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juleswolverton-hyde · 3 years

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Not by the Moon | 08

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, eating disorder (personal experience, don’t be a bloody twat), heavy(?) angst, Werewolf!Jaebeom trying to be a normal boyfriend

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Y/N’s POV.

I am seeing a trend starting to develop where every chapter turns into a behemoth that makes me not want to edit it at all. Nevertheless, I pulled through on this one despite being in the middle of a 32-hour work week and being absolutely exhausted.

Summer holidays, you said? I only see extra shifts and little me-time nor writing time and inspiration. That said, though, be prepared for some heavy worldbuilding because the plot thickens.

Also, and this has been edited in the previous chapter, a new special someone makes his debut in this chapter. Is this also a hint about whose story is next?

Who knows?

I don’t know.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

“Jaebeom? Jay!” I nudge the big man’s shoulder to signal for him to step aside so I can turn the stove off before the burned pancake catches fire. “That’s the third one in a row.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly. “I- I have a... I can’t focus.”

“Is it because of this morning?” If so, then that makes two of us. However, I tried to forget as best I could by working with timed productivity sprints instead of writing the article on Bruges in one go. It worked fairly well until lunch time came around.

That’s when I, too, couldn’t escape the claw mark.

The image of it flashes before my eyes once more, joining my thoughts with his if his blank look is anything to go by.

How did it get there? What did you do?

“Yeah. Morning. I... I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, this should be a nice evening. A cozy night in. You deserve my attention, for me to,” his breath tapers as he finishes the sentence, “be here.”

The quiver in his lips makes the roof of my mouth dry up and my mind empty save for gut-stirring concern, unable to think of a proper response. Nevertheless, I look for words to say what seems best. Like I did this morning when I went to get his medication. “How about I take it from here and bake the pancakes? You already made the batter and I can’t let you do all the work.”

“I like cooking for you.”

“I know you do, but it’s fine. Really,” I gesture at the couch by the living room window, which provides a glimpse of the small balcony, “sit down. I’ll call you once dinner’s ready.”

“Y/N,” he reaches out for my hand yet only dares to hold my fingertips, “I’m sorry I can’t be more.”

The crack in his voice breaks my heart. But its the vulnerability written across his normally stoic face which tears me apart at the seams. Whatever he means, it’s nothing to do with this morning. Rather, it’s about him as a person, the wonderful man he is.

Throat blocked by something I can’t swallow, I scan his attitude for any hint about what he truly means. “What’re you on about?”

Let’s just forget about it for a little while and be a normal couple. I promise I won’t run away despite what happened.

Unfortunately, Jaebeom dismisses the question to make a point I wish he didn’t. “We both know what’s ahead. But, sometimes it’s as if you’re avoiding the inevitable.”

I let out a deep sigh, caught red-handed. “I’m not, because I know or, rather, can guess where this is going. I just don’t know how to respond at times. And I don’t want you to feel bad so I try to keep the mood high as best I can. To, well, keep us both happy.”

“Is your avoidance of food also part of that?” he asks, carefully formulating the question while keeping a close eye on any change in my demeanour.

“Yes.”

“I hate it when you don’t eat.”

“I know, but if you knew the reasons behind it, you’d understand why it’s difficult for me. Although, I want you to know that I’m trying to keep my promise to you and eat when you tell me to.” I cup his cheek, lovingly swiping my thumb to and fro over the tanned skin. “It’s really hard to escape your determination. You’re very insistent on things.”

“Too much?” Eyes dim and glistening with withheld tears, he nuzzles my palm.

“Sometimes.” I kiss the tip of his nose and smile, a sign of happiness that’s only half a lie. “It doesn’t make me love you any less. Now, let me be a proper girlfriend and cook for you.”

Regardless of the wonderful sight of Jaebeom wearing an apron and being absorbed in his element in the kitchen, it’s equally as wonderful to have something to eat tonight. Secretly, I would rather have made a healthier and less calorie-rich dish, but we both need a bit of a reprieve from last night. Thus, for the sake of us both, I’ve decided to let go of my rules for a little while.

To enjoy something sweet.

As wholesome as the sight of the wolf man seated on the couch, knees pulled up with round gold-rimmed glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose as he reads the novel he apparently borrowed from my bookshelves. I should write a little note on the title page and give it to him as a present so he’ll have one of my books like I have his.

They’ll be on his shelves for as long as we’re here.

Be there even after he’s gone.

Then they will return to me yet still be his.

He will still be with me.

The pages filled with his love.

It’s everything that will be left of him.

His legacy.

His remains.

The thought leaving me filled with bittersweet affection, I cut the fruit to put on top of the pancakes while gradually using up all the batter. Were it not for the move to the cottage at the end of the month, I could easily be content here if he’d ask me to move in. Wherever we are, evenings like these might become a common occurrence, a splendid reward at the end of a long day at the office.

They could turn any place into our home.

The long road of the lone wolf would finally come to an end.

Because as long as he’s there, I’m home.

“Mind your head.” Despite the warning, Jaebeom nevertheless puts a hand on my head while he opens the cupboard above to grab two plates.

“I was just about to say dinner’s ready.” I let out a breathless laugh, hardly hiding the sobs at the thought of one day having to live without his touch. “Talk about timing.”

For a second, a curious expression treks across his face. It passes by too fast to properly describe it, but it seemed to be triggered by the meaningless remark about his return to the kitchen.

When a dangerously short and sharp breath escapes me, he swallows it with a kiss. Perhaps it’s the sorrow of knowing a storm lies on the horizon that makes me delusional, but a soft whine rises in his throat each time he kisses a stray tear away as he peppers my face in small pecks.

Satisfied he has taken the sadness more or less away, the corners of his mouth curl into a lop-sided smile as if nothing happened. Notwithstanding, it isn’t hard to figure the blissful ignorance is merely feigned. “Right. Timing.”

Our gazes lock and neither of us says a word until he perks up and motions for me to step back. “Fork and knife.”

Discombobulated by the shared confusion, I indeed set a step backwards so he can open the drawer. In the meanwhile, as Jay sets the dinnerware down, I put the final pancake on the stack and set it down in the middle of the table.

Chest puffed out, I clap my hands. “Dig in.”

Like yesterday, Jaebeom insists on doing the dishes while I settle down for the night. However, whereas I gladly did before, I now do with an uneasy mind. Arms wrapped around my knees, my thoughts run down a familiar dark path.

I ate too much. Maybe I should go home and do a workout. Then again, I really don’t want to even though I have to.

“Y/N?” The faint though surprising mention of my name breaks the imaginary stones weighing down my shoulders. I snap my head to the side, almost headbutting the wolf man who has appeared at my side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lips pulled into a wistful smile, I scratch him under the chin in hopes of distracting him to the degree he won’t be able to ask further questions. “I’m tired, that's all.”

Unfortunately, Jaebeom is like a guardian who somehow notices a lot despite his absent-minded demeanour. Henceforth, the topic is all but abandoned.

Without warning, and as effortless as if he were picking up a book, he lifts me up from the couch to hold me in his arms. Instinctively, I clutch his loose black shirt to have a grip of something in case I fall. It’s an ungrounded fear since his arms are sturdy, but it’s comforting nonetheless to have something to hold on to.

My haphazard action elicits a low chuckle that makes my heart skip a beat, although it almost thumps out of my chest again as he rests his forehead against mine. “Let’s go to bed.”

“It’s only eight o’clock,” I sputter, chest tight and no breath sufficient enough to lift the sensation. “Besides, I- I don’t have any fresh change of clothes or toiletries or a pyjama.”

Did he turn the central heating up?

“Doesn’t matter. Can borrow. You. No, that’s not right. You… you can. You can borrow clothes from me. Also, I think I have a spare toothbrush somewhere around here.”

“Jay,’’ As best I can, I try to keep my tone steady though the words come out too fast and uneven regardless, ‘’I think I should go home.”

If I don’t and I won’t get in some more exercise, I’ll gain weight and slowly go back to how I was.

And I’ll lose him.

Back to square one.

Loveless.

Despite the effort, I can’t prevent the crack in my voice as I weakly tug at his shirt. ‘’Let me go.’’

“No.’’ The gentle kindness has malformed into rough sternness, translated in a sound similar to a growl. ‘’You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” I retort, more ferocious and sharper than intended though the equal harshness might help to drive the point home.

For a split second, he snarls and bares his teeth. Simultaneously, a flicker of a second personality passes across his mismatched eyes.

The calm ocean warps into a watery grave with high waves on a stormy night.

The hazelnut cracks to set that which it contains free.

His lashes abruptly flutter shut, as he lets out a pained gasp. Beneath my fingertips, his chest caves as if an imaginary fist has dealt him a blow in the guts.

And in mine as well.

Rippling flesh.

There’s… there’s no… Jay, what is happening to you?

I hold on tighter to the fabric, hyperventilating while trying to refrain from bursting out in tears.

There has to be something I can do! But what? What do I do? How can I make this stop?

How do I get you back?

Withal, shivering lips parted to beg for guidance, are interrupted by a shake of the head hanging low. Slowly, Jaebeom looks up, a light layer of sweat on his skin. Our gazes lock, but whereas the wolf man’s was filled with savage chaos, it’s now returned to the stern tranquility it held before the attack. Nonetheless, an uncomprehending whimper betrays the fact that whatever happened wasn’t experienced consciously.

The rage was beyond him.

Outside him.

Another’s.

Still breathless, he scoffs, the sound gruff and overtly disagreeing. “Let’s watch the moon and stars.”

There is no chance to ask any questions about the swift changes in demeanour since he promptly moves to the hallway and up the stairs towards his bedroom. The bedframe of the two-person bed also functions as a bookshelf which takes up the entire right wall, the shelves stacked with second-hand paperbacks in various conditions. An empty picture frame is placed on his side of the bed, a pair of glasses next to it.

Jaebeom puts me down on the navy wool blanket on the edge of the bed and leans in to steal a kiss, which is easy to do considering I’m too shaken to offer any protest. Nor do I feel the comfort of his lips. “Take your clothes off. I’ll go find you pyjamas.”

A tad reluctant, mind occupied by guilt and terror, I start to undress as he rummages through the wardrobe on the other end of the room.

Left only in my underwear, I sit down on the edge of the bed. Although he’s seen me naked once, I still wrap my arms around myself to hide my body. A shield to protect a fragile ego housed in equally as vulnerable body flesh.

Afraid of what might happen when those ripples grow out of control.

Terrified of who he will become.

Of who he is.

“Don’t.” Jaebeom turns around with a black hoodie and grey sweatpants in his hands, eyebrows drawn together. He closes the drawer, throws the clothes on the bed, kneels, and firmly yet gently grabs my wrists to break the walls I put up. And I let him. “Don’t hide from me.”

Not understanding where the shame originates from, he grows still as he scrutinizes my face for clues. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Instead of giving an answer, I change into the makeshift pyjamas. The hoodie is oversized yet comfortably baggy while the sweatpants hang disconcertingly low on my hips. Fortunately, any skin it reveals is covered up by the top.

Continuing to avoid his gaze without saying a word, I crawl under the sheets. Face turned to the window, I pull up the blanket he drapes over me and bury my nose in it.

A wild forest and cologne with a musty hint of pages.

It’s undeniably him.

I don’t know what else to do or say. So, I let the silence speak for itself.

A language he is fluent in too despite his oftentimes loud demeanour.

The mattress dips under his weight when he lies down and rearranges the sheets to cover us both. An arm wrapped around my waist and legs tangled, Jaebeom pulls me flush against him, his chest warm against my back.

A sob rises in my throat when I feel his lips place a kiss on my crown with a sigh of contentment.

I don’t deserve this.

Us.

Him.

The fear of losing him to whatever is happening inside.

Then again, Life isn’t fair. It deals everyone the same awful hand and leaves it up to the player to make the best of it.

I guess we’re both dealt a crappier hand than others. That, or we play them wrong.

Can we win at all?

“Talk to me.” As loving and happy as the casual intimacy of the embrace is, as forgetful it could make me if only I’d manage to fall asleep, Jaebeom’s oddly sweet cooing keeps me awake.

Staring at the moon.

A woman as fickle as me.

And infinitely more beautiful.

Funny how I, too, am jealous of a celestial body.

In love with the heavens.

He continues when he notices I won’t be the one to break the silence, his intonation laced by a whiny undertone like a dog wanting something yet being denied what it wants. “You know what I’m dealing with. But...” he digs his fingers deeper into my hips, the grip iron-like without being painful, “I hope this is okay to ask, but what is it with you and food?”

The encouraging squeeze in my side almost has me bursting out in tears again. There has to be a price to pay somewhere in the shadows, the overwhelming sensation of being genuinely loved and protected must turn out to be as two-sided as the silver goddess in the sky. After all, Life is bittersweet.

“It’s only fair I tell you.” Especially after how open he’s been. Besides, there’s no opportunity to avoid the topic since we’d arrive at it sooner or later. And he deserves to know. In fact, I don’t want him to forget my brokenness the moment I tell him about it.

We both want each other to remember our own missing pieces.

So I sigh, turn over and bald my hands into fists to rest against the warm skin of his bare chest. As I speak up, I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “I used to be quite a fat kid, to the degree the GP advised my parents to put me on a diet. Queue high school and social pressure which led me to perhaps work out more than is healthy and left me bordering on the edge of anorexia. There are still foods I won’t eat and days I’ll worry about my calorie intake, especially on the days I don’t work out.”

I can’t help the mirthless chuckle which turns into a rueful smile. “It’s the good old cliché. Just another soul broken for the shallow enjoyment and acceptance of others.”

Lips pulled into a stern line, the wolf man remains silent. Notwithstanding, his eyes speak volumes when I dare to look up at him, the ocean and hazelwood alight with a watery sheen. Perhaps it’s the comfort of his nearness or the familiarity of those one of a kind eyes, but he inspires a confession which I never thought I’d make. “Nevertheless, I’m getting better and it’s partially thanks to you.”

Morgan spamming me with ‘Have you eaten?’ texts and Bam making sure I finish my plate whenever we go out for food either here or abroad help a lot too. Nonetheless, it’s mostly the bookish wolf who makes me want to try.

And be a little better than before.

“What do they feel like, those days?”

“The bad ones?” Jaebeom nods. “They’re ridden with guilt and self-loathing.”

He leans in, leaving only a few centimetres of distance between our faces. His breath is warm on my skin as he bumps his nose against mine. “You’re feeling that way now.”

“I am.”

“Don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re still you. Beautiful as always. And I’ll love you regardless of how you look. I like your mind, which is as weird as mine. The way you hold my hand, as if you’re afraid I’ll walk away. How you unconsciously squeeze it when you need my protection more. How you feel in my arms, soft and warm as a bunny.” He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it upward to run his tongue over my lips and nose. “Love you. A lot.”

