#that eyebrow raise ugh i’m deceased

[shirophantomvox]

“Longing for Attention” Illumi x Reader

Hello anon! Thank you for this awesome request! This story consists of a little angst and fluff towards the end. I can truly say that this story is the closest to Illumi’s canon characteristics. If you all did not know, I am celebrating my 100 follower goal! If you’d like to participate in this event, click this link. Please note that requests for this event will close on July 15th at 12 AM EST. The post will have all of the rules and prompts!

👁 👁 👁 👁

“I swear I’ll haunt you in your sleep, Zoldyck! ‘Ya hear me, boy?!”

A body thudded as this man’s speech was cut short. A tired Illumi Zoldyck came calmly walking towards his target with the straightest face ever. Even at the sight of blood, darker than any he had seen, his lips remained neutral and his eyes remained half-lidded as they were. The sound of the mini heel on his green loafers echoed as he continued to approach the deceased man before him. The ballroom was completely empty, leaving Illumi all by himself for who knows why and what else could happen.

Being a bounty hunter was challenging in itself but being a bounty hunter and dating an assassin is a totally different story. Criminals began to spread the word of your alliance with the Zoldycks and formed many gangs to retaliate against you both. Both of you have been shot at, stabbed a few times, and even been robbed! After being robbed at gunpoint and dealing with trauma, it nearly made you quit your job because of the stress and life endangering events faced almost everyday but for Illumi, it didn’t phase him at all. Not in the slightest. After being robbed of his engagement ring, he simply went to another jewelry store and bought another. He did not cry, quiver, or shutter.

After Illumi phoned his father and gave him a brief overview of his success, he proceeded to the exit. The light flickered, giving the impression that an eerie figure stood at the end of the hallway. Electricity hummed the closer someone approached it, sounding like a fly trying to find its way back outside. An atmosphere like this one did not bother Illumi in the slightest but he did not like being there no longer tha needed.

“Y/n! Y/n! I know you can hear me!”

“Now is not the time to play around. We need to vacate the premises immediately,” He thought to himself. He began to bang on doors, opened them up, and yelled your name to the heavens trying to find you.

“Oh! I know,” he said out loud, snapping his fingers.

He opened a tracking app on his iPhone that displayed all of his contacts that had recently shared their location with him. Once he began the search, it revealed that you were 400 kilometers away. Tracking your phone was something he did every time he could not find you. At times it was adorable and sometimes it was weird and intrusive. Illumi’s intrusive behavior stems from his mother, Kikyo and no matter how you put it, it is very unhealthy. Caring can easily turn into an obsession that can make you do unsound things.

“Illumi! I am in the bathroom. Can you give me a second,” you ask, slightly irritated, washing your hands quickly. You did not want to keep him waiting any longer. It was always a mystery if it was his anger or anxiety that prompted him to bust the door down just to make sure you were safe. Poor Illumi Zoldyck. His expression of love and how he cared for others was rather odd and unusual. It is safe to say that you were the best thing that has happened to him.

As you open the door, he stands with his long arms crossed in a huff, his long legs creating an upside down “V” shape gazing at you a slightly angry about your disappearance halfway through the mission.

“Where were you,” he asked, moving closer to you. “While I had to complete both of our jobs, you have been playing around in the bathroom.”

“Illumi, you’re—“

“Shhh—“ He placed his index finger over your mouth, bending down at eye level, and smiled devilishly. “—I’ll still pay you but you owe me a favor.”

“—But I wasn’t playing in the bathroom!”

As you were pleading your case, Illumi nonchalantly typed away on his phone. He quickly showed you his screen that listed your every step within the last few hours. It displayed where you were, the longitude and latitude, who you spoke with, and if you took any pictures. You had no idea that a smartphone could disclose so much personal information and since you have shared your location with him, he has access to it all.

“—Care to tell the truth?” Illumi raised his left eyebrow, using his somewhat intimidating tactic used when he was a child.

“Fine. Ugh! Why do you have to be like this?”

“Like what?”

“You’re…too overprotective. Give me some space sometime! Hell, you might be pleased to know where I was.”

“Pleased?! I nearly had a heart attack when I realized you were not by my side! Are you satisfied that my heart weakens everyday?”

“You’re so dramatic. You might want to take up acting, you know.”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” he said flatly.

As you roll your eyes in irritation, Illumi closes the leftover space between you two. Still bent over at eye level, he places his large hand on your cheek, blinks twice, while his straight face remains. His cold hearted personality seemed to always overshadow his body but all of his warmth seemed to be omitting from his palm.

“I care about you deeply. I cannot have you running away doing God knows what while we are on a dangerous mission like this one.”

“Illumi, I—“ He places his index finger over your mouth again, shushing you as he continues to, as they say, pour his heart out for once.

“I understand that you are a bounty hunter, but if I’m being honest it is a much different line of work than being an assassin. It is my job to care for you while I complete some of the harshest tasks on Earth.”

“I’m not a child, Illumi. Do you want to know what I was doing? Those longitude and latitude readings are very wrong, by the way.”

“Huh? Ok…where were you then?”

Still, your face was placed in his palm, his large eyes staring in yours somehow made you feel lost. Your delayed answer made his palm involuntarily tighten.

“I bought you this pocket sized white teddy bear…?” This statement was propositioned as a question rather than a statement because you were afraid of how he’d react. He was already startled and giving him a plushie would only make it worse. Instead of reacting calmly he would assume that giving him a plushie would imply that he was weak.

“…Valentine’s Day is a few days and I know you’ll be in Las Vegas handling business so I decided to buy you something that will remind you of me while you’re away.”

The small plushie was a white teddy bear holding a heart. It’s eyes were as big as Illumi’s. Before you could hold it up to him, he grabbed it rather gently, stood up straight, and held it in front of his eyes for examination. He turned it around a few times as if it was on a rotator. He placed his index finger inside of the keychain loop and finally smiled. He placed this small object against his heart just before he bent down to meet your eyes once again.

“I always think of you. Come to think of it, that must be why my shots have been off.”

His face scrunches in a humorous way. As usual, his smile fades away and returns to his neutral look. Illumi’s silence signaled that his mind was running a million miles a minute. So many questions and feelings begged to be released but something was preventing him from doing so. You could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to suffocate you with a bear hug but he wouldn’t do it. He has been trained to think that assassins do not need friends, cannot express their feelings, and can only do what is needed to get the job done. It’s ironic; the Zoldyck children are not allowed to have friends but they are allowed to have lovers only so they can reproduce and keep their legacy alive. Love has no part in their marriages; they are only contracts, literally. As in love as Kikyo and Silva were (and still are), it would seem like they’d emphasize the importance of love to their children. As a result, they all have adopted an odd way of showing affection for others.

In this instant, Illumi’s face appeared to be more endearing than before. His face had darkened significantly, his cheeks were fatter like they were stuffed slightly, and his eyes twinkled. You smiled as you have truly found the key to his heart. All this young man wanted and truly desired was to be loved not for his abilities or job, but for him and only him. Your warm hands, now on his cheeks, felt overwhelmed with warmth. Just the sight of him at that moment was breathtaking. The flickering power, the unrest souls in the next room of his targets, and the eerie atmosphere seem to fade while you gazed into his eyes. Pressing his cheeks together, puckering his lips was indeed both an amusing and cute sight to behold.

“You are so adorable, Illumi. Did you know that? This “bad boy” behavior and clutching a teddy bear is too much to take in. I might just send a photo to your mother. She’ll screech and tell the entire world.”

“You wouldn’t dare do that ,” he said, words muffled; lips still puckered. He seemed to flush more and more every time you’d remind him of how vulnerable he is right now.

“Try me!”

“Mother would just embarrass me, you know that!”

“I know. Then I’d be able to see the sweet, soft assassin that I see now. All warm and cuddly. I’m sure you just want to sit in the back seat of your Dodge and just fall fast asleep, am I right?”

“I plead the 5th,” he said flatly.

“I was right! Ha, ha!”

“Would you pipe down already?”

Illumi’s right hand was placed directly behind his torso carelessly pressed against his lower back. He appeared to be in pain but made no mistake. If asked about it, he’d lie just to debunk any statements about him being weak.

“What is in your hand? Let me see it.” Your demanding tone turned into one that a mother has, specifically Kikyo.

“It’s nothing,” he said, slightly wincing in pain.

“Let me see it now, Illumi or I swear I’ll—-“

“Fine! Fine! Just don’t make a big deal about it, alright?”

A promise is a promise; that is what you said to Illumi as you agreed to not over react once you saw his hand. A healed bruise nearly scarred the entire base part of his hand. A light red dotted cut looked as if someone took a exacto knife and grazed it. You gazed back into his eyes. He looked hurt; longing for attention for a cut that had already healed. As childish as it may seem, just the slightest bit of attention is something he craved, even if something like this had been healed a long time ago. Him wincing was something he conjured up to grasp your attention. He raised his hand in front of your mouth, leaving it bent for you to grab.

“Do you want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

“Please,” he replies, smiling slightly again.

The touch of your soft, moist lips made his smile grow larger, his cheeks flushing yet again. A few overlapped lipstick stains remained on his hand, something he might get tattooed so everyone knew who he belonged to.

“Why can’t you be this way every time we finish missions? We could have sooo much fun.”

“If I have too much fun, I’d abandon my remaining missions and father would not like that at all. He might even put out a contract on me.”

You sigh somberly. Illumi had his moments of anger, roughness, and kept his distance but moments like this, where he wasn’t afraid to allow his softer side resurface made you feel content as if you completed a mission of your own. Gazing into his eyes one more time, they sparkled greatly.

“At least I can enjoy this while it lasts.”

[shinglescat]

ooga booga

Previous stories here. Kanarielle’s character page here.

It’s been quite a few months already since the power transit already, and to everyone’s surprise Esmir not only did not mind it at all, she even welcomed the change with her arms wide open. She did protest once, however, at the start of it all, when her grandchildren expressed their demands for her - the old lady surely expected her grandson to take the reign just out of spite, not the fragile granddaughter; she voiced her concern, but they did not listen. Still, she was suspiciously okay with the turn of the events, and Mark guessed it was because of more of the available free time in her schedule for… debauchery and other side projects. Other than that, Esmir’s been insisting on them both showing off at a soiree, just to keep the nobility talking about them, sort of a power display, and Livaen planned everything out from there herself as the new head of the family, as the new Lady Sorano.

It wasn’t in his plans to go alone, yet the circumstances thought differently. Livaen managed to talk him into this, promising an easy evening and a “free-to-go” card after. As soon as he opened his mouth to agree on the occasion, his luck decided to go south - later the same evening Aspen had to leave him due to some “unforeseen events” in a complete urgency. Mark knew better than to ask, as it was near impossible to get anything out of the man, so he was left on his own until he met with an old friend of his again. The luck wasn’t on his side this time either; he had to attend the soiree alone anyways, even though he and his friend arrived together and even agreed on playing out a couple for the public to spare the elf from unwanted attention and unsolicited affection; the girl had to take care of a sudden matter at hand, so he left her in the Void to her own devices and proceeded with the gathering alone.

- Hope it went well, - she greeted him as soon as he showed up, notes of worry in her voice. She was modestly sitting on his bed, in one of the smaller residences of the family, watching him as he got upstairs, walked up to the bed and crashed into the sheets with his face down right beside her. Kana patted him on the back lightly, feeling of guilt making her cheeks turn red for leaving him like this alone, - I’m sorry you had to be there on your own tonight, - she quietly apologized, - Won’t happen again.

- It’s okay, don’t sweat it, - he raised his hand to stop her from saying anything else, mumbling into the bed, eyes closed, - Could’ve figured the luck wasn’t on my side, - he snickered, drained and overwhelmed with the spotlight he had to endure with no way for him to retreat. So much for the promised easy evening.

Kanarielle rolled her eyes.

- Man, if you aren’t a diva, - she reached his head with her hand, her nails scratching the scalp. The elf tensed up a bit, but then relaxed into the feeling, pleasure from the touch tingling at the nape of his neck, - You can complain now, please do begin.

Mark sighed loudly.

- Nothing to complain, - he took a moment to breathe in and out, to calm down the heart that was beating way too fast in his chest, - It was a ginormous lie. She promised an easy evening, but… I dunno, if that’s an easy evening for her, I’m dreading of the harder ones, - he turned on the spot, his back against the bed sheets, facing the elf girl, - There was a woman… Has to be from Livaen’s retinue. Very insistent and utterly… handsy, kept touching me the whole evening, - Mark groaned, remembering the altmer lady - Niluer, the touch of her fingers still lingering on his skin, her nails on his jaw as she tried to get his attention, - And I’m not mentioning the other ones that were eyeing me like I’m a piece of a fresh delectable meat or something. Felt like they were about to devour me alive.

The girl raised her eyebrow, chuckling.

- Oh boy, are they in for a surprise tomorrow, - she said, whispering, - when I’ll be the only one groping your ass in public… - Kana cheerfully slapped her knees in anticipation, nudging him with her elbow, obviously joking. Mark had none of that; he tried to push her away, grunting disapprovingly at the mental image, - Alright, alright, no groping, - she gently stroked his shoulder, adding in a small voice, - Though you are the piece of a fresh delectable meat, - her hands went up into his hair, fingers combing through it, - Thought no one’s gonna notice you return into the family? You are one helluva promising bachelor, – he whined, attempting once more to shove her off the bed. She slapped his tummy lightly in retaliation, - Oh, and let’s not forget your grandma! Anyone in their right mind would want to bask in her power, - Mark tried to say something, but she covered his mouth with a palm of her hand before he would voice anything, - They gon be fighting for your body parts, heart and hands, all that. BUT!, they are the least of your problems.

- And the big problems? – Mark forcefully removed the hand off his mouth, snorting and rolling his eyes.

This time she casually smacked him on his forehead, clap rather loud than painful, the sound muffled by cushions and furniture.

- You have a huge profit sign on your forehead, - Kana pointed her index finger right in between his brows, pressing it into the skin rather painfully, - that’s what I’m saying; they will use and do anything to get to you. And since Livaen is… you know, I’m not talking about her even here, this seems to summon her out of thin air – this makes you a better target.

- Ugh, don’t lecture me, - he brushed off her warning, knocking the hand away from the face, - Like I don’t know it, there are always the people who would suck a dick or two to get some benefits, - Mark looked at her, then shifted his gaze at the window. He tried to ignore the thought, dismiss it as if it was of no concern, tried to act tough, but his mind still lingered on the concept. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes, set on steering the conversation away from him and the uncomfortable subject, - Was it the same in the Sanctuary? For you?

Kana shifted on the bed inelegantly, her entire spine stiffening up at the mention of the place. She looked nowhere.

-   No, not really, no, - she paused, reminiscing her own family, or rather those she used to call like that, - We’re far from nobility you saw there, though as far as I remember, - she hummed, biting her lip, memories resurfacing again after years of oblivion, - Mandil mentioned Bellaniel being a higher up member of the Falmeri society before the fall of the Snow Prince. We were more like a cult, I think, worshipping our blood and condemning the men, - Kanarielle snickered, - Imagine a club for old and bitter edgy elves – that’s us! It was similar for Ryl tho – Bellani intended on finding a party for her once she’s of age, marry her off to someone of their people, so they would “continue to carry on the legacy”, whatever that means, “of the last Snow Elves”, secluded in their own little world, of course, - something stirred inside her, and she paused, - Fuck, she’s probably married already, gotta have a kid, - her guts twisted unpleasantly, entire insides doing somersaults at once, a wave of nausea going up her throat. She tried to will it go away, but the awful feeling didn’t fade, - It’s been years since I last saw her. We were sixteen when I ran away, Mark, and Rylnir already had suitors courting her by that age, sucking up to Bellani, - the girl gasped for air loudly, as if suffocating, - They probably didn’t think of her anything but a hole in a piece of meat on the legs. We were just children, for fuck’s sake, but our fates were already decided for us.

Mark sat up straight.

- What about you? – he asked carefully, feeling uneasy, anxious of what she’s about to say, the memories likely distressing her.

- Dunno if I had it better, - she shrugged, leaning on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck, - Ryl’s to become the next Matriarch once Bellaniel’s dead, and I was set to become the guardian to the realm. Bellani did everything to indoctrinate me, all that inspirational religious bullshit, and it honestly worked – I was bitter at men, at what they had done to us, - Mark hugged her by her shoulders, holding her tight against his side, feeling a faint shiver and a frequent, fast heartbeat, so strong it was reflecting in his own body, almost deafening. She was tense, her entire body stiff, ready to fight, - She played the “you’re the last of your kind” card, and I was dumb enough to fall to that. She poisoned me with hate, - the girl pulled back, looking into the elf’s eyes.

- You hate her too, - he whispered, cringing on the pain in his forearm, as she clung to it like to a lifeline, - No… You are afraid of her.

She sighed, releasing the arm from her grip, settling back on his shoulder. The fury, the anger she felt died out in a blink of an eye, replaced with an empty cold calm.

- I am, - her voice tranquil, - I used to hate her, now I’m just scared. She did everything to turn me into a willing vessel for Meridia, - she straightened her arm, reaching out into the air, green sparks swirling under her palm, - I was to become a purified, think you’re familiar what that means. She always talked about caring of all meri, but was only interested in the survival of her own kind, didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Leo was the last adult ayleid in the realm, and I was the only child of my “untimely deceased” ayleid parents. Isn’t it weird? – she glanced at him, puzzled, -  Guess she found it poetic.

Mark lowered them both onto the bed, still holding her in a hug, gently stroking her arm. Meridia again, huh, with a quest for an army of brain dead glowing vegetables.

- How did you escape?

- No clue, Mark, I swear. I was sitting in my chambers, talking to Mandil, then I blackout and later find myself swimming through a cave with a thing chasing me. Was scared shitless, but managed to get out, ended up at the western shore of Ilinalta, - she rose up above him, pointing at her silver eyes, - You know, I used to have blue eyes, but I guess she or… they tried to punish me for leaving, tried to make me blind. I thought I’m done for, but Jack found me, did some magic, restored my sight, - her voice sounded much more serene than a few minutes before, heartbeat no longer audible, - A few years later Bellani tried to bring me back, affecting me through dreams. Almost succeeded, too, but Jack intervened, pierced her through in one of the nightmares and sundered the connection to the Sanctuary. Hadn’t had them since.

- Shit, Rie, that’s….

- Now that’s the name I hadn’t heard in a while, - she laughed hopelessly, interrupting Mark before he would express his condolences, still towering above him. She looked sad, though the weak smile on her face tried to say something else, - Jack used to call me that, - the girl closed her eyes dreamy, as if she heard him call her again.

- What happened to him? You were so inseparable, - the elf inquired, pulling her back onto the bed.

- Yeah, were, but he grew distant, and I had to leave him, all that bubbly stuff, - she turned on her side, her head resting on Mark’s chest, - I loved him, otherwise I’d leave him sooner. It was hard to let go, but it was for the best. Him growing distant helped to sever the bond.

- Did he love you though? – Mark asked into the air, gently stroking her arm, eyes growing weary, fatigue steadily putting him to sleep.

- Don’t know. I think he was just attached, nothing more, we were never meant to be, - she laughed humorlessly, - He saved me though, and I’m grateful for it, would never make it to the adulthood without him. Would be lying if I said I don’t miss him sometimes too. He was my first real friend anyways, was foolish of me to fall for him, - Kanarielle paused, thinking about something for a moment, - But I have Scott now… Actually, - she rose up, looking at him as another thought crawled into her head, - Do you think there could be something between you and I if the circumstances were different?...

Mark gazed outside, genuinely thinking about her question for a good minute or two. He couldn’t tell if he liked her appearance or not, as it was the foremost to judge a potential partner, he never gave it much thought in this regard, and found himself unable to… check her out, no matter how hard he tried to do so. Then he tried thinking about the other girl he knew, tried to compare them – Braenn was one example, but something in his own head prevented him from doing so. He thought of Meltem – yes, that woman was the best of them all; he thought of Livaen’s Nilufer – the woman was quite alright in the looks department; but then he went back to Kana, then mother, then Visenya, and the block returned. As far as the personality went… he burst into laughter, giving the girl funny looks: they would be like an unconfined wild fire together in the middle of a field of a dead dry grass in winter, self-combusted from a rogue zombie-flame under the ground, with someone dumping the fuel to keep them roaring. He didn’t like her at first, she seemed to be too haughty; he guessed she didn’t like him at first either, must have been something about him as well. As the time went by, he figured her being too proud of herself was a defense mechanism, and as they grew closer he discovered a whole new side to her; it probably was the same with her opinion of him, otherwise they would never make it to good friends able to share some darkest, and dumbest, secrets.

- Honestly? – he looked at her, a single tear dancing in the corner of his eye, making the image blurry. She nodded, - Don’t think so. We’re too much alike, and that’s the recipe for a disaster, - the elf girl smirked, approvingly patting him on his chest.

- True, you were really annoying back in the days, - Mark raised his brow at that, looking playfully offended, - And the fake beard of yours?

- Ugh, - he groaned, smiling, - Remember yourself, you thought you are the all mighty ayleid, and it was in your destiny to make the world bow before you, you wanted to conquer the ruby throne, - the elf gestured wildly with his hands, making the girl pinch the skin on his sides and poke him somewhere under his rib.

- Oh, oh! Remember that huge eyeliner you had? Why did you paint it like that? Also, glad you dropped it, - she finger gunned at him.

- Meltem used to paint it, - he explained, - Helped with… identity at the time. She came up with the idea, really boosted my self-esteem. Can’t do it myself though, hands aren’t as steady, - Mark grunted, - Asked Aspen to help me put it on once Meltem left with Livaen, but he said I’m fine as I am and hid the pencil somewhere, still haven’t found it, - Kanarielle wheezed, giving thumbs up to the absent man for the idea; she was glad he made him ditch that horrendous face paint. They laughed for a little longer, remembering the vices and virtues of each other; it was a good distraction from the talk they had before, yet the thoughts in Mark’s head like cockroaches kept racing and bringing him back to the delicate subject, replacing the cheerful smile with a frown, - Shit, - he rubbed his eyes again, prompting Kana to yank his hand away from his face, - Shit, I didn’t know. You never told me the whole story.

- If that is of any comfort, I had no idea either, - she hugged him across his chest, - That is… until you brought me back yesterday. The Void is so different from what I remember, - Kana made a quiet laugh, - Catherine kept me from going out with you, had to tell this to me; couldn’t join you after the revelation, needed to process this through first, - it made him rise on his elbow, looking at the ayleid with eyes wide open. She knew Catherine? Or did she introduce herself while he was gone? - Don’t be so surprised now, - she rolled her eyes, pushing him back into the bed sheets, - I lived in a daedric realm for more than half of my life, don’t you think I know how to communicate with the entities? - Kanarielle giggled, adding in a low voice, - It must be awkward to have her watching over you all the time, especially during the..., - she hummed, - frisky moments, - red in the elf’s face started showing, making her add, - I missed the girly gossips.

- Oh my god, why, - Mark whined, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands, embarrassed, blood rushing to his head, turning him red, - Why you have to ruin everything.

- Well, that was intentionally awkward, - she grinned at him, pretty happy with her achievement, - Now let’s talk about you instead. How were you?

Mark groaned, still red as a pomegranate, but gladly changing the funny subject nevertheless.

- She prolly told you how I was as well, - he couldn’t help but reply in an annoyed and sarcastic tone, and she smacked him across his forehead for that, - Stop hitting me! – the elf grabbed her forearm before she’d descend another blow upon him, throwing daggers at her with his eyes, - I’d probably be dead as well, alright? Not brain dead like you or Cath, just dead-dead in my case, - he scratched the bridge of his nose, - Father told us, hadn’t I met Aspen, I’d be floating among the pillars with my throat slit open, no biggie, and you’d probably be the first one to find me, - he fell silent for a second, deciding to reroute the conversation one more time, - You have to teach me later how to interact with the whole place. But only basics, nothing in-depth – wanna leave the reigns in Cath’s hands.

- Sure thing, - she replied, readjusting herself on Mark’s chest, putting a hand under her head and enjoying the silence, - Don’t wanna turn into your daddy, do you? – it was Mark’s turn this time to smack her lightly on her back, - Ouch. That hurts, - the girl glanced at him, insulted. She wanted to make a comeback, but the elf already had his eyes closed, breathing quietly, chest calmly rising up and going down, exhaustion finally getting to him. She watched him for a second, musing whether to follow his lead and go to sleep, or to mess with him more, when a sudden thought emerged, - Mark? – she called him, drawing a dozy hum from him, - You ever thought about making it official?

- Official what? – it took a whole long moment for the elf to reply, mind already slipping away into slumber.

- You know… tying the knot, - she elaborated, gesturing vaguely, - getting the arrow to the knee, - Mark snorted, - Marriage, for fuck’s sake, you deep skull dingus, - the elf snickered, shoving the girl off him, turning his back on her, - Seriously, Mark. You need to.., - she couldn’t finish the sentence, as he bent around rather uncomfortably, putting his hand over her mouth.

- Sure, you’re gonna be my flower girl, - he unbent back into his place, tucking his hands under his head, sleep returning to him once more, - Now shut up, - she pinched the skin on his side yet again, mad at him for interrupting her, but the elf didn’t react, - Nah, you’re not getting the maid of honor, that’s gonna be Meltem.

