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babeyun · 2 days

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falling alone ✩ l.hs [teaser two]

✩ series m.list | taglist form ✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. ✩ genre: established relationship au | hurt-comfort ✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader ✩ word count: 1.4k | [full fic: tbd] ✩ rating: 18+. minors dni. ✩ warnings: a little more pining between husband!hee & wife!reader, a bit of outsider help. nothing explicit ✩ author's note: hello everyone! i just wanted to let you all know that i am trying my best to get this fic out before the end of the year (and if i don't, i do go on winter break from uni in early december! so we can expect a few fics in that time.) this being said, i will add a taglist link here as well as the series masterlist because i cannot for the life of me keep up with urls at the moment. the people tagged below have already been added to said taglist, but if you wanna jump on and don't see yourself tagged, please fill out the form linked above! thanks!

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now.

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are.

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed.

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved.

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her.

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life, and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items.

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head.

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat. "Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes. "Okay."

TAGLIST [those in red could not be tagged] @thesassy-mia @starfallia @ramenoil @hoonieversies @wintabite @shnnzsworld @eneiyri @jjongsha @ilovejungwonandhaechan @oopshee @capri-cuntz @petalsofink @teddybeartaetae @chocminteu @moon0fthenight @delvziion @heeseungthel0ml @bbyjw @marimariiiiiiii @thenastone

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dianagj-art · 3 days

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Is there Oneion facts we can know about?

THIS HAS BEEN ON MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG OMG IM SO SORRY, HERE'S SOME FACTS ABOUT THE BABY BOY

(the baby boy in question is ten years older than me)

I'm gonna go canon stuff first, then some fun crossover stuff:

The version that I'm using is 35-ish years old (a few years before the movie events), he's been the leader of the resistance for around a decade

He still has all his brothers and loves them very much, would kill and die for them

Way more chill than One is right now, still a beast on combat

One can manipulate vines only using the seeds Draxum makes, Oneion can summon them at will from the ground with little issue

In the story he mostly goes by Leo now, very few people call him One (but lets keep calling him Oneion to avoid confusion)

The protesis he uses is an old one from Raph, but he outgrew it and gave it to Oneion when he lost his arm. It was a bit ridiculously big for him at the time, it's still a *little* too big for Oneion, but by the time he's 40-something (movie events) its gonna fit right in

The scarf he has is not the same One has, but as One's it was a gift from Draxum, he has carry the same scarf the whole apocalypse

Still has a lot of gold accents on his clothes

He's still the best fighter out of the four turtles

He loves being around kids but doesn't, he's afraid of hurting them. He knows he didn't had a normal childhood but is not 100% aware of what part was normal and ok and what part is not, and he rathers not take a chance and do something wrong.

He ends up enjoying teaching martial arts, tho he doesn't like being called sensei, and he wont spar with anyone bellow his level (again, being afraid of hurting them)

Casey Jr becomes the exception to these

Crossover stuff!

he can and will beat the shit out of One, he knows how much One can take so he's not really worried about that

when the apocalypse started he basically lost contact with the multiverse, so no fun crossovers for him. Until by the power of "@intotheelliwoods started doing fanart of Oneion before I even had finished his design" he had access to the multiverse again!

First of his "old frieds" he saw was Poptart and Sprout (2al huggy leos) and first thing he did was to hug Sprout<3 (well, he first kinda yelled at him but I'll draw that some day)

I don't think he has met again with the rest of the separated council? I don't remember if I've stick him in any crossover situations

he loves hugging Poptart, he's teddy bear size<3 and he'll never get tired of calling him his friend and loving him "the way he deserves" because he still hasn't forgive himself for the shitty way he treated Poptart (dont worry about it)

he fucking destroyed the attempt of a slau/2al crossover time line

he says he's fine by it but he keeps bringing up the "jawbreaker" incident, I dont think he got over it, actually

he hangs out with Sprout a lot

something something, being with Sprout makes him feel like a kid again, and it makes Sprout feel like a kid again because Oneion reminds him of Big Leo

Sprout and Oneion have a spa day, they deserve it<3 they also go shopping together. Also, they are not exactly good at cooking but they try and they love working together on the kitchen

Oneion got the "Oneion" nickname by Sprout and Poptart

he stronk. he can lift Sprout with no problem, and even Toast

if you wanna have a good time scroll down the besties tag on ell's blog or mine (2)

#dg rambles #separated leo au #rottmnt separated au #do it have an oneion tag???#i dont think so #the besties #< mentioned

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paingoes · 2 days

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Rubies

Check In

this is the most living weapon its gotten in a while

(Content: living weapon whumpee, recovery, conditioning, past abuse, guilt, emotional whump, death mention)

Delta rolled over in the bed. He didn’t startle so much when he woke up anymore; the room had become familiar. Even weeks later, he still slept much more there than he ever had on the Thorn. He was still so tired all the time. They’d said it was okay for him to rest. He was grateful for that.