“I love you too.” I turn my head to nuzzle his palm, my face perfectly fitting into it.

Please, no ripples. Let us have this moment. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. Let me have him, just him as he is. At least tonight.

The secure affection of the touch transforms into something else when he glides the back of his hand over my cheek and folds his fingers over my throat. Testing the waters, eyes boring into mine to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, he slowly closes off my access to air.

It’s funny how the body and mind react to certain situations. Whereas I normally would flinch and run in the direction of safety, there is no urge to run. In fact, the tingling in my chest travels down to rekindle a familiar heat between my thighs while my adrenaline-infused system aches for the wolfish lover. Henceforth, instead of jumping up from the bed, I spread my legs so Jaebeom can comfortably nestle between them.

“Let me prove it. Let me mate you.” The calloused fingertip journeying across the collarbone to the crook of the neck sends a pleasant shiver down the spine. Another electric shock follows at the coarse prickly sensation of his moustache rubbing against my skin as his soft lips kisses and nips at it. “It will only sting a bit, I promise. Please, the mark will look pretty.”

“No biting, Jay.” Reminded of our agreement this morning and the movement beneath his skin when his emotions seem to get the better of him, I pull him against my chest. Before he can protest I scratch his jaw exactly in the way he likes it, thus subduing his great ability to argue. “Not today.”

“It’s not... hm, k- keep go- What do- Bit higher. There. Like, hm, mhm, there. But... what normal-’’ Arms wrapped around my waist again and letting out a content hum, dark lashes flutter shut. For a moment, it seems he’s fallen asleep. However, his drowsy murmurs, while growing incomprehensible, still haven’t finished. “It’s not what couples do.”

“You’re learning,” I giggle, amused by the remark which sounds like a student recalling a piece of knowledge during a test and repeating it for himself.

Without understanding the knowledge completely. “What do they do?”

Staring at the ceiling, I run my fingers through his long dark manes as I try to come up with ideas about what we can do next. “Well, you’ve already given me your clothes. We could try jewelry next, maybe a promise ring. It’s an old-fashioned idea, but people who are promised to each other wear matching rings.

‘’What mean? Promised?’’

I say nothing of the faulty grammar of his question. After all, speaking becomes harder once exhaustion overtakes the body and mind. I have yet to find a sleeper being able to form comprehensible sentences. ‘’They’re sort of similar to engagement rings, but without the immediate implication of getting married soon.”

“Let’s get en- enga- enge-’’ Jaebeom lets out a groan, frustrated by his lack of speech. Nevertheless, it doesn’t perturb him enough to completely give up on the effort to properly pronounce the word he’s struggling with. “En. Gage. Ment. Engagement rings instead.”

I let out a breathless chuckle, amused both by his determination and the absurd proposal. “It’s definitely too early for that.”

“It’s not!” He barks, shooting up with a pinched expression on his face.

Scratching him like before, I manage to calm him down enough to make him lie down on my chest again. Nonetheless, his discontent shines through in the gruff scoff he lets out. “It is.”

“What if...” Prompted by the idea in his mind, Jay scrambles upright to face me once more. Lips parted, the feral sharpness in his mismatched eyes is replaced by a twinkle of barely contained excitement. However, the enthusiasm dims with a shake of the head and a low self-deprecating chuckle that ignites my curiosity. At the same time, it also tugs at the strings of my heart. “No, it’s wrong of me to ask.”

“What is?”

What were you about to say? Don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me!

“Never mind.” He lies down again, nuzzling my breasts as he snuggles up into me.

Then, he slips his hand under mine to lift and compare it to his. “Cute paw.”

Fine. Keep your secrets, you big burly bastard.

“Go to sleep.” I push him off of me, earning myself a disappointed noise which resembles a yelp. “On the other side of the bed, please and thank you.”

In the days that follow, the movement like water set astir under his skin continues to haunt my mind. In fact, it does to the extent that even the keys beneath my fingers seem to flow rather than be pushed down, causing me to flinch for the third time in a row.

For the past hour I’ve been trying to type out the notes on an interview with a chocolatier in Bruges and compose them into a coherent article. An otherwise simple task my mind won’t allow me to complete despite the attempts to remember the good moments we had recently. The video calls right before bed, the cuddle session a few days ago when we gazed at the moon, his enthusiastic texts about and photos of new recipes Jaebeom tried. None of it prevents the likely imagined terrible from destroying our happiness.

I’m going insane. He’s a normal person. Somewhat. I was jet-lagged and therefore not thinking clearly.

That’s why I thought I felt his skin move. I was delusional.

Drunk on him.

A buzz pulls me out of my reverie, the screen of my phone lighting up with a message.

Morgan: Starving! Found a new café thanks to a friend.

Y/N: Let me guess. I have no choice but to come along.

Morgan: There wasn’t a choice to begin with :)

Y/N: Of course not. What am I talking about, eh? See you in five.

Chuckling at the woman’s classic brashness, I shake my head, pack my belongings and head to the elevators.

Outside, regardless of the November chill, it’s pleasant. The sun shines brightly and the wind blows the little bundles of fallen leaves at the roots of the birch trees lining the street into motion, scattering them over the neatly swept pavement.

Winter is around the corner. God, I hate the cold. Hopefully, there won’t be snow any time soon.

I sit down on the bench under one of the birch trees, its branches already bare.

Autumn is truly ending now. Shame. I haven’t even had a pumpkin spice latte and cinnamon roll yet. Maybe I should ask Jay out and find a nice coffee shop where we can get them. After all, if he’s there, we can share the pastry. He’ll be happy and I won’t have to eat the whole thing. A win-win situation.

Enjoying watching the people pass by, each stranger essentially a book with a unique story that is yet not entirely different from someone else’s. Withal, the world feels colder without him, the missing part embodied in the unoccupied spot next to mine.

A delighted sigh on the right makes me snap my head around, alarmed at the notion someone has appeared out of the blue on the empty seat.

A woman clad in a white suit and matching fur-lined coat with pale skin and brown hair glowing copper in direct light stares contentedly up at the clouds. She’s in her very early twenties, although the freckles dusting her cheekbones and rosy cheeks might simply make her look younger than she is.

For a moment, taken aback and speechless, I cannot help but blatantly gape at the otherworldly stranger.

Wow, she’s like a goddess.

A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach as a dark thought intrudes my mind. My throat dried up, I twist my wrists, the muscles stiff beneath my fingers.

Would Jaebeom like her? If he saw her on the street, would he... would he stop and stare? Prefer her over me or even try and give it a shot by introducing himself?

“It’s a bit chillier than I’d like, but at least it’s better than rain or snow.” The woman turns to face me, her features soft. “I hope spring will come again soon, though.”

I don’t get the chance to respond because a familiar voice calls out. Not that I would be able to form a proper reply otherwise. “You’re here already?”

“I happened to be nearby,” the stranger turns away to answer as Morgan comes to a halt in front of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“I texted you fifteen minutes ago and you said you had to clean up. I thought you’d join us later.”

“The birth and after birth went faster than I thought so here I am.”

“I’m sorry, but what is going on?” More than a little lost, I look from one to the other in hopes of being given an explanation. “I didn’t know we’d head out with the three of us.”

“Right, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Brigid.” The dark-haired woman holds out her pale hand in greeting. “I work at the hospital as an obstetrician.”

“I’m Y/N,’’ I reply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Lass,” wonder turned to a darker version of itself yet not saying anything, Morgan shifts her attention to me, “you look famished. Come on, let’s go.”

Offering a few muttered words of agreement, I get up and sheepishly tag along with the other women. As we walk out the street and round a corner, following the signs leading to the artist district nearby the university, I’m occasionally tempted to join the conversation. However, as soon as a short silence falls, I don’t chip in, unsure how to contribute to the small talk they seem to deliberately keep up in order to avoid a topic neither is keen to discuss. Thus I walk in urban loneliness, my train of thought displaced on my face as I let the ghosts of Jaebeom’s skin freely haunt my mind.

Right before the descent into the darkness of the rabbit hole, strong long fingers wrap around my wrist and hold it in an iron grip. The slightly painful squeeze interrupts my reverie.

Jaebeom?

I snap my head to the side to find Morgan standing there, leaning in a bit and her voice low. “We’re here.”

I don’t know how I’ve managed to ignore the bustle of students looking for a free spot on one of the terraces and loud conversations accompanied by the rustle of the paper bags hailing from the shops owned by self-employed artists. It’s also miraculous that I haven’t bumped into anyone by accident.

“Oh,” is all I say, looking at the café we’ve stopped in front of.

Wolf’s is spelled out in a modern font on the sign outside and above the door. A big window provides visitors with a view of the plaza. The interior is simple yet cosy, the white furniture warmed up by oak accents and the bare walls decorated with various art pieces, centered around wolves and various flowers. By the looks of it, they were all made by a single artist who likes to experiment with style every now and then. A few plants are dotted around the place as well to add a hint of free nature to the underlying strangely forest-like aesthetic.

A tall broad-shouldered man with short curly chocolate brown hair partially covering up the scar running over his left eye, strong dark eyebrows and a big koala-like nose stands behind the counter. Both of his arms and hands are decorated with various intricately designed tattoos. Whereas Jay is muscled yet lean, the tanned barista looks like a man who knows how to fight yet is a warrior in a society without combat.

As soon as we walk in, his lifts his head and turns to us. Playful lights illuminate the milky white of his left and raven dark of his right eye. A meadow of snow, its glimmer reflecting off of the smooth feathers of a wise bird. “Hi, welcome. Brigid, long time no see.”

Nobody seems to notice it, but his female colleague, a short woman with long flowy caramel brown hair tied into a ponytail who has her back turned to us and is busy extracting a shot, cringes at the merry mention of the woman’s name. Slowly, she steals a glance at us, hazel eyes sharpening when they fall on the woman in white. Nevertheless, she remains silent and quickly returns her attention to preparing someone’s coffee.

Looks like I’m not the only one envying her.

It is wrong to hate a woman for her beauty. Nonetheless, although it’s shameful, part of me refuses to associate with Morgan’s acquaintance out of a toxic mixture of spite and jealousy.

Such is the female nightmare.

“So this is what you’ve been up to,” Brigid muses, nodding appreciatively while inspecting the coffee shop. “You’ve got a nice thing going on here, Rome.”

“Please don’t call me that anymore. It’s Christian now. Chris or Ian for short.’’ Muscled arms crossed, he grimaces and shakes his head while looking down. Notwithstanding, the stern attitude melts into casual friendliness as a bright smile forms on his lips. ‘’But I do, don’t I? However, it’s not just me running the place. I’ve had some help.”

He turns around and motions for his colleague to come over. For a second she doesn’t move, darting glances to each of us like an alarmed cat checking for danger. Notwithstanding, though clearly tense, she warily approaches and halts at the man’s side.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when Christian places a hand on her shoulder. “In fact, Gráinne here still helps me out every day. She’s basically the second owner.”

“I- I’m not,” she sputters in a soft Ulster accent, fumbling with her fingers and her cheeks flushed, “I just work here some days.”

“You’re a bit more than a colleague,” her co-worker remarks, shoulders lowered and his tone holding more affection than would be the case when talking to a friend. A warm glow seems to form around him, ignited by the fondness he harbours for her.

Funny, Jaebeom wears that same expression when he’s with me.

“I’m not.” Gráinne stiffens, each word dripping with venom as she steps away, grabs a serving tray and puts the order she was preparing before being called over on it. “Get back to work.”

Lips parted, Ian watches her as she moves past us as fast and agile like a hunting cat without any further acknowledgement of our presence. I hadn’t noticed before, but beneath her apron, she is dressed in clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era. “I know she can be harsh and isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve never seen her act like this.”

“Och, let it pass. She has every right to be pissed with you since you put her on the spot like that,” Morgan jokes though nobody goes along with it.

She likes him yet doesn’t see it’s mutual. Should I say something? Then again, this is their business, not mine. Furthermore, why would they believe me, a stranger?

So I remain silent.

And leave this to blossom however it is meant to in Fate’s hands.

The icy glare Gráinne gives Brigid behind her back sends a chill down my spine. Evidently, she is a woman not cross paths with once angered. Withal, as the fair beauty looks over her shoulder, the other woman restores her professional composure.

“You okay?” Christian asks as he watches her retreat into the kitchen, done serving for now.

“I’m fine,” she says thickly, the next breath hitching in her throat. Her focus shifts to the moon-shaped amethyst pendant around his neck. The ghost of a rueful smile forms on her lips, but it fades as fast as it appeared. “It’s not like I’m having a vision or something. Help them.”

She waves her hand dismissively when he doesn’t move, lips parted to say something yet at a loss for words. Notwithstanding, although I can’t see his expression clearly, it’s evident her feigned nonchalance is hurting him. “Go on.”

He clears his throat and forces himself into a rigid posture, frowning as he shifts his attention back to us. Finger hovering over the tablet functioning as a till, he stares at the display with an empty and distant gaze, which is as dull as the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. “What can I get you?”

We place our order and settle down at the table by the window, neither of us offering a word of solace or dedicated to his colleague’s behaviour.

After a while, Christian comes up to us to serve the food and beverages. As he puts the plates with our sandwiches down, he and Brigid exchange looks like siblings telepathically conversing. Whatever it is they mentally discussed, it only leaves the barista a slight bit less worried though the grave expression plaguing him remains as he returns to the counter.

An expression which must be similar to mine since it prompts Morgan to speak up regardless of having her teeth sunk into sourdough bread, looking equally as somber. “What’s on your mind, lass?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head and stir my cappuccino with the vintage silver spoon next to the porcelain cup, smiling at my own silly assumptions of what happened now four days ago. “Everything’s fine.”

“Except it’s not.” The raven-haired woman cocks an eyebrow, far from willing to dismiss my worries. “Now tell me. Or, well, us.”

“It’s something to do with your lover, isn’t it?” Brigid remarks, head tilted to the side as she assesses me while sipping at her Irish Breakfast Tea. Her features soften when she notices she has hit a sensitive snare, evidently meaning no harm.

I pull back in my seat as I take a sip of my coffee, flustered and cursing myself for being an open book. There is no way out of this conversation since the current company is like-minded in their refusal to simply let the topic pass before it has been discussed.

I swallow, put the cup on the dish again and clear my throat. Fumbling with the spoon and eyes cast on the cappuccino’s silky milk foam, I tell them of what I think happened. The story sounds strange to my own ears, like a terrible fairy tale told by a chaotic storyteller who can’t tell it in a manner that makes sense regardless of how he manipulates the plot.