________________________________________________________

- Where is he, you dipshit, - Kanarielle cornered a servant, holding him by his throat, green fumes shimmering in between her fingers, threatening the poor man with a slow and painful death. She’s been stalking him like a predator this whole evening, observing from a distance first to confirm her suspicions, them making a move, - Where is he?! – she repeated, her voice raw, uncharacteristic to her, as she slammed the servant into the wall. The man whined like an injured dog, - I saw him with you, you stupid cunt, what did you give him and where did you take him? – the man kept silence, anxiously shooting glances behind her as if someone were to save him from the enraged ayleid. She slapped him across his face, - Sunnabe, dead or alive, you’re telling me everything either way, - Kanarielle spat, piercing through the skin on the neck of the servant with the shards of ice condensed at the tips of her fingers, turning the them red as the blood leaked out of the wounds. She didn’t want to resort to puppeteering – it was hard, tiresome to hold the connection, she hated to control living beings like this, and most importantly at the moment – she was wearing an expensive evening dress; it was something Mandil taught her in secret from Bellaniel, figured she would need this knowledge should she be in a grave danger. It was different from the common known blood magic; hers was primordial and basic, relying on the blood flowing through the creatures of flesh. One way to use it was to draw blood of a target, allowing her to control it indefinitely; there could be multiple targets at once, up to a full army, with, possibly, no limitations, though she had no opportunity, or will, to test it. The other way was to manipulate a target though the power of her own blood, ideal for covert operations and perfect for remote control. Both had their drawbacks: first was messy, leaving wounds on the victims, having literal strings attached that get severed with a distance; the second required constant concentration, and she couldn’t hold it for a long period of time, draining her of her powers, - Now speak, - the flesh under her hand relaxed, and she removed herself from the body, - From the beginning, - she commanded the servant, smearing his warm blood in between her fingers.

… She made her way down a green cavern, voices becoming louder and louder. It was dank in here, moldy smells in the air; the cave floor was muddy, footprints barely visible in the wet dirt, occasional slide marks too – someone lost their footing and slipped on the slope. Luckily, she didn’t notice any signs of fight or struggle.

The servant, or rather his willing body, proved useful in tracking down the abductors. The people behind the kidnapping were some backwater nobles of the Reach, merchants by trade, criminals by fate, barely known to the world; the business became harder with the more frequent attacks of the foresworn and the vampires, and their town in the middle of nowhere quickly depopulated, turning into a shadow of its former self… Like it was blooming before, Kanarielle snorted. Apparently, they were helped by some families once or twice with soldiers, food and gold, but their inability at keeping it together turned away their former allies, leaving them alone. Fast forward few years later, and the family finally resorted to racketeering, trying their “best” to help their town to survive. They should’ve just left it altogether, there was nothing valuable in the area safe for a small field of crops and an iron mine.

Kana warned him, told him to be careful around the nobility, to trust no one and be on a high alert, but he did not listen. He was careless around people, bothered by something so much he had lowered his guard down; she tried her best to keep him out of harm’s way, but failed, letting him slip from her constant surveillance. Now where was he? Kidnapped, held captive as a tool to regain someone else’s power; he was here somewhere, hopefully not dead or sick. The Soranos didn’t know, not yet, neither did know Meltem about what happened – she kept her discovery secret, preferring to keep it quiet to keep the collateral damage as low as it could be possible. An easy job, infiltrate and rescue, she’s done this a hundred times already with Jack. So far she did good, only once having to knock out a brute at the entrance; entering a combat would be a death sentence for her alone without anyone to back her up.

The servant uncovered their ploy. The merchants turned criminals joined together with a group of highway robbers: the first were to find an unsuspecting target and to gain their trust – they still were nobles despite the shady dealings; the second were to wait outside for the first to render the target unconscious to abduct them to a secluded retreat far into the forests; the nobles then would be free of any suspicions, and later can present the wounded party with their help, saying they… found the culprits through their connections in exchange for a favor and some fame points. And Mark just made their entire bank and more, Kanarielle shook her head disapprovingly, they probably didn’t expect to make it with a hostage of his size.

She climber up a ledge, observing the roaming bandits below: she counted five of them, all minding their own business; they did not seem to notice an intruder yet. Behind – she passed three more, and she had no idea how many of them were ahead. “How much you think we gonna get for he arse?” – she heard one of them asking the other. Kanarielle slowly exhaled, not knowing she had her breath held this whole time, relieved with the question - it meant these bandits were still on the same page with the merchants back at the party. “We’re better off selling him to someone else”, - another voice chimed in, low and worried, “The kid’s a Sorano, his granny won’t leave us alive once we do the deal”. Right, the girl thought, the merchants told them there’s going to be a negotiation, but failed to mention them slaughtering all the bandits to keep them quiet and away from their own affairs. “We have our orders! The boy is to be sold to his family. Our patrons shall cover us”, - another one spoke, flailing around with a rusty mace of his. A dangerous stuff, Kana noted, as she noticed a sick yellow aura radiating from it, the glow floating on the surface of the metal. “You so sure?” – the man from before replied, sarcastic tone of his voice, definitely having experience in this matter, “Our dear “patrons” might as well rescue the kid themselves! You know how they operate, we mustn’t trust them. Gotta sell the boy to someone else, get our gold, save our lives as well while we can…”

Kanarielle didn’t listen to them any longer, dropping down from the ledge, trying not to slip on the wet floor, and proceeded further. She sneaked behind the rocks and furniture, snippets of their conversation getting to her ears, none registering though. Her mind was still at the thoughts expressed by the last guy – little idea he had about how close to the truth he was; their “patrons” were to rescue the elf in a few hours, slaughtering each and every single one of them on sight so they wouldn’t tell the truth to Esmir.

Another bend of the tunnel, and she saw cages and a guard, so carelessly standing with his back wide open to the entrance, watching after the precious prisoner. Without wasting anymore time, she sneaked up on him, delivering a sharp blow with a dagger right under his ribs. His blood rushed to the wound, turning her hand red; the man did not utter a word, but tried to fight her and the feeling, yet the control over his body slipped away eventually, and she took over it herself, his blood like strings attached to her fingers.

- Guard the entrance, - she commanded quietly, blood shimmering in the weak light of the torches, - Do not let anyone in, tell them whatever you must. Do not pick a fight, try to stall them as long as you can, - the man nodded, turning on his heels.

She looked around herself; the elf was lying in front of her behind the bars, seemingly unconscious, thick metal cuffs around his wrists digging into his skin, a tight metal collar around the neck. The keys to the cages were lying flat on the wooden table across the room, covered in a layer of rust, all of the same shape and size, so it probably didn’t matter which one she used to open the locks.

Kanarielle entered the cell, kneeling before him and inspecting the shackles – runes were all over them, glowing lightly with violet, radiating something that made it harder for her to breathe, fatigue getting to her, probably enchanted with silence, draining the prisoner of his magic; they were prepared well, even predicted the possibility of a magic-capable hostage. She tried to open the locks with the keys from the cells, but none worked the key to the binds was probably in someone else’s hands, and she had no time to go back and look for it. The other way to rescue the elf was to disintegrate the metal altogether: the ayleid put her hands around the collar first, watching it start to age, rust flakes falling slowly until there was nothing left, all crumbled to dust, the enchantment gone as well. A wave of power washed over her as the barrier containing the magic was gone, and Mark gasped for air, his consciousness returning to him.

- What the…? – he tried to ask, but his throat was dry like a desert, preventing him from speaking more.

- Don’t talk, - Kana told him, cupping the cuffs with her hands, disintegrating those as well, the metal turning to rust and to dust, - Gonna tell you later. Can you walk? Gotta get out of here, - she got back on her feet, handing him a small flask of water she had stashed in a pocked. The elf finished the entire container in no time.

The kid tried to stand, shaking violently, muscles sore, but standing nonetheless. He was no fighter at the moment, more of a burden, and she had to get him out of here to the safety of his grandmother.

  ________________________________________________________

- Esmir was furious when I dragged your sorry ass to her, - the ayleid laughed lightly, applying a soothing balm to the irritation on the skin from the rusty metal cuffs on his wrists and his neck. There was some swelling here and there, bruises and scratches, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with the time, - Not gonna lie to you, it was scary, - Mark hissed quietly at the girl rubbing on his wounds. He was already sitting at the edge of the bed, ready to take off from the discomfort of the balm she was using, - Shit, sorry, but you gotta take it as it is, I’m no healer, - the elf silently nodded, turning his head to the side, - You know, your grandmother’s a terrifying woman. She was all fury for the first couple minutes, then calmed down, and next she was playing along with the guys who ‘napped you. Esmir, the helpless and innocent old lady, - she snickered. A crackling sound in the distance alerted her; she turned to look into the direction of the sound, but there was nothing. The Void was calm as well, so she paid no further attention to it, resuming the talk, - She sent Orlan after them, then went in herself. Dunno what happened there, but she was… ecstatic on their return, totally soaked in blood.

- Picked the wrong granny to mess with, - Mark laughed, coughing, still exhausted. It’s been a few days already, and he still hadn’t recovered from the incident, magic depleted. Esmir figured the shackles had some strong enchantment bound to them, and it would be for the best to let the kid rest in the Void, to let the place do its job; Kana brought him back here, staying at his side this whole time and tending to the bruises.

She added one last smear of the balm to the swelling on his neck and set the jar aside.

- Damn, you never told me she had a daedra for a lover. Disgusting. And what’s even more disgusting is that it said it’s your… I’m sorry, half-brother? – she had a mixed expression on her face, disgust with repulsion and confusion sprinkled on top.

Mark groaned.

- Don’t ask. Father’s side. Luckily they aren’t related. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, she can do anything, - he brushed it off as if it was a no biggie. Really, it was a no big deal for the woman, she found interest in everyone and everything that moved and had some semblance of personality to them. Her main lover was her bodyguard and ex-general Orlan, whom she trusted with her life and everything she had. The other was the daedra, Walerian, and she praised him as a versatile worker bee, though Mark wished he didn’t know that; he was the usual resident of her beds, and she loved showing him off in the public. Another one was a woman she mentioned once, an old altmer mage, but he couldn’t remember her name, and an unknown dunmer with violet eyes. Esmir was a married woman though, not even a widow, yet that did not hold her back in her love affairs.

- That is gross. Anyways, - Kanarielle covered her face with the palms of her hands, trying to make her face relax after cringing so hard, - It? He then? said they had a fun time messing with them, - she paused, listening to the sudden footsteps sounds growing louder and louder, as if someone was getting closer, but the Void, Catherine, didn’t alert her to the intruder, so she tried to not mind it, - He went into the details, but I had to cut him short. Really disgusting, thank you very much, and I’d rather not hear about the guts hanging for the ceiling and eventual… you get the idea. Super gross. Apparently they had some fricky time in the pools of blood and right on top of the corpses, - she added quietly, gagging. Esmir did enjoy some blood and gore plays.

Someone walked into the room, their steps echoing against the stone.

- What happened here? – the silver-haired man inquired, looking at the elves on the bed, blood dripping from his hands and a huge serrated sword, leaving a red trail behind. He lowered the weapon with its jagged edges near the entrance, the blade making a clacking sound against the stone.

Mark shushed at Kanarielle, giving her the most intense looks she’s ever seen in her entire life. His face went from asking to threatening to murderous and to pleading, but she had none of it.

- No biggie, - she winked at the elf, - this dumbass got himself kidnapped, - the girl shrugged her shoulders as the dumbass in question hit her lightly into her thigh. Aspen cocked his eyebrow at them, - He oughtta know what kind of idiot you are, stop being pissy, - the elf rolled his eyes, giving the ayleid the middle finger, - I’m wounded! – she exclaimed, - Alright, cue taken, gonna leave you two, - Kana raised her hands into the air, getting up from the bed and leaving the room.

Aspen took off his blood soaked coat at the entrance, disposing of it rather untidily. There was a hint of worry in his otherwise blank face, and it took the elf by surprise when the man approached him.

- You hurt? – his voice uncharacteristically concerned, - Let me see, - he reached his hand out to the elf, trying to catch him by his arm, but the elf pulled away, almost jumping, violently shaking his head.

- You ain’t touching me with those, - he pointed at the coagulated, almost dried out blood on his fingers. Face nonchalant, Aspen grabbed a fistful of clean purple bed sheets and wiped the hands with them, reaching to the elf once again. Mark groaned, giving him his hand at last, - Who’s blood is that?

The man gently touched the swollen bruise, his fingers finding the wet sticky balm Kanarielle applied a few minutes ago; he stroked the entire scar lengthwise, occasionally drawing huffs and puffs from the elf: it’s been less than a week since the incident, but the area under the binds still hurt as if covered in tiny invisible cuts.

- Not mine, - Aspen answered with a low and tired voice, letting go of the hand and switching over to the bruise on the neck, - Should be gone in a week, - the man concluded, pulling the elf’s black haired head closer, giving a quick peck under the jaw and letting go.

Aspen looked drained, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, the elf noted, watching him from below remove messy articles of clothing; he looked like he’s about to crash, and his gear did not want to cooperate with the fatigue. Mark had to stand up; he stopped him with a gesture of his hand, grabbing the apparel himself and pulling down, discarding near the bed – he’ll tidy it up later. The man thanked him faintly, clumsily climbing on the bed, crashing into the sheets with eyes already closed; the elf sat at the edge, looking all over him for a moment: he seemed uninjured, just deadly tired.

- So, when are you returning? – Mark asked after a long pause, having nothing else to ask. Aspen tilted his head at the elf, one eye barely open, sighing in exhaustion before closing it again, - Fine, gonna leave you alone then.

- Stay, - he muttered, catching the elf by his forearm before he would get up. With the residue of strength he had left, Aspen pulled him onto the bed, a tad higher than himself, - I have to get some sleep, - he told him as if explaining an obvious concept to a toddler, throwing his arm around elf’s waist to keep him grounded. The man was tense, muscles stiff and rigid, - Need to get going in a few hours, - his words carried a concealed plea, and if Mark didn’t know him any better, it would go unnoticed.

He nodded, awkwardly climbing higher onto the bed, almost curling around the man, around his head and the torso; his white hair smelled of iron and gunpowder, a hint of ash too as he combed through it, the scent becoming stronger as he planted gentle kisses. Aspen softened into the feeling, brows relaxing, breath steady. Mark smiled gingerly, his hand going lower, caressing man’s temples softly, thumb brushing the high cheekbones; eventually, both drifted to sleep.

  ________________________________________________________

Mark was woken up by a scent of marigolds with faint notes of lemon balm, thyme and sage, all carried with an overwhelmingly sweet and sour aroma of sea buckthorn. He cringed; he loved the tree, it was absolutely unique in its looks of silver needle-like leaves and amber fruit, yet the berries’ taste was disgusting in his book, and it made him want to get away from it as far as he could.

Something touched his neck, warm and oily, thick liquid slowly going down his skin, rerouted by a touch somewhere else. He opened his eyes; instead of seeing Kanarielle with the tingling, itchy balm Esmir’s healer gave them, he found Aspen bent over him with a smelly jar in his hand, amber of color, applying the oil to the bruise on his neck.

- Miss Aquilla brought me the ingredients I asked her, - he noticed the elf wake up. Mark winced, the smell of the berries too strong to bear. The man smiled; he put the jar aside to pet the elf on the head with his clean hand, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead, - The one you used before caused irritations, had to make something different, - his fingers dipped into the oil again, smearing another portion of it on the other side of the neck, gently rubbing it in until it stopped dripping.

- Thanks, - the elf mumbled, trying to get up; Aspen pulled him up, switching his attention to the bruises on the wrists, - Thought you needed to get going, - Mark said, watching the man rub in the oil into his skin; he’s bound to be smelling funny the whole day. The man nodded.

- I have some time left, - he switched onto the other wrist, - Need to tend to your bruises first, - the jar was finally closed, and Mark exhaled in relieve; surprisingly, the new mixture didn’t sting at all like the fat-based balm before did, and he’ll probably get used to the smell later on, - Mark, why can’t I leave you alone? – Aspen suddenly asked, grabbing him by his hands, taking the elf by surprise. He sounded like a disappointed teacher, - You have to be more careful, - the man explained, drawing a wheezing laugh from him, - I’m being serious, Mark, - he paused, - I don’t want to come back one day and find you missing a limb, - Mark laughed nervously, staring at the weary man; the intense look in his eyes said more than he needed to know, filling the elf with guilt the more he kept staring. He muttered an “I’m sorry” under his breath, shifting his gaze somewhere to his feet, fidgeting with fingers, “I’ll be more careful”, - I know you are worried as well, - Aspen pulled the elf in a hug, feeling him rest his chin on his shoulder, - I will be back soon.

- Yeah, - Mark sighed, hiding his face in the crook of man’s neck, - Haven’t heard anything from you for almost two weeks, and last night you appeared soaked in blood. Can’t mind my own safety when I don’t know if you’re okay or not.

- I’ll be back soon, promise, - he repeated, pulling away, - I have some unfinished business, it won’t take long, - Aspen kissed him on the forehead, getting up from the bed, - Have to get going now, - he told him, collecting his gear lying around on the floor haphazardly, the blood dried out and flaking already, leaving red spots throughout the clothing; Mark rose up after, helping him put the apparel on him.

- You are disgustingly sweet, - Kanarielle took both by surprise, silently entering the room, almost sneaking up on them, - Might as well start selling all that sugar of yours… Here, the last piece of your order, - she came up to them, handing Aspen a leather pouch filled with something, hard edges prominent under the hide. The man thanked her with a nod, palpating the purse and the contents inside; happy with the thing delivered, he kissed the elf goodbye and bowed to the ayleid, - Boy, aren’t you two looking like a couple of mushy puppies, - she commented, watching the man leave them alone and disappear into the portal.

- Kana, - Mark suddenly called her, weirdly excited. Her comment was ignored, - tell me, why can’t I make shortcuts through the Void?

- Shortcuts? – she was taken aback by his question, expecting anything but this. She furrowed her brows, looking for a better answer. Unlike the Void that one could access from anywhere, the Sanctuary had a single door inside and out, connected through a disguised portal to a series of flooded long caverns for a more difficult access inside a mountain range in Skyrim. To travel from within the realm, Bellaniel had built a secret chamber with hundreds of doors, all connecting to the outside world, and she was the only one who had the keys to get in and out, - Well, the Void is closer to a pocket realm: you exit where you enter, - the girl explained, gathering her thoughts together, - It’s like a hub; to exit elsewhere you need to have a door or two with an anchor in the world outside. Something like that.

- Can we make them? – he inquired cautiously, thinking about the prospect, - And are there any security risks?

The elf girl laughed.

- You are bothered by the security? Oh boy, Mark, you can make it so no one gets there, ever. This whole place belongs to you, you are the master key; you give and revoke invitations to the place, it’s as secure as nothing will ever be, - she hugged him by his shoulders, ruffling his hair, - I have no idea how to open or make doors, but… - Kanarielle listened to the breeze, - but I think Catherine is more than happy to help us.

[purplebass]

Prompt 53 please 🥰🧡

Here it is! I hope it’s good, I tried to give my best 😘💜

Title: If They Only Knew Couple: Jesse Blackthorn and Lucie Herondale, Blackdale Prompt: “That wasn’t very subtle.”

“And then, the princess decided that it was time she took the matter into her own hands,” Lucie typed on her typewriter. “She needed to save the prince from his fate, otherwise he would die by the hands of his evil mother. But what could she do, as he lied, motionless, on the cold marble floor of the castle? She could only-”

“Interesting.”

Lucie jumped and looked up, accidentally clicking some buttons and messing up the sheet of paper inside of her writing machine.

“You scared me,” she said, putting her hand on her chest to stop her racing heart. Lately, her heart always beat faster whenever a certain guy was around her, and this time, it was pounding both because of the anxiety and the excitement. She really liked to see that boy around her, and she wondered if it was the same for him. She sighed.

Jesse appeared at the side of her mahogany desk. “I didn’t think a girl who can see ghosts could be easily scared, to be honest.”

“If you appear out of nowhere, she could be,” Lucie protested, then she tried to fix the typewriter. The paper was stuck in the middle of the machine, which meant she had to use another one and rewrite everything she had written over there.

As she adjusted the typewriter, Jesse gazed at her with amusement. Lucie didn’t know, but he took pleasure in seeing her write and in being so lively.

“I sense you’re angry with me,” Jesse said, but his voice was playful, not bitter.

Lucie pouted, trying to keep her stance, but it wasn’t possible. “I am not the resentful type, Jesse. Even if you creep up on me while I write.”

Jesse raised his once dark eyebrows, and he shrugged. “Now I’m creeping up on you,” he told her as he paced around her room, noticing she had quite a lot of books hidden in there, “but you aren’t angry with me.”

He tilted his head and glanced at her. She was still trying to get the sheet of paper out of the damned machine, but it wouldn’t budge. “Ugh,” Lucie complained. “The paper is stuck.”

As if on cue, Jesse moved swiftly until he was by her side. The paper was torn but it was indeed blocked inside the typewriter, and Lucie wasn’t able to get it out so she could go back to her writing.

She glanced about her room, expecting to see him near her bed, but he wasn’t there. She realized he was near her, a hand placed on her desk and his head bent on the typewriter, inspecting the mess she had just created with the crumbled sheet. Jesse turned towards her, and Lucie couldn’t help but be attracted to his green eyes, which were one of the only features of him who still gave him a semblance of a living person and not a ghost.

Lucie’s mouth fell slightly open as if she was startled by the nearness, but at the same time, in awe at the guy’s appearance. He was handsome, and she thought it was just a pity that he was a ghost. She felt sorry for him. He could have been married by now, had kids, living the shadowhunter life he was meant to live or becoming whatever he wanted to be. But he was dead.

“I wish I could help you,” said Jesse, taking her back to reality, and ironically linking his words with the thoughts she was having on him. “But we never had this thing at Chiswick, and I have no idea how it works.”

She nodded and broke the connection, checking the typewriter again. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Lucie assured him, and tried to get back at it, and in the end the sheet was freed from the typewriter. She looked at it grimly. “Finally. But now I have to type it all again.”

“What were you typing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was writing The Beautiful Cordelia,” Lucie beamed, rearranging some papers on the furthest side of the desk. “I was about to say how the princess saved the prince from his evil mother. She was about to…” she said, then left her sentence hanging in the air.

“Interesting. What was she about to do?”

“Are you really interested, Mr. Blackthorn?” Lucie wondered, smiling at him, but not actually answering his question. The only people who seemed interested in her writing were her family and Cordelia, and despite they told her she had talent, she had never showed her work to somebody else. “I mean, I could be writing the next best seller, if you ask me.”

Jesse shrugged and sat on the desk. Even if he was almost a shadow, he didn’t lose his spark. He was not tangible, at least for others, but he still carried a strong presence along his translucent body. “You just called me Mr. Blackthorn,” he laughed. “And I’m sure your story is nice. But, haven’t you just said that your character was about to do something? What was it?”

“I called you Mr. Blackthorn because… never mind,” Lucie shook her head and rose from her chair.

“No, now I want to know, Miss Herondale,” he urged with curiosity.

Lucie, who, in the meantime had walked to the center of the room, stopped her anxious pacing and gazed back at Jesse. He still leaned on the desk, but he turned towards her, his hands folded on his long legs.

“Well, aren’t you older than me? You were born one year before my parents got married. There is an 8-year gap between us. If you weren’t dead, you’d be 24 now, Jesse Blackthorn.”

Lucie said that in one go, without stopping for a second to get air in her lungs. She hoped she hadn’t offended him – after all, he was a ghost. Despite the sadness of his situation, she was stating facts. Jesse was born on the same year as Charles Fairchild, her mother once told her, but the children were as different as night and day, despite they both had forest green eyes. Tatiana Blackthorn, Jesse’s mother, didn’t want her brothers Gideon and Gabriel to see her baby. Her aunt Cecily and uncle Gabriel had been disheartened by her choice, especially her uncle, but they couldn’t do anything.

Jesse seemed to mull over what she said, and he waited to give her answer, to the point that Lucie thought she had been rude. Maybe it wasn’t nice to remind a ghost that he stopped aging? Yes, definitely. She was about to say more when she heard him speak.

“I honestly don’t feel that old. I mean, I feel that time passes, but I don’t perceive it the same way the living do,” he explained, staring at the window in front of him. “So, I don’t think you should call me mister. We are the same age. And I thought…” he started, then sauntered to her, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Lucie did not move as he approached. “What did you think, Jesse?”

“We are friends, aren’t we?” he inquired with a placid tone.

“Of course, we are,” she assured him, looking delighted to hear so. “Of course, we are friends.”

Jesse beamed, and his eyes seemed to lit up with something Lucie had seen ever so slightly in him, ever since they had started meeting in secret. Hope, comfort. Warmth. How could a person who had been dead for seven long years, exude such glow?

“Marvelous,” he commented, then went to sit on her bed. “Since we’re friends, I expect you to tell me about your problem. About your story, I mean.”

“The problem with my story,” Lucie commenced, “is that I don’t know how to write the scene I was about to write.”

“How so?”

Lucie bit her lip and started pacing her room. “The princess is meant to kiss the prince to save him, since he’s dead,” she said. “Because they are fated and by kissing him, she can revive him”.

She thought how ironic that situation was. She, Lucie Herondale, hadn’t intentionally decided to insert what was happening in her real life into her story. She hadn’t realized it until then, with Jesse sitting on her bed. Jesse was dead, and…

“What is the problem, then?”

“The kiss. The kiss is the problem,” Lucie admitted honestly. She wasn’t shy, but she had to confess that speaking of kisses with a guy her age – he said so, made her cheeks heat. And it didn’t help that they were alone. In her room. At night. She dared to look at him, to see his reaction.

“You’ve never kissed somebody before,” Jesse declared, nonchalant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. Pardon me.”

Lucie wasn’t somebody who hid her emotions, and she wouldn’t hide them in front of him. After a minute of deliberation, she decided that honesty, as always, was the best policy. “No, no. I’m not offended. Truly. And… you’re right.”

If Jesse was surprised, he didn’t let it show over his face. His expression remained neutral, tranquil, peaceful. And he was quiet even when he replied her, in contrast with her current mood. She was anxious. Suddenly, her stomach felt empty, as if something was in there. Butterflies?

“With this I can help,” Jesse murmured, grinning. “Or… By the Angel, I’m being too improper tonight, am I? I should just go.”

“No!” Lucie blurted out without thinking, realizing her voice was too loud. “No. Don’t go. I think it would be a nice experiment for me to practice kissing. This way I’ll be able to write it more realistically, even if I doubt Jane Austen or Charlotte Brontë had kissed somebody when they wrote their novels,” she answered him, trying not to appear too enthusiastic about it, even if she was indeed super excited for that moment. Not only because of the kiss, her first kiss, but because of him.