The only issue was how disoriented it made him. He didn’t know what time it was when he awoke, but the sky outside was bright and airy. He slowly rose up, about to brush his hair out of his face when he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. So weird.

He cracked open the bedroom door, doing his best to keep quiet. It was a force of habit. He slipped out into the hallway.

Levon was standing in the kitchen.

Delta dropped as soon as his eyes fell on him. Before Levon could even get a word out, he’d already gotten onto the floor, bowed down about as low as he could get.

He didn’t hear Kitty approach, but she was at his side soon enough, gently urging him off of the ground. He almost fought her. He didn’t want to. He reluctantly stood up, but he could not bring himself to look up. In his periphery, Levon leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Good morning, Delta.” He was unperturbed by the display, not upset with him for standing, as deeply wrong as it felt to do it.

It was the first time he’d said his name. Delta paid careful attention to the way he’d handled it. No contempt. No anger.

Apollo stood back against the stove, staring daggers at Levon. He dropped the expression just as soon as he was caught doing it, but the discontent was still written across his face. A few bags were laid out on the counter.

Kitty’s hand still hung loosely in his own from where she’d picked him up off the ground. He found himself gripping it a little tighter. She bumped into him, nuzzling a bit like she was trying to mark her scent on him. He was already wearing her jacket.

“Thought I’d drop in to see how things are going. I brought you some clothes and some groceries. I’d have stopped by early, but I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately.”

Something changed in Levon’s voice on those last few syllables. Nobody else would have noticed, but Delta had become adept at measuring people’s emotions. Finding their tipping points. It’d been a matter of survival.

He resisted the urge to drop to the floor again. He wouldn’t beg for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it. But he was sorry. He knew what preoccupied meant.

“Things are going fine.” Apollo’s tone didn’t betray any of his enmity. “Maybe you’d like to give him a minute to get his bearings? He just woke up.”

“I’m okay,” Delta said weakly, surprising himself. Surprising them, clearly.

He clamped his hand over his mouth just as quickly. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, not in front of Levon. He wouldn’t have normally. He didn’t like to object, but he had an override: Levon didn’t need to give him anything.

“It won’t be long.” Levon rested his elbows against the counter. “You’ll have the rest of the day to yourself, I promise. Just a talk.”

“Yes, sir,” Delta confirmed cautiously, since he hadn’t been punished for speaking the first time.

Kitty leaned closer against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her wink.

They went outside. Levon had obviously wanted to talk alone, but was not so audacious as to kick Apollo out of his own house. Delta pulled on a pair of blue and white tennis shoes he’d recovered from the den before stepping out into the morning light. He hadn’t come out to this side of the house yet, certainly hadn’t ventured as far as the dirt road that led up to it.

Levon’s ship was parked in the yard, nearly the same size as the house. It was a bright, electric purple, reflecting the sunlight out at harsh angles. His leather boots paced unbothered through the grass of the yard, getting dust on their edges as he walked out into the road. Delta followed after him. It was a bit hard to keep pace when Levon was so much taller. Levon slowed down to accommodate the difference.

It was warm out. Delta studied the trees of the forest around him — mostly Arecaceae. They were further South then he’d realized. Bright birds moved upwards in the canopy.

The wildlife was much easier to focus on than the figure beside him. He couldn’t help himself from tensing as Levon spoke.

“How’s your arm?” He cast a glance at the cast. Delta held it up for him, the way he would’ve under examination. If nothing else, Paris had at least made a clean break. It didn’t hurt much anymore.

“It’s better. Thank you.” Delta blushed for some reason. It was hard to accept concern from Kitty or Apollo. It felt stranger coming from Levon. More taboo. He didn’t know why.

“You cut your hair,” Levon observed.

Delta flinched.