Afraid of their reaction, unable to fathom the slightest bit of sympathy and empathy, I look from one to the other. Fortunately, my silence can be excused by drinking the remainder of the coffee although it’s futile since the thirst has nothing to do with bodily needs.

“Sounds familiar.” The woman in white scrunches her nose in disgust as she glares at Morgan.

“He was different,” Morgan sneers through gritted teeth, jaw clenched.

“In essence, he was similar to her lover.’’ Brigid points at me though she remains focused on my best friend, her voice dripping with venom. ‘’Or should I say, is similar?”

“Since when does it matter what he is?” Thin lips painted plum purple curl into a mirthless smile, onyx locks shaking in discontent. “How hypocritical you’ve become. Forgetful of the past.”

“A past worth forgetting. It’s never too late to change your political opinions, Morgan.”

Great, now I’m the one to open Pandora’s box. I should have kept my mouth shut, changed the topic.

Desperate for help yet knowing he cannot do anything, I look for Christian among the other customers. Expression stern and standing as rigid as a statue, he watches our table from behind the counter. It appears he, too, feels the sense of danger increasing as the conversation carries on. Notwithstanding, as becomes clear from the apologetic shake of the head when our eyes meet, he also knows his hands are tied at the moment.

We are on the same boat, waiting to see how the situation will develop.

Playthings of Chance and Fate.

“We’re not here to talk politics,’’ the woman in question answers, covering her mouth with her hands while chewing on a bite of goat cheese and pomegranate seeds, ‘’but to have lunch like civilized and amiable women. To help our friend.”

“You’re right,” Brigid concludes. Nonchalantly, she pierces a piece of egg in her salmon salad and puts its on the bread provided with it, a bread called St Michael’s Bannock according to the menu. Then, she points her fork at me. “But the best thing you can do is leave him while you still can.”

“L- Leave?” Utterly confused, I look at the woman calmly eating her lunch. “Why would I do that?”

Who is she? What’s more, who is she to tell me to leave Jaebeom after what I told her? He needs help and support, regardless of what may or may not be there beneath his skin.

Unless she is on to something I am not and judging by the current circumstances, I won’t get an answer even if I dare to ask. Henceforth, if only not to snap, I clear my throat and swallow the vile words dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“Morgan can tell you why. All I can say is that it’s better to avoid men like your lover in the first place.” She coughs and takes a sip of tea to wash down the salad leaf stuck in her throat while the woman with hair as black as night chuckles darkly. Luckily, it is only loud enough for me to hear and Brigid is too busy preventing herself from choking.

“Sétan-, I- I mean Seán was the one to leave me, not the other way around. And we mutually agreed to part ways in favour of our own well-being.”

“Sure you did. Totally didn’t resort to throwing plates and other pieces of furniture because he rejected you.”

Morgan growls something under her breath, glaring at the woman seated next to me. However, Brigid doesn’t seem to notice the reaction she has provoked or is indifferent to it. “Or washed clothes at the ford where he so ‘happened’ to pass by. Funny how he died soon after.”

Ford? There are quite a few in Ireland, so where and most importantly, when was this? Then again, what are these two on about? Washing clothes in a ford, people dying, politics, lovers to leave. They’re like arguing voices from ancient times.

Moreover, there is the question of Seán’s life. Is he alive or dead? One moment she speaks of him as if he’s still here, but then why would Brigid remark he’s dead?

“You shut your whoremouth, traitor!” With a loud bang, Morgan slams her fists on the table. She stands up with an expression that makes me cower in fear despite not being the target of her wrath.

Behind the counter, Christian slowly comes into motion, carefully moving with the likely intent to inconspicuously circle our table and jump in if necessary. He flinches as Gráinne places a hand on his arm, holding him hard enough for her knuckles to turn white when he tries to escape from her grip in order to prevent the worst from happening. Notwithstanding, whatever the plan was, it goes to waste since he decides to listen to what his colleague tells him. Sighing deeply, he stands down although he continues to observe us.

Gráinne follows his gaze, which seems to be directed at the brown-haired woman in white, her personal target of envy. Her wolfishly fierce expression falters, growing as bleak as the ash of a great bonfire.

This time he doesn’t see how she comes apart at the seams.

Brigid calmly finishes her tea, daps her mouth on the napkin and stands up too. “Get over your crush. There’s no future for you with him. As for you, Y/N,” eyes oddly alight with motherly affection, she turns her attention to me, “and as a piece of advice from a friend, end this relationship while you still can. There’s only heartbreak ahead.”

“Thank you, but,” a wistful smile forms on my lips regardless of the urge to give into the savage nagging inside, “I can’t leave him because I made a promise to stay.”

“I see. Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong and the flowers will bloom in spring.”

And with those final cryptic words, she leaves the café after waving at the tattooed barista.

Or so Brigid intends, but her way is cut off by his colleague.

While clumsily taking off her apron she storms outside, clenching it hard and shivering as if she’s on the brink of tears.

“Gráinne? Gráinne!” Christian runs after his colleague, pale and eyes wide with worry as he comes to a halt in the doorway. “Where are you going? Gráinne!”

Brigid places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a consoling squeeze. After giving him an encouraging slap on the back she sets off, leaving the man standing there like a defeated soldier.

“Poor lass,” Morgan whispers as she watches the female barista pass the window. Something in her tone hints at a level of familiarity between the two.

“You know her?” I ask, frowning.

“I don’t think she remembers me.” She glances at Chris, who has retreated behind the counter. He has his head bowed, smooth black locks hiding his face from the customers. Trembling fingers entwined to conceal his distress as best as possible, he resembles a man of religion fervently praying for forgiveness. “And neither does he. I saw him and his close friend, Finn, once in the woods. No, it was his brother, Jor… was it? When he came to the island. Was that… who was that?’’

A mist clouds her ocean blue eyes, lost in thoughts far removed from this world and time. ‘’He was there. As for Gráinne, we met… somewhere. There was smoke, a burning body. It was- It was at… where? Fuck, I can’t recall. I think it was at his fu-’’ she abruptly cuts herself short to correct herself with a strange undertone in her voice, “not long after I... saw them.”

‘’Morgan, are you alright? You’re looking awfully pale.’’

Instead of breaking free from the spell that has taken hold of her, the reverie only seems to deepen. Rocking side to side, she clutches her arms to her chest. Her skin, although naturally pale, grows sickly like a walking corpse.

‘’I- I’m supposed to remember. I’m one of the few that do. No, he and I are the only ones left that do. I can’t forget. If I do, everyone will. I can’t… I can’t!’’

‘’Morgan!’’ I stand up from my seat to rush to her side. Rubbing her arms, I try with all my might to bring her back to reality from the depths of deliria. ‘’It’s all right, Morgan, nobody is going to forget. Please listen to me and follow my voice, use it as a guide back to me from wherever it is you are. Please, come back to me.’’

‘’May I?’’ Christian has appeared with a glass of water, which he sets on the table before crouching down at the woman’s side as well.

Gently he grabs one of her hands and holds it, talking in a voice that is surprisingly steady and soothing in spite of what happened mere moments ago. It’s rougher and more gruff, making it hard to distinguish one word from another if you are not well-acquainted with the speaker.

In fact, it belongs to a completely different person. ‘’Morgan, as long as there are people who remember, there is nothing to fear. The past has taught us that what might seem like the end isn’t necessarily truly the end. We are still here. We remember because you do and you remember because we do. You’re safe and sound. Instead, return and help me make her remember.’’

‘’Why, of everyone, did you have to fall for her?’’ Gaze blinded by her mind, Morgan reaches out to tenderly run her fingers through the barista’s hair. ‘’What makes her special?’’

‘’She understands.’’ A similar fog veils the misty white and dark eyes, Chris or, rather, the stranger pulled into the same realm of consciousness as my friend. ‘’She broke the chains that bound me and doesn’t allow me to slip into the shadows of what I once was.’’

‘’You’re all the same, aren’t you?’’

‘’It’s rare to find understanding and acceptance in a world naturally turned against you. So, please help me. Help me find her.’’ His voice breaks, the begging words coming out high-pitched like a whining wolf. ‘’Help me find my reason to stay in this world and not forget nor be forgotten.’’

The veil lifts, the spell broken with the whimpered plea.

Christian falls back, but manages to catch himself before his head hits the tiles. Refusing every helping hand from the customers hurrying over, he scrambles to his feet. Fortunately, he accepts the chair I offer him when his dangerous swaying almost causes him to hit his head against the wall.

‘’Are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m only dizzy.’’ The hiss he lets out flows over into a sound akin to a growl. ‘’And a splitting headache.’’

Morgan has a better return to reality, completely fine aside from a dazed mind. ‘’What happened?’’

‘’You tell me.’’ I search her face for clues, a sliver of the knowledge she is lying. However, I find none.

She is telling the truth.

‘’I… I don’t know. It’s the first time.’’ She clears her throat, brow furrowed. As if having heard a noise, she snaps her head to the side. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Drink your tea, eat a sandwich and go home early from work.”

She hands the glass of water to Christian. ‘’And you, you drink this and stay seated for at least five more minutes until the dizziness has faded. Are you nauseous?’’

‘’No. Although,’’ he dry heaves, ‘’never mind.’’

‘’Make it ten. You look as pale as a banshee.’’

‘’Speak for yourself.’’

‘’You’d make a pretty one, though,’’ Morgan muses when she returns her attention to me. ‘’Beauty makes suffering leading to death easier.’’

Apparently, her return to reality has left her as mad as a hatter so perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought.

“Why on earth would you say that? Besides, what kind of comparison is that, us and a banshee?”

“One based on truth. Now,” she shoves the remainder of her goat cheese and pomegranate sandwich to me, “eat, rest up and get cracking again. We’ll be in touch and visit the new café I found yesterday later, alright?”

“Hey, not so fast. Where are you headed off to?’’

She can’t be serious. There is no way she is unaffected by what happened.

“Attagirl,’’ Morgan says as if I promised to heed her words, ignoring what I actually said. ‘’By the way, ignore what Brigid said and stay with your man. It’s plain to see how he makes you feel.”

“It is?”

“You’re glowing and you come alive when you speak of him. It reminds me of how I was with Seán.” She starts as if awakened from a dream, but tries to hide her awkwardness behind a sheepish smile. “Well, then, take care.”

“You too.’’ The two simple words, otherwise casual, are now carefully chosen in order to not to trigger another ‘attack’.

My gut tight and skin prickling thanks to her inhuman behaviour, I watch the raven-haired woman leave. I hold my wrist, my pulse too rapid to be healthy beneath my thumb.

Like I am at death’s door.

The next morning, there’s an article in the newspaper. A man’s been found dead at the edge of the bogs near town. The cause of his demise is unknown, but there are witness accounts who said they heard a high screech late the night before. In the days that follow, their names show up one by one in funerary advertisements.

A week later, none of the witnesses are alive. Moreover, nobody has heard the screeching since, though everyone remembers the description of the sound.

It was like the howl of a banshee.

#JB #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 #GOT7 smut #Jaebeom fanfiction #GOT7 Werewolf AU #GOT7 x Reader #Jaebeom x Reader #Jaebeom smut #Werewolf!Jaebeom #Werewolf AU #Werewolf!JB #Not by the Moon

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highfaelucien · 3 years

Text

Babysitting the Heir - An Inner Circle Fic

Repost from 2016 (god I’m old) that I redrafted bc it’s cute and wholesome af. And after all the salt and angst I have provided, I felt it was only fair to bring some fluff to the table.

Title: Babysitting the Heir

Summary: Azriel and Mor babysit Feyre and Rhys’ young son, Nyx, so the two of them can have a little time to themselves. He ends up taking quite a strong liking to Az... Fluff, pure fluff.

Teaser: ‘The moment he slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes.

Mor grins.’

Notes: No content warnings to speak of. Originally posted in 2016. Rewritten to update with (some) current canon, but also with some of my own additions, like happily queerplatonic Moriel. Because I can. And because this shit is adorable.

AO3: Link

“Be good for Aunt Mor, okay?” Feyre says, dipping forwards to kiss her son's forehead. “Does he understand the concept of ‘good’ yet?” Mor chirps conversationally.

Tilting her body she shifts in place and adjusts Nyx in her arms to allow Rhys to kiss him goodbye as well. “Why don’t you debate that with him this evening over some fine wine, Mor?” Rhys drawls.

The soft smile on his lips is very patently for his son; the words dripping with sarcasm very obviously for his cousin. Irritated by the baby balanced in her arms and her resulting lack of free hands with which to offer her cousin some obscene gesture, she makes do with snapping at him. “Why don’t you take a long walk off a very short balcony. Without wings. You sardonic pri-“ “We,” Feyre interrupts pointedly as Rhys starts smirking in a way that would have forced Mor to hand Nyx back to his mother so she could do something about it, “Are leaving,” she announces.

Grabbing her still obnoxiously smiling mate by his upper arm she begins to firmly drag him away from Mor before serious damage is done to his pretty face.

“Now,” Feyre adds in a slightly threatening growl as Rhys looks more than ready to continue bickering. “Thank you for this, Mor!” Feyre calls over her shoulder as she frog-marches Rhys to the door at the other end of the corridor.

“And you Az,” she adds with a smile and a wave, both hello and goodbye, tossed in the shadowsinger’s direction as he drifts serenely down the stairs to see what all the fuss is about in the hall. Mor lifts Nyx’s little hand with her first two fingers and has him wave goodbye to her parents while Az presses quiet kiss to her temple. His eyes fix on the baby in her arms with an air that suggests he’s seriously considering the possibility he might suddenly explode at any moment. “I’m going to the roof to train for a little while,” he murmurs quietly into her hair, his voice smooth and cool as ever. She nods, softly kissing the top of Nyx’s head, “We’ll be fine,” she says, shooing her partner upstairs, suppressing her eye roll with difficulty as she does so. “I’ll give you a shout if we need anything.”

Az nods his agreement then retreats silently back the way he had come leaving Mor to take Nyx into the living room alone. It’s not surprising. He does this every time they babysit for anyone. She knows that he’s more uncomfortable than the rest of them around any of the children, even if he secretly dotes on them, and she’s never pushed him into keeping her company unless she’s overwhelmed on her own. Which doesn’t happen often; usually only when Elain and Lucien’s twins are staying with them. Two years older than Nyx and already holy terrors in their own right. She chuckles to herself at the thought. She and Nyx have a nice afternoon that involves nothing more strenuous for Mor than setting him on her knee, holding his hands and bouncing him up and down until he giggles.

“Your parents are going to have so much fun when you start flying,” she teases as his small wings furl and unfurl excitedly. After an hour or so a servant interrupts politely to ask Mor if she could deal with something that’s arisen from some Court of Nightmares emissaries staying with them.