Jesse nodded. “Come here, then,” he patted the spot next to him on her bed. “Or you want to do it standing?”

Lucie tried to keep her mind clear. Focus, she needed to focus. How was better? “It’s better on the bed,” she finally decided, “since my prince is supposed to be on the floor, deceased.”

“Then how about we do it like that? I don’t mind being on the floor,” he proposed.

“Excellent,” she agreed. Jesse, as swift as usual, lied down on the Persian rug she had in front of her bed. She then followed him and sat next to his shadowy body. “Close your eyes, Jesse.”

And he did as he was told. Lucie didn’t know what to do exactly, and she tried to wrack her brain and think about one of her favorite novels. How did the heroine kiss the hero at the end?

She put her hands on the sides of his neck, then dove down onto him, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips on Jesse’s translucent ones. At first, it didn’t happen anything. His lips were soft, not warm but delicate. Then she felt his hand on her back, trying not to impose on her body too much, and his lips started moving slowly on hers. He was doing what she usually did whenever she ate her favorite cake, eating small bites, slowly, savoring each piece with delight to make it last longer. He was gentle, not urgent. It seemed endless, relaxing even, until she heard the door open behind her and she felt as if she was free falling from a cliff. Which was not far from the truth.

She luckily fell on the Persian rug.

“Did you scream earlier, Lu?” her father asked, getting into her room. “And why are you on the floor? Perhaps you fell?” Will wondered, and she could read worry written on his face as he knelt down and touched her head.

“No, papa. I was just mad because a piece of paper stuck in the typewriter, that is all,” she explained, hoping she didn’t have I’ve just been kissed by a ghost written all over her face.

Will glanced at the desk, then at his daughter. “Do you want any help?”

“No, thanks, papa.”

He seemed satisfied of the answer and stood up, offering his hand to her, which she accepted. She hoped that her hand didn’t give her away. It was sweaty.

“But you didn’t tell me why you were on the rug,” he said.

Lucie loved her father, but sometimes he was too… too curious like a cat. Or a child. While this amused her, she didn’t intend to reveal to him that she was alone in her room with a handsome Blackthorn, so she opted for a white lie, which wasn’t completely a lie.

“I was trying a scene for my book. The character faints, so I wanted to describe it well.”

Will nodded, grinning. “Ah, alright, I see, sweet Lu. Be careful.”

“I will, pap,” she agreed as he walked out of her room. “Oh, dad? Can you knock next time?”

“I knocked, Lucie. Three or four times. The fifth time I decided to barge in.”

Lucie was stunned. “Ok, well, then… goodnight, papa. Say goodnight to mom too.”

“Yes, my dear. See you tomorrow,” he said, then closed the door behind him, leaving her alone once again.

She sat on the bed with her hand on her heart and sighed.

“That wasn’t very subtle,” Jesse said, appearing in her room out of the blue for the second time that night. But he wasn’t sitting on her bed with her.

“It was indeed very close,” Lucie agreed, gazing at Jesse. He had a smug face, and he was laughing. “Are you pleased with yourself, Jesse Blackthorn?”

“A person like me rarely lives situations like this anymore,” he confessed. “Let’s be thankful I was a ghost, or your father would have thrown me out of the window.”

“My father? No, I don’t think he would have,” she replied with determination. “But my brother, maybe… and the other Merry Thieves…”

“Who are the Merry Thieves?”

“My other brothers,” Lucie conceded. “I’m the only one who can see you besides your family.”

Jesse nodded, but didn’t answer. She thought he probably didn’t know why she was the only one who could see him besides for Grace and Tatiana, and she hoped to find that out soon.

“Lucie,” he murmured after they stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. “Was the experiment alright? Did you get what you were looking for?”

“It was perfect,” she said, scanning his face to read his expression. He wore his quiet expression like a glove. She wondered if he also felt the same things she did, but didn’t dare to ask him. After all, hadn’t he said he was helping her for her writing research?

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for the help, Jesse.”

“Anytime, Lucie.”

Lucie smiled at him and then went back to her chair, behind the desk. Now she had to write. “It’s better if I write the scene while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

“I agree,” he answered, approaching het desk with his silent gait. She was loading another sheet of paper in the typewriter when he spoke again. “Lucie?”

She glanced at him, expectantly. “Yes?”

“Can I stay? I mean, I’d love to see you write, if you don’t mind.”

Lucie couldn’t help but smile. Not only she liked the idea, but she also felt a sweet tinge in his voice, as if he was shy to ask her that. “You don’t even have to ask. You can stay anytime.”

“Alright. I’ll be quiet,” Jesse said, and Lucie wondered if he did know how true that statement was about him, but at the same time very wrong. Because despite Jesse was a ghost, a reserved ghost, he also managed to scream something very clear whenever she looked at him.

Jesse wanted to live.

Lucie didn’t know what she could do to help him. For now, she would just reenact their kiss in her writing, pretending for a moment to be The Beautiful Cordelia of her story, the princess kissed by the prince tortured by his evil mother until she could, hopefully, do it for real and for the whole world to see.

[deathsteel]

30 day fanfic challenge

Prompt #22 - Funeral

TW: canonical child death, not as sad as it seems, Dean is kinda a jerk at first

Okay, maybe it wasn’t classy to crash funerals. But Dean had never claimed to be terribly classy. 

What he did claim to be was a great actor who could make himself cry on demand and the proud owner of one very well fitted suit that was perfect for mourning. 

It started by accident, really. Dean had shown up for the funeral of one of his friend’s grandmother’s cousins intending to comfort the grandmother who’d always loved Dean and never forgotten his birthday, not even once. And he had ended up at an unexpectedly decadent funeral for a 98 year old multi-millionaire that happened to be being thrown the day after. Since he’d missed the funeral he’d intended to attend, Dean figured ‘fuck it’ and proceeded to enjoy the expensive free food and murmured condolences of the deceased’s foxy granddaughters. 

The second time he did it may have been less accidental and Dean cried both for Muriel who had died at the ripe old age of 102 as well as for the organic chemistry test he had just bombed. It was so cathartic that he was hooked, a junky even. 

He stopped going on dates because flirting with the widow or widower and coaxing a smile out of them was so much more appealing than sitting through the awkward get-to-know-you conversation of a first date. The emotional release of crying onto a stranger’s shoulder had nothing on getting blackout drunk and Dean found more and more of his social life being spent in funeral homes and cemeteries than in bars. 

Until he accidentally walked into a funeral without doing his research first. Which, typically he did so much research so that he could pull off pretending to be the second cousin once removed or the mentee that the family never knew their loved one had mentored, but today he’d been busy and distraught over getting a rejection letter to his first choice for his doctoral program so he’d just picked out a funeral from a random obit and darted out the door. 

So he wasn’t expecting...this. A funeral for a kid. 

Dean had never gone to a funeral for a kid, something about the grief of a life snuffed out too soon had seemed too raw for Dean to be able to fake. It had felt much more disrespectful to crash those funerals than the ones for people who had lived a long and full and fascinating life. 

It also seemed pretty evident to everyone else in attendance that Dean was in the wrong place. First, he was waaaay over dressed. Everyone else was wearing colorful clothing ranging from Hawaiian shirts to garish tye-dye and Dean’s black on black ensemble stuck out like a sore thumb. Secondly, Dean appeared to be the only one affecting an air of solemnity. In fact, the entire funeral home had been decked out to resemble a circus complete with juggling clowns and a guy making balloon animals. There was popcorn and a cotton candy machine and even a girl in a Hawaiian shirt carrying around a pair of parrots on her shoulders. 

Dean intended to turn on his heel and march right back out, but it looked like some family member was already making their way towards Dean- a tall woman with short brown hair and a face that looked like it was meant to smile, which it was even if her eyes were not.

“Hello there,” The woman said, reaching out to take Dean’s hand and hold it in both of her own. “Thank you so much for coming, I don’t think we got to meet ever. My husband spent the nights at the hospital, so I don’t recognize all of the nurses. I’m Jody, Owen’s mom, thank you for coming.”

“Um, yea, Dean,” he muttered in reply, giving his real name when he never EVER usually did. But he was so caught off guard he didn’t know what else to do.

“I’m sorry about the change in dress code,” Jody said with a laugh, gesturing to the long rainbow plaid dress she was wearing. “Sean said Owen would’ve liked it. He didn’t like for things to be boring, you know?”

Dean nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat as he mentally planned his escape. He was an asshole and this was it, this was the last time he crashed without doing his research first. 

“Well, anyway,” Jody continued, looking over Dean’s shoulder as another few mourners milled into the room. “Please enjoy yourself and have fun.” 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as the woman moved away, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the room. He’d hang for ten minutes and then duck out so it wouldn’t look so suspicious. 

“You don’t work for the hospital,” A deep voice announced next to Dean causing him to jump and spin guiltily towards the source. 

He found himself face to face with the guy who had been making balloon animals not even five minutes ago. A distant part registered that the man was attractive, like truly unf, but a more sane part of Dean realized that he was about to have his cover blown by a hot dude wearing rainbow suspenders. 

“Uh, yea I do?” Dean asked, trying to convince even himself. 

“No you don’t,” the man said, narrowing his blue eyes at Dean in suspicion. “Because I work at the hospital and I know everyone who ever set foot into Owen Mill’s room and you do not work at the hospital. 

Fuck. 

Dean weighed his options for a long moment before deciding he was well and truly powned. “Listen, dude. I didn’t realize this was a funeral for a kid okay. I don’t normally do this kind of thing. I’m gonna leave, just don’t make a scene okay?” 

“Right,” the other man said slowly, his eyes and voice conveying how very little he bought Dean’s bullshit. “Take that jacket off and give it here. Make sure your phone and stuff are in your jacket.”

“Uh...excuse me?” Dean asked as he reached for the buttons on his suit jacket, loading his keys, wallet, and phone into the pockets before he handed it over to the other man and allowed himself to be led deeper into the room where the funeral was being held. 

“Our nurse who signed up for the dunk tank is sick,” the balloon guy explained, stopping beside a large dunk tank that was situated on a blue tarp in one corner of the room; he patted the tank meaningfully before turning back towards Dean. “You man the dunk tank and I won’t rat you out.”

“What!?” Dean choked, looking at the slightly murky water and then back down at his fairly expensive suit. 

The other man just raised an eyebrow at Dean and stayed silent, his full lips pursing just slightly to hold back what Dean strongly suspected was a triumphant smirk. 

“Ugh okay,” Dean groaned, throwing up his hands as he made his way towards the dunk tank’s ladder and toed off his shoes. “For the kids.”

“Always for the kids,” the other man agreed, moving to the side of the tank where the bullseye was and taking up his role of barker with what Dean felt like was too much enthusiasm. “Dunk the Dummy! Step right up and Dunk the Chump!”

Quiet a few dunks later, Dean was soaked and shivering and vowing that he would never crash another funeral when the other man came back up to him with an apologetic grin and a towel. 

“Thanks,” Dean muttered sarcastically as he took the towel and wrapped it around himself. 

“Maybe you won’t crash any more funerals,” Balloon guy admonished only slightly apologetically. “Seriously, I clocked you as soon as you walked in. And you’re lucky it was me instead of a pissed off parent.”

“You go to a lot of funerals?” Dean asked as he roughed the towel over his dripping hair. 

“Call it a work related hazard,” the other man replied with a grim smile. “But hey, it gave me a reason to learn balloon art and it makes the kids happy when most of the kids I see don’t have much to be happy about.”

Dean nodded in understanding, figuring he’d shove his whole leg in his mouth since his foot had already seemed to take up permanent residence there. “So uh...how did you know this kid anyway?”

“I was his oncologist,” the other man replied evenly, nodding at Dean’s self-recriminating wince. “So yea, man--”

“Dean,” he offered, cutting across the other man because it felt like he owed it to the doctor by that point. 

“Dean,” the man said, with an incline of his head. “I’m Castiel. Just uh, do me a favor. Stop crashing funerals okay? It's pretty damn disrespectful.”

“Absolutely,” Dean promised, crossing his heart with the tip of his index finger. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”

“Great,” Castiel replied, rolling his eyes indulgently. “Have a good day Dean, thanks for coming.”

Dean nodded, handing the other man back the soggy towel in exchange for his jacket and his shoes that he picked up instead of putting them on over his dripping socks. 

“But hey, Dean,” Castiel called as Dean started away. “If you ever want to take another turn at the dunk tank, you can look me up at St. Mary’s.”

“Right,” Dean said with a nod at the other man, turning to leave again before Castiel could see his blush. 

His funeral crashing days were most definitely over, but maybe his tank dunking days had just begun.

[rirah1writes]

Chapter Four: A Man Named Eddie Brock.

A/N: Hey ya’ll! I worked hard on this chapter, and I hope it shows. LOTS of angst and in this chapter, but towards the end I threw in that plot! Anyways, I hope ya’ll enjoy it and always feel free to contact me with suggestions, or anything you guys would like to see in future chapters. Also, hoping that I can stay true to the comics, and I'm building towards that, future chapter will have lots of plot and lots of nsfw content (just FYI) Love ya’ll, please stay safe!

Warnings: Smut, heavy ANGST (I.e. mentions of death, arguments) some swearing..that’s pretty much it.

Summary: Peter and y/n have some sloppy morning sex, Aunt May gives the best advice, and shit goes down at Stark Tower. 

Read chapter three here

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Heavy sleep hazed over you. You could feel cold air nipping at your toes so you drew your legs closer to your chest, unintentionally kneeing another living being in your bed. You shot backwards covering yourself, heart pounding. The covers flew back revealing peters tired (and now hurt) face. His curls were matted to his forehead, eyes sleepy and heavy. His skin sported red lines from sleep, and now he was studying you.

You looked frightened, chest rising and falling, not seeming to completely understand yet your surroundings. Your hair was wild, half tied into a falling bun, and you legs were curled underneath you, ready to push off the bed and run. Peters eyes shuffled over you, wondering what made you so jumpy.

Shouldn’t she feel safe next to me?

“It’s okay hon, c’mere.” His voice was soft and inviting. You fell back against the mattress, breathing out deeply. Peter could hear you’re heart hammering, like knocking on wood to his trained ears. He placed a hand over your chest which you took into your own, bringing it up to kiss his fingers individually, meeting his eyes and offering a small smile. Peter wanted to ask if you were okay, but he needed to know what had changed in you that caused such nervous behavior. 

But you’ve been gone for a long time.

 Is that even my business anymore?

Peters eyes scrunched at the thought and his brow furrowed harshly. You could see his troubled expression and turned to your side, sliding your hand up his cheek and meeting those warm eyes.

“Peter, what’s the matter?” You inquired. He shook his head softly finding your eyes, knowing your inability to hide from him, to hold anything back when he looked in them deeply. Something had changed in you since he had left, and he expected things to be different. But not like this. Seeing you frightened, and jumping away from him merited worry within him, and he had to know. “What happened while I was away?” Your became small curling down, and Peter knew immediately by your expression that something had happened. He hoped that you wouldn’t get angry with him for needing to know, but his heart couldn’t help but feel as if he had failed to protect you. 

And yet, here you were cowered into your pillow, hands drawn closely to your face, refusing to let anything slip. “Y/n, please...You jump away from me like I’m going to kill you, you flinch in your sleep when I touch you. If something happened I just need to know so that I can help you.” His voice was earnest and caring. His fingers gently lifted your chin to face his eyes, and you studied his face. Honest intentions and love was all that could be found. “When you left, something happened, and I had to start seeing a doctor. He diagnosed me with Anxiety...” Peter’s eyebrows raised as you trailed off. “Oh and also Major Depression.” You finished, gnawing at your nails. Peter carefully grabbed your hand away from your face, kissing your fingers. “Can you tell me what happened...Is that my fault?”

Yes. Yes it is. 

“No, of course its not your fault.” you stated, your fingers tracing his lips. “And I don’t think I’m ready to discuss it just yet.” You hoped that your words weren’t too sharp, that Peter wouldn’t be able to feel the resentment you still held. Many talks with your counselor had proven that it was easy to forgive Peter when he was long gone, and never coming back. But here he was, directly in front of you, and there was a face to the name that had marred your lips for the past year. 

Can I really move past this?

You knew that Destiney’s answer would be ‘Fuck no.’ So your mind wandered to your parents, what might they have said? You couldn’t gauge, they had been deceased for such a long time, you’d have no way of knowing. You were pretty sure your counselors answer would be something along the lines of... “In order to be able to forgive him, you need to let him first know what he did wrong.”

You snorted internally to yourself. It wasn’t time. And even when it was, it had to be done in a gentle way, a way that Peter could mourn as well, because it was his child, after all. It would need to be done with no animosity, no hurt feelings. Just support and love. Peter’s hands traced over your shoulders and down your arms, sending shivers over your body. “You’re so beautiful...but you look so different.” He didn’t meet your eyes, focus only trained on your body, as if he was just having a conversation with himself. 

“Yeah I’ve lost weight...” your voice cracked. You were embarrassed. You used to have beautiful curves, but after becoming severely depressed you had gotten down to one meal a day. Destiney called you every day to threaten getting on the first plane to New York if you didn’t start eating again. You had improved a lot over the last few months, but your struggles weren’t lost by you. “Destiney got me back on...somewhat of an eating schedule. I’m doing much better. I kind of just lost myself after...you left...” You trailed off, noticing Peter’s sad expression, he lifted his head to meet you. “Well, I’m here now. And I’m going to stuff you full as a tick.” He winked as you laughed at the expression he had stolen from you. Something your grandmother used to say. 

“Okay then, I won’t complain about that.” your eyes sparkled up at peter as his smile warmed your chest, he rolled over on top of you, warm skin blanketing you, making you feel protected. “You won’t complain about this either...” He breathed into your ear, lightly nibbling at your earlobe. You didn’t realize how ready you were for him until Peter slipped inside of you, drawing out a soft moan. The morning sun was just peeking through the curtains, and you felt safe in his arms as he caressed, and lazily kissed you, movements slow and relaxed as he savored you. And that’s how the rest of your first morning with Peter was spent, your breathless moans mingling in the air along with Peter’s soft grunts, sloppy kisses, and a lazy cleanup afterwards, followed with the pair of you tangling up, and once again falling into a peaceful sleep. 

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You stirred again for the second time that day with peter breathing gently next to you. The sun seemed to be well into the sky now. You studied Peter as he slept and felt a giddy smile cross your face. His eyes were soft, his lips slightly parted as he snored lightly. You smirked as you untangled yourself from his arms and checked your phone, finding you had slept until eleven.

That’s what good sex will do to you.

You laughed to yourself, unable to shake your airy feeling as you slipped out of bed and threw on peters tee that was strewn over the floor with the rest of your clothes. You crept downstairs, making coffee as your phone buzzed. It was MJ.

Well that good mood didn’t last long.

A realization came to you as you stared at the picture of her smiling and hugging you around the neck from behind: Your friends knew about Peter, and lied to you. A small pit gathered in your throat as you clicked the ignore button and slammed your phone back down, running your hands through your hair.

You heard Peter clambering down the stairs, you shook your nerves pulling the cream out of the fridge and continuing to make a cup for yourself and Peter. “Still take your coffee black? No sugar, right?” Peter nodded but his look was more concerned. “What’s wrong hon?” You rolled your neck out, forcing a half smile. “Fine. MJ just called me.” He looked confused. “Did you talk to her?” You shook your head. “Nope. And I don’t really want to either.” Peter nodded slowly, deciding not to push you on the topic, but you needed to rant anyways. “I just think it’s funny she knew where you were at and didn’t say a thing to me. Especially after what I went through, she could have told you...or me... it’s whatever.” You trailed off sipping your coffee and meeting his eyes over the brim of your mug. You could feel the yearning to let your hurt and anger out to Peter building up but you kept reminding yourself, it’s not the right time.

“Tell me what..?” Peter’s curious look was making it difficult to hide your own pain. “Ugh..we have a lot to discuss...but let’s start with you. What’s going on Peter? I still don’t know exactly why you had to leave.” His expression was hard but he sat next to you at the bar, and held your hand. “I just want to start by saying that I’m sorry I left you...I never wanted to...I always made sure you were safe. Tony’s been having people watch out for you, so you were never in any danger. But, Nick Fury got word about a major corporation in San Francisco that's been harboring illegal alien life forms.” You blinked at Peter and he sighed. “This sounds fucking nuts, I know.” He ran his hands through his hair and sat back in his chair. “Yeah it does but I’m listening so go ahead.” You still struggled to process all of this information but continued to power through as Peter explained a symbiotic life form attempting to merge with him, and soon after running loose in accompany with three more and murdering several people across the United States, including New York.

You sat back and slowly nodded. “Right here in New York...” you bit at your nails softly and glared at Peter. “Yes. And the rest of the avengers have been running around here like crazy trying to contain it. It uses the victims body, like a host, for a short amount of time, and when it feeds off of them to the point they can’t go on, it abandons them to find a new host. Leaving them dead, or in critical condition. The one here in New York, that’s still on the loose, seems to be more...violent in its actions. But my focus was to go to San Fran to find the source and attempt to capture one, well only one of two that still survived anyways.  But Tony ended up doing that in one week...so...” Peter sat back as he grumbled his last sentence. “Why couldn’t you tell me this?” You shook your head at him. “Because I knew you’d want to go with me to San Francisco and I couldn’t put you in danger or impede on your life. You’re so busy with school I knew you’d graduate this year, and it’s so important to me that you reach your goals, I couldn’t uproot you like that, and put you in harms way.” Trying to be understanding was hard, but you knew peters intentions were good. You had been working hard to graduate, and work for homeland security, your dream. You couldn’t imagine peter would do anything to jeopardize your career or your safety. But there was still a couple of things you needed him to address.

“And as for MJ, May, Ned, the rest of our friends? They know, don’t they?” Peter nodded with shame. “All of them.” He stated, your suspicions confirmed. “And they ALL lied to me.” Your lips puffed in anger as you crossed your arms. “They never wanted to, especially May...” you sat up straight, meeting peters eyes. “Well at least May invited me over, and cared for me. No one else ever came to see me, matter of fact, they avoided me.” Peter breathed deeply. “Because I asked them to.” Your stare was ice, penetrating peters heart.

Now you’ve done it.

“And I need you to know why...if they saw you like that they would have told you everything. I couldn’t have that happen, y/n it’s dangerous!” You slid off of your barstool, storming up the stairs into your bedroom, ripping off peters tee shirt and pulling on a towel. His eyes followed you. “Y/n please say something to me...” his voice was sad and needy, but your anger trumped everything he could feel. Your head was getting hot, anger bubbling over, clouding your judgment, you no longer cared about your actions. You stormed over to your night side table, ripping open the drawer you took out the small piece of paper he had left you, his eyes were shocked. “You left me with this. Just this. You had me watched, compliments of the philanthropist playboy-billionaire Tony stark. And I couldn’t know a thing about you. But what you don’t know? Is that I was pregnant with your child when you left me. And sad to say, I lost it right on that bathroom floor. So don’t talk to me about ‘dangerous’ because for a while, I was a danger to myself. And you weren’t there.”

You cut your words short due to the tears in your throat, slamming down the letter on the nightstand, and turning to go shower. “Sonograms in the fucking drawer next to our picture, if you wanted to see it, babe. Congrats.” You jarred shut the bathroom door with a loud thud, leaving Peter standing with tears welled in his eyes. He couldn’t say a word. His breath was caught in his throat as tears involuntary slid down his cheeks. He walked over to the nightstand and pulled the drawer open fully, revealing the picture of you and him at his internship graduation, right before he became an actual Avenger. He softly picked up the folded envelope next to it that had written in your curly handwriting “Baby Parker.” Opening it up, he withdrew a tiny print out of a black and white depiction, a tinsy little squiggle with an arrow pointing at it stated “baby.” He put the photo back in the envelope and folded it into his pocked, sniffing hard.

You shuddered as you heard the front door slam downstairs. Peter was gone. Maybe he’d walk out of your life for good this time. A part of your heart hurt for him, imagining the shock and pain he was enduring, you desperately wanted to hold him or comfort him. “I didn’t have him to comfort me, and I survived.” You spoke aloud to yourself, as if it would convince you that he would be okay too.

So much for gentle and loving.

You washed your thoughts away, letting the steam consume you.

—————————————————————————

Peter padded harshly along the sidewalk towards May’s apartment. Tears stained his face and he hoped that no one noticed as he passed them. Bounding up the stairs and fumbling with the door, Peter burst through and slammed it shut behind him. Head resting on the frame, as his hands traveled through his hair.

I shouldn’t have left her like this...

“Peter..?” Mays soft voice beckoned his attention, he turned around to meet her eyes. Her face settled with understanding. “So you know.” She stated, shifting her feet. “May it’s all my fault.” Peters voice cracked as his tears fell, he carried himself over to the kitchen table and fell hard into a chair as May’s arms wrapped around him, gently comforting him as she had done for you many nights. “You can’t blame yourself, Pete. Sometimes it happens to women.” Peter pulled slowly away from her embrace and his bleary eyes gazed up at her, he was slowly shaking his head. “But maybe if I didn’t go...” May shook her head and put a finger to his lips. “Uhh-uh, hush. You did what you needed to do, and y/n was taken care of, she had Destiney and she had me. What’s done is done, you can’t sit and hone on it. Mourne if you need to, but most of all, you need to talk to her about it.” Peter laughed despite everything else. “Talk to her? She doesn’t even want to look at me May?” May chuckled.

“That’s not true Peter, you were over there all night. Everything is new to her, and for you too. You both need time to communicate and discuss what happened.” May nodded her head at Peter encouragingly. He wiped his face clean with his hands. “Okay.” He stated simply. Peter grabbed his phone to shoot you a quick text apologizing for leaving, and to see if you’d be okay to talk later.