“They��said I could,” he defended weakly. He shouldn’t have. He should’ve just left it alone, he didn’t know why he had even said anything in the first place. He started to apologize.

“No, it looks nice,” Levon said, “Lot less heavy, I’m sure.”

It was.

The road eventually led up to a tributary, which led up to a large lake. It was cooler by the edge of it; the wind carried off of the water.

“I wanted to check in to see if you were adjusting okay. I wanted to make sure that you were ready to come back,” Levon admitted, toeing at a stone with his boot. He cast Delta a sidelong glance. “Are you ready to come back?”

Delta stared at him blankly. Levon nodded; of course he didn’t know. Nobody had bothered to explain it to him.

He passed him a smooth shaped stone. He didn’t know why. Gesture of moral support? Delta took it anyway.

“There’s going to be a trial. Nothing big. We just need to catch some of the council up to speed on your situation and establish a plan going forward.” He paused.

Delta had returned to staring at the ground. The thumb of his good hand turned anxiously over on the stone; he gave no other indication he was upset. Everything else remained perfectly neutral.

“This is only in the interest of security,” Levon tried to reassure him, “It won’t be punitive — though that may come up in conversation, nobody will go for it. I’d veto it before they could. I gave you my word that you wouldn’t be harmed and I mean that. Still…it may be a difficult experience for you. And your friends are concerned it may be too early.”

Delta blinked. They’d said that?

They’d been concerned about him. That strange, dull ache started up in his chest again. They’d defended him.

Not punitive, he’d said. Why not? He’d have deserved it. Amnesty was a promise they had made to him; it was never anything he had asked for. All he had wanted was to get out. Whatever they decided to do with him afterwards was beyond him. He’d have accepted it gladly. It was the least he deserved.

What plan, then?

The answer came to mind nearly before the question did. How best to utilize him. What targets to hit. How he’d need to be disciplined — not punished, disciplined — and how he’d need to be re-trained.

He’d do it. If Levon asked him to, he’d do it.

He thought of Lemuria. He thought, funnily enough, of the seagulls he’d once vaporized midair when they’d been in proximity of the target ship. What had the gull ever done wrong?

“I’ll go, sir,” he said, though he didn’t feel ready. By the end of the month, he’d be closer to it. He didn’t want to delay it. He didn’t want to be difficult.

“We’re still preparing,” Levon nodded, “You should be, too. It’d be nice to have a clearer view of what your desires are for the future. It’d give us something to work around. I don’t know if you’ve given it any thought, but I’d be remiss not to ask.”

A large waterfowl descended from the sky, landing noisily just at the edge of the water. His attention was drawn away for a second. He was still looking at it when he answered.

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.” He found himself gripping the rock tighter.

He could only read the question as a probe, something to get caught on. But he didn’t get the sense of Levon trying to trick him. He couldn’t untangle it.

“Would you want to stay onboard Galatea after all this? Or do you want to be done with it? I can’t make any promises, but we’d take it into consideration during the ruling.”

Oh. Oh.

They don’t need you.

The realization hit with both relief and devastation. The devastation won out. He couldn’t stop himself.

“I can still operate,” he said. He had never once had to fear obsolescence. It was a brand new terror. “I’m not at full capacity anymore, but it’s still viable. If you wanted me to. Sir.”

His hands traced the collar unconsciously.

Levon had been standing with his hand on his hip, his head cocked to the side in a post that made him look younger than he was. Rebel heartthrob — he’d never forgotten how to act like it. As the offer, his posture dropped, his expression turning much more serious.

Delta flinched from the way his face fell, the minute shift of his shoulder. But the hit didn’t come, again.

“Delta,” he spoke calmly, but there was a sternness beneath it, “Do me a favor.”

“Yes, sir.” His fingers twitched. Anything.

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He shut down.

They didn’t want it. All his life he’d been indispensable and now they didn’t even want it. In that instant, the thousand discreet instances of indiscriminate killing came secondary to his desire to be needed.

Levon’s expression softened, his lips parting slightly as his eyes searched.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “To keep being a weapon?”

There was no good answer, no right one. To his horror, he realized his eyes had started watering again. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Oh, oh, no,” Levon’s eyes widened in surprise, all his harshness leaving. “Okay. Easy.”

“Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes frantically. “I didn’t…mean to.”

Fuck.

“You’re alright. So, more time then?”

He hated to ask for it. He didn’t answer.