Nodding, Mor apologises to Nyx before gently popping him into the cot in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. Then she turns and hollers up the stairs for Azriel. He appears in moments and she stands on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and give him her most winning smile, which immediately makes him look nervous. As it should.

“Would you keep an eye on Nyx for me?” she asks him, nuzzling affectionately against his taut chest. “I have to deal with the idiots from the Court of Nightmares. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so.” Azriel frowns at this.

Mor sighs. “He’s a baby not a bogge, Az,” she reminds him, thinking that he’d probably rather tackle the latter on his own. She keeps that to herself however, looking beseechingly up at him. “Are you sure?” he deadpans, looking down at her, hazel eyes glittering. Mor beams and presses a hasty kiss to his lips that catches more cheek than mouth in her hurry as she darts for the door. “I won’t be long, thanks!” she’s calling over her shoulder at him, without him ever having quite agreed to this plan of hers. Then she winnows from the house and Az sighs; though he’s unable to entirely banish the small, affectionate smile that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to her. Padding into the room he gathers up the toys strewn around the room from earlier, wondering both how they ended up with so many and also how Mor had managed to scatter them so widely around the room in such a short space of time. He shakes his head slightly as he fishes one out from underneath the breakfast table, eyes twinkling at the whirlwind that is his Morrigan as he does so. He’s just setting everything back into the box in the corner when Nyx starts crying. Wincing at the sound he pads tentatively towards his cot, his wails increasing in volume with every moment.

Crouching down he gently rubs his tummy with his hand to soothe him. Trying not to cringe at the sight of the twisted, burned flesh touching the young child. Gentle hushing has no effect on him whatsoever and when his cries could more accurately be described as howling Azriel finally decides there’s nothing else for it.

Standing he tentatively reaches down into the crib and scoops him up into his arms. He’s held him before, naturally – neither Mor nor Feyre gave him any choice in the matter when he was born and continued to coax him into it afterwards – but it still feels...wrong somehow. His rough, scarred hands, hard with the calluses from his training are stained with more blood than he cares to remember. They were shaped to hold blades and handle the violent killing power that burns in his blue siphons, not children. He’s never been entirely comfortable with something so small and precious and fragile entrusted to his battered arms. Morrigan was one thing, but the little one... Slowly, he starts bouncing Nyx in his arms, the way Mor does to get him to quiet down. This plus the fact that he’s holding the child close to him seems to help.

He still sniffles faintly but he’s stopped screaming as though he’s trying to bring the place down at least. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and soothing murmuring he settles against his broad chest. “You were just being dramatic because you wanted some attention, weren’t you, little one?” Azriel muses quietly to him.

Mor, he’s noted, seems to talk away to him. all the time. Regardless of whether he understands, it's something he appears to like, so Azriel continues.

“That’s your father’s fault,” he informs him placidly. A broad smile spreads across his face as though he’s understood what he’s said and Az can’t help his own smile at the sight of it.

Nyx bats happily at his cheek, searching and grabbing at every bit of him he can reach from his arms.

Then the little fingers start to grab at his wings and he tenses, blinking down at him. “No, no,” he says in alarm as one small hand grips tightly onto the hooked, pointed talon at the crest of his wing and the other just grabs at whatever other part of it he can reach. “That’s not- No! Nyx, please-“ he tries hopelessly.

Prising his surprisingly strong grip off of him gently while still keeping one arm locked tightly around him proves to be near impossible.

He wonders vaguely if all children his age have such stubborn, iron grips or if this is a trait he can thank his mother for.

“Nyx-“ he pleads hopelessly as his small, nails dig into a sensitive spot of the membrane of his wing. A low, throaty chuckle interrupts his helpless floundering and he looks up to see Mor leaning artfully against one of the broad wooden pillars in the room. He’s rarely seen her looking so amused. “He’s one, Az,” she smirks at him, seeming to find his current predicament immensely amusing. “You can’t reason with him.” “Would you please-“ He gestures mutely for her to take Nyx back and somehow have him release his hold on him. Still laughing, her warm eyes dancing with merriment, Mor steps forwards at last and obliges him.

She scoops Nyx smoothly into her arms, detaching him from Azriel’s wing with ease.

Azriel shakes out his wings with relief and tucks them very firmly against his back. More so than he usually would. Something that's not missed by Mor, who gives him a wicked grin that has him groaning.

"Poor baby," she croons, voice playful and teasing.

Az gives her a half-hearted scowl in answer, starting to tidy the room again.

Mor's voice returns to normal as she kisses Nyx’s head and chuckles, “Wait ‘til we tell Uncle Cassian that all he has to do to bring the fearsome shadowsinger to his knees is not let go of his wing.”

Az shoots her a playful growl at the remark and Mor laughs again. Nyx, who had taken fairly well to being handed from one to the other of them like a solstice gift, had merely reached behind Mor to find something else to occupy himself.

While being obviously displeased by her lack of wings, he soon seems to decide that grabbing fistfuls of Mor’s beautiful golden hair will do just as well.

As Mor begins to carry him away from Azriel, however, he starts fussing again, his large, striking violet eyes fixed firmly on the retreating form of Az. Arching an eyebrow Mor wanders experimentally back to him and Nyx immediately reaches out for Az again, little fists grabbing the air insistently.

He blinks in surprise as he continues to squirm and fuss in Mor’s arms until she hands him over and coaxes him to take him again.

The moment she slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes. Mor grins. “No,” he protests feebly, looking from one to the other of them and knowing he’s beaten long before he gets out, “No, Mor, I don’t want-“ She pats his shoulder consolingly, ruining the effect by laughing through it. “You can’t say no to your future High Lord, Az,” she trills, grinning broadly at him as Az blinks down at the baby nestled peacefully in his arms. “Mor, I,” he stumbles, looking down at her again, fear gripping him as he says, “What if I drop him? What if I hurt him?” He’s being as gentle and as careful with him as he can but... “You won’t,” Mor says, the laughter instantly easing from her voice as it drops, becoming even and soothing. “Come on,” she says, tenderly hooking her fingers between his forearm and Nyx’s soft, warm body and leading him over towards the comfortable couches by the fire. Patiently, Mor shows him different ways of holding Nyx to help him become more comfortable with the babe and stop him worrying about dropping or hurting him somehow.

To his credit, the little one is incredibly patient with being pushed and pulled into various different positions and doesn’t seem to mind as long as Azriel is doing most of the holding.

He snorts when Mor mentions he’s lucky he decided to discover this new side to himself with the very placid Nyx rather than the twins. Neither would have been nearly as accommodating of all this poking and prodding. When Nyx finally does seem to tire of training Azriel in how to deal with him and starts to become fussy again, Mor heads to the kitchen and brings back a bottle for him to feed him.

She watches the two of them fondly as Nyx sucks contentedly at the warm milk, his big violet eyes blinking serenely up at them both.

Az smiles down at her the whole while, his scarred hands cradling him gently. When he looks up and catches the faint gleam in Mor’s eye he carefully slides an arm around her shoulders and gathers her in against him. With a faint, contented hum he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Nyx successfully keeps Az in thrall all night. Each time he tries to leave him for more than a few minutes he makes his displeasure about his departure known to most of Velaris. “

You’re a devious little one,” he murmurs softly to him, after the third or fourth instance of this, tickling his tummy as Mor did, and watching him giggle happily in his lap. “That’s Rhys’s fault too.” Mor smirks. “What else was Rhys’s fault?” she enquires playfully, arching a golden eyebrow and plastering a wicked grin across her lips. Azriel smiles faintly.

“His flare for drama and need for constant attention,” he responds simply. Mor tips back her head and howls with laughter at that, so loudly that Nyx blinks at her and nuzzles in against his chest, alarmed by this outburst. Azriel gives her a gentle nudge to coax her to stop for the babe’s sake and she desists. “Well he’s clearly fond of you.” Mor observes, looking down at the small, placid bundle in his arms. “That level of sense can only come from his mother.” Az chuckles at that and the shadows that flit around him gather around his chest at the sound. “Do that again,” Mor says suddenly, her head tilted slightly to the side as she peers down at Nyx. “What?” Az asks, confused, not aware that he’d been doing anything more than absently rocking Nyx back and forth in his arms, something that seemed to soothe him “With the shadows,” Mor says and he tightens at the mention but she shakes her head, “Make them gather around your chest again,” she instructs and he obliges her uncertainly. At once, one of Nyx’s little hands shoots out, trying to grab them. Blinking in pleasant surprise, Az coaxes the shadows a little closer. He had deliberately kept them light, something that was never hard with Mor around, and away from Nyx in case he scared him. But he seems oddly transfixed by them. Again he reaches out, trying to grab at them, his little fists closing over air. Azriel starts to make them dart around him in little bursts and he keeps swiping for them, like a cat chasing a mouse, until he’s giggling wildly and Mor is laughing beside him at the sight.

Cautiously, Azriel reaches down and brushes Nyx’s soft pale skin with his shadows. His eyes go wide and his whole body stills. He repeats the gesture and he begins to laugh again as he tickles her with them.

Mor beams with delight, the unreserved joy on her face more intoxicating to him than a bottle of faerie wine at the Solstice. As the evening begins to draw to a close, both Mor and Nyx fall asleep on top of Azriel. Nyx sprawls flat against his chest. Meanwhile Mor presses in against his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, her legs curled up under her as she presses in against him.

Azriel smiles quietly at the sight of both of them, one hand underneath Nyx to keep him supported, the other trailing absently through Morrigan’s golden curls, absently stroking them and soothing her in her sleep. That’s the position that Feyre and Rhys find them in when they knock on the door and Azriel calls for them to come in several hours later.

Feyre smiles at the sight of them and hurries over to Azriel. She leans down and trails her fingers through Nyx’s soft, downy black hair. Mor stirs at the arrival of Feyre and Rhys and stretches away from Azriel like a cat, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiling dozily around at the scene. Azriel gets carefully to his feet and very gently hands Nyx to Rhys who soothes him almost instantly with a few quiet words when he wakes in response to all of the movement around him.

“That’s typical of Aunt Morrigan, isn’t it?” Rhys murmurs to Nyx, grinning at Mor over his son’s head. “Falling asleep and leaving poor Uncle Az to do all the work and cover for her.” Mor looses a rough growl at him and Az hastily snakes a hand around her waist, tugging her gently to his side and pressing a calming kiss to the top of her head while she glowers good naturedly at her smirking cousin.

“Well if that’s how you feel, cousin,” she says loftily, all anger suddenly smoothed away by a thought, which should only ever be read as concerning, “You won’t need to ask me to babysit when you want a date night again. You can just ask Az to do it all by himself, since he’s done ‘all the work’.”

Az felt himself pale at that, in spite of himself. Something his brother must note, because he quickly cuffs Mor on the back and says, “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, cousin.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mor mutters under her breath, and Az gives her another small squeeze and a smile. “Was everything all right?” Feyre asks, looking between them, fondly stroking Nyx’s cheek as she moves to stand beside Rhys. “Everything was fine,” Azriel says smoothy, giving her a soft smile that instantly seems to reassure her. “Thank you again for having him,” she says, leaning forwards and embracing Mor then kissing Az’s cheek. They both assure them it was no problem and they’d be happy to do it again. Once Feyre and Rhys have left the two of them tidy up then flop down onto the couch. Mor immediately settles herself in Azriel’s lap, sprawling across him as though he’s a cushion. Az waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable and then settle down against him. Her smaller, more delicate form melts easily against his as she drapes her arms lazily around his chest. “So,” she says, a clear smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “You’ll be happy to help me the next time we babysit for Feyre and Rhys?” He smiles faintly “Feyre and Rhys?” He says, arching an eyebrow and lightly tapping her nose, “Yes,” he agrees, “Not Elain and Lucien.” He clarifies with a shudder at the thought of facing the twins alone. Mor laughs again and burrows affectionately in against him. “It’s okay,” she promises him, arching up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, “We’ll tackle the two of them together.”

Azriel just wraps his arms around her, lightly kissing the top of her head and humming contentedly, closing his eyes. He’s asleep with his arms around her in minutes.

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captain-barnes-writes · 4 years

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Someone Like You [6/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 6]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Lots of fluff (FINALLY), cuteness, language, unprotected sex🥴, SMUT. 18+.

NOT PROOFREAD (any tips, suggestions, comments are greatly appreciated.)

Word Count: 4k

Your eyes scanned the large silver mirror against the wall of your bedroom. The oregold-yellow of the sun melted away to a bright peachy hue as it began to set. The remaining brightness of the outside entered your bedroom through the large ceiling window illuminating your silhouette. Lips pursed in confusion and orbs ogled over the odd ensemble that you were wearing. A short baby pink wig, the only one you owned, black cable knit sweater, jeans and black Chelsea boots. A meticulously drawn mole above your lip put the garb to completion. You looked like a completely different person.

You were thrown into a hole of confusion when Sebastian told you to wear your best disguise for your date before he left the night before. At first you’d felt the feeling of confusion swallow you as you pondered over what to wear, then it dawned on you that people would possibly recognize the both of you if you were to be out and about in New York City. This was possibly one of the best ways to keep under wraps whatever was going to happen between Sebastian and you. You’d both just gotten out of relationships anyway, it seemed best to be discreet.

It was too early to make any rash decisions or have any expectations. You wanted to do things differently this time. You didn’t want to end up in a world of hurt yet again. And quite frankly, you’d just gotten out of a relationship and while it had been very short-lived, it had still been one regardless of its quick expiry date.

It was also too early to give into Sebastian. You wanted to test the waters. Though you felt as if you were contradicting yourself when only a few days ago you’d seen him for the first time in almost two years and fallen puddy to his arms. Even had sex in a damn closet for god’s sake. You knew the effect he had on you, such a hold on you it scared you beyond belief. But you wanted a different outcome this time and needed to keep the yearning need within you on check.

When Sebastian knocked on your door, you felt yourself getting nervous all over again. You knew it wasn’t his intention to do so, he was just taking you out on a date to god knows where and the jitters that ran through your body had you chastising yourself. Begging yourself to calm down and to simply go open the door for the man. When you did, the nervousness had been subdued dramatically and instead laughter had left your mouth at the sight of Sebastian.

“What...What is that?” The laughter was uncontrollable as you both pointed at each other’s disguises. Him pointing at your wig and you at his stomach and fake mustache. Instead of the usual strong and taut stomach, a protruding belly had replaced it. It seemed soft and like he’d gained weight overnight. The mustache was chevron shaped and it had you grasping at your ribs as the laughter wouldn’t stop.

“This--” He paused, pointing at the bulging belly. “This is the fat pack I had to wear when I shot the Devil All the Time and I kind of stole it on the last day of set. The mustache I actually bought on the way here.”

