely free of amusement. "But some things...can’t."

Azriel visibly stiffened at her words, his eyes flickering to the witch, a silent communication passing between the two of them.

"Some things," Cate reiterated, her eyes fixed on Azriel, "can only be paid for in... favours."

Nesta was getting the distinct feeling that she was intruding on some unspoken conversation between them, on some agreement, maybe, that she knew nothing about.

"What kind of… favours?" she asked, glancing between Azriel and Cate, her mind swimming with possibilities.

Cate smiled a sharp, predatory smile, her eyes flickering to Azriel before returning to her.

"That," she said, her voice now dripping with sweet condescension, "Is for Azriel to explain, should he choose. Though I’m sure you’ve gathered some idea of what such favours could entail by now."

Azriel rolled his eyes. Nesta stifled a small laugh at Azriel's reaction, his eye roll speaking volumes. It was clear that he was used to Cate's taunting, used to her...provocation.

"Good Night, Cate," he said drily and the witch laughed as they left the house.

"See you soon, Shadowsinger!" she sing-songed in response.

The night air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the warm intimacy of the cottage.

Nesta took a deep breath, trying to clear her head off the whirlwind thoughts that had been running through it.

The kiss between Cate and Azriel, their history, their…agreements.

It was all so…unexpected. So strange and…intriguing.

"I thought you were in love with Mor," she finally settled on saying.

Azriel shot her a look at her words, a mix of irritation and...amusement, perhaps.

"I am," he replied, his voice gruff. "But Cate and I…" He paused, his expression becoming contemplative as he chose his next words carefully. "Cate and I have...history. It's...complicated."

"And Elain?" Nesta asked, crossing her arms. Whatever had been going on between Azriel and her younger sister…before it had come to a screeching halt sometimes around Winter Solstice. 

Azriel's face shuttered slightly at the mention of Elain, his jaw tightening. "Elain…" he began, his voice hoarse as he looked away. "That's…over. It was a mistake, really." His voice was rough, almost...ashamed as if the memory of his involvement with her sister pained him

"Elain has a mate," Azriel said carefully. "It has been made very clear to me that I have no right to interfere with that." The way he said these words made Nesta wonder who exactly had done that. 

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice as he spoke, a resentment that he quickly masked with a brusque "It doesn’t matter."

But, it did. It mattered to him, that much was obvious from the tightness of his expression, from the tenseness of his shoulders.

She could guess who had made that clear to him.

Feyre must have found out about it – or, perhaps, Rhysand. And they must have intervened.

She swallowed. It made her uneasy, though she understood why Azriel had…pulled back from that. Unless Elain finally outright turned Lucien down…getting in the middle of that was just begging for a fallout. 

“And you and Cate?” she asked hesitantly. 

Azriel’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.

"Cate and I..." he repeated, his voice hoarse. "We have...a history, as she said. An agreement, you could call it."

He let out a huff of breath, almost like a sigh.

"We're...friends," he finally said, his voice firm, though there was an edge in it that suggested there was more to it than that

“Cate…Cate makes it very clear what she wants from me,” Azriel said quietly. “When we happen to be in the same place, every few years, we…spend time together. We aren’t beholden to each other in any way. She takes other lovers and so do I,” he said with a shrug. 

Azriel’s words were quiet, spoken matter-of-factly, as if he were simply stating a fact. But there was an undertone of something deeper there, hints of…feeling, maybe.

It was so rare to see Azriel openly talk about this stuff, to lay bare even a portion of his personal life.

“Cate has never been scared of me. I appreciate that.” 

He said that like he held that so precious. That little fact. 

Nesta could just stare at him. 

"It’s...nice," he said quietly. "Being with someone who doesn't...shy away. She’s much scarier than I am after all,” he quipped, a small smile on his far too handsome face. 

[leaawrites]

Read to me

Percy Jackson x fem!reader

Summary: in a world full of monsters, Percy just wants to protect his girlfriend.

Warnings: mentions of rainstorms, mentions of threats, self doubt, angst, fluff

Wordcount: 0.8k

Masterlist

The night started off with soft rain falling from the sky on the top of the beach house. Montauk. It started quiet and not threatening. Being the Son of Poseidon it shouldn’t make him lay away at night in fear of the storm outside, right? He shouldn’t fear it. But since the dreams got heavier and he finally had something - someone to lose, it felt all a bit more threatening. His life was now not only weighting him down - threatening him - but also her. The girl in his arms that was unaware of everything that happened during summer.

He felt bad for not spending the holiday with her, but she also couldn’t accompany him. Being left to wonder what he was doing there. She knew Grover already and she listened to Percy talk about his friends there - like Annabeth, a girl he mentioned one time too much in her opinion (but she would never actually say that to him) or Tyson. She knew about the lake that was there and capture the flag, but everything else was a mystery to her.

“Why are you still awake?” Y/n asked, waking up in the middle of the night from her boyfriend shaking in fear of a lightning and thunder.

It wasn’t the first time they have slept in the same bed, often doing sleepovers on the weekends. And it definitely wasn’t the first time she woke up because of him. But when she asked for the reason it was always the same.

“Just a bad dream,” Percy muttered, rubbing her arm gently to assure her that it was all fine.

“Percy,” she said, pushing him further than before. Mostly she would just let it go, nod and give him a kiss before snuggling back into his side and fall asleep again. Assuring him that he was safe was her. But he feared that she wasn’t safe with him.

“What are you dreaming about?”

The questioned lingered on her mind for longer already but she finally spoke the words. She needed answers. Not just lame excuses as to why he had scratches down his skin or why he always carried a pen with him when he never even used it.

She needed answers and he knew that, but could he give them to her so easily without putting her in danger? He couldn’t, so what would he give her? What could he give her?

“You,” he answered. Y/n looked at him confused, leaning on her arms to look at him properly. Her fingers moving through his hair. “It’s always you and it never ends good. I don’t want whatever happens in my mind happen in reality too.”

“It won’t,” she assured him, laying her head in the crook of his neck, planting small kisses on his skin.

“What if it will?” He couldn’t keep the possibility of it all away from his mind. He couldn’t block out the pictures he saw when closing his eyes.

“They’re just dreams, Percy,” she said again.

“Maybe they’re not,” he argued back.

“Dreams can’t hurt you.” She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I’m here. I’m fine. And as long as I’m with you I will be.”

Silence filled the room. She was right, partially. As long as she was with him nothing would happen to her. He was able to protect her, fight whatever would threaten her.

“Can you read to me?”

Y/n looked at him surprised but nodded nonetheless. Climbing out from under the covers to grab the book, which she would be reading to him whenever he asked, from her bag. The Odyssey. She was confused and taken back when he asked her the first time, taking the book from her shelve and telling her about his interest for Greek Mythology. That was the first night he stayed over at hers. Listening to her read the words written on the pages for him to better understand them.

Saving herself from the cold again by laying back down next to him, Percy rested his head on her chest like he always did. Her hand found it’s way into his hair and gently playing with a few strands. Percy would ask some questions about who was who again sometimes, making her giggle in embarrassment when she didn’t know herself and then they would try and recite which characters they still knew had which part in the story.

The thunder still followed the bright streak of light closely behind but it got less and when she felt him finally relax against her fully and she turned off the light all which was left was soft rain. Kissing the top of his head, she closed her own eyes, falling back into a deep slumber surrounded with her own dreams of him.