“Okay. More time,” Levon confirmed.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

It was his thousandth time hearing that. It never sank in. He’d never be sorry enough.

It was a somewhat awkward walk back to the house. Kitty hopped off the porch as they approached, making grabby hands. Delta took the one of them, letting her slide into place beside him. He appreciated the proximity. She glanced at his eyes, still a bit inflamed from crying, and leveraged herself in between him and Levon.

“Whaddya talk about?” she purred.

“The future,” Levon answered.

“Oh no.”

Delta pressed his forehead against her shoulder. He’d just woken up, but he was tired again. It was the kind of exhaustion sleep wouldn’t fix.

“I can extend the grace period if you really need it. Not by much, I’m afraid.” he cast a cautious look at Delta, “But you’d have more time to think it over.”

She moved up onto the porch. Delta hovered between her and the front door, unsure if he was being dismissed. Levon leaned against the railing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand returning to his hip.

“Really?” Her voice was bright, pleasantly surprised. “You’re gonna be able to hold up without me?”

“I know you’re still working,” he leveled.

She giggled in response, the edge of her tail flicking back and forth, “I thought you needed the help.”

“There is no overstating how much help we need.”

Delta still hovered by the door, overcome with the strangest feeling of loss. He felt like he was witnessing something alien, the way people spoke when they did not have daggers drawn.

Levon pulled off of the lawn. The engine’s cacophony broke up the quiet morning, then was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

“It was nice of him to drop off clothes,” Apollo managed, the picture of civility. Delta slid into the chair by the pass-through, leaning his arms against the counter. He flinched as Kitty passed behind him, interpreting any movement he could not see as a threat. She just hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs a little.

“What’d he say to you?” She asked, a bit of the levity gone but none of the gentleness.

Delta bit his nails; it was a worse habit than the hair-twirling, but his hair was too short to do that now. He shrugged.

“…Asked what I wanted to do.”

“Oh,” she paused, “What do you want?”

He shrugged again. It was disrespectful. He should’ve stopped. It was just hard to speak.

“Hadn’t thought about it,” he mumbled.

Because he hadn’t. He didn’t think it would matter, that anyone would even bother to ask.

He wanted to be useful, if he had to pick one. And he didn’t really want to kill again. Those two seemed at odds with one another.

~~~

…………

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @flowery-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 17 hours

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Hiii!!! Love thy works!

If it's alright with you, may I please request Regina George x Reader?

Scenario: Every day, the reader comes to school with all sorts of bruises and injuries. Like, every single day. That's when, Regina finds out that the reader is part of an underground fight club to pay for their sickly mother's treatment because the reader is very poor.

Always Hurt

|| Regina George x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, little agnsty, reader's mother is sick, injured reader, short fic

|| Summary; reader was always hurt when they came to school. Always. Regina finally has enough and decides to ask them about it.

Requests open!

Started; September 19th

Finished; September 19th

~~~

Regina was sick of seeing you with some new injury every day. Every time she laid eyes on you there would be some new bandage wrap added to your body. Today was her final straw when she saw the stitch just above your eye.

She walked right over to your locker, crowds splitting so she could get through. Regina cleared her throat to get your attention as her arms folded across her chest," What the actual fuck?"

You immediately froze. A million different scenarios ran through your head as you looked at your girlfriend, seeing the intense gaze she had on you. No, not on you. Well yes on you but focused on something just above your eyes. Then you remembered your stitches. Great...

"Regina-"

"I need names, Y/N." Her tone was just as demanding as that look in her eyes. You swallowed.

"Names..?"

"Who's been doing this to you?" She gestured to all of you. Which made you sigh.

"Technically, me." You stated as you pulled out your text book, then paused when you saw the startled look on your girlfriend's face and realized how that must have sounded," No, no. God. That came out wrong. I mean. I signed up for a fight clu-"

The words weren't even out of your mouth when Regina spoke," I'm sorry, what? FIGHT CLUB? ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY-"

This time you cut her off, cupping your hand to her mouth as you dragged her to the closest bathroom. She bit your hand which made you flinch and let go, shaking your hand slightly.

"Ow."

"Deserved." Regina scoffed," I can't believe how absolutely moronic you are. Joining a fight club? I can't express this enough, what the HELL?"

You grimaced as she raised her voice and tried arguing your side, but she just cut you off again.

"You better have a damn good reason, Y/N because I swear-"

"It's for my mom!" You kind of just blurted it out. Trying to let yourself be heard over Regina's rant.