You giggled again, finding it wholesome and hilarious all at once to see Sebastian with the extra weight on the belly and the odd mustache. He was wearing dark wash jeans and an oversized olive jacket that would probably be tight if he were to zip it up all the way.. You wondered what movie he was talking about because you hadn’t kept up with his work. He must’ve noticed when your lips pursed.

“You haven’t watched it huh?” He asked, hint of a smile on his clementine lips.

“Ah, no actually.” You responded sheepishly.

“Well, how about this? After our date we can watch it.”

“That’s if the date goes well.” You teased. Hopeful gleaming eyes looked up at the handsome man before you. Despite the awful costume he donned, he still looked handsome. His cerulean eyes were always your favorite thing about him anyway and they shimmered with the laughter-induced tears.

“Shall we?” He smiled as he offered his arm to you.

“We shall.”

The drive to whenever he was taking you was quite short. It was also filled with a small amount of silence, and conversations that felt comfortable. It didn’t feel awkward at all as you’d thought it would. It had been so long since the last time you’d both talked, like really talked. It felt...nice. It also felt different from that of your past relationship and the nature of it.

He drove with both hands on the wheel though all he wanted to do was reach for your hand and hold it. He sneaked a few glances at you and when you noticed it, your cheeks became hot and a miniscule smile took upon your face. You didn’t know where he was taking you, didn’t try to even determine where seeing as he always had surprises up his sleeve.

When he parked the car and made his way to open your side of the door, you were met with confusion and an angst to know where he was taking you as you were surrounded by so many buildings. You were in the middle of New York City, the beautiful city bustling around you. It wasn’t until you got out of the car that you felt the cold nip at your skin and your eyes immediately caught sight of the iconic christmas tree. He’d brought you to the Rockefeller center.

You smiled widely at him before you both began the short trek to the center. He was next to you, his arms touching yours and you suddenly felt so giddy. Felt like a little girl who was next to her all-time crush and was going on her first date with him. You also felt irrevocably happy that instead of taking you to a fancy dinner date, he’d opted for something more simple. Walking deeper into the large center, the white twinkling lights wrapped around the many trees gleamed underneath the darkening sky. Silver and gold flags swayed with the bitter December wind and you couldn’t help but feel more than content looking at the skating rink down below.

“We’re ice skating?”

“Is that ok?” Sebastian inquired softly, brows furrowed as he looked down at you. He seemed worried that this wasn’t the date you were hoping for and you tried to soothe his worries by placing your hand on his right arm.

“Yeah, I love it.” You beamed. “But just letting you know I’ll probably eat shit because I’m not a good skater at all.”

“Neither am I.” He laughed loudly, his left hand coming and taking hold of the one you’d placed on his left arm.

“Come on, I bought our tickets in advance.” And with hand entwined in his, he pulled you forward. The heavy human traffic in the rockefeller center was almost claustrophobic. It made you glad he’d already gotten the tickets to avoid the long lines that wrapped around the center.

Sebastian almost struggled to sit down on the bench to put the skating shoes and you’d held back a laugh. He’d probably used the fake belly for months to film, but he had probably not worn it to this extent. It looked so soft and even cute on him. You stopped looking at him and focused on putting your own skating shoes. You felt excited and nervous to be on the rink because you really didn’t want to fall in front of him. But that would be inevitable.

When you did make it on the rink, legs wobbly as they tried to find their footing on the ice. Sebastian himself seemed to be struggling to find his balance so he held the rail that surrounded the rink. His eyes found yours and you wanted to hang on to the railing as well and your eyes probably seemed desperate so he extended his arm for you to take. Before you could even take it, you were already on the icy floor. You slightly shrieked when you felt the thick material of your jeans become wet with the ice.

“I told you I wasn’t good.” You huffed finally reaching for his arm. He brought you to the railing with him and burst into fits of laughter as he took in the disheveled state you were in not even a minute into skating. You joined in as well feeling so light and content despite the ache on your bottom. You proceeded to move on the rink, hands still secured on the railing. Then Sebastian got gutsy and had you both moving without the aid of the railings, hands intertwined.

You skated for more than half an hour, both falling numerous times. Both of your pants donned wet spots from the ice, faces carrying different hues due to the bitter cold of New York. Despite being so cold, you felt utterly warm too because the date felt so natural. The small talk and actually getting to know each other all over again while you both skated and even off the rink when both your frames walked around the many bodies of people to find some much needed hot chocolate.

You found a quaint cafe and found warmth in a small booth with hot chocolate and donuts. Small talk had turned into full on conversations that lasted for so long. You talked about past projects you’d both worked on, future projects and life in general. Lingering eyes, flushed cheeks and unerasable smiles were the highlight of the booth talk. You found this far more romantic than being in a high-rise building having a fancy dinner. This is what romance felt like to you.

“Why are you still smiling?” You giggled as Sebastian’s eyes were locked with yours, the chevron mustache still stuck to his handsome face. It still seemed silly, but it was growing on you.

“Because I’m so happy that you’re here with me.” He was looking at you with those blue eyes you loved so much. You’d missed him so damn much and couldn’t help but look down at your empty cup of hot chocolate before they made their way up again to meet his. His body slightly leaned over the table and his eyes had strayed to look down at the fullness of your lips. He wanted to taste the chocolate off them, wanted to seal the night with something he’d been yearning for all this time. But he wanted you to want it too and you did. So badly. With gleaming eyes, you leaned forward too and lips met in the middle. Both plush against one another, soft and warm. It was sweet, tasted like chocolate and mints and left you both reeling when it came time to pull away.

With a bite of your lip you replied, “ I’m happy that we’re both here. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I think the date went so well that we can watch the Devil All the Time.”

Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It had all been a blur. A pure haze in the midst of work and the blossoming relationship between Sebsatian and you. He’d been away for months filming his latest movie and you’d been away from home as well working. Your source of communication was through the phone. Daily calls or facetimes with a flood of messages. Small care packages sent back and forth filled with favorite snacks, letters and silly Polaroids. And the heartwarming dark chocolates with bouquets of roses that always found their way to you from his part. Despite the distance, it was all surreal.

Before that you’d spend any time you could together. Dates filled with lowkey locations, exploring even more of New York or taking walks through its many parks. At times even staying in to order takeout and watch old movies together. It hadn’t gotten to the point of being fully physical. Sexual tension was always present, thick and heavy between the both of you yet you only shared heated kisses on your couch or his couch during movie nights.

What you both shared seemed to transcend the point of solely being physical. There was an obvious connection, a level of emotions that you both shared for each other. Warm and real. It was different this time and you both knew it.

Now back in New York again, you sat in your living room anxiously waiting for his arrival. He’d be back at any time and all you wanted was to wrap your arms around him. Feel his warmth coursing through you, smell the heavy scent of his cologne.

The knock on the door made you jump to your feet. Bare feet padding on the tile & pulling the front door of your apartment open. And Sebastian stood there with the biggest toothy grin on his face. The little crinkles on his eyes were prominent and his right front tooth was slightly larger than the other and you found yourself staring at him longingly. Loving his imperfections because it was him, it was sebastian. Your Sebastian. You jumped in his arms, feet wrapping around his waist.

“I missed you too baby.” He laughed teasingly, his own arms snaking around your waist to hold you up. He planted a long kiss on your lips. It was filled with so much want, with months of pent up desperation for you. He blindingly walked into your apartment with you wrapped around him, lips still connected and managed to close the door with his back against it. You didn’t even want to let go of him but you had to in order to get some much needed air. When your feet finally plopped back on the ground, you peered over his whole frame and felt the familiar sensation tingle in your most sensitive area. He looked so good.

“I missed you so much.” You confessed, doe eyes staring at the breathless man before you. “Seb, I know you just walked in here but I--I need you to make love to me.”

Sebastian looked stunned as he stared at your flustered self. He thought it would take a little bit longer to take that next step in the relationship, but you needed him now. He could see it on the hotness of your cheeks and the hooded eyes. He needed you just as much as you did him.

“You sure?”

“Yes baby, please.” God, you were begging. Less than five minutes of being in his presence and you were already melting at the sight of him. Wanting every inch of him, to touch him and feel him. Within seconds, your lips were already attached to his. An eager and passionate kiss that spoke volumes of your need for each other. The yearning pent up frustration that had been building up for months but could finally make its way to reality.

While you both pedaled backyards to your bedroom, you proceeded to peel your clothes away in a haste leaving a trail from the living room to your bedroom. His clothes were strewn about the floor of your room as he pushed you on the bed, your bare back meeting the soft material of your sheets. You watched as he pushed the black hugo boss boxers down and his heavy cock sprung free from the constraining material. He was rock hard already, the veins on the shaft noticeable.

His heated body was on top of you in a flash, soft lips on yours joined in an ardent kiss. He felt so good on top of you, hands touching you everywhere as if he didn’t know where to start. As if he didn’t know where he wanted to touch you first. He made sure to massage the fullness of your breasts and perky nipples before he took one in his mouth. Tongue caressing the erected nub and making sure to give attention to the other one with hand.

He groaned when his large hands ran down the side of your body and found its way to the place he most wanted to delve into. He began rubbing circles on your clit, knowing just how to do it perfectly. He still knew your body like the back of his hand, knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it. His fingers entered you and you choked back a moan. His fingers were so long and they pushed in and retracted with so much conviction, speeding up and slowing down just to get a reaction out of you. His fingers felt so good, but you wanted his cock to be buried inside you already.

“I’m gonna show you how much I want you.” Sebastian uttered as he looked down at the mess that you were because of him.

His forehead was creased in concentration, eyes laced with lust as his lips made their way to your neck sucking and biting at the soft delicate skin. Not only were the words of what he was going to do to you slipping out of his mouth so sexy but the sensation of his lips and teeth on your skin combined with his cock teasing your entrance had made you a moaning mess underneath him. When his hands stopped their assault on your pussy and grabbed a tight hold of your waist, he made sure to look at you as he pushed his hips forward. His thick cock pushed inside your entrance slowly, stretching you so good it burned. Your face had broken into a heavenly sight for him; mouth agape with a guttural moan pushing out and eyes looking intently into his blue ones.

“Fuck Seb…” you mewled, eyes breaking contact as they shut in delight. Your hands were at his shoulder grasping onto dear life as he continued stretching you slowly. You felt so full. You’d missed how big he was and how much you loved the burn you felt whenever he was inside you. The last time had felt just as good, but this was different. It was a step into a new direction, trekking a different path that you realized you both wanted.

As soon as he’d filled you to the hilt he retracted his hips and slammed forward causing a loud yelp to escape past your lips. You gripped him so tightly, constricting him making him groan. He’d missed you just as much. He took his time with you, continuing with shallow and slow pumps into your warm core. Your soft mewls were driving him insane, he’d missed the sound of them too. It had been too long and he wanted to relish this moment with you. His lips had captured yours and it became a clash of teeth and tongue, it was desperate and passionate.

His slow torturous movements had transformed into rough thrusts and your moans were echoing in the large bedroom. It was egging him on to make you louder, make you feel all the desperation he was feeling through harsh thrusts. He was fucking you so good your eyes were tightly shut, but he wanted you look at him and so the hand that was not keeping you in place at your hip found its way to your jaw, gripping it.

“Look, baby. Look at the way I’m fucking you.” Your eyes fluttered and opened up again despite the heaviness of the situation. His steel-blue eyes were boring into yours and his pleasure-stricken face broke into a smirk. God, he’d even missed your pretty eyes.

His grip on your jaw tightened as he forced it down, making you look at the mess he was making further down. His hips were pushing forward in deep thrusts, his cock was slick with your juices as he slid out all the way and inched his way back in again. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other and your wooden headboard hitting the wall was echoing in the room and when your legs wrapped around him he found himself lost in your crevice. He was unbelievably deep; you could feel all the ridges and veins his shaft was blessed with.

Your shuddering body was a mess underneath him, hands fisting the thin white sheets. He sucked on the side of your neck, roughly nibbling at the skin and surely leaving behind red marks, before his hand replaced his lips and began applying slight pressure on it. You loved being choked. Your clit was pulsating, the friction of him fucking into you and the pressure of his hand on your neck was getting you closer to the edge and he could sense it as you clenched around him eliciting loud groans from the deepest parts of him.

“Fuck I’m so close.” You moaned, eyes alternating between fluttering close and opening again. The pressure on your throat wasn’t too restricting, but it brought a sense of excitement. The heat was pooling in your stomach, ballooning and building to what you knew would be a delicious finite.

“Come on, baby, Milk me. Milk the fuck out of my dick.” And you did, with the same arduous pace he kept and the breath constriction, you milked him for all he was worth. Shaking, tightening around his dick, the loud yet breathy moans falling loose from your lips. Voice so hoarse you knew it would hurt to speak later on. Your hands had tangled in his hair as he brought his lips to yours, legs falling slack as your orgasm had weakened you beyond belief.

Sebastian’s own orgasm was nearing, his pace had picked up. Relentless, rough and precise as the mess below egged him on. The pure sight of you alone egged him on.

He couldn’t believe he was touching you, kissing you and that he was so close to cumming because of you. You were the very essence of his being right now, delirious with your presence, on overdrive because of your body. You were a fucking goddess and he was showing you just how much he’d missed you. How much he wanted this, you and him together.

He was so rough now, his hands everywhere groping at every inch of your skin, sucking and biting on your neck, lips and nipples. Your breasts were bouncing at every thrust, pornographic sounds falling from your lips, hands grasping at his hair. With a shaky and heavy thrust along with a hoarse groan, he’d removed himself from inside you and spilled his milky warm cum just below your stomach.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Your foreheads had met, both sweaty and bodies so sticky it should’ve felt uncomfortable but it didn’t.

“Mm that was too good.” You whispered softly, still reeling from the way he’d taken you and the way you were still tingling from the aftermath of it all. A toothy smile overtook his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. He was so handsome and finally all yours.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Was his teasing response. “Can’t wait for the next round. You thought that was all I had in me?”

“You’re kidding me. You’re not coming near me tonight again, Buddy. I’m already so sore.”

He laughed at you, hand on his chest as he looked at your bewildered expression. Despite the unruly hair, the reddish hue on your cheeks with a sheen of sweat and the unbelievably swollen lips, you were still a beautiful sight to him. A gleam of light in his life, a second chance at making things right. You were the reason his heart felt so full.

“You know I love you right?”

“Well, now I do.” You seemed flustered, but the smile that pushed its way onto your lips was everything he could have ever hoped for. With a sheepish look you replied, “you know I love you too, right?”

Someone like you belonged with him, side by side. And he’d pick back every piece he’d broken and fix them, arrange them the way they were meant to. There was no way he was letting you slip through his fingers ever again.