Pulling out the envelope his fingers traced over the little squiggle in the photo. “I was a dad, May. I didn’t even know it. Why didn’t you call me? I would have came back?” Peter looked up at may with a hurt expression, and her own features hardened. “For the same reason you didn’t tell her you’d left, Pete. It would stop you from doing what you needed to do.” Although Peter was hurt he understood why May had hidden it from him. It became clear to him everyone had something to hide from one another, not just him from you.

His phone buzzed and he hastily picked it up, sad to see Tony’s name instead of yours. He slid to answer the call and Tony’s frantic voice bleared through the speakers before he could even give a proper greeting. “Kid you gotta make it over here, ASAP!” Tony continued bellowing on so Peter hung up the phone. “May I gotta go.” Peter let out a frustrated grumble as he hugged his aunt quickly, activating his suit. Slipping out of the window, he raced towards Stark Tower.

________________________________________________________________

Needless to say, what Peter stumbled upon his arrival was a mess. Furniture was knocked over everywhere, Tony was in full suit, arm raised towards a large glass mixing bowel that Natasha was perched on top of, Steve was shouting at her, hands flailing through the air. “Get off of the fucking bowel and just let him blast the damn thing Nat?!” Natasha held fast her position, the goopy substance tumbled around in its confinement, struggling to escape. “No can do Steve! We’ve worked too hard to find these things and contain them, we need to keep them alive, for research. What if it’s potentially a more dangerous threat then we first imagined? And what if there’s more?” She struggled heavily against the rumbling bowel as she spoke. “We need to know more about them!” Steve rolled his eyes his hands met his face in frustration. “Not at the cost of killing you? That thing would have to if we wouldn’t have stopped it!”

Natasha gasped in frustration. “We don’t know that! If it wanted to infect me it would have, it’s like it’s searching for something else.” Tony stood strong, charging up his reactor, aim ready to fire. “Pete, go get her off the damn bowel and I’ll do the rest.” Peter didn’t think anyone had sensed his presence yet in all the chaos, but his mind was filled with questions. “How did it get out?” He blurted. Steve turned his head slightly, still not taking his eyes off of Nat and the vibrating mixing bowel. “We don’t know, this thing is smart, one second we were all up here having a drink, and the next it had set itself loose and was fighting to get out of the flat. Nat trapped it in this bowel.

“WHICH IS MY FAVORITE MIXING BOWEL, BY THE WAY!” Peter turned to see Pepper flying downstairs to join the madness. “Tony stark I told you to get rid of that fucking thing or take it somewhere else! I know Nick Fury has a perfectly good lab somewhere but you keep it held up here like a house pet while you and Peter prod at it day in and day out!” Her eyes flickered towards Peter, who froze in his place. “No offense, Peter...” she added, unable to bitch him out without feeling hurt.

“None taken..so how do we...handle this?” Peter stammered. “Just told you kiddo. Go tear black widow here off of the bowel and I’ll handle the rest.” Both Natasha and Pepper rather loudly protested at the same time, causing Peter to cringe. Nat carried on about how it didn’t need to be killed, and pepper seemed to be screeching about her rug and coffee table, causing everyone to jump when a voice approached behind the group.

“You could just let me have Venom back?” Peter whipped around, instinctively webbing the mans hand to the wall. Nat clung to the bowel even tighter, and Tony turned his attention, as Steve ran down to the lab. (peter presumed to go find his shield.) “Sorry, have WHO back?” Tony asked sarcastically. “And also why the fuck are you in my house?” The man was tall, with bulky shoulders, his voice was gruff and stubble lined his cheeks. He was wearing a casual hoodie, sleeves rolled up, tattoos covered his left arm that was webbed to the wall. “Yeah, security is shit here by the way, no offense mister Stark, and I’m referring to my symbiote, I’d like him back now, before you idiots fucking kill him.” Steve arrived back downstairs, clutching his shield tightly.

Peter blinked, unable to speak. Tony’s mask opened, and he stared the man down, cautiously lowering his hand. “What is your name? And why are you giving that thing a name?” He questioned. “Names Eddie Brock, I’m from Cali. Might’ve heard of me from my show, but that’s not important right now. I’m calling him venom, because that  his is name, and he’s my symbiote.” Eddie turned his attention to peter. “Say kid, you wanna get this off my arm? Your girlfriend might be into this type of shit but I’m not.” Peter thought of you briefly webbed to his bed, but pushed the thought far back reminding himself now wasn’t the time. He slowly shook his head, not sure how to gauge the situation. “Oh for fucks sake, Venom, I know you’re weak buddy but ya gotta help me out here a little?” Everyone’s attention turned towards Natasha as the bowel rattled violently and busted. Glass showered the ground as the symbiote twisted and shot across the floor towards Eddie, pressing against his skin. Eddie let out a sharp cry, then a second later appeared to be normal again, ripping his arm away from the webbing.

“Alright...” he started with a relieved sigh. “That’s much better. You guys wanna come sit down, I think we have a lot to discuss?” Everyone collectively steed at each other, then back at Eddie and nodded slowly, making their way to the table. “Alright good, we got lots to catch up on, so let’s get started.”

——————————————————————————

@pcterparxer

[lokidiabolus]

The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

or

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?  

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th  

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th  

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

 2020, July 25th  

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

 The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th  

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th  

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th  

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

 It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

 “There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

[dawniebb]

Breakfast Time

 This is like….the second TLC fanfic that I upload here. And honestly it’s not that good because I only wrote it to have a good time lmao.

Here you have 1191 words about Kaider my dear otp dealing with pregnancy cravings like the dorks they are

I hope you like it XD

To Kai, the temperature and other factors in the bedroom were just fine, but he could tell Cinder was uncomfortable. She never moved this much, not even at night.

Her acting like this right now really took him by surprise, because it had been a long day and as hours passed by he figured Cinder would be exhausted by the time they could make it to the bedroom. After all, she was pregnant.

But, surprisingly, she didn’t seem exhausted at all. Not that she was full of energy, but she was awake enough to be moving like a blender next to him.

Kai heard her groan. It was a cute sound, but it made him feel like he was in danger.

“Kai…Hey, Kai.”

Kai took a deep breath and rolled his body towards her.

“Yes?”

Cinder was staring at the ceiling, absently. She had her hands interlocked on top of her belly.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Naw. I wasn’t sleeping.” Answered Kai. And, well, he wasn’t lying. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Totally fine.”

Kai giggled.

“Then what is it?”

Cinder frowned, as if she had eaten a really sour candy.

“I suppose you haven’t tried the sticky buns they sell at the market.”

“…err. I haven’t had the pleasure, I believe. “

“What a coincidence.” Cinder drew her attention to him, smiling. “Me neither.”

Kai laughed as his eyebrow raised.

“How come?” He asked, genuinely confused.

Cinder turned her head towards him, but her body didn’t move.

“Did you know that those people don’t serve to cyborgs? “ She clicked her tongue. “Rude much?

Kai sighed. Actually, he did know people at the market were reluctant to serve to cyborgs, which made him very angry. The situation had gotten better after Cinder had reclaimed her place as Selene Blackburn, but they still had a long way to go as a country and as a unified world. Sometimes, people still stared at Cinder’s hand instead of her eyes, which was not only impolite, but also discriminatory.

Fortunately, over time Cinder had learned to ask for respect in calm and patient ways. She barely paid any attention to the glares directed towards her anymore, but at those times when she was so stressed she would get extra sensitive, Kai would intentionally hold her hand and even place a tender kiss on it to let her know she mattered, and that they were the ones who were wrong.

So, yeah, he pretty much had a clear idea about how cyborgs were treated amongst society even when their Empress was one of them and New Beijing was supposed to be a cyborg-friendly place.

After the pregnancy was announced, they started getting all types of nonsense questions about whether or not Cinder’s circumstances would affect the baby, and they refused to answer the majority of them because…

Well.

Rude.

“You did mention something about it.” He limited to answer. “They knew, right?”

“Oh, boy. They knew.” Cinder groaned. “And it was Hell. Blame it on the cyborg. The cyborg this. The cyborg that. But anyways, that’s not my point.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you want to talk about…?”

“No, not today.” Cinder shook her hand to brush the topic away. “The thing is….you’ve been to that market, rig…Ugh. Of course you have. “

“Yep.”

“So, you must know there’s booths and there’s street vendors. And they sell a lot of street food. Sometimes I would send Iko to buy some for me because, you know, they wouldn’t sell anything to me.” She complained. “Until one day a guy asked her who did she belong to and we both got really offended and never came back. But somehow, he knew she belonged to me…and Iko’s pretty recognizable because she speaks a lot, so soon they all knew that hey! That’s Linh Cinder’s cursed android.”

Kai waited. She barely spoke about her days at the market, so it was always really interesting to hear her.

However, he did ask:

“Cursed?”

“Yep. Cursed. Because Iko has more personality than half of the people I knew back then and they just couldn’t take it.” Cinder rolled her eyes. “…Can you remind me why I was telling you this?”

“Uhm…”

“Oh, yeah. Street food.”

Out of all the answers there were, Kai certainly didn’t expect that one.

Weren’t they talking about social inequality?

“There was a lot of street food. And there was this booth next to mine. Chang Sacha’s store. She was a baker.”

A chill ran down Kai’s spine.

“Chang Sunto’s mother.”

Cinder sighed.

“That’s her.”

Then, they stayed in silence for a couple of seconds…minutes, perhaps, before Cinder dared to speak again.

“Kai, I want sticky buns.”

He couldn’t help but snort.

He should’ve seen it coming.

She was pregnant. This was supposed to happen, wasn’t it?

Kai had never taken care of a pregnant wife before, but he had heard Wolf telling jokes about how demanding Scarlet could get when she was going around with a bloated belly with moving babies inside.

“Don’t laugh. I really, really want sticky buns.”

“I’m not laughing.”

He was.

“How can you say that? Kai, I’m right next to you! Geez. So cynical.”

Kai burst out laughing. And even if she pretended to be mad at him, he could hear her laughing too.

“You want them right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Right now? At this very moment?”

“Yes, Kai. Right now. At this very moment.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Excellent! Breakfast time!”

Kai groaned jokingly, as he started getting up from the bed. He felt a ball full of laziness dropping on his back to the mere thought of leaving the warm blankets and having to walk all the way to the kitchen to check if there was any already made sticky buns. If there wasn’t, he would have to go through more trouble and ask an android to wake the baker.

“…Wait, no. But I want Chang Sacha’s sticky buns.”

“What the…?” Kai passed his hands through his face. “Darling, Chang Sacha is…deceased. Didn’t they burn her bakery? She got infected with letumosis the day I met you.”

“But I didn’t get to taste her sticky buns and they smelled nice!”

“I know, they must’ve smelled nice, but…” Kai scratched his temple. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

Cinder blinked and shifted herself into a sitting position. Kai helped her, trying not to hit her belly (not that that could do much harm, but still).

“…I have no idea.” She concluded.

Then, she snapped her fingers.

“Maybe we could talk to her husband and ask him for the recipe and…”

“Oh.My.Stars” Kai laughed as he tenderly pulled her against his chest and kissed her forehead. “You really want those sticky buns, huh?”

“I told you I really wanted sticky buns and I meant it, Kai.”

“Yeah, I can notice that.” Kai smiled at her.

She looked pretty when she pretended to be annoyed.

“We’ll look for Chang Sacha’s recipe when the sun rises.” He promised. “In the meantime, I’ll ask someone to bake you sticky buns. It’s still breakfast time after all, and we shouldn’t keep our daughter waiting.”

[evabellasworld]

Young Soul

For Star Wars POC Week 2020

Day 5: Family

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Summary: After 8 years, Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young has reunited with their mother, Kaia Young on Chandrila and learned about their deceased father.

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“Come on, Lira,” Eva groaned as she knocked on her door, clinching both her dolls. “We don’t want to miss the first bus.”

“Hold your horses, Evie,” Lira talked back. “I’m trying to pack up.”

“Well, you should have done that yesterday when I got back from Mortis.”

“Ugh, stop nagging me. You’re annoying.”

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms as she was about to step inside her room when Lira popped out, with her backpack and her extra slingbag, which carried her gadgets and gizmos that she made out of trash. “Now I’m ready.”

“You took too long,” Eva slapped her arms. “Do you know how long it will take from the Jedi Temple to the cargo bay?”

“It takes twenty minutes, Evie,” Lira rolled her eyes as they both walked on the empty corridor, with no one up early in the morning, except for a few, who were too tired to even care about where the twins were even going in the first place. “I’ve read the map like fifty times.”

“If you read the map fifty times, then why do you have to be super slow in preparing yourself?”

“I prepare myself. I just forgot a couple of things, that’s all.”

“That could have been prevented if you prepared yourself earlier on.”

Lira let out a groan of frustration. “Whatever, you sound just like Obi-Wan sometimes.”

“Well, maybe it’s for the best.”

As they finished their conversations, the identical twins with red hair and almond-shaped eyes stepped outside the Temple, where they were greeted by Commander Tori, who only had her bottom half of her clone commander on, along with her black top. “So, where are you girls heading today?”

“Just take us to the cargo bay,” Lira answered, grabbing the backseat. “We need to fly out of Coruscant as soon as possible.”

“And why is that?” Tori raised her eyebrows. “Are you guys meeting someone important?”

“It’s our mother,” Eva spoke, with a frown. “We haven’t seen her since we were three years old and it is urgent that we have to get to Chandrila.”

Being a clone trooper, Tori doesn’t know about being separated from a parent from a young age, but one thing she understood is family and bonding. Being close to Rex, Cody, Mayyah, and Minnie, who were her siblings, not being able to see them for a long period makes her anxious and depressed, and it is what the twins are currently experiencing right now.

“Of course, girls,” she gave a nod, driving off from the Temple. “But do your masters know about this?”

“They’re at the battlefield, again,” Lira said, glancing at the dark, morning sky, with the sun not rising from the horizon and the cool wind blowing in their surroundings. 

Tori sighed. It’s been a year since the Clone Wars had begun and day by day, she noticed that the relationship between the girls and their Jedi Masters had slowly dwindled, without both of them realizing it. Lira and Eva loved their masters, obviously, but most of the time, they found themselves closer to Tori than they thought.

Arriving at the cargo bay, Tori escorted both of them inside and stepped inside the ship, sitting beside them. If the girls had to see their mother, she won’t let them go by themselves, with the danger of the outside world much worse than what they watched on cartoons every Saturday morning.

“So,” Tori breaks the awkward silence between them. “Does your mother know that you both are visiting her today?”

Eva nodded. “Yes, Tori. We managed to find her phone number in the yellow page and commed her immediately. She’s very nervous to see us both.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to hear. Now tell me, what does your mother work as?”

“She worked at The Angel Inn,” Lira informed, showing her the pages that she found the other day. “It only opens at night, so we have ample time for Evie and me to spend time with her.”

She read Kaia Young’s comm and noticed the place was listed down as a brothel on Chandrila, making her cheeks turn hot. Should I tell them the place where her mother worked, or should I just keep quiet and let their mother come clean about her job?

She heard about her brothers and sisters visiting brothels on Coruscant, and getting kicked out of the place when they realize that their service isn’t free at all. Choerry was a fine example of a clone trooper who was banned from a brothel. Tori could only grumble, but at the same time, it amuses her as well.

“Oh, that’s fascinating to hear, girls,” she smiled. “I can’t wait to meet your mother as well, even though I don’t know much about her.”

“She’ll love you, Tori,” Lira cuddled next to her. “Trust me, I told her about you and she’s excited to see you as well.”

A civilian excited to see a clone like me? Well, that’s unexpected. “Oh, I’m sure she’s a kind lady like the both of you.”

“She is.”

After a few hours on board, the ship jumped out of hyperspace and landed on the planet’s surface. The Chandrilan skies were coloured with sapphire, with the golden, glistening sun shining above the white clouds. Despite that, the natives, which was ninety-six per cent of humans, didn’t feel too hot or too cold and were enjoying the weather.

The three of them emerged from the station with their bags when they noticed a woman in her 30s, with jet black hair and almond-shaped, dark honey eyes, along with fair skin and bow-shaped lips, which shared similar facial features as the twins. Eva, who recognized her, ran up to her and wrapped her arms around her torso. “Mama!”

“Evie, is that you?” her mother spoke, recognizing her 11 years old daughter. “Look how big you’ve grown. The last time I remember you, you were so tiny.”

“Mama!” Lira called her, hugging her as well. “We miss you so much.”

“Well, I miss you both as well,” she grinned, kissing their foreheads. She stood up and noticed Tori’s presence, and offered to shake hands with her. “And you must be Tori. The girls have said nothing but good things about you.”

“They always say good things about everyone,” Tori shook her hands. “The girls have told me about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Young.”

Kaia let out a chortle. “Oh, no, Tori. I’m not even married at all. You can call me Kaia or miss, whatever makes you comfortable?”

The first-name basis, eh? Now I know where the girls got it from. “Alright then, Kaia. It’s great to meet you, again. Sorry, it’s quite-”

“Awkward?” Kaia finished her sentence, laughing. “Don’t worry about it, Tori. I don’t bite unless you want me to.”

Her eyes widened as her face flushed. “Actually, Kaia, I’m an ace.”

“Tori, I’m just joking with you.”

Wow, she has a sense of humour, just like Lira.

“Anyways, we should head back to my apartment,” suggested Kaia, holding the twin’s hands. “I made something special for the three of you.”

They arrived at her small but cosy apartment, which was filled with potted plants everywhere and vines growing on the grille of the window. A shoe rack was placed beside the door, with the walls painted in mint green, which gave the whole house a calming effect towards the host and their guests. 

Lira, Eva and Tori took off their boots and placed their backpacks on a tiny, wooden bench that Kaia found at the garbage disposal and repainted them to make them presentable. The identical twins sat on the brown couch, along with a few tie-dye pillows. 

Tori checked out the bookshelf that was leaning against the wall, and found herself picking a book from its place, titled ‘Tales of Handmaids.’ For Tori, it was surprising that a prostitute like Kaia would have a decent place, not too lavish nor seedy. Chandrila isn’t like Coruscant, where people like her would rot in a dangerous alley. Instead, they fared better, even though there are flaws. 

“So,” Kaia walked out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of glasses, which were filled with iced lemonades. “How long did it take you from Coruscant?”

“A few hours,” Lira told her, as she took a sip of her drink. 

“Huh, that long, eh?”

“Yup,” Tori nodded. “Do you live alone, Kaia?”

“Yeah, it’s just me and all my plants, in my boxed-sized apartment. No one is there to look after yourself, and that is the harsh reality, unfortunately.”

“Isn’t it lonely?” Eva asked. “Living all by yourself.”

“Sometimes, it does, sweetie,” Kaia sat between them, wrapping her arms around their shoulder. “But at the same time, I enjoy the silence once in a while, you know.”

“Don’t you have any friends, or maybe a lover?”

Her mother let out a snort. “I see you know a lot about love, Evie.”

“They know a lot about love and sex,” Tori spoke. “They heard about them from my troops, and even some Jedi.”

“A Jedi having sex?” her eyes widened. “Why am I not surprised? Who told you about the birds and the bees anyway?”

“A friend told us,” Lira replied. “Eva and I accidentally caught him doing the deed with a Senator, so he had to explain everything about it. It was disgusting.”

“Well, I’m sorry that you girls had to see that," mused Kaia. "But at least it's better for you girls to know, rather than being ignorant and making the same mistake that I did when I was younger."

“Oh?” Tori raised her eyebrows. “What about that?”

“Well, it’s too disturbing for the three of you so consider yourselves warned but when I was 16, I was violated by an adult man, and that adult man was a friend of my parents. Instead of believing me, they denounced me and kicked me out of their home.”

“But they’re your family. Why would a family cast out one another? Don’t you guys share the same blood?”

Kaia shook her head. “Tori, your brothers and sisters aren’t the same as mine. Your siblings care for one another and look out for each other, but my family cares only about two things, which are money and ego. My aunts and uncles, my siblings, my parents, fight like vultures when they see gold. They don’t care about your well-being at all. They only know how to back-stab you, that's all."

"That sounds like the Separatist more than a family."

"Indeed, though the Republic has its flaws as well, especially recruiting kids to lead an entire army."

"If I have to be honest," Eva raised her hands. "I don't even know why we are fighting in the first place."

"We were told by the Kaminoans that it's for peace, but I could hardly believe that statement anymore."

"It seems like the people of the Outer Rim are growing unsatisfied towards the government," Kaia sighed, finishing her drink. "Honestly, I won't be surprised if there is a rebellion against them."

Lira and Eva exchanged glances of surprise before their mother cleared her throat. "So, anyone up for a movie?"

"Yes, please," Lira bobbed her head. "Can we watch Rowling's Castle?"

"Of course, sweetie."

As night came, both Lira and Eva were cuddled next to their mother as Tori slept in the right corner of the bed, laying beside the younger twin. The stars above Chandrila were shining as bright as jewellery as the moon above the sky illuminated. “Kinda rare to see this many stars in the city,” Tori commented, counting each one of them with her fingers. “We never get this much on Coruscant.”

“People here value nature,” Kaia told her. “It’s the basis of life. Without nature, we have nothing. No food, no water, no air, just torture and pain.”

“That explains why you have so many plants around your house.”

“Greenery is good for your mental health. Makes you feel calm, especially for a soldier like you.”

Maybe I should follow Daisy’s advice and get myself a potted plant in my barrack then.

“Hey Mama,” Eva called her. “There’s something I need to ask you about and it’s really important.”

“What is it, baby?”

“The other day, my master and I stumbled upon a planet called Mortis, and when I was there, I saw a man with a Jedi robe and long hair. He spoke to me about how I shouldn’t trust too freely and be more cautious with my surroundings. I told my master about him, and he said that he knew who the man was?”

“Okay, what did your master say?”

 “He told me that he was his mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn. Do you know who Qui-Gon Jinn was, Mama?”

The name that her daughter mentioned made her heart smile and sorrow at the same time. She reached for the drawers beside her bed and grabbed a flimsi of her and Qui-Gon together, holding each other’s hand. 

“You know him, mom?” Lira gasped as she saw the flimsi.

“I knew him well,” she gleamed. “He was my lover. I met him while I was exploring the forest, searching for wild berries and mushrooms. He was meditating by the river when he noticed me with a basket and a straw hat. After we got to know each other, he would visit me every weekend and slowly, we fell in love.”

“Is Qui-Gon our father?” Eva guessed.

Kaia curved her lips upwards. “Yeah, he was your father. When I got pregnant with the both of you, he was ecstatic and he couldn’t even wait to meet you both.”

Tori’s smile disappeared. She was told that Kaia lived by herself, and she could tell that something happened to him. “There’s no happy ending, isn’t it?”

Kaia shook her head. “Three months before you girls were born, I saw him in an obituary. I was heartbroken that he was gone so soon. I never get to say goodbye to him.”

“Then what happened?” Lira raised her question. “Why did you give us away to the Jedi?”

“It was difficult for me to raise you and Eva, especially with the Child Protection Service chasing after me. I had to choose between losing my job and losing both of you. I wanted both of you to have a better life than I did, so I decided to let the Jedi adopt you both.”

The twins wanted to yell at her for leaving, but at the same time, she had a point. Had their mother continued to raise them, they would have ended up in a broken, foster home, like all the other children. 

“I understand, mom,” Eva nodded, letting out a yawn. “We should head to bed.”

“Alright then,” she kissed both Lira and Eva on the forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”

Tori fell asleep as well, knowing that the twins are safe and sound in their mother’s loving embrace.

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Kaia Young:

Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young:

Commander Tori:

[deckof-dragons]

Hi again! Not so much a prompt, but a potential idea for a future work. Due to Time Piece shenanigans, the Snatcher, either through short snippets or completely involved, finds himself thrown back in time before he died, but things are different. Namely, he's married to the florist lady. How would he react to this?

Thank you for the request! As for this being a whole work, I would very much like it to be because I very much like what I came up with and would like to continue and find a resolution for it. I however can’t promise that so we shall all see what happens in the future. In the meantime though, here’s this.

Poor Decisions

The now deceased Metro cat had been carrying a Time Piece, presumably they’d been trying to cut through the forest to smuggle it somewhere else because they’d been an idiot. It was Snatcher’s now though. For a time at least; Hat Kid would come looking for it eventually. He’d probably give it to her too to avoid another fight – after the final Death Wish contract, he had no desire to ever do battle with her ever again.

But Snatcher wanted to keep this one. He’d eaten the cat’s soul so everything the cat had owned was now rightfully his as was the law of the land – he’d written that particular law but he was the monarch so he was allowed to. Also, he’d been a bit of a scholar back in the day and the thirst for knowledge had remained with him even through death and all those years; he wanted to resume his interrupted study of the Time Pieces. He also kind of wanted to eat it.

The energy it gave off wasn’t exactly similar to a living soul’s but he was pretty sure he could absorb it the same way he could a soul. Which almost made it seem appetizing. It was more curiosity about what might happen if he did though. He’d seen the things Mu had done with the Time Pieces and as far as he knew she’d never had immense magic power before. What could someone who was experienced with having a vast amount of power do with even one Time Piece’s magic?

It sadly wasn’t something he was gong to find out anytime soon. It was possibly dangerous even to him. So he should do more study on the Time Piece more before…

“Is that a Time Piece?”

Snatcher looked up to see Hat Kid standing in the doorway to his reading hollow. Great, just what he needed. There was no point even trying to hide it, she’d already seen it.

“I don’t think you were holding one back though,” she continued, “because my ship’s sensors said there weren’t anymore in the forest. So you got it from somewhere else. That means I don’t have to go find it though.” She skipped over and held up her hand as if she expected him just hand it over. “Thank you.”

Snatcher didn’t want to give it up though, not yet anyway. It was his, he’d gotten it fair and square this time. He wanted to study it and know more. But he also didn’t want to fight over it, verbally or physically. Teleporting away would only delay the confrontation though so…

“Sorry kiddo, it’s mine now. Missing one shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

She took a breath to protest but gasped in shock instead as he opened wide and shoved the Time Piece into his mouth. As predicted, he absorbed its magic, not as smoothly or quickly as a soul because there were still some physical components to it but that only made it a little uncomfortable and take a bit longer.