Regina paused as she heard you and studied your expression, you looked like you were on the verge of tears. Which made her reel in just a little. She could tell you weren't lying to her.

"It's for my mom..." You repeated, your voice almost a whispered murmur now," she hasn't been doing great and this was the only job I could get that would actually pay what I need for her recovery and I-"

"Your mom's sick?" Regina asked, you nodded.

"She has been for a while."

Regina sighed and flicked your forehead, you swatted her hand away," You're still moronic. You could have come to me. I spend probably what you need on shoes alone." She rolled her eyes, arms back across her chest," my parents wouldn't notice if it was missing."

"You'd do that..?" You just stared at her. Trying your best not to cry.

"Well it's either that or watch you get your stupid ass beat. What do you think I'm picking, dumbass?"

You laughed a little, despite it all. Then pulled Regina into a tight hug, one that she was about to pull away from until she heard your sobs. She grumbled and gave your back a pat. Not being the best at comforting.

"Three, two..." She then started counting once the hug went on a little too long for her public comfort, you quickly let go. Understanding her boundary.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it." She started walking out of the bathroom, with you following. She looked back at you," Seriously. Don't."

"Scared people will think you're soft?" You gave her a playful nudge.

"You're fucking stupid." She muttered.

"I love you too." You gave her forehead a kiss and she pushed you away from her, which made you laugh.

She really tries to act like she doesn't care.

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #mean girls x reader #mean girls #nonbinary reader #regina george x nonbinary reader #short fic #slight angst #slight comfort

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clockwork-ashes · 2 days

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All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXVI

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

Lucien could barely hold back his smile.

Elain was close to his side, pressed against him so that only her skirts were between them. Her one hand was holding onto his own, their fingers linked together and inseparable, while the other was clutching his arm comfortably. She was telling him about Nesta and Feyre, how the two always argued because they were so similar. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes, a brightness that only came when she spoke about those who she loved.

Beautiful.

Lucien found his mate particularly stunning when she was unworried and at ease. Loose curls escaped the confines of her braid, and he had to fight the urge to hook the strands of hair behind her pointed ears.

“Do you think that’s why you and Eris don’t get along?” She asked innocently, genuine curiosity clear as she tilted her chin to look up at him. “You’re too much alike?”

Lucien cringed, knowing he had wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He could scarcely remember the last time anyone had compared him with any of his brothers. “Don’t offend me,” he mumbled.

Elain laughed, the sound as lovely as daybreak. It echoed prettily in the empty corridors of the Forest House, ringing around them just as surely as it did in Lucien’s mind for moments after she had stopped.

Lucien shook his head with a frown as he remembered that they were walking to the study Eris had claimed as his own decades before he had even been born. He could still recall hiding among the neatly organised bookshelves, escaping to the cosy space even when Beron’s eldest son was not home. “I still can’t believe you told him.”

Eris had suggested that Elain try and release some of the pent up magic, claiming it was dangerous to do so with no training. While Lucien actually agreed, he was still not sure how he felt about his brother’s steadily increasing involvement in their lives. In two days, they would be back in Velaris, the business with the wedding finally over. He secretly hoped Eris would drop the subject after their departure. Lucien, in any case, could not imagine the Autumn Court male going to the Hewn City despite the promise he had made to work on Elain’s abilities until she became more confident.

She shrugged, hardly concerned. “I foresee he’ll be a great help to us.” There was a restrained amusement to her words, the feeling trickling down the bond so Lucien could easily sense that she was merely teasing.

“The number of jokes at your disposal is unmatched,” he said, knocking his shoulder playfully into her side.

Elain grinned up at him, her dark eyebrow raised in challenge. She opened her full lips to respond, but her expression quickly transformed into one of concern. She pulled him to a stop, her head turning in the opposite direction.

Lucien was immediately alert, trusting her instincts just as well as his own. His muscles tensed as his ears caught the low sound of shouts coming from the hallway leading to the throne room.

“What’s happening?” She asked, just above a whisper. He could practically see her analysing the situation, weighing what she knew about Autumn and those that lived within the confines of the Forest House.

Assassination attempt.

The thought crashed around in Lucien’s skull for a moment, the familiarity of the feeling returning, a reminder of his past. It had happened before, enough so that Eris had taught him to sleep with his bed pushed to a wall, to ensure that his back was never exposed. He had to get Elain away, wanted to winnow her somewhere she would be safe but had no idea if there was a place secure enough within the court.