---------

AND that’s it for this story. Thought it was important for some fluff as well as a few months time jump to show that their connection went further than just physical. Thanks to those who stuck around to the end, I hope you guys liked it! This is actually the first story I’ve ever completed and quite frankly, I think I’ll stick with one-shots lol I’ve got more work coming up soon tho! ❄️💙

Also, credit to @writeyourmindaway for the amazing divider! She has so many more beautiful ones on her account. Here is the link to the batch of dividers😍

#Sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fic #Sebastian stan fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan drabble #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #someone like you #marvel #sebastian stan romance

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melovez · 3 years

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the world needs more wholesome creepypasta content in general like i know angst and trauma is the name of the game but i think we need more fluff and healing to balance that out

and like creepypasta fluff has the potential to mean so much more because like. in a pretty dark setting it makes the nice things that happen feel a lot more fulfilling yknow

#ramblings #creepypasta

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years

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35 Q’s for Fanfic Writers

From this post

I’m having a shitty, rude alter-y, crap night so I’m just going to answer all of these to distract myself and focus and to not bother anybody just making my own post and putting it under the cut btw, notice to anyone not aware: since I’m moving I won’t likely be updating anything until I’m done doing so.

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!) 3/5? Could use more editing and description and can be weirdly paced.

2. Why do you write fanfiction? Because it’s better than focusing on pain 24/7.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works? I don’t seem to have a specific narrative voice that people recognize but I’m pretty proud of mostly organic dialogue.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you? as a rule i never look up to anybody for inspiration but there’s some stuff in my ao3 bookmarks I fawn over.

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of? Right now, none of them. It changes normally, anyway. If get too proud then I’d get my ass kicked by RSD if someone didn’t like it so it’s safer this way

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily? Dialogue.

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most? Organic description, poetic language kind of stuff. I can paint a scene but I’m not so great with bring out out a feeling with description alone.

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write? Janus and Virgil are probably tied. They both have things I struggle with but I don’t have to go back and do much adjusting of language and tone with them. Though admittedly my Virgil is signifigantly more foul-mouthed than canon and I tend to prefer pre-AA feral asshole Virgil.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write? Patton. I write him the least, so people can probably tell. I love Patton, I really do, but it’s so hard to keep away from fanon Patton.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for? Angst w/ H/C obviously. Or if you’re talking about regular book genres, Fantasy. I fucking love fantasy world building.

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most? Trauma. I blame Daeram. As if Ayri isn’t a giant Angst Demon.

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about. Slopes. I’m really into it. I’ve got three one shots running right now. Patrons can read the first part of the unnamed cat remus one, there’s also a coffeeshop au tropey nonsense one like eglantine & lycoris, but Slopes is addiction angst. Mmmmm. Virgil is addicted to coke and alcohol and will listening to his friends even be in time? Who knows, especially not me, but there’s already over 30k.

13. First fandom you ever wrote for? InuYasha. Or was it Harry Potter? Or shit, The Blue Sword? Fuck, I’ve been writing for a long time, I really have no idea.

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for? Sanders Sides. The characters are the perfect dynamic for writing since they exist in balance of each other and the popular, easy to project on archetypes featured are incredibly fun to do basically any scenario with.

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for? Weird storywise? Kingdom Hearts? I can’t even follow the plot anymore. Weird Fandomwise? Sanders Sides. Its simultainiously the fluffiest and angstiest nonsense at the same time.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)? Vampires. Gay ones. Gay Vampires. I also love calm tol and angy smol.

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for. Any tropes that normalize incredibly toxic behaviour or tropes that are inherantly ableist, but I can’t think of any.

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written? Incorrigible continues to be complete nonsense.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between? AUs. I mean closest I even have is canon-divergence other than a single short.

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff? I like it when there is gay nonsense along with a plot that is treated as more important than the relationship the most. But I like both. There’s more shippy stuff in tss so i read more shipping action by default.

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!) Anxceit/Sleepxiety, but in general, give me darksides or give me death/j

22. Do you listen to anything while you write? Almost everything I write has a special playlist I listen to to help me write it, but otherwise I listen to my Nyan playlist, an alter is picking the tunes, or a voidfam playlist. I never have music off. When my internet is down I just listen to the songs I own or Anxiety’s theme on loop.

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? I’m fine with all of them. I love working with prompts but I tend to deviate. And I’ve never done a challenge since I can’t do deadlines and bad things happen bingo never sent me a card and I applied three times.

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works? I am generally multi-chaptered stuff, but I’ve been working on a few one-shots lately that are much longer than most one shots.

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them! I was originally thinking of doing some little 13-year-old Dreaming!Roman (y’know, the one with a job) shorts but it turns out I just had an alter of that little bastard and that’s why I inexplicably know more about him then I ever even considered. I still might do them after Dreaming is done. But that’s paced so slowly who knows when that might happen. Otherwise I put stuff in my notes and just do shorts of it if I’m like “oh you know what’s cool???” but since I can’t daydream maybe this question doesn’t apply to me.

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try? I want to do more autism stuff, and I’ve had it demanded a few times, but I’m scared of being that explict about it for some reason. Possibly because I might be, possibly because I’m scared of doing it wrong even though I’ve accidentally coded multiple characters autistic. I’m scared of explictly tagging them as such, too.

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received? That I can remember off the top of my head? I’m going with one from @a-genz-with-trauma-and-kins. It really helped me out and was just so kind and literally the best christmas gift I got in 2020.

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing? I can handle it alright but Daeram is a little fucking pissbaby about it. Constructive criticism helps people get better, so I appreciate it. I can’t handle critism that is incomplete, though. “i just don’t get it” or “I don’t know I don’t like it” kind of things. If I can’t understand the why to fix it then things get out of control. And then I spiral and RSD for like four days minimum. If it came from an anon or a troll, too, It might not bother me for as long. Things that are just like “this is shit and you should feel bad” just make me laugh. Couldn’t even bother to read it long enough to insult me proper? I don’t care.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out? I have a few times. Mostly in shorts and prompts, I think. I think they turned out okay. They’re not particularly inspired or anything.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst? Depends on my mood. Am I triggered? give me the fluff. Am I vibin? Angst.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them! Fuck, fam, no, I can’t, I have so many. I have multiple original stories and some of them have very large casts and like holy fuck. Or do you mean in Sanders Sides fandom? Um, Morgan and Thorn in PD. The lesbian and her himbo dynamic. I love them. They’re dorks. Morgan is strong person with sharp tongue and soft romantic heart and Thorn is just so kind and so dumb and so exciteable he’s like a puppy. They were just filler characters and I got attached to them. Felton even gets redemption for being an ass later in PD, like oof i never intended to include so much OC content, especially for names I just picked randomly.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less. nope I’m doing all of them because these are fun plea for my new self: 2 gay vampires, 4 humans, 1 braincell dreaming while I wake: trauma child needs therapy and so do you break: big oof, oh dragons, oh why, go virgil go rebuild: virgil is so not okay there’s more virgil to deal painful death: gay teens drink themselves into a new religion stargazing: whoops we didn’t realize people actually cared whole castle: everyone will throw down for kid!patton, even you incorrigible: found family with a shot of psychological horror and crack dangerous instincts: wholesome crime syndacite action slopes: addict gets mugged and thinks that’s just fine with him conflagration: logan avoids everything ever like a champ cat!remus: bored fae shifts gay pining from one person to another caffeine cyptids: caffinated gay panic goes faster than regular gay panic eglantine & lycoris: more tropes than you can toss a shoe at storytime: overpowered virgil also overreacts literally always

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process? an alter and I write together and I have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, what I’m writing about, or even what year it is. I often don’t even remember what I wrote. There’s no outline. I have an idea and I pick things at random for it. There’s just notes and an evil gleam in a demon’s eye. The only reason I know more than readers is because I take a long time to edit and some of these stories have fucking alters up in my head who can tell me things. Daeram tells me nothing. The writing demon supposedly has all this knowledge but I have absolutely no clue because he does not talk to me, he just fronts and slams out 9k in a few hours or we cofront to write and I’m like “oh no she didn’t” while typing

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of. i’m fond of the entire painful death series and I tried to find something I really liked without spoilers in stargazing and I couldn’t so here’s a random thing from incorrigble: “So, what do you do with your friends?” Patton continued on with a megawatt smile. “Grand larceny,” Virgil deadpanned and glared at Patton, who was taken aback. Remy and Andy just broke out laughing while Virgil tentatively sipped his still-too-hot-cocoa.

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! slopes my dudes slopes i have learned so much about cocaine! like wow! I thought for a minute it was going to end with MCD around 30k but it swtiched from whump to hurt/comfort and I still don’t know if it’s going to be MCD but look at that funky little coke/alcohol addict go, it’s a medical wonder he’s alive! It’s not like there’s what seems to be a little talked about interaction between alcohol and cocaine that causes a toxic chemical to build up in the liver which can result in liver failure and sudden death at basically any moment! Which is part of why it may result in MCD but this time no ghosts! maybe it’ll be h/c with whump elements or maybe it’ll be whump with h/c elements we can’t know for sure

#ayri writes #tw drug mention

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cherrymoonvol6 · 4 years

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absolutely no one asked for this but i will rank every kent parson pairing that i can think about (warning: SUPER subjective, but i tried)

kent/bad bob

i don’t even know what to say except NO. come fucking on. -1000000/10

kent/fry guy

i mean... first of all, LOL. second of all, if we take in account that all the times we see fry guy he’s being annoyed by either jack’s or bitty’s accomplishments/happiness, then i can see them bonding over that and going straight to the hook up. but again, come onnnnn in the best cases this is either a blatant self-insert or pushing the concept of a crack-ship, at worst this is deliberatedly ignoring richer characters in the comic in order to pair kent with the LOL option. 2/10

kent/bitty

i feel like this is the one pairing that makes NO sense at all yet i know people are gonna go for it because two conventionally attractive guys together cute. imo a lot of people go into this thinking bitty is morally superior than kent and it’s like an extension of the kent discourse and a form of a “fix-it” for him (and fix WHAT?) (if you don’t, you are so valid and please keep going). like, do you really think kent parson would give a single fuck about eric bittle? i love bitty, but c’mon. this is like the kinda thing bitty would come up with in his own head to make himself feel better about his second-hand feelings of anger and sadness over kent and jack’s history. your only shot at this is to write one or both of them ooc, which, valid i guess. 3/10

kent/holster

same thing with fry guy: holster isn’t very fond of jack, he and kent can bond over that. i can totally see holster being kent’s type, too. maybe holster wants to act some of that steamy jackparse fanfiction with him. 4/10, has potential

kent/ransom

bro did you SEE ransom’s face while talking about parse coming to the epikegster on year 3????? and kent remembering ransom on that forbidden update????? after all, ransom was the one holding kent’s body issue on parse ii. nhl guys are ransom’s weakness, 200%: they’d hook up and then they’d spent the rest of the night gushing about how hot tater is. 6/10

kent/tyler seguin

bro this pairing is like, fucking hysterical. whoever came up with this, i love you because is there anything more on brand for kent than pairing him with the irl hockey player he’s based off??? this is a crack ship done right. 6.5/10

kent/whiskey

listen....... i’d be so up for this. whiskey and kent are essentially the same person. whiskey is literally what kent would’ve been if he had gone to college. they’re SUPER ambitious and competitive, have problems opening up, it’s all about the Fronts(tm), but like. what’s that age difference, again? like, six years? idk. idk, man. if they were to end on the same team, though, they’d vibe so hard with each other... opening up to each other might be pushing it, though. whiskey must have mad respect for him because he’s a great player and same with kent! so like, if i pretend i do not see it, 7/10

kent/scraps

am i imagining it or did ngozi describe scraps as someone who sees kent as the smartest one in the room? or something like that. anyways, it’s about time that kent gets someone on his life that he can confide in and then return some of that love. if they’re not higher on the list is because i like them more as the platonic bond kent desperately needs (also i’m not sure about what the age gap is?), but friends to lovers following deep conversations and personal growth in an incredibly toxic environment? good shit. 7/10

kent/lardo

i feel like this is either a hit or miss with whether you headcanon kent as gay or bi, but even though i always think of kent as gay i’m so up for this pairing. i feel like they have so many things in common and you could truly portray them in such different settings! and i love to think about them opening up to each other. oh, the softness and tenderness that could come out of these two!!! bonus if we get jackshit as the background couple, plus that damn jackparse reconciliation. 8/10

kent/omc

i love kent parson, which means i’m always up for the idea of him getting himself a boyfriend who can challenge him and drive him to want to become a better person so that he can come out of that self-destruction spiral that his life in the nhl has been. free space, you can quite literally do anything with this. 8/10

kent/swoops

i hate to say this but this pairing, though it’s the friends-to-lovers crusade that kent deserves on his nhl life, is kind of a wild card because swoops is just a shell of a character. this pairing is kinda like kent/omc but the omc has actually appeared in canon. but again, FRIENDS TO LOVERS and there’s SO many cute and angsty and wholesome things you could get out of it. 8/10

kent/tater

listen, enemies-to-lovers isn’t my shit, i’ll admit it. but i love tater and i love kent and seeing them clashing looks like so much fun. i feel like once kent shows some of the ugly things he’s hiding inside, these two could click so well. and also that one panel with tater lifting kent off the ground with one hand, out of pure anger at this little shit trying to make jack’s nhl life a living hell, boy oh boy do i love me some of that. with them, and if done right, there could be a great balance between humour and the deep angst we all know and love from kent fics and character studies. plus, it’s going to eventually push a jackparse reconciliation. gimme all that closure baby! 9/10

kent/jack

you 200% expected this if you have seen a single post from my blog. i mean.... this literally has it all. the two characters with the richest backstories and/or development. rivals to friends to “lovers” to enemies to ??? to enemiesANDrivals to eventual lovers??? YOU pick it. you get all the angst, all the conflict surrounding each others’ expectations, the pressure of the hockey world around them, the APOLOGIES and the growing up, the delicious trope of them individually solving their shit and then coming back to each other. all the personality clashes! legends on the ice! kenny and zimms! jack and cat content! absolutely everything you could wish for. hot and steamy? we got it. angry and challenging? hell yeah. soft and forgiving, eventually? just the best of the best. you get the closure that bitty’s pov couldn’t provide, character studies, SO many different types of pining and unrequited and forbidden love... if you’re not on the jackparse life, you are missing out. come join us in hell. 1000000/10

#omgcp #parse positive #kent parson #long post

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rahorak · 4 years

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@anonymous: what’s something you love about each of your ship partners? the muns and muses :)

Yoo this is such a nice little ask! I love to gush about my writing partners because to be honest? They all deserve it, if anything for putting up with my kicking in their door with headcanons at random times & other bs. I’m gonna talk about them all in order of exclusives > mains > other. In this essay I will

DIANA / @moonaspect.