“What the peck is wrong with you?” she said, looking at him as if he’d just done something outrageous. Which he had but he felt damn good about it. “Why would you do that?”

Before he could gloat though the new source of magic in him activated and suddenly everything was dark, pitch black. … Oh no! It had been a risk for sure but how badly had he just messed up? He could fix it though, right? Yeah, for sure he just had to…

His eyes snapped open to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Something was very, very wrong. It was dark, he could still see but barely; his night vision was compromised.

He let out a shaky breath, an actual real breath because he was breathing again. And his heart was beating too! He was alive again!? How? Why? This couldn’t be real.

Shaking, he sat up and glanced around the room. There was a small window letting in moonlight but it was still so dark. He couldn’t make much more than basic shapes out. How did mortals deal with this?

Something shifted in the bed beside him. It was a person, still fast asleep. Their back was to him so even if he could see normally, he wouldn’t be able to see their face. They had long hair though so… was it Vanessa? It had to be, right? The only person he’d ever slept next to while alive was Vanessa.

He couldn’t quite hold back a small yelp as he scrambled away from her and out of the bed. He was alive again so he had no magic, he couldn’t possibly defend himself against her. He was helpless again and there was nothing he could do about it.

She groaned, shifting as she sleepily pushed herself up. Shit, he’d woken her up, he was screwed, wasn’t he? She was never happy when someone woke her. “Luke?” she said, voice still filled with sleepiness.

Snatcher flinched and back pedaled until he hit the wall. He pressed his hands over his mouth to stifle his suddenly too loud breathing. His heart was pounding too and honestly he didn’t like how it felt. Being alive was no longer something he wanted to be.

Vanessa shifted and pawed at where he’d been lying on the bed, clearly noting his absence. He stayed frozen, back pressed against the wall, hands pressed over his mouth hard enough that he could barely even breath through his nose. The door was on the other side of the room, past the bed and past Vanessa. He didn’t dare run for it, she’d catch him for sure. Maybe if he stayed quiet and still, she’d just go back to sleep and then he could sneak out and figure out what was going on and hopefully fix it.

That didn’t happen though. Instead she sat all the way up and reached over to the nightstand to switch on a magic fueled lantern, flooding the room with light. It hurt his dumb mortal eyes enough to make him flinch and close them instinctively. Ugh!

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He forced open his eyes again to see Vanessa had gotten out of bed and stepped closer to him. Except her hair was red instead of blonde and her face was the Florist’s. … It wasn’t Vanessa.

Suddenly weak at the knees, Snatcher took his hands off his mouth at last. “Madeline! You’re alive!” He never thought he’d see her again. He almost wanted to hug her and might’ve if she’d been in immediate reach. “I guess that makes sense though, huh? Since I’m alive too.” And not in the cellar.

“Yep,” she said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Uh well… in way I guess you could say I did.” The whole thing with Vanessa had certainly been a nightmare. And whatever this situation was, was also a bit nightmarish in its own unique way. “Why were we sleeping in the same bed though?” If Vanessa found out, he’d end up in the cellar again.

Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Uh… we’ve been sleeping in the same bed ever since we got married. So is this a prank or… Are you okay?” She suddenly looked worried again.

“What do you mean… ‘married’?” He’d never liked her like that no matter what Vanessa had claimed. Like a fool he’d only had eyes for Vanessa. And well… “What the peck is going on here?”

“I’d like to know that too. So I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help.” She was patient, kind, and worried about him like she always was. She’d been his only friend after Vanessa had driven everyone else away, isolated him by making him believe that no one else loved him. “So, Luke honey, why don’t you come over and sit on the bed and we can talk, okay? Or not, whatever you need.”

Snatcher couldn’t help but flinch a little at the name, only Vanessa had ever called him that. “Don’t call me that.” His voice was far harsher than he’d intended it to be, making her flinch a little.

As always, she didn’t get mad back though, she was a saint. “What? ‘Luke’ or ‘honey’? Because I call you both all the time.”

“Both.” He wanted to be called ‘Snatcher’ but he couldn’t ask that of her, could he? So… “Just… don’t call me anything. If you must refer to me by name, ‘Lukas’ is fine.”

“All right Lukas, could you please sit down now and tell me what’s wrong because you’re really scaring me right now.” She looked scared too for him. Ugh.

He could trust her though, right? He’d vented to her about Vanessa plenty of times and it had never gotten back to the manor. And she was his friend. And maybe explaining things might help him figure out what happened? It had something to do with the Time Piece for sure. Which now that he was starting to calm down some, he could still feel its power inside him. He wasn’t sure how to activate it though and scared to try because last time it had activated, probably upon the physical components of it being destroyed, he’d ended up here.

“Time shenanigans,” he finally said, looking back up at Madeline. He wasn’t going to go over there to sit down though because he didn’t want to. “That has to be it, I think. I swallowed a Time Piece and suddenly I’m here.”

Madeline sat down on the edge of the bed. “What does that mean?”

“Time Pieces are basically magic hourglasses. They can be used to travel though time and other things. I wasn’t able to study them for long enough to find out. So… this is an alternate timeline perhaps? That’s the only thing that makes sense, right?”

“No, nothing you’re saying makes sense. I’d question if you’re on drugs but I know you’re not. But… you’re claiming you’re from an alternate timeline, correct?” Naturally she was having obvious trouble believing that.

“Yep.”

“And you got here by eating a magic hourglass?”

“Yep.”

“A whole hourglass? How and more importantly why?”

Snatcher shrugged. “It’s complicated.” No way was he going to admit to eating it to avoid having a child take it from him by force. “But I woke up here pretty much right after I swallowed it so it’s the only thing that could’ve brought me here. And an alternate timeline is only thing I can think of that would explain this because things aren’t supposed to be like this, even in the past. You can believe me or not, I don’t care.” He did have to find a way to fix it though.

How likely was it with how screwy this alternate timeline was that Hat Kid would be around? He couldn’t know but she’d be the one he’d want to ask about this because she was most likely to know how to fix it. His only other option would be to figure out how to activate the Time Piece’s power inside him and pray it brought him back to his world. A risk for sure, especially considering if there was a time line in which he was married to the Florist, there was probably one where he’d ended up actually marrying Vanessa. … There was probably also one where Moonjumper never came and she kept him alive the cellar for who knows how long and possibly even trapped his powerless ghost down there until he faded. … Welp, he suddenly felt like he wanted to vomit so he wasn’t going to consider that possible timeline ever again.

“All right,” Madeline said after taking a deep breath. “You sound like you believe that and I don’t think you’d pull a prank like this so…  what kind of time line do you come form?”

“Uh… one where we were just friends.”

She frowned at him. “Is there a reason for the past tense?”

Yep, it was in the past, she’d died. He’d become a ghost, while she hadn’t – as far as he knew anyway, Vanessa could’ve destroyed her ghost as soon as it formed. He couldn’t tell her that though, could he? Damn, he was soft, huh? She was his old friend though so… it made sense, he’d been much softer and weaker in those days. He’d never had to let go of that with her because she’d been only a memory. So… “Nah, don’t worry about it. We’re good friends still, I just haven’t seen in her in a while.”

If Madeline caught on or suspected the lie she didn’t show it right now. Instead she fidgeted nervously. “Um… what about my Lukas? What happened to him? Did he switch with you or… did you replace him?”

Snatcher opened his mouth to reply but paused. “I uh… don’t know.” On one hand, switching with him would be awful because who knows what that Lukas would do in Snatcher’s timeline, what secrets he might reveal that people did not need to know. But replacing him wouldn’t be good either because what if when Snatcher figured out how to fix this, he was gone for good? Madeline obviously cared about him, she’d married him for peck’s sake, Snatcher would feel bad taking him away from her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll fix this and then everything will go back to normal for both of us.” Hopefully.

She looked at him, her expression mirroring his own uncertainties about that. “How you are going to fix it then?”

“I’m not sure yet. There’s someone I want to talk who might know. I don’t know if she’ll be here though so… I might just have to figure it out by myself.” No matter what though he was going to figure it out because he did not want to be here.

He’d only been alive again for a little while and he already hated it; his heartbeat and the breathing thing but mostly because he didn’t have any power other than the Time Piece’s and that was unacceptable. He couldn’t defend himself like this or shift to make his form bigger to make him feel more powerful too. So if he couldn’t find Hat Kid in this pecked up timeline, he’d have to figure out how to activate the Time Piece again and risk where it might take him this time if not home. Considering the possibilities, he really didn’t want to do that so hopefully this timeline was messed up enough that Hat Kid would be here somewhere he could find her. And if so, hopefully she’d be willing to help him.

For this request event, sort of anyway.

[close-to-levi-heichou-sir]

Levi Ackerman’s Anchor Chapter 3

When Isabelle heard the sound of something banging on one of the windows, she immediately woke up fearing the worst. Captain Levi was already awake and the girl realized her head was resting on his shoulder. Did she fall asleep like this?

Isabelle instantly pulled away from him. He was a mere stranger after all. She couldn't remember how the night had ended. The girl looked at him - the expression on Levi's face didn't change - he seemed annoyed. Did he always look so desperately bored with everything?

His attention was focused on the three scouts who were banging on the window, waving at him and yelling his name with excitement. One of them was a girl with short light brown hair. She was blushing.

"Captain, I can't believe we found you," she screamed. "We though you were dead!"

Levi snorted, "Tcch, I honestly wish I were dead right now. It took you almost a day to find me?"

All three of the scouts suddenly froze and pointed their eyes at the ground. They looked embarrassed as if they were some students scolded by their teacher.

"Petra," said Levi, breaking the silence, "Where are the titans?"

The girl's face turned all red. She was looking straight at him and Isabelle could tell she was extremely frightened.

"About that, captain," Petra mumbled. "We saw that a lot of them were gathered around this house, so while trying to clear out the street some heavy objects blocked your way out. We need several hours to clean the mess..."

The captain raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "And I can't get out through one of the windows?"

Isabelle instantly jumped, "Oh, hell no! Your leg is going to rip open. You'll either bleed to death or have a terrible infection."

"I am starting to dislike you a lot", he hissed at her. "Very well then, you heard Mrs Know-It-All. I guess I'll have to die of boredom here."

Petra and the scouts nodded. Isabelle looked at the girl. Her lips were pressed together in a firm line. She seemed... jealous. But why? Isabelle didn't even know Levi up until several hours ago. Why did this unknown girl look so angry? Was she his girlfriend?

"So, um... did you sleep well?" asked Isabelle. She was trying to break the awkward silence. They had such an amazing chat last night. What had happened? Was it because she had fallen asleep on his shoulder?

"I don't sleep much. You, on the other hand, snore like a dying animal. And my back is all stiff from not moving all night long," he sighed.

Isabelle shook her head in disbelief.

"First of all, I don't snore! And secondly, why didn't you move all night long? Do you have another injury I don't know about?!"

A smirk showed on Levi's face.

"I didn't want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully on me."

The girl blushed. Apparently she had been more tired last night than she had realized. She must have fallen asleep amidst their conversation. Is that why he seemed so annoyed?

"You should've just woken me up. I am not a little girl," she exclaimed.

"It actually felt nice," he smiled.

His blue eyes were staring at her as if he was enjoying her presence.

Isabelle felt uncomfortable. There was no denying that this was the captain Levi Ackerman himself. And yet, she had never considered herself beautiful. She felt embarrassed that someone so perfect might look at her and find her attractive. But did he actually come to like her or was this all just Isabelle's imagination? Maybe deep down she herself wished he might like her.

Maybe she was starting to like him...

"You know," he began, "Even though you are an annoying brat sometimes, your house is spotless. I like that."

Isabelle laughed, "Yeah, I kinda have an obsession with everything being clean at all times."

"Hah," he exclaimed in delight, "Me, too."

________________________________________________________________________________

Hours had passed since they last saw Petra and the other scouts.

Levi and Isabelle were quietly drinking tea in the kitchen when they heard the girl's voice, " Captain! It's all clear! You can finally come out now."

Isabelle glanced at the captain. She was surprised to see that he looked disappointed. It seems he was enjoying the peace and quiet. Maybe that's what he really needed after all. A break from all the death and horror.

"Well, uhm," he began, "I guess this is where we part our ways. Thank you for... Well, saving my life. Few people would have done it in your place."

Isabelle suddenly felt extreme sadness embracing her. She was left alone again, since there was no trace of her parents. It had been days. Her hopes were everything but high at this point.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm sure anyone would do it," she smiled with a bit of sorrow in her eyes. "I'd do it again if I must. It was nice meeting you. Good luck with... well, everything."

Levi nodded and turned around following his squad. He had seen the sadness in her eyes. The captain hated weakness. He despised when people's happiness depended on him, because he never really committed to anyone. All he was ever dedicated to was... well, killing titans.

And yet, he couldn't help but feel... weird. Was it sadness? It felt more like melancholy - as if all of a sudden he remembered a place that was dear to him, close to the heart, safe. As if he remembered a face he hadn't seen in a long time, yet brought comfort and made him feel secure.

Every step away from Isabelle felt hard and heavy to make.

"Isabelle, wait," she heard him say.

Levi turned around and rushed towards her, "I honestly don't know what I'm doing."

She looked at him with a confused expression on her face.

"I, ugh," he began. Apparently, I happen to like your annoying and obsessive cleaning personality, but I'm so bad at this that-

"You what?" she asked him still looking quite perplexed.

"Just be safe, okay?" he signed and started walking away from her again.

"I... will..." she signed in response. I happen to like your constantly bored and annoyed face.

________________________________________________________________________________

Three months had passed since Isabelle last saw captain Levi and quite frankly she had almost forgotten about him. What was mostly concerning her was the fact that her parents were missing and were probably long gone.

People were gathering in the center of the Shiganshina district. The stationary troops had called every citizen out in order to inform them about the casualties in the past several months.

Isabelle was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by people. For the first time ever she almost felt something different from alone. She saw how several scouts joined the troops at the tribune. Among them was captain Levi, but he didn't see her.

Isabelle felt piercing pain in her stomach once she saw him - was that... butterflies? A member of the stationary troops started reading a list of all the deceased they had found. Among the names were unfortunately the ones of her parents.

She put her hand on her mouth and fell onto her knees. Isabelle couldn't believe what she was hearing. Suddenly a loud roar was heard from the south which caused a great commotion around her. People started screaming and running. They were pushing her, but she couldn't move.

Apparently, a titan had made a small breach in the wall and was now advancing with several of its friends towards the town square. People were absolutely freaked out. Scouts and troops were trying to control the situation, but everything had turned into chaos.

Rain started pouring down Isabelle's face. She couldn't see, hear, nor feel anything but pain. She felt as dead as a living person could possibly feel. Nothing mattered. The titans were approaching her.

"ISABELLE," she heard someone shout her name.

The girl felt two hands grab her shoulders. They started shaking her whole body.

"ISABELLE, LISTEN TO ME," she heard the voice again. "I NEED TO GET YOU OUT OF HERE!"

It was Levi. He had heard the names of her parents (Isabelle told him about them during that first night) and immediately started looking for her in the crowd. He quickly found her and didn't took his eyes off of her until the titans appeared.

"They're gone, Levi, there's no point," she cried, but he shook her even harder.

"DON'T BE STUPID, JUST GRAB MY HAND, LET'S GO!" he yelled again, but she didn't move. "Alright then, you little brat, I'm sick of you."

Levi grabbed her by the waist and used his ODM gear to fly away from the square. He quickly took her to a big abandoned building nearby where scouts were gathering and left her there.

"You look after her, you hear me? She isn't herself right now!" he shouted at the scouts and a girl instantly grabbed Isabelle by the hand and led her to a nearby chair.

Eren, Armin and Mikasa nodded.

"I'll make sure she's okay," said Eren.

Levi ran to Isabelle and stood on one knee. He was panting, "Isabelle, live for me, okay? I forbid you to die!"

She suddenly woke up from the trance she had fallen into.

"Levi, please, don't leave me again. I'm all alone in this world," she cried.

"I'm here. I promise," he said and kissed her hand. "I'm right here."

[meganshinsou-tm]

Vermilion. (m)

↳ chapter six: what’s mine, is yours

❧ genre:  pro-hero’s bakugou/kirishima, poly, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

“Hey guys, need help?”

As you walked into the door of the house, Kirishima eagerly walked over to help you with the bags in your hands. He wore a plain white t-shirt and black shorts, then you noticed his hair wasn’t spiky anymore, but relaxed and down. “Oh my god, how can he get more adorable,” you thought. Low and behold though, he smiled enormously at you, making you squeal internally. “I’m deceased now.”

“So I learned the gremlin here is bi-lingual while we were out shopping,” Bakugou said as he walked into the kitchen and started to put away groceries, Kirishima following behind.

You smiled at the two of them and proceeded to help, the red-head asked for elaboration and you explained to him.

“And I thought you couldn’t get any cuter mama. Maybe you can teach us sometime!”

Kirishima smiled as he pulled out your jar of pickles and pickle chips. He gave you a look, and you shrugged and grinned at him making him smile in return.

“So Red, I’m cooking Mexican tonight, that cool with you?”

He nodded eagerly and bundled up the empty grocery bags, “Sounds good, I’m starving! Do you need any help with anything?”

You violently shook your head, strongly protesting against them and moving to gather both men with all your strength and pushed them out of the kitchen. Placing kisses to their cheeks and pats on the back. They both left and went to the living room to do their own thing as you proceeded to start prepping dinner. They ended up playing a video game together, both glancing over at you every now and then. The area started to smell heavenly as they heard sizzling noises.

“Ugh, I don’t know how much longer I can wait, I’m starting to drool over here man,” Kirishima whined as he gripped his stomach and Bakugou chuckled.

In perfect timing you called over to them that dinner was finally ready and they both quickly jumped off the couch and ran into the kitchen, broad shoulders bumping into the other as they raced along the way. Suddenly they both stopped in their tracks, jaws dropping as they looked at the display of food.

“So, I made some carne asada, I marinated the meat and tried to make it as spicy as I could, so hopefully it turned out good! Over here you have your toppings like cilantro, limes, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, beans, some extra chili powder just for you Suki. You can either make tacos with them, or I made rice as well and you can top them on that or make a burrito.”

Kirishima looked like he was about to cry as he walked over and hugged you, making you giggle and pet his soft hair.

“Thank you so much (Y/N), you didn’t have to go all out for us like this! Keep it up and you’re gonna have us fat and spoiled!”

He pulled back with you still in his arms, you shrugged at him with a smile. “It’s the least I could do after you guys helped me out and let me into your home. I’ll make you a deal, on the days that I’m off work, I’ll cook for you guys. Then maybe on Sundays we can all cook together?”

The two men nodded eagerly agreeing with you. Bakugou grabbed dishware for everyone and set them beside the layout of food. Kirishima let go off you, kissing your forehead and thanking you once more before going to fix his food. Katsuki smirked as he passed you, your eyes locking briefly before he placed a kiss on your cheek, shocking even himself, and thanking you as he walked to stand by Kirishima and made a plate.

You stood there, rubbing the cheek the blonde kissed and watching in awe as your roommates smiled at the other and nudged elbows, making small talk as they piled food onto their plates. It amazed you how cool and civil they were, having to know of the obvious crushes they both had on you. For a moment it made your small sense of guilt fade and you joined them.

Soon the three of you sat down, eating and talking with each other. The boys both asked you more about your childhood and family. Kirishima couldn’t get over how you said ‘cilantro’ with a Mexican accent, he’d ask you to repeat it over and over and asked you to say other common words that made your accent come out, making Bakugou chuckle as you entertained the red-head. You asked both of your friends about their own families, learning that Bakugou’s mom was pretty much a carbon copy of himself just female. Then Kirishima told you the story of how he got the cut above his eye, making you awe at him. It was so nice to have them around, making you realize what you were missing out on from living alone.

After eating, you all got up from the table to put your dishes in the sink. You went to go grab the sponge to wash them until you felt strong arms around your waist, jerking you away from the sink.

“Oh no mama, you cooked, we’ll clean! You’ve had a pretty big day, why don’t you go take a bath? Fortunately, my bathroom is the only one with a tub, so you lucked out there.”

You smiled at the men and thanked them, squeezing their arms before turning away and took off upstairs. The two red-eyed roommates cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes together. It was quiet between them but they both had the same thing on their mind - you. They wanted to tell the other how they felt about you so bad, but hesitated in fear of crushing their friend. Finally they both finished cleaning up the kitchen and looked at each other.

“We need to talk!”

Bakugou smirked, pushing away from the sink and going to the fridge, grabbing two beers out of it and handing one to his friend. Kirishima smiled and they both walked outside to sit on the front steps.

“So I guess it’s obvious that we’re both falling for her right?”

Katsuki hummed in agreement, taking a drink and sighing before he spoke, “And it’s also obvious that she’s possibly falling for both of us.”

The red-head nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.

“And here I thought we had a problem, she’s the one in a shitty situation you know. Probably thinking she has to choose between the two of us. If (Y/N) is as selfless as I think she is, then she won’t.”

Both of the men’s hearts dropped a bit. You were such a genuinely caring person and you wouldn’t dare come between them, especially now that you all lived together. Bakugou and Kirishima could be selfish and just go after you with everything they had like some kind of competition to see who got you first, but they didn’t want that, it would only tear you apart in the process and tear each other apart. Besides you, Kirishima was the only other person Bakugou cared about and was close to, there was no way he was going to fuck up the years of friendship, brotherhood, they built together. Kirishima felt equally the same.

Head hanging low, Bakugou sat quietly, rolling a rock under his toes against the concrete.

“What if she didn’t have to choose between us?” He blurted out, breaking Kiri’s thoughts.

The red-head looked at his friend with confusion and asked what he meant.

“Kiri, what if we like shared her? Like fucking Pikachu does, doesn’t he have like two boyfriends? We’d both get what we want and she would get what she wants and not feel torn down the middle.”

“You mean like a poly relationship? I didn’t know you were into that, I mean I’m not objecting.” Kirishima chuckled and took a drink.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it were with some other guy, like Icy-Hot or Deku, I’d fucking kill them, but its you. We’ve been through a lot together and have shared a lot together. What makes this any different?”

Kirishima raised his eyebrows.

“Well a lot man, this is a person we’re talking about Kat, not a toy. We’d be sharing emotions, connections, time, everything man. And not that its the only thing that matters, but we’re humans and we’re physical creatures so we’d have to share affection with her, kisses, hugs - even sex. Are you truly okay with that?”

Kirishima turned his head to look at his friend. A sharp tooth chewing on his lip nervously. Maybe he thought about exactly this before and he never had any strong negative feelings about it. So far the three of you really worked well together. If he saw any other guy being flirty and handsy with you like Bakugou was, Kirishima would be green with envy but … that wasn’t the case here.

Bakugou chuckled, thinking nearly the same exact thing as his friend. If anyone were the jealous and possessive type, it was Katsuki Bakugou. Not like he had ever been in a serious relationship before, just hooked up here and there, but he wasn’t as walled-off as people thought he was. He wanted to experience whatever the fuck this was with you, even if it meant Kirishima was also involved, the fucker was involved in everything else in his life. They needed each other, so what, and that was shockingly okay with Bakugou.

The blonde smirked and looked at his friend, “Look Shitty Hair, long as she gave us an equal amount of attention, I’m down.”

Kirishima laughed warmly and rolled his eyes.

“Alright Blasty, so it’s not a weird idea and it could work out. She wouldn’t feel so like you said torn that’s for sure, I mean we both make her happy, what I lack you make up for and vice versa right? But just because we’re cool with this, doesn’t mean she will be, so how do you suggest we bring the topic up?”

“I guess we just let her come to us when she’s ready to talk, with her living with us now, I’m sure it won’t take long. In the meantime, if she makes a move on either of us then we’re cool with each other to accept it?”

Kirishima thought it over and smiled, nodding before holding up his bottle, “What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine?”

Bakugou flashed him a smirk and raised his own drink, the sound of glass clinking sounding off between them, sealing their agreement.

“I should get out, I’m starting to prune,” you hummed as you looked at your hands. 

It had to of been a good 20 minutes that you spent in the bathtub, losing track of time while reading a book. After getting out and drying off, you took your hair down from its clip and put on a black tank top and some soft sleeping shorts then grabbed your book and dirty clothes before walking out and down to your bedroom. Once you disposed of the items, you decided to go back downstairs and see what your new roommates were up to.

Just as you walked out the door, so did Bakugou from his bathroom. Without looking up you knew it was him, given that Kiri’s room was on the other end of the hall.

“Oh your still – uhh, oh,” you gasped as you finally laid eyes on the shirtless blonde before you.

Your eyes raked over his toned and defined chest, lightly glistening as a few drops of shower water had yet to dry on his skin. Swallowing thickly, you weren’t exactly paying attention to how long you starred, you had only ever seen Bakugou in his work clothes and hero costume, not once catching him without a shirt, at least until now. You knew he’d be gorgeous but damn, this was illegal.

Katsuki noticed your eyes taking him in and chuckled.

“If you wanted to see me without fucking rags on all you had to do was ask princess, you didn’t have to wait outside my bathroom!”

His arrogant voice finally broke your thoughts and you rolled your eyes at him. Looking away and willing the blush on your face to subside while scratching at your neck.

“A-are you going to bed already?” You asked, trying to seem calm, leaning back against the wall.

Bakugou clicked his tongue and nodded, a hand coming up to ruffle his damp hair, “Yeah, why do you fucking need something gremlin?”

You smirked at him and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, “Well if you’re offering!”

You teased, expecting Bakugou to smart back off. 

Instead, he smirked and took a step towards you, causing you to step sideways until he quickly placed both arms on either side of your head, trapping you against the wall. You quietly grunted and bit your lip again when his face came closer to yours, making your heartbeat and breathing quicken. One of his hands suddenly came up to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline slowly and making you shudder. His touch was soft but demanding and made your eyes flutter at him, body going still.