The torches flared around them, bright as the sun, and stayed that way. Lucien balanced Elain as she stumbled with a sudden yelp in her effort to move further from the walls. Embers fell to the stone floors like shooting stars, disappearing almost as soon as they had flickered to life.

The raw burst of power was one Lucien would have known anywhere. He had, after all, learned how to wield his own abilities at Eris’s side.

Realisation dawned on him, slower than dripping honey. The shouts continued to travel down the empty hall, and he easily identified the distinct voice of each of his brothers. “If I ask you to stay here, will you?” He addressed his mate, trying to keep the concern from his tone, but failing miserably.

Elain pressed her lips together, shaking her head slightly, a charming dimple appearing on her pale cheek. “Not a chance.”

Lucien sighed. He had expected her answer, but was still worried about her well-being. “Just promise you’ll keep your distance.” If Elain was anything like her sisters, he figured she would despise being kept far from the commotion.

She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “I promise.” It would have been too much to ask for his brothers to be on their best behaviour for a fortnight, Lucien thought coldly. They began to walk once again, this time in the direction of the continued shouts.

Stay close.

Lucien hoped the message came across clearly on the bridge between their souls. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Elain, but he knew the trust built between them would have crumbled had he forbidden her from coming with him. As they approached, the muffled shouts became easier to understand, and when they finally turned the corner, they could do nothing but pause and watch.

Eris was loud, his words an angry snarl. “Consider for a moment how easy it would be for me to kill you both and simply be done with this.” He was standing in the middle of Ronan and Felix, using his body to separate them. Taller than both, the span of his arms ensured they stayed away from one another.

Despite being a courtier and much smaller in size than Ronan, Felix lunged. Lucien sensed Elain’s confusion down the bond, her feelings mirroring his own. He had assumed the two were on good terms, had even witnessed as much during their short time in Autumn. While he knew nothing ever stayed the same in the Forest House, he was surprised by the swift moving game everyone played.

Eris shoved Felix away roughly, stopping the younger male in his tracks, ensuring that a physical altercation did not begin.

“Stay out of it,” Felix spat, expression murderous. He whirled on their eldest brother, directing his anger at him instead. Lucien could tell that Eris preferred it, could practically see the way he adjusted his stance in anticipation for things to quickly turn into a more violent direction.

“Can’t you see he’s itching for a fight, brother.” Ronan called, a slur to his words. It took Lucien a moment to realise that he must have been drunk. “Perhaps he needs to learn a lesson.”

Felix smiled, looking every bit a snake with fangs. He ran a hand over the sleeve of his opposite arm, a flash of silver appearing at the cuff, a silent message.

Eris seemed to have spotted it just as Lucien had, his entire body pulled taut. He looked like a warrior as he straightened his shoulders. “Enough,” he snapped, flames in his amber eyes, embers falling from the tips of his fingers. On most occasions, the tone would have frightened the rest of his brothers into yielding, but whatever had begun the argument was not so easily settled.

“Fuck off,” Felix clipped, stepping around Eris and right into Ronan’s line of sight.

Callum suddenly appeared next to Lucien, winnowing into the space effortlessly. Elain turned to look at him, but he did not even spare her a glance. He sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his face, the action tired. “What could it be this time?”

Lucien shook his head, watching the scene continue to unfold in front of him. No weapons had yet been drawn, but the threat was there.

“Should we do something?” Elain wondered quietly, more to herself than to him and Callum.

Lucien bit his lip, considering. “We might just make it worse,” he said, knowing from experience how volatile fights between his siblings could become.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Ronan threw a wicked stream of fire at Felix, the power strong enough to make the younger male shift on his feet. There were no burns, no fabric singed. It was clearly a warning, one that had Callum inching closer.

Callum approached the small group just in time for Felix’s answering magic to fly by him, hitting a decorative vase. It fell to the floor and shattered, tiny pieces dusting the stone like snowflakes. Almost like the toll of a bell ringing before a blood duel, the sound had each of his brothers springing into action.

Lucien watched as Eris was caught in the middle of both Felix and Ronan. The way they hit each other was brutal, and no amount of Callum pulling on any of them was enough to end the fight.