Moon is such a darling. We talk every day over Discord & she’s become such a big part of my routine at this point. I am also a lonely fucker & am going through some stuff at the minute & she’s a great help! She’s so talented as well, I cannot comprehend how she does what she does with a canvas but here we are. Thank you so much for putting up with my bs. I could go on & on but just know that Moon has a very special place in my heart. She’s such a valuable friend & she gives me a reason to get up in the morning. . . Or afternoon, depending.

As for Diana she does a wonderful job with her. She’s written her for as long as I’ve known her & it shows —— her love & dedication to this character is so inspiring. Her Diana is exactly what you would expect her to be, & especially since I’ve seen her RP her for so long, she just feels canon to me. You can’t have Diana without angst & Moon has taken this to the next level at times but as a fellow angst lover, I love to see it.

✦ Favorite things: Moon’s voice & Diana’s resilience.

SORAKA / @starthieve.

Nix! Oh gosh I could talk about Nix for hours but I’ll try to keep it short & sweet. We also go way back, you see. Words cannot describe how much I love this woman, as we’ve been through hell & back together & even to this day she continues to be one of my best friends who always has my back. We don’t plot as much as we used to but I honestly miss that —— I miss coming up with stupid scenarios & screenshotting them to pester the rest of our friends with for eternity afterwards. We need to make more doodles together too. I love you Nix, let there never be a doubt in your mind about that.

Her Soraka is honestly a big mood. She is so loving & giving & I always just imagine Nix & Soraka to go hand in hand cause they’re both such empathetic sweethearts. I will never shut up about Nix’s writing & how beautiful & graceful it is to read. Even her headcanon posts are so well put together & even though she isn’t posting much at the minute I love to see her pop in every once in a while with a meta!

✦ Favorite things: Nix’s & Soraka’s big hearts.

ASHE / @arrowdeft.

Kirin is so talented my heart skips a beat at times when I read their writing! I don’t know much about them on a personal level other than they’ve been going through some rough times lately & I really hope that my small contributions to the ship helps, even if just a tiny bit at times. I’ve been enjoying reading their content for Kai’sa as well, though! They seem to have a very interesting & realistic take on her so far & I love me some of that. Also pretty graphics 10 / 10. My door is always open if you need anything, Kirin!

Kirin’s Ashe is just perfection. She’s the right amount of stern & soft. She’s so stubborn & I love her for it. I can’t help but root for her honestly. & when they write for her it just. . . Everything makes sense —— why they chose Ashe as a muse & it’s so lovely seeing her come to life the way she does in Kirin's hands. You just can’t help but admire Ashe for her achievements & her overall character. When Kirin writes for her she feels so regal & composed, but also down to earth at the same time which is a wonderful combination.

✦ Favorite things: Kirin’s ideas & Ashe’s devotion.

LUX / @lightweaved.

Liv aaa ( Or Star, which is a super cute pen name by the way. ) is first of all GORGEOUS. Second of all, is someone I wish I spoke more to! But to be honest that’s on me, mostly. Thinking about it I’d actually love to get to know her more! She just seems like such a nice & warm person to be around, idk. Oh & she has a knack for making pretty graphics! I like the style a lot, it’s so clean & readable, as is her blog.

This Lux though. Is so good & so interesting. It’s so interesting to see what can be done with Elementalist Lux & I love the inclusion of Spellthief as well. It’s nice to see Lux being taken in a direction that isn’t necessarily what you’d expect for her —— that she can fend for herself so well & that she is willing to do work as a spellthief. She also has a super cute design. I have a weakness for when people personalize their canon muses to fit their portrayal better & this is no exception —— Star’s Lux is simply too pretty.

✦ Favorite things: Star’s brightness & Lux’s cheekiness.

KAYLE / @unholyshe.

Aqua hits an aesthetic that hits my heartstrings IRL & here on Tumblr. I’m always on the edge of my seat when I speak to her because in all honesty she’s hilarious as fuck & I really enjoy plotting with her. There’s just something�� about the way she talks that’s a perfect balance between dishing out actual plots & joking around with it that I love. God I love Aqua so much, she’s just so funny & nice to be around & I’m always excited to talk to her! I hope you feel better soon, though, cause depression sucks & I’m here if you need anything. I hope you know that!

Literally any character that Aqua touches I’m in love with. I’m excited to RP with any of them to be honest, but to stick to Kayle? I love that Aqua isn’t afraid to show off her bad sides. That she’s given her dimensions & that she feels exactly like Kayle should feel. Even though she puts Leona through hell I can’t help but love them together. What can I say, I have a weakness for characters helping each other grow as individuals!

✦ Favorite things: Aqua’s humor & Kayle’s bitchiness.

TIANNA / @ofironloyalty.

Good Grace we’re here. Insert more name jokes here. She’s snuck her way into my heart & I do consider her a good friend! I love waking up to messages from her, whether it be OOC or plotting related. It also always excites me to read her posts on my dash & I strive to maintain a spot as her #1 fan. Grace doesn’t take herself too seriously & I love that about her, it’s so nice to be around people like that. She’d rather laugh about her own shortcomings or joke about which is so, so refreshing.

I’ve said it before but Grace’s Tianna is everything you need Tianna to be. She is strong physically & mentally, steadfast, a little stuck up & of course, has the willpower of a true Demacian High Marshal. I feel very lucky that I get to ship with such a lovely muse & mun, honestly. Tianna is strict when she has to be but she is also a big softie at times when she’s allowed to be & it’s so sweet. It’s been great getting to know both mun & muse, & I hope to get to interact much more in the future!

✦ Favorite things: plotting with Grace & Tianna’s soft side.

HONORABLE MENTIONS.

& last but not least, some honorable mentions are @defyances, @foxcharmed & @blessercoeur ( Hi again Moon! ) whom I have just begun plotting / exploring ship dynamics with. I’m coming to love the dynamic that each of these pairings have & I’m so excited to explore them! Irelia & Leona is just great content all around, with a side of angst in the whole long distance thing. Ahri & Leona is such a wholesome mess of Leona teaching Ahri how to Empathy™ & them finding love in that somewhere. A’ni & Leona are just two hearts who beat to the same rhythm in multiple ways & I’m so pumped to see them interact more & getting along.

Unprompted asks / / Always accepting.

#⊰ ` ✦ » inbox / ivory wings carry the message. ⊱#⊰ ` ✦ » ooc / the idiot lesbian has arrived. ⊱#positivity #anonymous #moonaspect #starthieve #arrowdeft #lightweaved #unholyshe #ofironloyalty #defyances #foxcharmed #blessercoeur #gosh this got long i am so sleeby now LOL i hope everyone feels ok abt what i wrote!! ;;#tldr ; i LOVE my ship partners they deserve many good things & i will ramble for ages about them pls stop me this is 1.5 k words what am i #DOING SFHSJKHFSJKFHSJF anyways you're all great & ty anon so much for the ask!!! i hope ur online to see this ^^

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hellcures · 5 years

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WE ARE IN CELEBRATION!

both me and my hunting angel right here are turning one year older, and hasn’t it been a wild ride. i am about to finish my first semester at college, have been a member of a dream come true contemporary singing choir for months now, lived through graduation, and found amazing new friends to share the journey’s beautiful highs and necessary lows with.

lana, on the other hand, has found a new life here, coming back to the fandom, getting back into gear with new verses, new stories and new partners in her adventures, which is why i feel like doing something special for her this year. for the first time ever i’ll be taking birthday starters for lana from jan. 9th to jan. 16th, so if you wanna show us some love, i’ll prioritize and post those as i queue other drafts before my finals start in a couple weeks. now, i’ll take this chance to spread some well-deserved love and do a little follow forever under the cut for the people without whom this wouldn’t have been the same for us, but for those leaving here, thank you for the ride and another wonderful year. ©

@helllore. my ride or die kate, you know i’ll never find a writing partner like you. you were the first person since i revamped my lana that made us feel cherished important, like we really had found a place here, and ever since you’ve remained my absolute main. every word you write and every dynamic we’ve developed with these two feels canon to me, you’ve given me priceless memories and shipping rants, and just like lana will always be sam’s, i’ll always be here, waiting impatiently for us to keep making magic together. i love you.

@huntmyth. jay. you’ve been here since the very beginning, and i remember being so starstruck that you digged my little female oc and ended up being mutuals together. despite my hiatus and losing track of each other for a bit of time, i’ll never not be excited about a meme of yours in my inbox, or plotting crazy au’s, or anything really. i’m so happy you made this list years later, and i hope you know how much you and your deano still mean to me.

@prophetduty. SARA, MY GIRL, OUR PROPHET BESTIE!!! y’know, it’s very likely that we wouldn’t have come back from that hiatus if i hadn’t seen you and angie still around. you’ve been this breath of fresh air both on my dash and in lana’s life, and i couldn’t imagine writing her without acknowledging your babe and the fluff, angst and action she shoots into her person. you are the ying to her yang, so do not ever make me find out what this blue hellsite is without you or we’ll hunt you down. literally.

@tobeblamed. lou!! my crazy excited, keyboard-smashing, rocket-speed reply fangirl, lou. you’re tobeloved ( see what i did there ) 'till the end of time. in a few weeks you’ve given me not only an amazing, wholesome, pre-series universe that feels like the only truth to lana’s rookie days, but you’ve been my friend, standing me and my pointless exams anxiety, always believing in me. i’m so happy that after being mutuals forever we grew so close so fast, and it fills my heart to think of all we still got yet to do and live through together. you reminded me why i fell in love with dean back in the early seasons in the first place. so, bottom line? i just think you’re adorable.

@destinedgreat. louise. the angel behind the hotel reception i always envisioned as a kid. you’ve gifted us a precious familial dynamic lana thought she’d never be able to have, and she’s thriving helping someone shape their own destiny the way no one helped her. plus, she’s def the cool aunt, let’s admit it. you are a ray of sunshine and we wouldn’t give you up for the world, hon. can’t wait to keep writing together.

@damnedtm. kiki!! i told you this just a few days ago, but you’re the real mvp, honestly. you’ve forever been doing teen!lana threads with me, and don’t think for a second i forgot about that new years kiss meme. these two cute dumbass idjits need to smooch already. you’re so original with your sam, you blow me away all the time, and i can’t wait for that seals plot we discussed. seeing you around is always such a treat, you’re such a talented writer and such a pure human, i send you the best of vibes. thank you for giving my girl a chance back in the day, hon, truthfully.

@compaession. anna. the kickstarter for my newfound passion on my tvd verse. your elena is so clean and pure and perfectly flawed in the most human way — one could think that’s because of the muse, but despite not having a doubt in my mind that you portray her so well on purpose, i think she takes after the mun. you’ve been an amazing new addition to my fam here and i look forward to having you on more follow forever’s like this one.

@unrepent. kat. unironically, my dream katherine. ever since i conceived lana into the tvd universe, i’ve looked for a katherine to develop this complex, layered dynamic with. it’s founded in circumstance and manipulation, but rooted in empathy, vulnerability and depending on one another in the end. so i looked for a katherine whose dialogue would give me chills, whose mannerisms and motivation weren’t watered down at all, and with her wounded heart and sass intact. and depite having admired you from afar for years, now that we’re mutuals, it’s clear as water. there’s no one better for that one woman job than you. you’re also such a welcoming sweetheart with such a genius mind, and your interpretation of brooke? top-notch. i hold very high hopes for us in the future and i can’t wait to know you better and better with each passing plotting rant, if you’ll let us.

@fatalhell. NOSTA!! our hell queen, honestly. never in a million years would i have imagined ruby’s to be one of my fave dynamics, but you’re just that special. you balance her out so exquisitely, it’s impossible not to love hating her. it’d break my heart to ever watch such a one in a million portrayal leave, and such a dedicated, welcoming soul too. we love you way too much for our own good.

@downspiral. raz. i know, we’ve only been mutuals for a few days, but just like i’d been looking for forever for a main katherine to develop that tvd dynamic with, a damon blog who’d take a chance on us was my wish for ages. and then you came out of nowhere, followed us back and lightened up our hearts making perfect carbon copies of his snarky, spot-on one-liners and his complicated psyche. despite the fact we still have a lot to do and have only interacted through im’s and memes and such, i just had to let you know how much i appreciate you and that your blog is one i check very often ‘cause i know the content is quality, ‘kay.

@holykissed. jessi. you and i go way back, to when i saw @sulfurbraved on my dash and drooled over all your amazing female spn muses, including some dope oc’s. so imagine my content when i saw you’d revamped and kept a lot of those amazing muses. i was THRILLED, and i still am. we haven’t missed a beat and it’s so nice to be interacting with you again, so just know i’m super excited to follow through on all those plots we never had the chance to write back in the day.

some special mentions are @ichorimbrued, @seesgood, @unfamiliarties / @spitfcre, @streetcop, @gaebrel, @graveburns, plus all my mutuals ‘cause i love you all to the moon and back ( this is not a drill ).

#( ✧･ﾟ 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 °。ooc. )#( ✧･ﾟ 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 °。bday 2020. )#tomorrow's the day!!

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

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We Are One XIV

Thought I’d soften the angst and fighting up for this chapter and give some wholesome content.

— — —

Nathaniel stayed two full days with his family hardly sleeping a wink. He was anxious. The moment a sound came from outside his bow was ready with its string pulled back.

“You need to sleep,” Lila insisted, sitting outside beside her baby brother.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You’re as high strung as dad when something’s going wrong and you insist on gathering us together like a flock of sheep. Why else would you have Cooper and I here?”

“Because you’re family.”

“I didn’t think that was the case anymore after our last family reunion.”

“I’ve put it behind me,” Nathaniel shrugged, “and you should too.”

“Maybe, but I’ve never been the sort to do that. Someone in the family has to be organized,” Lila sighed.

“Yes, but it made you completely anal about everything,” Nathaniel snorted. “and you don’t forget anything I swear. Cooper had a running tab with you for years and you committed it to memory.”

“He was easily distracted and forgetful.”

“You two could have balanced each other out you know,” Nathaniel played with the string of his bow, “he’d have taught you to loosen up and you’d have taught him how to be more organized. Now it seems like you two don’t get along anymore either.”

“Cooper was very vocal about my relationship with Jacob from the beginning,” Lila explained, “he’s a business man and Cooper’s always been more rebellious in nature. He didn’t understand why I’d like a ‘stiff’. I really think he was just pissed off that I was growing up and he was stuck in a rut at the time.”

“Makes sense,” Nathaniel nodded, “you know, I’m sorry for how everything went when you introduced me. I was just overwhelmed.”

“Part of it was my fault. I should have tried harder to keep in touch with you, but I really didn’t want to be a bother. You’ve always wanted to move on from things without dwelling on them too much. I didn’t want to drag you back into complicated family matters,” Lila frowned looking more like the little girl she used to be than the adult she was now.