His thumb then brushed over your bottom lip, coaxing it out from between your teeth and making you unconsciously whimper; this made Bakugou chuckle and grin wickedly as he traced your lip. His hungry red eyes never looking away from the soft piece of flesh. He leaned even closer, completely invading your space as his teeth bit down on the lip and sucked it softly. As soon as your taste was on his palette, Bakugou released you and dragged his teeth across your cheek where he placed a soft kiss and pulled away.

“Katsu,“ you breathed out as he looked at you with a pleased grin, his smug look gone and replaced with a softer one.

“I’m pretty beat from work princess. How about you go hangout with Red tonight, then tomorrow night me and you will hangout?” Bakugou finally spoke, cupping your cheek in his warm palm.

In utter shock, all you could do was nod. He placed another kiss on your forehead, hands moving on your body and turning it down the hall as he spoke a ‘goodnight’ and slipped into his room. You stood there for a few minutes going over what had just happened and how the crimson eyed blonde had just completely mind-fucked you.

“What the actual fuck!”

[w-k-smith]

Chapter Three: Ghost to Ghost

Whoo! Penultimate chapter, everyone!

Beetlejuice and Lydia are almost to the Abyss, meaning Beetlejuice’s lies may soon be revealed. But first, they have to deal with the fact that living, dead, or demonic, parents just don't get it.

[This chapter took a while, but I hope the fact that it's on the longer side makes up for the wait. Then again, the length is part of the reason it needed extra writing and editing time.]

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20)   Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (07/03/20)   Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (07/26/20)   Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning:  This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of  topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know,  like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your  boundaries, and stay safe.

(This story is also available on AO3, under the username w_k_smith.)

New chapter under keep reading! B33tl3b4b3s DNI!

He watched in surprise as the ghost couple fussed over Lydia. He raised his eyebrows at Miss Argentina, but she just shrugged.

“Are you all right?” the man, Adam, pressed, grabbing Lydia’s shoulders.

“Lydia, you look terrible!” the woman, Barbara, said. “What happened?”

“It’s just a dead person disguise,” Lydia said. She rubbed her face with her sleeve, getting rid of most of the grave dirt. “These are the Maitlands. They died in their house, and they were still there when me and Dad and Delia moved in,” she said. She pointed at him, and he made sure to straighten his tie. “Guys, this is my guide, Beetlejuice.”

He floated to the Maitlands’ eye level and rested his chin in his hands. “Heeey. So, what brings two tall glasses of apple cider vinegar like yourselves to a place like this?”

“Beetlejuice?” said Adam. “Like the star? Orion’s armpit?”

“You’re named after an armpit?” Lydia asked.

“It suits him well,” Miss Argentina said.

“The point is,” he said, “Lydia, are these the ghosts who opened the Handbook for you?”

“We showed it to her, but we did not say she could use it to go to the Netherworld,” Adam said. “The three of us were working our way through it together, until yesterday when she up and disappeared.”

“And we’re here to take her home right away,” Barbara said.

“I can’t leave yet,” Lydia said.

“Honey, it’s not safe here. This place has demons, and giant snakes, and your father is going to notice you’re gone any minute.”

“He doesn’t even notice when I’m around.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Adam said.

“Besides,” Barbara said, “we notice.”

Lydia’s voice shook when she said: “Well…you can’t make me go.”

The three of them stared at each other in uneasy silence for a few seconds.

“A-a-hem!” Miss Argentina said, waving her clipboard around to break their gazes. “I’ll leave you two to talk sense into her – God knows, Beetlejuice won’t help.”

“That was unnecessary,” he said.

“I’m going to head Juno off at the pass,” Miss Argentina continued. “If that’s still possible.” She got in Lydia’s face. “You better go home while you still can. Juno doesn’t like breathers jumping back and forth, you understand? And even if she doesn’t catch you, you hang around with him, something might happen that you’ll both regret.”

Lydia set her jaw. “I know who he is, OK? He’s a total ass, but he’s my friend.”

Miss Argentina patted her head, though Lydia immediately swatted her away.

“Take care of this one, Beetlejuice.” Miss Argentina said. “And you? Take care of him. Maybe your two loves of disaster will cancel each other out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to deal with a rampaging bureaucrat. This is in your hands, until later.” She tapped the Maitlands’ shoulders as she left.

“So!” he said, pointing from Adam to Barbara. “You had the Handbook. You read the Handbook. You know you were supposed to proceed directly to the Netherworld, but you didn’t. Why?”

“Well…” Adam cleared his throat.

“See, we love our house,” Barbara said.

“It’s a Victorian, with original crown molding,” Adam said.

“We poured our heart and souls into our home, though it turns out we should have paid a little more attention to the floorboards.” Barbara scratched her forehead. A horrific gash blossomed there, and shut as quickly as a blinking eye. She probably didn’t notice.

“And we, ah, ‘woke up,’ I suppose,” Adam said. “And this whole other family was moving in! With no appreciation for the building! Changing the wallpaper, getting rid of our favorite rug, throwing out the antiques…”

“Not even donating them,” Barbara said. “They could have donated that crib!”

“Of course we had to do something,” Adam said.

Barbara smiled at Lydia. “Though we’re so glad we met Lydia. I am starting to regret showing you that Handbook.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said, pressing his hands together. “You disobeyed the rules of the afterlife and delayed your eternal rest because someone rearranged your furniture?”

The Maitlands looked at each other, and nodded sheepishly.

“You hot little rule-breakers, you.”

“Beetlejuice is going to help me see my mom again,” Lydia said.

He was offended at how skeptical the Maitlands looked.

“There was nothing in the Handbook about that,” Adam said.

“In fact, chapter two said: ‘no human has ever come back from the dead, so never never never never never try,’” Barbara said.

Lydia frowned. “I didn’t say she could come back from the dead. But if you guys are ghosts, that means she can be one too, right? Beetlejuice knows where she is in the Netherworld.”

“I do,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie.

“He’s taking me there right now.”

“Is it dangerous?” Adam asked.

“Noooooo…” he said.

Barbara crossed her arms. “OK, this isn’t as scary as we feared. But Lydia, you shouldn’t have done this without talking to us.”

“You don’t have to scold me!” Lydia snapped.

He leaned between them. “But feel free to scold me any time,” he said to Barbara, pumping his eyebrows.

Barbara’s nostril’s flared. “Do you talk that way to Lydia?” she asked.

“What?” He reeled back, and raised his hands. “No! God, no! I walk the very fine line between lovably perverted and evil, but I do walk it.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose,” Barbara said.

“Is there such a thing as ‘lovably perverted’?” Adam asked. “It really seems like you might have some boundary issues, sir.”

He raised his hands higher, in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. You want to keep this professional? I can be professional.” He plucked the pair of glasses he saw sticking out of Adam’s shirt pocket, put them on his own face, and affected his nerd voice. “I majored in Afterlife Studies, I graduated from Harvard Business School, I’ve been employed by the Netherworld for the past 3000 years, and I was named employee of the eon seven times.” He handed the glasses back to Adam. “Besides, do you think Miss Argentina would have just walked away if I was that much trouble?”

“She did seem authoritative,” Adam said.

“It’s the clipboard.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you alone with him,” Barbara said to Lydia.

“I’m fine,” Lydia said. “I promise I’m fine. You guys are going to love meeting my mom! She’s friendly. Probably the friendliest person in the family. You guys can show her how to be a ghost, since you’ve learned so much. She’ll catch right up.”

Adam turned to him. “Is it really possible to bring somebody back like that?”

Whelp, he was definitely starting to have a few regrets. Too late to back down now, though. “In the Netherworld, a lot is possible.”

The Maitlands had an apparent silent conversation with each other. Barbara pursed her lips. Adam frowned. Barbara raised her eyebrows. Adam gave a little shrug.

“If you’re gone for too much longer, we’re coming back,” Barbara said at last.

“OK,” Lydia said.

“And you are never going to do anything from the Handbook for the Recently Deceased without our direct supervision.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“As for you, Mr. Beetlejuice, if Lydia gets so much as a sprained wrist we’ll…we’ll…” Adam was obviously struggling to think of something threatening. “We’ll cut off your head!”

He was sure his hair was starting to turn bright green. “Oh my God, please do, that would be hilarious,” he said.

Adam wilted when it seemed to click with him that he didn’t know how to threaten a ghost.

“Stay safe,” Barbara said to Lydia. “No matter what.”

Barbara took a piece of chalk out of the pocket of her dress, and drew three lines on the rock closest to her. She knocked three times, and an impossible door opened up between worlds. Green mist obscured the space between realities. Adam and Barbara disappeared into it, and the door slammed shut and vanished behind them.

Lydia watched them go, sucking hard on her teeth. He worried she might be having second thoughts.

“We’re almost there,” he said. “One last push. By the way…thanks for lying to Miss Argentina back there, saying I was your friend. I can tell she was secretly happy to hear I’m going soft.”

Lydia gave him a reproachful look as they started walking. “I wasn’t lying. You’re my friend.”

“I…am?”

“Beetlejuice, you’re creepy and bugs come out of your ears. Of course you’re my friend.”

His smile felt like it was going to split his face. “I have a new best frieeeeend!” he crowed, and cartwheeled across Lydia’s path.

“Don’t be so needy,” she said, laughing. “I didn’t say best friend.”

“Right. I’ll bet you have a lot of cool friends, who hang out in the hot graveyards and try on each others’ shrouds. Let me guess – you and three other girls at school keeping talking about forming a coven, but deep down you know you’ll never do it.”

“I actually don’t have that many friends. Not anymore. I have trouble, sometimes,” she said. “I like being weird, and I never want to change myself just to ‘fit in,’ but some people don’t know how to deal with it. When my mom was sick, a lot of the friends I did have freaked out. My mom had cancer, and she got really bad, really fast. I guess they didn’t know what to say, but instead of saying anything it was like…like…what was Delia talking about the other day? Like I was kale salad. Then my dad yanked me out of school before the year was over and barely anyone said goodbye. It was like I was the one who died.”

Things were getting too real. Death, he could handle. Grief, he could not.

“Well, they can go screw themselves.” In his experience that was what people wanted to hear when they spoke in long, angry paragraphs.

“Yes,” Lydia said. “Yes, they can.”

*

One second, Saturn was the only thing visible in every direction. The next, the black line of the Abyss made up the horizon.

“Is that it?” Lydia asked.

“Yup.”

They stood near the top of a sand dune, looking out at the liminal space of the universe. He was getting…uneasy. When he’d first struck his deal with Lydia, he hadn’t pictured himself stringing her along this far. Granted, he hadn’t had any kind of exit strategy at all. He rarely did. And look at the great place that had brought him! Stuck in literal hell, working for his mother, pinning all his hopes of escape on a teenager he was lying to.

Maybe it was time to reexamine some stuff.

“Hey, kid…” he began.

“What?” she asked.

“Things might get a little rough in there.”

“Is the Abyss dangerous?”

“Not dangerous, per se. But there’s something I don’t think you understand –”

“I don’t care,” Lydia said.

“No, see, this isn’t a cute little rule to rebel against, this is important –”

“I said I don’t care.” She pointed at the Abyss ahead of them. “If my mom is in there, I’m going in, no matter what.”

“And that kind of inflexible, bullheaded thinking is admirable, and definitely not something you should discuss with a therapist, but –”

Lydia took a deep breath, and coughed. “Something smells terrible.”

He snorted. “It’s called musk, and if you were romantically inclined, you’d know it’s important for attracting –”

“I know that smell!” she said. “That’s one of Delia’s fake smudge sticks! She buys them from a super-white Gwyneth Paltrow wannabe in Arizona, and she waved them all over the Maitlands’ house when we moved in. They smell like burned sugar and farts.”

He took a deep breath, and considered. “Yeah, I guess it depends on whose farts you’ve been smelling. Wait – why would Delia be waving those around here?”

“Why would she be here at all?” Lydia dashed to the top of the hill, and looked down. “Oh. My. God.”

He looked where she was looking, down at the cluster of four adults just outside a door to the living world. The Maitlands were back, which didn’t surprise him. The surprise was that they’d brought two living friends along. One was a burly man with dark hair, who was holding a wooden cross aloft. The other was a redhead woman in a patterned dress, flinging the smoke from her burning plants around like it was going to do anything but annoy anyone within a fifty-foot radius. This had to be Dad, and the infamous life coach. Oh, things were about to get daytime-talk-show interesting.

“Dad!” Lydia yelled, running down toward the small crowd. “Delia! What are you doing here?”

All four adults turned to Lydia with relief so powerful it practically stirred wind through the sand. The live ones ran to Lydia and enveloped her in a desperate hug.

“Thank goodness,” said Lydia’s father, almost smacking her with the cross.

For his part, he sidled up next to the Maitlands. “So, you gonna cut off my head now?” he asked. They didn’t laugh, which disappointed him.

Lydia had wiggled away from the hug. “Dad, why do you even have that cross? You’re an atheist.”

“I’m a practical man. If there was a chance religious iconography could offer protection, I wanted to bring it along on the rescue mission.”

“Do you think this is a rescue mission? What did Adam and Barbara tell you?”

“Lydia, we’re sorry,” Barbara said, and he caught the tone of someone trying their best to be gentle. “We had no choice. We were going to wait for you, and try to stall, maybe, but in the end we couldn’t.” She lowered her voice, but he could still hear. “Charles and Delia found your note.”

Lydia frowned. “What note? I didn’t tell anyone that I was – oh no.”

 I was going to jump off the roof of our new house. Just yesterday. I wrote a note and everything.

“Whoops,” he said under his breath.

“I was about to call 911,” Charles said. “And then these people appeared in the middle of the room.”

“We were worried we weren’t going to be able to do it,” Barbara said. “No offense, Mr. Deetz, Ms. Schlimmer, but you don’t seem prone to the strange and unusual.”

“But we manifested!” Adam said, sounding proud. “We kept popping in and out at first, but finally, we made them see us!”

“It was certainly a surprise,” Charles said. “They told me you were unharmed, but that you’d traveled to…”

“The Netherworld,” Lydia snapped.

“The Netherworld?”

“The spiritual energy here is unsettling,” Delia said.

She was staring at him. He stuck his pointed, striped tongue out at her. “Boo,” he said, without enthusiasm.

She flinched, and dropped her plant bundle. The fire went out when it hit the sand. He picked up the smudge stick, and nibbled it. Not bad. He stuffed it in his jacket for later.

“The Maitlands, who I suppose you could consider our new neighbors, said you’d found some sort of guide, and that he was going to help you find – find –” Charles cleared his throat. “Ah. Excuse me. Anyway, I see now they must have been referring to this…rodeo clown who died of consumption?”

“Wow,” he said, straightening his tie. “OK. Wooooow. That’s actually a new one.”

“This is Beetlejuice. He’s my friend.”

His stomach jumped when she said “friend.”

“I’m a demon,” he said, holding out his hand for Charles to shake.

Charles gave him a firm, businesslike handshake. “My daughter hasn’t gotten up to any terrible misadventure, has she? No Satanism, bodily harm, drug experimentation?”

“She ate some Zagnuts and fought a giant worm. She’s fine.”

“How did you beat us here?” Lydia asked. “We’re almost to the Abyss.”

“Well, the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says you shouldn’t expect the Netherworld to have a consistent temporal and special relationship with the living world,” Adam said.

Ah, his future boyfriend was learning so much. “Yeah, hot stuff, that’s the basics. In addition, the four of you were pretty focused on finding Lydia, am I right? That’s some powerful psychic steering. It probably made sure you opened up the door close to where she was going to be.”

Charles rounded on Lydia. “I’m still – I’m still very confused, but I’m glad you’re alright.”

Lydia crossed her arms. “Good. You can go back now. I’ll see you later.”

“Absolutely not. We’re going home.”

“That house is not our home,” she said.

“This isn’t up for debate. You are walking through this door right now or there will be serious consequences.”

“What consequences? You’ll take me away from the friends and family I have left? You’ll make me move to a neighborhood I hate for a project you don’t have funding for? You’ll hire some woman you say is meant to help me grieve, but boink her in secret? Oh, wait, you already did all of that!”

“How…how did you know Delia and I were together?” Charles asked.

“I’m so sorry, did you say ‘boink’?” Delia asked.

“How long was it going to happen behind my back, Dad? Was it some kind of joke to you two?”

Delia put her hand over her mouth. Charles reached for his daughter, like he was going to put his hands on her shoulders, but stopped.

“Lydia…it wasn’t a joke. We should have told you a long time ago, and I apologize. But though it may seem sudden, Delia and I love each other. More than anything, we both want what’s best for you. Running around this world cannot be a good thing.”

She shook her head. “Why would you think I trust you anymore? We have the whole afterlife around us, and all you can think about is going back to burying your head in the sand!”

“Be sensible. I have never believed in the afterlife, but I am willing to concede that I was wrong. But if you could just bring someone back whenever you wanted, even as a ghost, even if it was difficult, we’d have heard about it by now.”

“Beetlejuice said –”

“Mr. Beetlejuice is wrong. Or he’s lying to you.”

“No! This isn’t about him, or me. You just want to forget about Mom!” she yelled at her father. “You don’t care that she’s gone!”

Charles flinched.

He looked from Lydia to her father, waiting to see what response she’d get. Whenever he backtalked Juno – which he would admit was often – he never got away with it without having to dodge at least a slap, usually worse. Most parents, he thought, he was pretty sure, weren’t as volatile as Juno, but Lydia was hammering on the family sore spots. He prepared himself to step in. It might be nice to teach a lesson to a crappy parent who didn’t have demonic powers to hold over him.

Charles didn’t yell. He didn’t lash out at Lydia. He just did a good impression of a statue.

When he finally spoke, there was the barest tremor in his voice. “Lydia. Through the door. Now.”

“I said no.” She pulled away from father. “Beetlejuice, do the thing!” she said, waving her hands. “Make them go.”

“They can just come back,” he warned.

“We’re almost there! Do it!”

He made a production of rolling up his sleeves. “Iiiiiit’s showtime. But not for you!”

He waved his arms like a conductor, and as one, Adam, Barbara, Charles, and Delia turned around and marched toward the door.

“What’s going on?” Delia asked.

“So long, farewell…” he sang under his breath. “Adieu adieu adieu – or however that song goes.”

“I think we’re being possessed!” Barbara said, and there was something curious and excited under her fear. “I read about this.”

“Did you read how to stop it?” Charles asked. He flailed his arms, like windmilling could stop his feet from moving forward. Adam walked through the door.

“Um, not yet…” Barbara said.

Delia went through the door, then Charles and Barbara followed. The door to the living world slammed shut and disappeared.

“I think that was pretty good, but – kid?” He looked over his shoulder, and Lydia was already gone, sprinting up over the dune toward the Abyss. With her head start, she was out of his sight in a second.

“Hey, don’t do that!” he yelled. “Wait!”

He got no answer. Damn it all to hell. He picked up speed, and if he hustled, he’d be able to catch her before she got to the Abyss.

His feet were yanked out from under him, and he was dragged backwards, facedown, through the sand, until an unseen force flipped him over.

“Where is the living girl?” Juno hissed.

The anger in her eyes was electric. He did his best to pull away, but all he could do was wriggle in her mental grip.

“Don’t lie to me,” Juno said. “I know you were with her. What does she want to do? Summon demons?”

“You know, it’s so weird, she actually wants to see her mom again. Not something I can relate to.”

Juno jerked her wrist. He flipped over and flew into the air, dangling right at her eye level.

“Tell me,” Juno growled.

“She’s my friend.”

“You don’t have friends.”

He tried to break free, his limbs flailing in the air. “You’re going to kill her, Ma!”

“This isn’t hard, Lawrence. She’s going to die eventually. Moving up the timeline to keep order in the Netherworld is reasonable, and you know it.”

“See, to me, that reaction is out of hand.” He sprouted as many arms as he could physically manage under the circumstances, all the hands reaching for Juno.

She batted them away, and grabbed him by the throat.

He choked. He was a damn ghost, and didn’t need to breathe, but immediately struggled for air as his throat crushed and burned with pain. Juno’s bony fingers didn’t relent. She let him go limp, looked him right in the eye.

“This is your last chance,” she said. “Tell me where the girl is.”

She gave him the barest freedom to speak. “One sec…” he croaked. He fumbled inside his jacket. “Lemme just grab something.”

He pulled out the fake smudge stick, and set it on fire. The dried plants and who-knew-what burst into stinking flame, and dragged the fire across Juno’s towering hairdo.

Her scream rattled his bones and threatened to knock his teeth out of his gums. But she dropped him. He hit the ground hard, but ignored the pain, got to his feet, and ran for the shadows ahead.

He could smell his mother burning. It was the smell of a tire fire, mixed with the smell of melting synthetic fabric, mixed with sulfur and hellfire and the cold knowledge at the center of it all that what he’d just done was beyond what she’d be willing to tolerate. She wouldn’t settle for giving him orders and knocking him around anymore. When she caught up with him, she’d tear him to pieces. She would drag him back to the administrative area and make an example of him. She’d make him regret being born, though that was all her fault anyway.

He couldn’t do anything about that now. Now, he had to make sure she didn’t catch up to Lydia.

The black stripe of the Abyss loomed before him. He expected it to either call to him, or repulse him. Instead, it just hung there in front of him, a simple fact.

“You’re not so tough,” he muttered.

Then he did the thing he’d sworn he wouldn’t do for at least another ten thousand years, and threw himself into the Abyss.

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [6]

masterlist

Words: 4.7k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: spoilers for season 7&8 of Game of Thrones

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Here it is! I ended up finishing it later than usual but earlier than anticipated, so instead of waiting till 11:59, imma just post it now!It’s a bit on the shorter side so I sowy but it’s what ya’ll get since I basically wrote this in one day oof. thank you all for reading... engoy! 😘

You were walking alongside Jin, who was currently babbling about how difficult it was to have to cook for the members of his kiela all the time.

“You just can’t imagine the stress! And they eat like animals!”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye as you ducked beneath a branch. “Honestly, Jin… I don’t feel that bad for you because you were the one who turned down my help, remember?.”

At your retort, the Saeni huffed then mumbled something along the lines of maybe letting you help cut the vegetables or some other tiny task from now on.

You chuckled and repeated what you had told him before, “If you ever want or need help, just let me know Papa Jin. I’d be happy to lend a hand.”

Brushing some leaves out of your face, you sent the black-haired male a smile, hoping he would understand that you genuinely just wanted to help and not try to steal his “caretaker position.”

You waited until he sent you a smile back, and then you glanced around to see how everyone else in the kiela was doing. Personally, your legs wet sore as heck, and your feet felt like they were about to fall off from all the walking and running you’d been doing, but the others seemed to be in no distress at all. Then again, they were definitely more used to this kind of hiking than you were.

You had been on the move for a couple of hours, still trekking toward the group’s destination. The only difference was that now you knew what that destination was.

I hope that makes you happy, chickpea brain.

After Jungkook had left you and Jimin alone earlier, you were finally able to sit down and have your much-needed talk with your best friend.

“I don’t have an alarm! How the hell am I supposed to do that!?”

Jimin let out an exasperated puff of air. “You literally just got punched in the face… and making sure you’re up on time to get punched again is what you’re worried about?”

“Hey, if getting punched a few more times helps me learn how to protect myself, then I’m doing it.” You sat back down on the mat and looked up into Jimin’s brown eyes. “Enough about Coco and punching, though. We need to talk.”

Leaning back on your hands, you titled your head to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a prince?”

“Wha-who-I-not-n-no!” He stammered out. “I’m not a prince, don’t be ridiculous.” He ran a hand through his apricot locks and avoided eye contact with you.

“Oh, save it, Slim Jim. I know you’re a prince, so don’t even try to lie.”

The half-Saeni let out a groan, closing his eyes and tugging at the roots of his hair. “Who told you? It was Tae, wasn’t it? That feather-brain can never keep his mouth shut.”

“Oh my gosh, it wasn’t Tae. Have some bloody faith in your brother, would you?” You rolled your eyes. “It was the bad guys from yesterday. They said something about it after they knocked your ass out.”

Your friend dropped his hands and blew out all the air in his lungs before he finally replied, “I’m… I’m not really a prince. Some people just call me that because my father was the previous king.”

“So, what? You’re an ex-prince?”

“More like a bastard.”

“Wait, so you’re like the Jon Snow of Illain?” Your eyes twinkled in excitement.

Jimin raised his eyebrows and looked down at your buzzing figure. “You know that Jon wasn’t actually a bastard, right?”

“Eh.” You waved your hand dismissively. “With how the writers treated that information in season eight, he might as well have still been one.”

“That… is a fair point.”

The conversation died down and all you could hear was the sound of the forest for what seemed like several minutes but was probably only ten seconds.

“Jimin…”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin had sat down next to you and explained why knowing his heritage was dangerous, for you and him. He began his story by having you recall how his mom had stumbled into Illain (you still weren’t sure how that would happen, but hey, no point wondering about it now) and met and fell in love with his dad. What he had left out, was that his dad had been the king of Illain and was already in an arranged marriage. He didn’t love the queen and vice versa, but nevertheless, he had to keep his relationship with Jimin’s mom a secret. Both because it would have been considered taboo in addition to how it would have caused an uproar among the court officials.

Shortly after Jimin’s mom found out she was pregnant, the queen discovered the relationship and… she had not been pleased. She ended up murdering Jimin’s father and tried to kill his mom as well. Luckily, she had been able to escape back to Earth with the help of a friend, who had been one of the few who knew about her.

Once the king’s guard (who didn’t exactly excel at their job, in your opinion) caught the queen and interrogated her, it was reported that she kept saying that she wanted to see Illain fall into chaos and how she needed to eradicate the “key within the bloodline.” Whatever that meant. Nobody could really make sense of her, it was like she had suddenly went batshit insane.