There was more yelling as Eris tried to convince them to stop, but their voices rose over the sound, arguing about something Lucien had no context for. He tried to catch onto any key words, but was unable to piece a clear picture together.

“Stay here,” Lucien mumbled, stepping away from Elain. She held onto his shirtsleeve, and he added a quick, “please.”

“I don’t think—”

Lucien did not wait for her to finish, winnowing into the fray. She would have asked him not to intervene, and he would not have been able to refuse her. The wind was quickly knocked out of him as Callum was shoved backwards right into his chest, an elbow catching him in the ribs. There was no time for apologies as they all attempted to find purchase on the nearest clothing item, pulling and trying to create distance between Felix and Ronan.

Lucien heard Elain call out his name, glad that she still remained far, that she had not attempted to move closer for a better look. His relief was short-lived as Felix twisted, throwing all of his body weight at him.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Felix hissed as they fell to the ground in a tangled heap. It was low enough that no one else would have heard, the words making Lucien uneasy.

Exile.

Felix had been a vicious child, cunning and manipulative and always eager to impress their father. While he and Lucien had been close in age, a few short years separating them, they had never gotten along. The constant comparison had forged competition between them, ensuring that they were never allies.

Lucien moved roughly, his shoulder hitting Felix so hard he drew blood. The copper scent lingered in the air as he scrambled to his feet, breathing ragged.

Felix stayed on the ground, a scarlet trail falling from his nose and running over his lips. It gave him a wild impression, fire flickering in his gaze. “You bastard,” he snarled, the insult venomous falling from his mouth. Lucien flinched, his eye whirring.

“Enough.”

The word fell over Lucien, echoing in the space. It was the direct order of a High Lord and there was no other choice but to listen.

Lucien watched as Felix paled, noticing how the sound of Ronan fighting with Eris stopped immediately. He turned to see their father standing next to Elain, a crown made of oak leaves resting on his chestnut coloured hair. His mate looked small, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She was obviously worried, but she stayed frozen in place, hardly recoiling at the power leaking from the ancient creature near her.

When it was obvious that he held each of his sons’ attention, he turned a sharp gaze on Felix. “Is that any way to speak when a lady is present?”

His brother’s lip curled up in anger, as though he were ready to argue. There was blood on his teeth, giving him the appearance of a predator. Beron raised a hand, stopping him before he even started. “Is it, Felix?”

Everyone held their breath, an unnatural silence in the corridor. Lucien’s eyes flicked between the two males and his mate, wondering what he might do if the situation became explosive. “No,” his brother uttered, the word strained, like it was being pulled out of him against his will.

Eris moved, the shift small, but Beron saw it from the corner of his eye. Their father shot him a withering glare, warning evident in the tight pull of his mouth. “Where are your manners, child?”

Felix bristled at the insult. Lucien could see him weighing the idea of his punishment, considering how angry Beron was to determine his choice. “You have my apologies, lady,” he said, a restrained anger in his tone. He dipped his chin mechanically, a mockery of a bow.

Elain stayed still, looking like the statues of Day, regal and unbothered. Her silence added to the tense atmosphere as they all waited to see what Beron would say next.

Their father simply nodded. “Leave the fighting until our guests are gone,” he ordered. There was collective relief amongst Lucien and his brothers as they realised there would be no further punishment. The humiliation seemed to be enough for Beron, a testament perhaps to him being in a good mood.

The High Lord winnowed without a word, snuffing all of the torches in the hall. Plunged into a few short moments of darkness left Lucien disoriented, he barely realised that Eris was standing behind him. The fires were lit easily, and he could not decide which one of his brothers had done so. He barely gave it any thought, not when Elain ran to him, skirts in hand, her eyes wide with worry.

Lucien half saw as Felix swatted Callum’s outstretched hand, refusing any help and getting up inelegantly. Blood had stained the collar of his brother’s shirt, and for a moment guilt flooded his senses.

Felix spat onto the floor, scarlet smattering the pale stone, before he marched away. There were dancing embers flowing behind him, Callum following at a safe distance.

You shouldn’t have come back.

Lucien pushed Felix’s words to the back of his mind, focusing on the comforting hand Eris placed on his shoulder. The gesture was more kindness than he had received from his eldest brother in centuries, but the warmth from his palm was gone quickly as Eris moved towards Ronan.

Elain grabbed onto Lucien’s wrist, the contact enough to settle his rapidly beating heart. She tucked herself into his chest, letting him wrap an arm around her waist. He glanced at his remaining brothers, keeping his mate close.