“I like him-Jacob I mean. He seems well put together, nice, intelligent, and maybe a bit good looking. Just a bit,” Nathaniel teased. “I can see why you love him.”

“Oh it wasn’t a whole love at first sight thing. It was more of a competitive atmosphere at first. We were both studying at the same university for the same degree and I wanted nothing more than to kick the crap out of him,” Lila laughed shaking her head, “but it was effective in making us both better. Turns out when you’re one of the top students in class there are very few who can keep up with you. As a result I had to spend a lot more time working together with Jacob-“

“Rather than crushing his hopes and dreams?” Nathaniel arched a brow earning a punch to the arm from his sister. “You can be pretty ruthless. I bet you intimidated him.”

“I’m not that horrible.”

“Oh no you scared me,” Jacob interjected having stepped outside to take out the trash. “You have the glare of a thousand knives.”

“Good to know I suppose,” Lila grinned.

“She scares me too,” Nathaniel whispered just loud enough for his sister to hear.

“Ha Ha very funny you two.”

“Only being honest dear,” Jacob remarked, tromping down the porch steps with the garbage bag in tow.

“Anyways, before you distracted me-how are things with the others? Is everyone okay?” Lila asked.

“Not exactly. Things are chaotic.” Nathaniel spent the next hour doing his best to get Lila up to speed. She listened closely and only interjected when she grew confused. At one point Nathaniel paused when Lila had to collect a crying Ellie. The little girl was rather angry her mother was getting alone time with uncle Nathaniel.

“Sounds like a tough situation,” Lila sighed.

“You’re telling me,” Nathaniel snorted, letting his niece pluck at the bow string. “It’s tiring and at the same time I don’t know what else I’d do if I wasn’t-I mean I can’t imagine sitting by and letting everything fall apart.”

“Maybe you need a change of pace,” Lila suggested, “something else to keep you engaged.”

“It’s not so bad when I don’t cause someone’s sister to fall off the face of the earth or let two siblings go to war with each other,” Nathaniel pulled Ellie up into his lap so she’d have an easier time at playing with the bow.

“That’s not your fault Nathaniel,” Lila frowned. “You can only do so much. Families have conflict. Look at ours! Things can heal over time it just may hurt for a bit.”

“Yes, but was I wrong? With the way I handled Killian? Chloe is a lot like me when I lost Ellie. She just didn’t have the support system I did after her boyfriend died. And for a while she was getting better- I was able to help with some of the grief. Then, just like that, she hates me. I don’t know what it is I did.”

“It seems to me that you care about her a lot and she knows that. She knows you’re her friend, but there’s only so much you can do. It’s her job to figure out what’s still keeping her in the past. Maybe this ‘falling off the grid’ is an opportunity for her to do that,” Lila shrugged. “As for the other two...they’re going to have to make a choice-family or friend. One has to give and the other has to rise. In a situation like this it can’t be family and friend. Everyone will be hurt by that. At least with a choice the damage is minimized even if it hurts.”

“Yeah,” Nathaniel nodded, processing his sister’s advice slowly, “I think you’re right.”

“And when it’s all finished you just have to be there to help repair what damage you can. You’ve always been like that- you’ve always been a protector,” Lila smiled gently at her younger brother feeling like she was finally making up for lost time.

“Thanks,” Nathaniel sighed, letting Ellie grasp his finger and wiggle it, “you’re much easier to talk to about some of this stuff than dad.”

“His jokes don’t lighten the mood do they?”

“Not at all,” Nathaniel laughed.

“Well, I’m glad I can help. And maybe this mess was a blessing in disguise. It did give me a lot of time to spend with one amazing little brother,” Lila ruffled Nathaniel’s already messy hair.

“It was nice getting to just talk with you. We should do it more.”

“I’m only a phone call away.”

Ellie leaned back with a huff into Nathaniel’s chest getting frustrated by his lack of attention. “You drama queen.”

“She gets jealous. She likes Uncle Nate to only spend time with her,” Lila remarked, giving her daughter a playful pout. Ellie only giggled and latched onto Nathaniel with surprising strength.

“Yeah, Lila, don’t be a Nathaniel hog!”

Ellie responded with a series of pig snorts that sent both siblings into a fit of laughter. Nathaniel was certain of one thing, Ellie was a ham and proud of it.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #black widow #captain america #mcu #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch #phase3 #we are one

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amidalogicdive · 7 years

Text

The Misadventures of a Prince and His Glaive

CHAPTER 11: ALONE (PART2)

Ao3 LINK READ THE CHAPTER HERE

Rating: Mature Relationship: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Nyx Ulric, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia Additional Tags: Microfic, Prompt Fic, NyxNoct Monthly Challenge, Stupidity, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Lovers, Established Relationship, Misadventures, Bad Luck, Betrayal, Halloween, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hung Over, Drinking, Hangover, Road Trips, Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Devotion, Acceptance, Sex, Anal Sex, Sex in a Car, Angst, Injury, Major Character Injury, Hospitals, Memories, Feelings Realization, Past Memories

Summary: Nyx remains in the hospital as Noctis continues to examine his feelings for the glaive, and waits for him to awaken.

Excuse me while I interrupt your normal crack fluff for this angsty interlude!

Part 2 of 4

Six days.

It could have been six months for all that Noctis was concerned. He hadn’t left the hospital in that time, had barely left the room more than a handful of times when he’d literally had no choice. Most had been for examinations, the doctors running him out to conduct tests and check Nyx status. He’d stopped hoping to hear the words he’d been waiting for that Nyx could be woken up from the coma he’d been put in. For the good of his health, those were the words they had told him too many times as they’d exited the room.

For his health, Nyx must sleep. For his health, Nyx had to linger in this sterile room. For his health, Noctis had to suffer without his calming and reassuring presence…

...and Noctis had started losing hope.

He had been forced to wait, alone, in a precarious balance that messed with his head. Stuck in some odd, indescribable holding pattern, not knowing if Nyx would live or die. A man that was a Hero among glaives and admired by many. Someone that Noctis had been pulled too without thought, never considering where their relationship was heading. It had been fun, an escape… something that he’d made for himself. Now that it was gone? Noctis recognized his emotions for Nyx went far deeper than he’d ever intended for them to go.

Noctis had found himself asking the same question time and time again as he sat in the small, quiet room where Nyx laid. Curled up in the stiff and uncomfortable chair that was provided to guests, he’d decided it was time to analyze his own feelings. Why did his loss hurt so much? Where did his feelings for the glaive end? How could he keep going if Nyx wasn’t there at his side with his sarcastic remarks and tender touches? The deeper he dug, analyzed, and prodded at his thoughts like an open wound; the more he knew there was only one cause. It played on repeat inside his head as he observed the gentle rise and fall of Nyx chest.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

But, it wasn’t a love of a brother. A friend. Not even a companion. It was an all-consuming, deep and traitorous love that could strengthen or utterly destroy him. At that moment, as Noctis stood there observing the shadows that played across the pulled curtain; he knew if Nyx died it would inevitably shatter him into a million pieces. Knew he would never be able to put himself back together again. So he stood there, his hands clasped together as he chewed on his bottom lip. Noctis waited for those doors to open, sending a silent prayer to Etro. Asking only one thing of her as those words continued over and over in his head, and weary eyes fell closed.

I love him. I love him. I love him. Please, just keep him at my side… because I love him.

“Noct? Highness?”

“Iggy?” Pulling himself out of his thoughts, he glanced at his advisor. Noctis knew how he looked, pale and harried from too many sleepless nights. Too much stress, and too little fresh air. “I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

Ignis acknowledged his words, motioning towards the doctor that stood before them. “The medical staff have completed the examination. It will take a few hours for the effects of the medication to wear off, but they have concluded he can be awakened at this time.”

Noctis was quick to look from Ignis to the doctor, a questioning in his eyes. Needing to hear this man say those same words, and it seemed he understood this. “As your advisor has said, Your Highness. His vitals has remained stable for the last forty-eight hours, and all injuries that we felt were life-threatening, seem to be healing sufficiently.” There was a paused, glancing at the watch around his wrist, before speaking again. “His waking will take time.”

“Hours?” He asked.

“Possibly days, Your Highness. With the injuries that he sustained, I’ve seen patients take up to seventy-two hours, or more to finally come too.” Bowing deeply, their eyes met as he righted himself. “We must be contented he will wake, Your Highness.”

Giving a curt nod, he thanked him and then Noctis walked back into the room and to Nyx side. Many of the machines had been removed, and it was easier to pretend that he was simply sleeping like this. “Dusha,” Being careful of the bandages, Noctis ran thin fingers through ashen hair. The words that the doctors had told him days before ran through his head. It was a miracle that he was even alive. Under normal circumstances, anyone who’d sustained such damage would have normally succumbed to their injuries.

Ignis reentered, contemplating the scene for a moment. “Noct, if I may?” Noctis let out a hum, his focus solely on Nyx. “While his ongoing recovering is pleasing to hear, what will Sir Ulric think when he observes you in such a state?” That made the prince look up. “If I may be blunt, you haven't taken proper care over the last week. Knowing that he will not waken within the next forty-eight hours. I must insist you return to your apartment, have a wholesome meal and sleep in a proper bed.”

While Noctis was against the idea, he had done as asked, returning to his home. But only after Gladio and Ignis promised that one of them would remain with Nyx at all times. He would be contacted the moment the glaive demonstrated the slightest indication that he might be waking, and Gladio had taken the first watch. This left Ignis free to take the prince home. Thus assuring that he'd taken a long hot shower, had a proper meal, and slept in his own bed. Noctis had slept most of the day away by the time Gladio had roused him with yet another meal.

He'd also come with news.

Both men had decided Noctis would be banned from the hospital for the rest of the day unless called for. Most of it was spent playing video games and trying to distract himself. Ignis returned that evening, cooking dinner for the prince, before sending him off to bed once again. A few days of proper rest and food had made Noctis feel human again, and still, he waited for any information in regards to Nyx. By the third day, he couldn’t just sit around in his apartment any longer and talked Gladio into taking him back to the hospital. While Ignis wasn’t pleased to see him return, he could appreciate why Noctis felt he should be there.

The two had left, promising to return by morning and once again Noctis was left in the quiet of that tiny room. Nyx sleeping form was his only company as the prince played with his phone, dark eyes straying to the glaves still form. Except he wasn’t still, his eyes fluttered and Noctis jumped up from his seat to cover the insignificant space that stood between them. He reached down to caress Nyx jaw, his thumb brushing tenderly across his cheek. “Dusha, ty menya slyshish'?” There was a sigh, his eyes opening slowly as he blinked a few times. “Nyx?”

It was evident the glaive was still affected by the drugs that ran through his system, along with the lengthy period of sleep. Nyx looked confused for a moment as if he were trying to focus on the face before him. Soon his confusion turned to recognition as he smiled up at Noctis. “Moya lyubov', moya dusha… is it you?”

He couldn’t stop the laugh that left him, a rush of joy and relief flowing through him as tears filled his eyes. “Yes, Nyx. It’s me.” His thumb continued brushing his cheek, and Nyx smiled when Noctis placed a brief kiss on his forehead.

“Hey there, pretty boy. How'd you get here?” At this point drug-hazed eyes had started to wander around, taking in his surroundings. Noctis could see the moment that it clicked, he wasn’t where he thought he should be. “Noct?”

“Stay calm and I'll explain. You have been wounded. Injured during the last attack and Drautos had you rushed back to Insomnia. We are at the hospital near the Citadel, and you’ve been here for about a week and a half.” Needing to know he was actually awake, Noctis leaned over and kissed him. When he felt it returned, he let out a sigh of relief. Pulling apart, he laid his forehead against Nyx' carefully and closed his eyes, despite the fact that tears continued to gather. “I was so frightened. I believed I’d lost you.”

“No, Noct. No. I wouldn't leave you alone.” Raising his arm, Nyx let out a hiss of pain that caused Noctis to pull away. “Oh... fuck, that hurt.”

“Careful!” Noctis laughed, brushing away the tears that streamed down his cheeks. “You haven't even been awake five minutes and you’re already pushing yourself too far.” Kissing him again, the prince placed little pecks to his lips until Nyx was smiling again. “Just relax. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been trampled by a behemoth?”

“Well, you were…” One brow arched, giving his young lover a look that told him in no uncertain terms that he should continue. “I wasn’t there, all I know is what I heard. Luche was the one who saw it.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took the glaives hand with the utmost care and held it. “He told me a few behemoths were causing trouble, and your group had broken off to take them down.”

“I remember that much. There were three near the wall where Crowe and the mages were.”

“Do you remember what happened next?” He shook his head, and Noctis couldn't hold back a frown. “Luche said you came out of a warp, at the same time a behemoth turned to attack. It knocked you away, and you hit the ground at the same time Pelna had attacked. They said you wound up pinned, and then the creature struggled and ended up rolling over you before attacking again.” He watched Nyx closely, hoping to see some form of recognition in his eyes, but there was nothing.

“I don’t know. It's all a blank, but I trust Luche." He noted the mirid of bandages and smirked. "So, how bad am I hurt so I can figure out how much trouble I'm in with you?”

“Glad you're finding humor in this, ass." He huffed, "When I arrived the doctor had already rushed you into an emergency surgery.” Noct's eyes fell, rubbing the hand that held his. “I was so scared, Nyx. They had to keep you in a coma, because of some contusion or damage to your head. The left shoulder was dislocated and your wrist on that arm broke. Your leg was… damn it Nyx, you could have died!”

“I didn’t, I’m still here. I'm lucky.”

"This time."

"You can't think that way." Nyx entwined in fingers with Noct's, squeezing lightly. "You know what I am, what I do."

“I know,” Leaning closer, Noctis kissed him once again. Raising his free hand to Nyx jawline, pale fingers ran through the coarse beard that had grown out a bit since he’d been in the hospital. “I just, I need you to stay alive.” He murmured, meeting the glaives tired gaze. “When it comes to you, permit me to be a little selfish? I can’t lose you, Nyx.”

He could see the joy mixed with pain in the prince's eyes, and it hurt to know he was the reason for that. “All right.” Brushing his lips against Noct's own, he smiled. “I’m yours; you won’t lose me. Not today.”

"Not ever, if I have any say in the matter."

"Brat." But Noct had stood by him through a lot, and that was a hell of a lot more than he'd expected. Feelings he'd long tried to bury flowed to the surface. "My brat."

#logicdive writes #nyxnoct #nyx ulric #Noctis Lucis Caelum #ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fic #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv fanfic #final fantasy xv fic #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfic #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #my fic #The Misadventures of a Prince and his Glaive

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