After the events, nobody thought much of her words, beyond them being those of a crazed person. The world grieved and then crowned a new king. Eventually, the Saeni forgot about what the previous queen had said… until five years later. Stories rose up about an anarchist who preached about unleashing pain and suffering upon all of Illain. Those who felt as though the world was against them, that life hated them, that the gods mistreated them, were captivated by his message and joined his ranks. They began terrorizing Illain in the name of an unknown person, Uzjuk, and were soon known as the draikensu, or “the dark ones.”

Over the years, the draikensu had somehow learned that the deceased king had had a child out of wedlock, and they turned their attention to finding that child. To finding him and eradicating the “key” that lived within him. Nobody knew what they meant by that, but it was clear that it was not safe for Jimin to be honest about who he was. Which was why he goes by Chim in Illain and why he didn’t tell you the full story from the beginning. Those who know of his heritage are not only in danger themselves, but they also put Jimin at risk of being exposed. The only ones who are supposed to know are Jimin’s kiela, his father’s friend (who was the new king), and now you. Though, obviously, somebody else must have figured it out because the draikensu from yesterday had known.

As for your destination, Jimin had informed you that he had been summoned to the royal palace. He didn’t know exactly why and neither did his kiela, who had been sent to retrieve him, but the king had said he was needed urgently.

What a fucking shit show.

You had gotten some answers, but in their wake, more questions had sprung up. Who the hell was Uzjuk? What was the “key” within Jimin? Why did the king need him? Do the Saeni even train their royal guard? You pondered the questions as you stepped around a big hunk of rock that was covered in moss. Yet, although more unknowns had arisen, there was one thing you definitely knew: there was no way in hell you weren’t going to learn how to fight now. It was only a matter of time before more of those draikensu fuckers came after Jimin again. You needed to be ready. You wanted to help protect him. There was only one week left of travelling before you reached the royal palace, and you didn’t know what was going to happen once you got there. Would you be able to continue training with Jungkook? Would you all turn around and go back to the tree bridge?

Ugh. More questions!

No matter the case, anything was better than nothing, so you were going to make the most of the asshat’s training in the upcoming week.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Come on, little scorja! Wake your cute ass UP!”

You groaned and tried to push the weight on top of you off, but it only collapsed onto you even more and began poking your sides.

You cracked an eye open and whined, “Tae! Let me sleep!”

It was so damn early that your petals from yesterday were still in effect.

“Nu’uh! A little flower, aka you, told me yesterday that you needed to be up two hours earlier than usual to go to school.” He hoisted you up and you hung limply in his arms, making him hold your dead weight. “So, I’m your alarm clock and I say it’s time to get up!”

He emphasized his words by giving your body a hard shake. You reacted by slapping a hand over his face and then smacking him again and again in various locations on his head.

“Where’s the freaking off button?”

You continued smacking him until you heard his whimpers of how he had just wanted to help. You looked up into his pouting blue eyes and instantly succumbed to them.

Dammit. He knows how to get to me.

“Ugh, fine.”

He beamed, mood instantly shifting back to delighted. He gripped your head in his hands, squishing your cheeks and contorting your face into a forced, closed-lipped smile. “Ah! There’s that pretty, scorja smile!”

That made you genuinely laugh, and you peeled his hands away while stuck your tongue out at him. Then you pulled him into a hug, and whispered into his ear, “Thanks for waking me up, Tae.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. “Oh! Here are your petals for the day.”

You took the delicate objects out of his palm and popped them into your mouth, stretching once their disorienting effects went away. You looked around and noticed that, besides Yoongi giving the two of you a glare for waking him up, the rest of the kiela was still snoozing away except for…

“Good, you’re up. Let’s go.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw Jungkook dropping down from a tree. He had a bow and quiver in his hand, and you wondered where he got it from since you hadn’t seen them before.

“I’ll see you later Tae Tae!” You parted after giving the Saeni a kiss on his cheek.

“They grow up so fast.” He wiped away nonexistent tears as he returned to his on-watch spot. “Learn lots and be safe!

You approached the burgundy-haired Saeni while chuckling. “Good morning, Coco.”

He grumbled out a “good morning, human” and started walking into the trees, leaving you to trail after him.

Jogging to catch up, you asked, “Where’d you get that bow? It’s not Tae’s and I didn’t think anyone else had one, besides Jimin of course, but his is… I don’t know where it is.” You briefly paused to admire a funky looking plant with wavy leaves before continuing. “Is that Jimin’s?”

Jungkook raised a brow at your talkative attitude, bewildered you were that peppy after just waking up. “Not Jimin’s. It’s a spare we keep in a … magic locker? I’m not completely sure how it works, but Yoongi is able to tuck things away into a space and I asked him to bring this out for you last night. It’s one of Tae’s old bows that he used during training. It’ll be easier for you to draw with.”

“Oh. Um, thanks for having him do that.”

It was another small glimpse into the thoughtful and soft side of Jungkook that often, or more like ninety-five percent of the time, disappeared around you.

After the two of you had walked far enough into the foliage to not wake up the others, Jungkook abruptly stopped, which caused you to stumble as you tried to evade running smack dab into his back.

As you regained your balance and moved around to face him, he said, “Okay, today we’re going to start by correcting your pathetic punching technique and then we’re going to do some tests with various weapons to-”

“You’re going to let-”

“Uh… I’m not finished.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

You couldn’t stop your snort. “Geez, who are you? Tyler the Creator?”

“No. I’m Jungkook the Maknae.” He said in a serious tone, lifting his chin up.

You blinked at him. “I… literally cannot stand you.”

“Perfect. We’re on the same page then, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Wooow.” You smirked and placed your hands on your hips. “I’ve really gotten an upgrade on my nickname.”

“I swear to Exia, if you don’t let me finish, little human-”

“Oop. There it is.”

He growled.

“Alright, alright.” You raised your hands to signal your peace. “I’ll stop and be a good girl for you.”

Jungkook’s body froze and his pupils dilated as he stared at you. The only movement coming from his form was now the rising and falling of his chest.

You furrowed your brows. Sure, your words could’ve sounded a bit sexual, but you didn’t think you had to worry about the male in front of you thinking that way. Not with his low opinion of you. Plus, some part of you was still convinced that the boy was celibate as hell. Though, you found it odd that he wasn’t moving or taking his green eyes off of you.

“Jungkook?” You pursed your lips.

His eyes bugged out at your voice and he looked away before clearing his throat. “Ah, as I was saying, we’ll test out different weapons to see what kind of fighter you’ll be. Hence why I got the bow. You’ll also try out some throwing knives, a dagger, and a short sword.”

Anticipating your question, he quickly rolled his eyes and said, “Yes, I’m letting you use my short swords.”

“I just figured that you wouldn’t want anyone else touching your shit. Especially me. You seem a little… possessive in that way.”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to the leaves above his head. Though you didn’t miss his hand moving to gently touch the handle of his ruby dagger.

That must be the thing he gets stingy with. I wonder what���s so special about it?

“We won’t be trying out a normal sword though, because, quite frankly, you just aren’t strong enough for that.”

You couldn’t even get mad at him for saying that since it was probably, most likely, definitely true.

Before anything else happened, Jungkook set down the spare bow and its quiver and led you through a series of static and dynamic stretches. Even though you already knew how to properly warm up your body, you were a dancer for crying out loud, you let him do his thing. Not only did you not want to piss him off, but he was also the one who offered to train you, so you were going to listen and do as he instructed… But he didn’t need to know that you were more focused on the birds’ singing and chirping than his voice while you stretched your quad.

“Alright, I want you doing that before every session, got it?”

You gave him a salute after brushing off your dirt-covered butt. “Aye, aye captain.”

He then directed you to show him how you held your hand during a punch. You did so, and he immediately sighed. He took your fist in his rough, scar-covered hands and turned it this way and that, observing and clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction.

“At least your thumb isn’t inside your fist. It’s good you know not to do that.” He prodded at the appendage. “Move it to rest below your curled fingers, between your pointer and middle fingers.”

After allowing him to adjust you as he saw fit, he also told you to squeeze your fist more, but not to the point of cutting off circulation. You listened attentively to his directions as a crisp morning breeze ruffled both of your hair. When he was pleased with your first, he nodded.

Tapping the knuckles of your ring and pinky fingers, he said, “Never lead your punch with these because it’ll break the shit out of your hand. And don’t try to make contact with this part,” he rubbed the flat part of your fingers that was between the knuckles, “always make contact with your actual knuckles, okay?”

“Okay.”

He went on to show you the proper stance as well as the best way to utilize your weight and momentum in an attack.

“Before I have you practicing actual punches on me, I want you to just practice the action to get the movement and feeling down so that you’re comfortable with it.”

With that, he told you that you were now going to start working with some weapons. Not to learn any advanced moves with them, but to simply see if you had a natural affinity for a any certain type. Your mind reeled a bit at how he wanted you to practice before punching, but was about to hand over some weapons and just… let you have at it? It seemed a wee bit backwards to you, but oh well. You were honestly more surprised with how patient and informative Jungkook had been thus far. He had yet to be condescending or snappy toward you. Instead, he gave off the impression that he was… excited. It was apparent that he really enjoyed fighting, both physically and conversationally. Even if it was just teaching a little human like yourself the basics, his voice was lighter and his eyes brighter than they usually were in your presence.

You were brought out of your head when he handed you a throwing knife, the coolness of the metal making you jump out of your thoughts. The blade was about ten inches long with cut-outs and it had a thick, sharp point. He told you that the end you hold when throwing depends on the blade, and to always hold whichever end is heavier, as it creates a more forceful throw. You hummed, and he moved on to show you how the grip the knife: pointer, middle, and ring fingers on one side, thumb on the other, and pinky finger curled at the bottom. When you finally grasped the blade correctly, he made a noise of satisfaction and eased it out of your hand. Then, he demonstrated how to move your body and follow through on the throw. He repeated the motion a couple of times and on the third he calmly released the knife and it embedded itself deep into a tree trunk a solid 25 feet away.

You whistled. “Well hot damn, Coco.”

He smirked at you and told you to go through the motion. You felt like you were transported back to when you were in little league softball, learning how to throw a ball for the first time. After several minutes of you throwing nothing and him tweaking your form, he gave you another knife identical to the previous.

Taking a deep breath and settling yourself into position, you waited for a big gust of wind to subside. Once it passed, you brought your arm back, took a small step, and threw the knife forward. Er… you had wanted the knife to go forward. You must have released prematurely, though, because it went up and to the right instead. Wincing, you held your breath as you waited for the asshat to say something about your misshap.

“Again.” He only handed you another blade.

This time, the knife went forward, but it still missed the tree by a good 10 feet.

“Again.”

Another blade. And another miss. This one to the left of the tree, since you had tried to compensate for your previous blunder.

“Well… that wasn’t as bad as Namjoon hyung, I’ll give you that. Though it still kind of sucked.” His green eyes met yours and you were shocked to see that they held no malice. “And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know ‘it’s your first time,’ but I don’t think you’ll be our new Hobi, sweetheart.”

“I… yeah, me neither.” You released a stream of light laughter as you thought about your failed attempts. “What’s next?”

“Dagger.” Jungkook reached behind him and withdrew a short, curved blade.

“What the heck,” you gasped, “I didn’t even know you had a dagger back there.” You ogled at him like he had just performed a magic trick.

He raised an eyebrow at you, mouth slightly curving upward. “That’s kind of the point, little human. It’s supposed to be hidden.”

Once your awe at his abracadabra moment faded, he asked if you had ever used a dagger before.

“No? Well, um, not before the… tent,” you said in a small voice.

“Oh, right.” He coughed awkwardly. “Uh, so anyway, you know how to use it on a surface level, yeah?”

You gestured to the end of the dagger, which was gleaming in the morning sunlight. “Stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

Come on… there was no way you couldn’t say that.

He looked at you blankly for a few moments, and you were about to tell him it was just a reference, but then he tipped his head back and yelled.

“Not that fucking line again! Chim wouldn’t stop saying it one summer and it haunts me!”

“Wait, you know Game of Thrones?”

“Is that what it’s called? I don’t know, sure. But that’s a quote from the wolf girl, right?”

You excitedly nodded and clapped your hands together rapidly, hoping you could take a short break and talk about the show.

The burgundy head moaned in defeat. “And to think I already had all the reasons to not like you, you go on and say that.” He chuckled to himself in pity.

You didn’t join him, though. The brightness of your eyes died at his words and you looking away from him.

Why are you so upset, Y/N? You knew he didn’t like you.

Well, maybe if he wasn’t so fucking back and forth between being civil and then saying something like that out of the blue, it wouldn’t be so shocking. You had also thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t dislike you anymore after the whole draikensu ordeal. Or at least, you thought that he wouldn’t be so openly vocal about it. Looks like you were wrong.

When he realized that you had gone silent, and he thought back to what he had said, his green eyes widened.

“I didn’t-I mean, I don’t…” He sighed when he saw all the playfulness gone from your y/e/c eyes when you returned your gaze to him. “Anyways, here’s how you use it.”

Eventually, you disregarded his comment and focused on the matter at hand. You knew you wouldn’t be drawn toward fighting with a dagger, especially after the other day, but you didn’t want to half-ass your way through it. After going through the dagger and the short sword, both of which you were mediocre at, Jungkook picked up the bow.

Prior to handing it to you, though, he presented an arm guard. Quickly slipping it over your wrist, you grabbed the bow and one of the arrows he offered.

Much to his surprise, you already knew how to notch an arrow. You threw a smirk his way. You also vaguely remembered the basic grip and stance for archery, so you fell into what you hoped was the proper form.

Thank you, middle school archery seminar.

Ignoring your smug display, Jungkook crossed his arms and told you to draw back. Gritting your teeth slightly at the tension, you did and waited as circled and assessed you. After a while, your arms were beginning to shake from holding the position, your muscles not used to that kind of exertion.

“You need to raise your arm a little bit.”

He stepped up right behind you, bringing his chest flush to your back, in order to correct your form. As you felt his firm front pressed against you, you flashed back to when you saw him shirtless. To when his muscles were out on full display and his thick thighs were evident through his damp plants. You recalled how utterly good he had looked, half-naked and dripping water.

Shit. Y/N, snap out of it!

You shook your head like the physical action would make the thoughts fly out of your mind.

“No?” You heard Jungkook question.

“Wha-huh?”

“I asked if feels comfortable for you? The position?”

Hell yes, does it feel comfortable… AH STOP IT! HE’S TALKING ABOUT THE SHOOTING POSITION, YOU HORNY IMBECILE!

Coughing, you choked out a yes. He looked down at you in confusion for your weird reaction, but instead of inquiring about it he just hummed and stepped away.

You were almost appalled with yourself. Yeah, he was really good looking, hot even, but how could you be thinking about the asshat in that way? You know, the person who basically hated your guts? Not to mention the fact that you had a big, fat, lovey-dovey crush on your best friend… and Jungkook was most definitely not your best friend!

You seriously wondered how he could make you feel so many different things in such a short span of time. You had gone from perky, to teasing, annoyed, happy, excited, disappointed, angry, and finally hot and bothered all within two damn hours.

You were so confused by this male and his words and actions. It was truly exhausting to try to keep up with his mood swings. You dropped your arms with an irked sigh, lowering the bow and bringing some relief to your straining arms.

“Everything okay?” The Saeni asked, his voice sounding slightly concerned.

“Yeah, I’m just… my arms aren’t used to this, and they were hurting. Go ahead and make fun of me for being such a weak, little human.” You had tried to add some fire behind your last statement, but it came out with barely a flicker of heat. You were just too confused as to whether you wanted to be turned on, mad, spiteful, or ashamed.

“Whoa, hey look, I’m sorry for what I said earlier… about, you know, not liking you… it’s just-I don’t-”

“You don’t have to like me, Jungkook. I don’t need every person I come across to like me.”

“It’s not that, it’s-I don’t know-”

You whirled around to face him, and you could see that his face was heating up. Yours was too, but yours was in complete frustration.

“Well, if you don’t know, then can you figure it out for fuck’s sake? If you like me, then great, like me and be pleasant toward me. If you don’t like me, then fine, don’t like me and be a dick.” You were in his face at this point, poking his solid chest with your pointer finger. “I just need you to fucking stop with the going back and forth! I never know which Jungkook I’m going to get, and I’m constantly worried I’ll say something to set you off and I don’t know what it’ll be, and it’s so. Damn. Annoying!”

You turned back around and raised the bow, shooting at a nearby tree. Although it didn’t hit where you had aimed, the arrow still thumped into the trunk nonetheless. Jungkook gaped at you as you angrily faced him once more and shoved the bow at him.

“I want to be an archer. And I want to learn hand to hand fighting. Does that sound good with you? Alright, perfect.” You didn’t even give him a chance to reply before you began stomping your way back to camp. “Thanks for the lesson Coco, I’ll practice the punching and see you bright and early tomorrow.”

As the burgundy-haired male watched your back vanish into the trees he let out a curse and crouched down, gripping his head with both hands. He stayed that way for minutes, letting himself be enveloped by the sounds of the leaves, birds, and bugs… but it wasn’t enough to make the sound of your echoing voice disappear from inside his head. He released a loud noise of annoyance and frustration, and moved a hand to clutch the handle of the dagger strapped to his waist before whispering to the trees, “What the fuck am I doing?”

previous [5] — next [7]

[bewitchingwitch]

Constellations pt. 16

Hey guys I know it’s been a while I’ve just been going through some stuff so it’s been hard to write lately but I’m better and I’m back now :) so this chapter was fun to write to figure out Newt and Tina’s relationship after they broke it off.

Just so you guys no regardless of this chapter and me choosing to break up Newt and Tina in this story I really do love her as a character and love her and Newt together so please no hate on Tina :)

But anyway I hope you enjoy this part of Constellations and the next part of the Great Gatsby au will be posted next week!!

Word count: 2,341

"Well you are still the dumbest person I've ever met. It's nice to know you haven't changed that much since you became a stuffy ministry worker." Blaine slapped Theseus on the back which caused him to double over in pain.

"Blaine... please don't do that." Theseus’ croaked out with clenched teeth. Newt helped Theseus stand upright while shooting his brother's friend a dirty look.

Blaine winced. "Yea sorry mate."

"Anyway. Where are we going I know we need to get (y/n) back fast." Andrew twirled his wand in his hand. He knew that they needed to get going quickly they were drawing a crowd standing in the middle of the sidewalk like this. Especially with Theseus, who looked like he might pass out any second. And his bandages had began to leak out some blood, never a good sign.

"I know someone who can help us." Everyone turned their attention to Newt. "She's an American wizard."

"Ugh American." Blaine rolled his eyes. Everyone turned to face him. "Americans are always a drag. Puritans in public and perverts in private." Queenie and Jacob scoffed at this and shot him dirty looks. “They are never down for any fun.” He winked at Queenie and she gasped while Jacob looked ready to fight.

Andrew smacked him over his head. "Shut up. We're looking for a tracker, not a bloody shag." Blaine wet his lips and smirked despite the beating he had just revived.

Newt fiddled with his hands not knowing how to continue after the rather uncomfortable exchange of words. He cleared his throat and started up again. "She's American But she's been in Paris lately, and I think she can help us find (y/n)."

“Do you even know where to find her." Diego asked. He had taken Theseus away from Newt and slung Theseus over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Much to his brothers protest.

Newt kept his gaze downward. He didn't exactly know where to find Tina, they had fallen out of touch after she had started dating that auor fellow. But Queenie probably knew where she was, she had tabs on everyone, especially her sister. Newt glanced over at her hoping that she would have a lead on Tina.

"I got ya sugar."  Queenie shot him a wink. "I know where we can find her just follow me."

********************************************

The group arrived at tall run down looking building. It looked ancient and the walls were crumbling. Queenie stood at the head of the group with a big smile on her face, and a confident stance. “Um Queenie are you sure this is the place.” Theseus had turned himself around in Diego’s arms, bridal style, if they weren’t this predicament it would have been almost comical.

“Of course honey I think I would know how to find my own sister better than any of you girls could.” She smiled raising an eyebrow and all feelings of hesitance deceased.

Newt and the rest followed her through the building the wallpaper was peeling off in shreds and ever inch was covered in a visible layer of dust. They climbed up the creaking steps, Blaine grabbed for the rail of the stairs only to have if fall forward nearly taking him down into the darkeness with it. Diego grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him back up. Blaine dangled a couple inches off the floor, he kept his eyes cast downward. “Thanks mate.”

Diego sighed. “Apparently you can’t be trusted to your own devices either. Up you go.” Diego slung Blaine over his shoulder, he had moved Theseus back into his originally position.

“Sup Theseus how you doing.” Blaine propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face Theseus.

“I’ve been better. How you doing Blaine.” Theseus slicked back his out of place hair but nonetheless it was still messy.

“You know wife, kids, life is but a drag.” Blaine dramatized.

“Already at the age of 29 I didn’t think anyone could tie you down.” Theseus played along

“Well she’s some girl.”

“Will you two shut up with your pointless banter we have serious business to attend to.” Andrew said as he paused his walking.

“You’re right we’re sorry just trying to lighten the mood.” Blaine shot back.

“Well don’t.” Andre started up walking again but Blaine’s eyes still followed him. A playful smile on his face.

Theseus leaned over. “Someone’s got a crush.” He cooed.

“Shut up!” Blaine whisper yelled back trying to hit Theseus but he moved out of the way laughing. Blaine’s face was bright red.

Queenie shot them all a dirty look and everyone shut up. They walked down the halls of the upper level. Newt gathered his surroundings, he knew this building. He had been here before with Tina when they were on better terms. Nothing had actually happened between them but feelings were very evident between the both of them.

Tina has taken him here one night on a whim. It was late that night, but Newt was still awake in his case working on editing his book. He heard a knock on the case and he opened it Tina’s face peering at him. She didn’t say anything just extend her hand and he followed with question. They had apparated in front of this building.

She told him that this was her dream building. That she had been working in Paris and stumbled across it and some day she was going to buy it. Tina had dragged him through the building telling him what she planned to do with it. And the entire time the only thing he could think of was how he was going to buy it for her once his books went on sale. How he was going to buy this place for her and spent the next couple years renovating it with her and living with each other here.

He shook his head to rid them of those thoughts. He no longer felt that way about her but old lovers never seem to let your heart go. Each one always own a piece, each with its own strength.

They continued down the hall and came to a door not quite at the middle but it wasn’t near to being the last door either. Queenie turned the knob at a painstakingly pace and finally threw the door open. She let out a squeal and ran into the room. Newt found himself entering the room last after the rest had filed in.

Queenie has her arms wrapped around Tina, her hug nearly crushing her. She had been reading a book the pages were now crumpled against her body, her hands pinned at her sides. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Tina’s expression softened as she leaned into her sister’s hug and patted her arm affectionally with her free hand. “I missed you too Queenie.”

The let each other enjoy each other’s embrace for a moment before breaking apart. Tina turned and looked across the group of people that had intruded into her room. Her eyes scanning them all and stopping on newt. They started at each other for a moment, times of affection resurfacing at that time. A sad smile made it’s way to Newt face and a few tears escaped Tina’s eyes. A thought on what could have been.

“Hello Newt.” She wiped at her tears.

“H-hello Tina.”

~*~

Tina welcomed them to sit at the table in the corner do the room and they obliged. She played with the pages of her book smoothing out the crumbled pages. “So what brings you here?”

Theseus was the first to speak up. “We need your help.”

“With what?” Tina answered but her eyes remained on Newt.

“Our friend has been taken back home by her fiancé against her will.” Theseus answered. She turned slightly to look at him. The way he said friend hinted that there was something more. “That this “friend” was more than just that.

“And why is this your concern. “ Tina asked rather coldly. She was never found if Theseus, probably because of the rocky relationship Newt had with him while they were closer.

“Please Tina.” Newt spoke up his voice cracking a bit. “I- we can’t lose her.” Their eyes locked together and in that moment she understood.

“What does she mean to you Newt?” Tina didn’t want the answer, she had never thought of Newt being with someone else as she was now.

Newt wet his lips and glanced over at his brother. Theseus’ eyes were already one him waiting to see what he’d say. Newt glanced downward and played with his hands before looking back up at Tina. “The world.”

She turned away and held her head high. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “You know I never thought of you ever being with any one other than me.” She let out an airy laugh. Her eyes were glistening. “I know that’s selfish of me, but I thought you were the one for me.” Newt looked back up at her. “Even though I had left and found someone else I hoped you’d come back to me. But it seems another had filled my place.” She smiled sadly.

Newt felt his heart sink. He couldn’t stand seeing Tina like this, he had thought the same thing when she had mentioned dating someone. He had thought they were destined for one another. But then he met you and everything seemed to be rewritten.

“But if she means enough to you to patch things up with your brother she must be someone special.”

“She is.” Newt reached out and placed his hand over Tina’s. She just kept her eyes cast on them.

She licked her lips before turning to Queenie. She seemed to already know what she was thinking and gave a small curt nod at her sister. “I’ll help you.”

“Oh thank you so much Tina.” Newt stood to his feet and moved over to hug her something he rarely did for anyone. She stood as well and welcomed him into her arms. They grinned tightly on to one another.

“I’m going to miss you Newt.” She whispered into his ear.

“We don’t have to stay away from one another I could visit you more often.” He whispered back rubbing circles on her back.

“No.” She pulled back a bit and cupped the side of his face. “I was a fool to leave you.” She played with the loose strand of his hair. “You were the love of my life and my feelings scared me so I ran. And I hoped you’d follow but you didn’t.”

“Tina I -“

She put a hand up to shush him. “It’s okay it’s my fault. But I don’t think I could ever seen you again knowing someone else has taken my place. That someone else is laying in your bed, that you’re giving your love to someone else.” Her voice cracked on the last part. “I will help you find her and after that I think it’s best we part ways.” She pushed back his bangs. “Love of my life you’ve hurt me and broken my heart. I know it’s not your fault but I wish you well.” Tina leaned forward and pressed on final kiss onto Newt’s lips before pulling away. It was light like a feather gently brushing against him.

Tina composed herself and made her back to where the group was. “Okay let’s get down to business.” The group talked with her recounting the story of how you had been taken away that faithful night at the pub. She asked insightful questions like what you were wearing and if they had anything of yours.

The conversation was but a blur to Newt. He still had his hand pressed lighting onto his lips. He felt tears slide down his face. He had just parted with a lover that could have been. And even though Tina wanted never to see him again and he understood why it still hurt him. Because how do you say goodbye to the person you thought you were going to spend your whole life with.

Theseus saw Newt crying with his hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes red, and he saw how much this had broken Newt, despite never even officially being with Tina. He couldn’t possibly imagine what it’s would d to him if you left him as well either for Adonis or for himself. There’s turned away he couldn’t change his mind now. He had fought for you, he had never been selfish always giving everything up for his brother. And yet he felt himself being torn between a life with you or giving his brother the happy ending he deserved.

Newt composed himself and Theseus turned away as if he had seen nothing.

At this time you stood in the foyer of your grandmas house a wedding dress flowing around you. A seamstress hemmed your dress to make it better suit you. It was your grandmothers, long and Lacey. Your grandmother stood behind you watching the seamstress’ every move and giving input.

Your mother sat down on the couch as she watched you with shame that she couldn’t protect you from this. That you had been doomed to the fate she had avoided and because she rebelled you were paying the price.

Your wedding to Adonis had been something you had looked forward to and now it was what you dreaded. Being in this dress made you sick in your stomach. You stared at yourself in the mirror, hallow eyes an expression of knowing the way your life was going to play out.

You would marry Adonis and he would love you with every inch of his being but you couldn’t not do the same. Your heart hearing for another but still you play along, giving him love that he believes to be real. Having children that were born from commitment not love. And as you took care of them wondering what could have been.

Side note: if anyone wants to be tagged let me know also some of the people tagged below have changed their username so they don’t come up if that’s you let me know so I can retag you.

Tag list: @hearteyesmotherclucker @theroyalbrownbarbie @hoodedbirdie @annyinlovewithkpop @c8n10n4o2-geek @martarosado @nanjaeminie @moisoverennyi-thestarlessone @profangirllex @gaenahelleborus @melodramaticmelon2118 @michellekstr @nctyong-xo @preppy-by-the-c @sweetlyshinylady @emo-plaidin @dreacantsleep @theetherealbloom m @lily2089 @mywckdmind @barbarachern @imbiandiwanttocry @ollyoxenfrees @newtslatte e @pettylady @februarycalum @justanotherenglisheducationmajor @feelthefeelingsinsideyou @ombriescent @ztinge @liloefuru u @babywizardoll @heckin-kat @thewitchmadness @bunnie-kookie @the-fandom-life-forever @missanonyma @frozen-blue-eyes @newletas @sassycassyhoneybee @spookysunflowr @arosewithdaisies @spreaded-butter @dreacantsleep @constantdisgrace @madamnouiselle @pureawesomeness001 @hp-forever-generation @princeofsassgard @hereiamhereigo @coniumalces

[mordellestories]

Love and Necrogamy

A Beetlejuice Fanfic

Chapter 1

At seventeen years old, Lydia Deetz found herself engaged to a six-hundred-thirty-seven-year-old poltergeist. Though she had accepted the deal willingly at the time to save her new ghost parents, she had not intended to go through with it at all. Even though she did little to stop the ceremony, her family tried their damnedest to get rid of their dangerous and unwanted rescuer before he could seal the deal. And they did. Or so they thought.

Unfortunately for the teenage bride, the officiate had performed the ceremony to its completion. The words "I now pronounce you Ghost and Wife" had gone unheard by pretty much everyone in the room. Let's face it, when there is a giant sandworm crashing through your living room, it's hard to pay attention to whatever else is going on. All had retired for the evening after the tumultuous affair and were on their way to a not-so-blissful sleep until Lydia's bloodcurdling scream had everyone racing to her room. They found her in her black, bulky nightgown hopping up and down in a panic, and pulling on her finger like she was ready to be free of the appendage altogether.

"It won't come off!" She yelled, wide-eyed with her cheeks streaked with sweat and tears.

After calming the poor girl down, it was evident she was referring to the simple, gold wedding band that the vile villain had managed to slip on her ring finger before being fed to the Saturn giant. Each guardian tried their best to pull the forsaken thing off the goth girl. They tried soap. They tried baby oil. They tried ice. They tried engine oil. They even tried Delia's homemade, organic, vaginal lubricant that she claimed could rehydrate the Sahara. Nothing worked. They all decided it was too soon to be making conjectures. Delia suggested that Lydia lose a few pounds - just enough to wriggle the offensive thing free. No one had any other suggestions, so Lydia got herself on a strict diet - not that she was very hungry anyway. Finding yourself to be an unwilling, underaged bride can sort of squelch your appetite. Barbara took it upon herself to stay in Lydia's room every night, just in case.

Matters only worsened when one morning both a marriage certificate naming Lydia Deetz as Wife and Betelgeuse Horeson as Husband, and a Handbook for the Recently Married to the Deceased showed up on Lydia's vanity. While Lydia took the news with silent defeat, Barbara had a complete meltdown. As her ghostly godparents charged for the Afterlife Waiting room to appeal on her behalf, Lydia sauntered off to the local cemetery and brooded.

It had been a whole month. She had been married an entire month, but her grimy, gross husband had not come to claim her. She wondered if he was still being digested. She paced the graveyard for hours while she read her new manual on being a dead man's wife. Twisting the ring on her finger as she pondered on the endless scenarios her dark imaginings could come up with, she decided to end her misery by confronting the source of her anxiety. With newfound knowledge and courage, she went home, climbed upstairs, locked herself in her room, and waited for the witching hour. Adam and Barbara had still not returned, and Delia tried to be motherly by asking her stepdaughter if she needed her to sleep the night with her, which Lydia denied emphatically.

The house was finally quiet and midnight rolled around. Lydia touched the cool glass of her vanity mirror. Saying his name once would establish a connection, like dialling a phone number, but he would have control over answering the call. She didn't want that. Saying his name twice while touching a reflective surface would summon him to that specific object, and doing so at the time of the witching hour would give her complete control over the summons. Uttering his name three times, well, it could be deduced accurately what might happen then.

She inhaled deeply and steadily. "Betelgeuse." Her wedding band glowed green, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. "Betelgeuse." The surface of the mirror fogged over, completely obscuring any reflection. She waited, but the fog did not clear. Another long moment passed until she heard the sound of a finger gliding on moist glass beneath her hand. She removed her hand quickly and watched in awe as letters spelt themselves crudely on the mirror.

HI, POOKIE.

Lydia nearly gagged at the pet name, but her panic started to build effectively taking over her disgust. She'd made contact. "Where are you?"

HERE. A-DUH.

"Why can't I see you?" She asked suspiciously.

The fog danced on the surface silently until it began to clear enough to reveal a pair of smug blue eyes encircled by black. "Didn't think you wanted to see me, sweetums. Lookin' a little..." his hand appeared and motioned at her up and down, "traumatized." He chuckled, and his hand disappeared.

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and gave the ghost a challenging look. "I'm just fine. Show yourself."

The poltergeist let out a chortle, and the fog vanished, revealing the merry looking dead guy dressed in swim trunks. And that was it. His mossy, black-stained chest was bare along with his protruding beer belly, and he had a little cocktail umbrella tucked behind one ear. His hair still looked like a matted mess, but it was damp and hung low on his shoulders. He was sitting on a beach chair and looking very much like the first time they'd met - not counting the snake encounter, of course.

"That's not what our little bond tells me," he smiled and raised his left hand. His wedding ring gave off a small green glow as hers had when she first called him.

The raven-haired teenager could barely keep her bored expression in place as she realized that he meant he could sense her distress.

"So!" He slapped his bare, moldy knee hard and leaned forward. "'Sup?"

Utterly amazed, Lydia shook her head. "What's up?" She said with disbelief. "What's up?! We're married. That's what's up!"

Betelgeuse splayed his hands before him and looked around before giving Lydia a confused quirk of his brow. "Yeah? That was the deal wasn' it? I save yer friends, you set me free?"

Lydia furrowed her brow and began to pace. "So, you are free , then?"

The poltergeist grinned wide and sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee. "Free as a bat at dusk, babe."

She caught a quick glimpse of something she did not want to see hanging in the gap of his bathing suit between his legs. "Ugh," she scowled and averted her gaze, "so we're square then?" She asked with impatience. "Are you done terrorizing people?"

Betelgeuse scratched the inside of his ear, then ate whatever he had pulled out. "I"m a freelance bio-exorcist. Terrorizing people is my job. And I'm very good at my job." He gave her a mischievous grin. "As you're well aware."

Lydia scoffed but silently agreed with him. "What I mean is, are you done terrorizing us. Me. My family?"

The mossy ghost looked amused as he gave Lydia a slow once-over. "Sure," he said with mild sincerity. "For now, anyway." He exposed his filthy, blackened overbite again with a snicker.

The goth girl plopped down on her bed and buried her face in her hands with defeat. "What have I done?" She breathed with quiet despair.

Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. "Look, kid. You called me right outta my vacation, 'kay? I haven't done anything but enjoy some time under the Hawaiian sun. So, don't beat yerself up just yet. I've been a good boy." His eyes shifted in his sockets with uncertainty. "Unless you count what've been doin' under the sheets if ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Lydia looked up and studied the ghoul trapped in her mirror. He did not seem as menacing, manic, or dangerous as when they parted ways. "You're on vacation? In Hawaii." She almost couldn't believe it. "What happens when you get bored with that?"

He shrugged. "Well, I uh, go back to work," he replied simply. "Gotta provide for my little ball and chain." He winked at her.

She scoffed. "Consider yourself relieved from that duty." She eyed him a moment longer. "The handbook says we will be audited to make sure the marriage wasn't a fraud to get your papers."

Betelgeuse waved away her comment. "Don't you worry your pretty little head over that. I'll know when they're comin' to check up on us. I'll call ya, then you summon me, we answer a few questions, act like we're in love, badabing, no one will be the wiser."

Lydia felt a strange surge of bravery as she stood and sauntered closer to the mirror. "What if I say no?"

A darkness clouded over Betelgeuse's eyes as he gave her a hooded gaze. "We made a deal," he said with a mirthless smile.

She decided to ignore the warning in his tone. "Yeah, but I didn't know I had to see you again and again for the rest of my life. It's inconvenient."

"As I said it would be," he retorted condescendingly. He relaxed a bit and clicked his tongue. "But I get yer point. Ya know, being married to me does have its perks," he said sleazily while he waggled his eyebrows.

"Ew. Not interested," Lydia bit back with disgust.

Betelgeuse's face fell into a bored expression. "For once, I didn't mean it like that." He did — a little. "I mean," he amended, "not everyone has a talented, personal poltergeist they can whip outta their back pocket whenever they want. Think of me like a genie or somethin' like that. Shit, I'll even give ya three wishes."

Lydia considered the ghost's words. She could think of several instances in her past where a poltergeist could have been very useful. With school starting soon, she wondered if she'd make new enemies in her senior year. Plus, there was one thing she wanted more than anything that only a ghost could help her with. She had been biding her time to ask the favor of Adam and Barbara, but part of her already knew it was too great a favor to ask of them. If he wasn't going to bother her or her family, she could keep their deal a secret and use him when or if she needed to.

"Unlimited wishes and we have a deal," she bargained with a smirk.

"Five," he haggled back.

"A hundred thousand."

He stood up, scrunched up his face and shook his head. "Unlucky thirteen, my final offer," he grated through clenched teeth.

Thirteen was probably more than enough, Lydia thought. "Deal."

The poltergeist let out his famous, wild cackle. "You got it, Lyds. Now, if ya don't mind, I was about to work on my tan line before ya called. We good?"

Lydia bit her lip before answering. "I have a wish."

Betelgeuse let out a loud phlegmy sigh of impatience. "Already?" He shook his head, then sat back down in his chair. "Fine. Spit it out."

"I want you to find my mother," she mumbled quickly. "I have, um, a letter." The ball of nerves sat at her vanity, uncomfortable with his proximity despite the barrier, and pulled out her letter from a drawer. "Can you give it to her?"

The poltergeist snapped his fingers, and the letter glowed green before its astral copy was sucked out into the portal before her and into his hand. He read it right in front of her without a care.

"Well, don't read it!" She outraged.

Betelgeuse let out a whistle, folded the letter, and tucked it who-knows-where behind him. "That was awkward," he muttered before clapping his hands together, enthusiastically, "you got it, honey." With a pop, he was suddenly floating in the air dressed as some corpse version of the genie from I Dream of Jeannie. "Your wish is my command," he said in a scratchy feminine voice. He crossed his arms, gave an exaggerated nod and a blink, and then he was gone.

The mirror returned to normal as soon as he vanished, which left Lydia unnerved. She followed the instructions to trap him in the mirror, yet he was able to leave before the Witching Hour had ended. He shouldn't have been able to do that. She wasn't sure what was scarier. Him having more power than she realized, or the visual of him in a belly dancer's outfit with curves in all the wrong places.

-------

Even after losing seven pounds, the ring would not come off. It should have been enough. Lydia decided to end her fruitless diet and also turned down other ludicrous ideas of being taken to the emergency room or a mechanic to get it removed. Barbara and Adam returned after four months with unfortunate news as well. Juno reminded them that their vouchers had been depleted and even if they still had one, the caseworker could do nothing.

"But," Barbara amended, "Juno said that there would most likely be a visit from some auditors!" She exclaimed with joy. Her smile fell. "Except we don't know when they'll come or who they'll be."

Adam adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "So, it could be as early as tonight!"

"Or when I'm eighty," Lydia replied dryly.

The married couple gave each other a guilty frown. "Well, I don't think it'll be that long..." "Possibly..." They responded in unison.

Lydia shook her head and started to giggle. She gave everyone a thumbs up and turned to leave. "Going to my room now."

Barbara went to place a comforting hand on her. "I'll be right up to-"

"No, no. I don't need you to sleep in my room anymore," Lydia responded with boredom.

"But what if he comes back?" Adam retorted. "Your birthday is in a few days! What if he," the ghost stopped short when Barbara placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from saying what he was going to say next, "comes back," he muttered.

Lydia knew what he was implying. She would be eighteen in three days, and they worried if Betelgeuse would come to try and consummate the marriage. She shrugged and giggled mirthlessly again while she sauntered up to her room. She wasn't too disturbed about their theory. When she last saw the poltergeist, he did not seem eager or even concerned with trying to claim her as his actual wife. In fact, he appeared annoyed she'd even called him. Plus, she hadn't seen or heard from him since she summoned him that one night. When Lydia entered her room, she found a box on her bed with a note.

STUDY UP, BUTTERCUP. -B

She tore the box open thinking it was something to do with her mother, but instead she found numerous pages in a stack. She flipped through some of the pages and realized it was all written accounts about Betelgeuse. The further she dug through the papers, the older the pages looked. At one point she found parchment written in what appeared to be Old English or some other language.

"What the hell?" Lydia scoured through more papers until she tossed everything back in and charged for her vanity. "Betelgeuse-Betelgeuse!"

The mirror took no time at all to reveal the poltergeist in a hideous plaid suit, his hair combed over with thick gel, and he was sporting sunglasses. His arms were opened to his sides as if they had just been curled around a waist each. Startled to find his evening prizes gone, Betelgeuse jumped back and wildly looked around. "Where'd ya go?! Come on, I thought we were havin' a good time!" His search led his gaze to Lydia. "Aw, shit," he deflated, kicked at the ground, then changed his tune. "Hey there, little missus," he crooned affectionately, "got questions for your dear ol' hubby?"

"Why did you leave your unintelligible biography on my bed?" She asked in a hushed whisper.

Betelgeuse motioned to the sky for patience. "For the audit, dear," he drawled. "You need to know some things about me if we're gonna sell this sham."

Lydia perked up at the mention of the audit. "Are they coming?"

"No, but you should be ready for when they do, because it will happen. Could be tomorrow, could be when you're eighty. Who knows. Better safe than screwed though."

The teenager fumed for a moment. "Why should play along when you haven't even granted my first wish yet?"

Betelgeuse puffed out his chest and placed his fists on his hips. "Hey! I did too!" He defended. "What did you want a certified return receipt?!"

Lydia sunk in on herself and dropped into her chair. He had delivered the letter and her mother never replied. "How long ago?"

Outraged, Betelgeuse stomped on the ground and pointed a finger at her. "Right after I left ya! I keep my end of deals, kid. You should know that by now," he barked. The ghost could tell she was down in the dumps and he couldn't have her natural inclination toward melancholy get the better of her. For the sake of his freedom, he would not allow her to go off the deep end just because her mother was an asshole. "Hey-hey, listen," he consoled as he raised his hands in supplication, "forget that broad, okay? You wouldn't even like her, honestly. Can't believe I'm gonna say this, but the red-headed-medusa is a better mommy figure for ya anyway. Plus, ya got the Sandworm cowgirl on your side now."

The goth teenager couldn't help the smirk that curled up on her lips at the nicknames the poltergeist had given her parental figures. "You've got to be joking," she snickered.

Betelgeuse removed his sunglasses then crossed his heart. "I wouldn't lie ta ya, babes."

"I think you would," she retorted playfully.

He nodded his head. "Yeah, well, not about this. I'd call your mom a cunt but she lacks the warmth and depth."

She bit back a laugh. "You know I'm a child right?" Lydia jabbed.

Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and gave her the okay sign. "Lucky for you, you'll magically turn into an adult in three days," he mocked, "you can appreciate my humor then."

Lydia gulped down her sudden distress. He knew her eighteenth birthday was fast approaching.

The poltergeist scrutinized her brief but apparent displeasure. He was quick to deduce the problem. He chuckled. "All right, babe, I've got some bets to place on some crap tables, so unless you have another wish ready, I gotta hit it."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "Well, there is this girl named Claire…"

A sleazy grin spread wide on his face. "Go on ."

-------

Lydia spent her birthday week in complete bliss. She had been pampered by her family, and Claire was out of school because she had scabies. The evening of her birthday was somewhat awkward. The Maitlands and her parents stayed up with her until midnight, of course, they never mentioned the reasoning behind their motives but Lydia knew. Midnight came and went and Betelgeuse made no appearance. When Barbara finally left Lydia's room the goth girl locked her door with a sigh of relief. There was a sudden rush and a green glow that came from her vanity. Lydia whirled around fully expecting Betelgeuse to be standing smack in the middle of her room in one of his ridiculous getups holding onto a bouquet of flowers or box of chocolates and a perverted smirk plastered on his face. What she found was a flat, velvet black box with an elaborate red bow. 

She looked at her mirror for signs of her husband, but he was not there. She approached her gift with caution and gingerly untied the bow. When she lifted the lid, Lydia gasped. Delicately, she grazed her fingers on the finest red fabric she'd ever seen. She pulled it out of the box and raised it before her. A red and black spiderweb poncho that was perfect for her size. She would have scoffed and tossed it aside, it was something she'd never wear, but when she glanced at her mirror she couldn't help but smile. She shook her head, folded her gift and placed it back in the case. She hid it with all the other things that were from him, everything she wore on their farce of a wedding and his biography were carefully tucked away in a steamer trunk with a false bottom. Just in case he could hear or see her she decided to be polite.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

No reply came.

----

Love and Necrogamy is a Beetlejuice multi-chapter fanfic on Ao3 and FF by mordelle. (complete)

[cathygeha]

-REVIEW

Temporary Wife Temptation by Jayci Lee

Heirs of Hansol Series #1

Arranged marriages...would YOU want one? I wouldn’t…

Marriages of Convenience...would You want one? I don’t think so

So…

Why would two attractive people in this modern age opt to move into a situation that would put them together 24/7 and create havoc with their hormones KNOWING that they should not succumb to one another even though both feel the chemistry?

AND then…

Throw in a bit of

*cultural information

* a hunky and wealthy Korean American super-handsome male thinking he has life his life all planned out only to find out that his grandmother has another plan in place for him...one he is not willing to go along with

* a woman working in the family business that might help him out while he helps her out by providing a partner that will increase her likelihood of adopting the daughter of her deceased sister

* a hanbok (that REALLY caught my attention because my sister told me all about wearing one to her son’s marriage and how it fit and felt and all the rest)

* how one deals with the person one wants but can’t have...according to the contract for the marriage of convenience

* information on how to deal with in laws in a culture you did not grow up with

* a baby that more than one couple wants

* avoiding falling in love...or not

This book was not what I thought it would be but am glad that I read it and in reading it learned a bit, laughed a bit and enjoyed the reading while wanting to find out what will happen next in this series.

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Desire for the ARC ~ This is my honest review

3-4 Stars

BLURB

Much more than he bargained for… “You want me to find you a wife?” “No. I want you to be my wife.”

Garrett Song is this close to taking the reins of his family’s LA fashion empire…until the Song matriarch insists he marry her handpicked bride first. To block her matchmaking, he recruits Natalie Sobol to pose as his wife. She needs a fake spouse as badly as he does. But when passion burns down their chaste agreement, the flames could destroy them all…

EXCERPT:

Garrett resisted the urge to glance over his shoul­der to check on her. Natalie was a grown woman and he didn’t need to protect her from being swarmed by admirers. Besides, she was the one who had proposed they refrain from other relationships, so she wouldn’t do anything to hurt his reputation or hers.

Earlier, at her apartment, he’d caught fire at the sight of her in her little black dress. It was demure compared to the one she’d worn at Le Rêve, but it hugged her hour­glass figure and highlighted the curves underneath just enough to tease his imagination.

He walked to the bar for his Scotch and grabbed a flute of champagne from a server on his way back. As he’d anticipated, Natalie was now surrounded by a group of men and he lengthened his strides to reach her.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He pressed a light kiss on her lips and handed her the champagne.

“Thank you.” She leaned her head against his shoul­der when he pulled her to his side, playing her part like a pro.

“Natalie was just taking us to task about USC’s new head coach. It seems neither he nor I truly understand college football,” said one of Mike’s college friends.

“Is that so?” Garrett raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

“Taking you to task is a bit harsh.” She hid her grin against the rim of her champagne flute as she took a long sip. “It’s just that I have a better understanding than you guys.”

The audience winced and guffawed at her cheeki­ness. As Natalie continued with her lecture, all the men listened intently, as did Garrett. She was funny and down-to-earth, and her mind was quicker than light­ning. Lost in her words, Garrett belatedly noticed the crowd had grown. Her champagne glass was depleted and her smile was becoming strained.

He leaned down close to her ear. “Tired?”

“And hungry.”

“All right, gentlemen. I’m whisking away my date now. I’m tired of sharing her.”

When the crowd finally dispersed, Natalie slumped against him with a groan. “I need food, champagne and somewhere to sit.”

A server walked over with a tray of bacon-wrapped shrimp and Natalie snatched a couple of them. She popped one in her mouth and mumbled around her food, “Not necessarily in that order.”

Garrett laughed and guided her toward the French doors leading out to the garden. Natalie ate every sin­gle hors d’oeuvre she met along the way and finished another glass of champagne.

“Holy cow. Is everything really, really delicious, or am I just famished? I would totally go back for that crab cake if my feet weren’t screaming at me to get my butt on a chair.”

He glanced down at her zebra-print high heels. They did amazing things for her legs but didn’t look remotely comfortable. “There’s a bench around the corner.”

“Oh, thank God.” She kicked off her shoes as soon as she plopped onto the seat.

Garrett shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders before sitting next to her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, gazing at the garden. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“Is it?” He and Mike had grown up tearing apart that very garden, but Garrett had never sat still and taken it all in, like they were doing now. “I guess you’re right.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He studied her profile, her high, regal cheekbone and the graceful curve of her neck. Half of her hair had escaped the loose knot behind her head and fell down her back and shoulders. He wanted to sweep aside her hair and feel the softness of her skin, which he abso­lutely should not do.

“So how do you know so much about college foot­ball?” He tore his gaze away from her and stared at an old maple tree ahead of him, hard enough to make his eyes water.

“Long story.”

“We’ve got time.” He made a show of checking his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes.”

Her laughter filled the garden, then ended on a wist­ful sigh. “My dad and I, we weren’t very close. The only time he didn’t mind my company was when we watched college football together. He was a huge fan. I don’t think he even noticed I was sitting there half the time.”

Garrett understood what that felt like. As soon as he finished graduate school, he’d thrown himself into his work. It was satisfying in its predictability and it created a common ground for him and his father. His dad had stepped down from the CEO position when his mom died, but returned to Hansol a few years later as an executive VP.

“I thought if I learned enough about the sport, he’d like me a little better.” Her shrug told him it hadn’t worked, but Natalie told her story without an ounce of self-pity—like she owned her past, hurt and all. His respect for her deepened. “But soon I noticed I wasn’t faking my enthusiasm anymore. I’d grown to love the sport. Who knew it’d come in handy at an intimate birthday party for a hundred people?”

“You certainly won over quite a few of them.”

“I did?” Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

He huffed out a laugh. “Why did you think that crowd was hanging on to your every word?”

“Watch yourself, Garrett Song.” Natalie narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. “I know where you live.”

He snatched her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Yes, and you’ll be living there with me starting Sun­day.”

“Ugh.” She hooked an index finger in each of her shoes, not bothering to put them back on. “Do you ever stop thinking about work?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head and pretended to con­sider her question. “But only when I’m thoroughly dis­tracted.”

Her lashes fluttered and color saturated her cheeks, and his gut clenched with heat. She could definitely become his most dangerous distraction.

AUTHOR BIO

About the author JAYCI LEE: Jayci Lee writes poignant, funny, and sexy romance. She lives in sunny California with her tall-dark-and-handsome husband, two amazing boys with boundless energy, and a fluffy rescue whose cuteness is a major distraction. She is semi-retired from her 15-year career as a defense litigator, and writes full-time now. She loves food, wine, and travelling, just like her characters. Books have always helped her grow, dream, and heal. She hopes her books will do the same for you.