“You should have stayed in Night,” Ronan said gruffly, straightening his jacket.

It was unclear to Lucien whether the comment was directed at him or Elain.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #vanserra brothers #autumn court #all you have is your fire #ashes writes sometimes #thank you for reading <3 #i had to include a fight between brothers in this fic LOL #next chapter elain and lucien get closer ;)

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guppygiggles · 1 day

Text

Let's Get Physical!

What: Tickle fluff with a dash of mild hurt/comfort.

Word count: ~2.3k

Universe: Sea & Sky AU

Who: Avery, Casper, Finnegan.

Description: Avery gives Finnegan a physical. Emotional bonding and cuddling between the three of them. Just a little oneshot with a bit of tickling for everyone!

Friday afternoon couldn't have come soon enough.

As I made the short trek home from the bank, my eyes trained on the lighthouse as it stood tall against the afternoon sky. After glaring at my computer screen and paperwork for eight hours, it was a relief to stare at something beautiful and distant. I rolled my tired shoulders, wincing in pain as I did. Maybe I could talk Avery into giving me one of his expert massages… Not that I deserved it, I thought, after how neglectful I’d been him and Finn all week. I frowned, remembering how many times I'd fallen asleep watching TV with them -- I definitely needed to make up for lost time this weekend. I shuffled up the stone steps and turned the lighthouse’s antique doorknob, wiping my feet on the strawberry-print mat as I entered.

“Caspeheher! Hehehehelp!”

No sooner had I walked through the door – key still in-hand – than my arms were full of triton as Finn crashed into me, nearly knocking us both over. He squeezed me as if he hadn't seen me in weeks, giggling as he nuzzled his face into my neck. With some effort, I deposited my keys and wallet into the plastic tray and shuffled out of my shoes, just in time to watch Avery appear in the foyer. He was grinning in that characteristic, long-suffering way of his as he shook his head.

“What are you doing to this fish?” I asked, chuckling as Finn scrambled out of my arms and hid behind me.

“Well, I was just trying to give him a routine physical,” Avery replied, “but as you can see, it isn't going well.”

“He’s lying!” Finn protested, laughter riding beneath his words. “He was tickling me!”

I quirked an eyebrow at Avery, who rolled his eyes upward, offering a sheepish grin-and-shrug combo that told me everything I needed to know. For the first time that day, I giggled.

“Do you need an assistant to help with this patient, Dr. Nimbus?” I asked playfully, reaching back to pinch Finn's side without taking my eyes off the cloudman, eliciting a ticklish squeal.

“Why, yes! Thank you for offering, I believe that would be quite helpful!”

“What?! You traitor!” Before I could snatch him, Finnegan darted past me and was scampering back up the stairs with a gleeful laugh. I wondered why Avery didn't stop him… until the elemental floated gracefully over to me, pulling me into a deep and comprehensive embrace. I sighed with relief, my eyes automatically closing as I laid my head on his chest, listening to the quiet storm inside his body. Bergamot and old paper wrapped around my olfactory nerve like a warm blanket – I was finally home.

“Hi, dewdrop.”

“Hey, peach.”

“How was your day?”

“Tiring… This audit is wearing me out. I'm really sorry I haven't been much fun to be around this week… I promise I'll make it up to you and Finny.”

“You know you don't have to apologize for that, sweetheart. We're both so proud of how hard you work, and we understand when you're tired.” Avery's large, soft hand stroked my upper back. As it did, I felt his fingers get curious around my shoulders, pressing and palpating my achy muscles. I flinched through a cocktail of ticklishness and pain. “Oh, oh… Sorry, did that hurt? My goodness, you are tense. You've been hunching over your desk again, haven't you?”

I blushed a little. No matter how many times Avery tried to correct my posture, I always fell back into old habits as soon as work got too stressful.

“Aheh… Maybe a little… Sorry.”

“Oh, Casper… Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he chided, his touch turning softer and playing around my shoulders and neck, making me laugh and squirm.

“Ehehe~! Okay, I'll- ahaha! I'll w-work on ihihhihit!”

“You'd better, or you'll be in for a much more serious tickling than this!” Avery teased, continuing to tickle a bit more before stopping, his eyes tender as he looked at me. “Really, though… I'll give you a nice massage later, okay? I don't want you to be in pain.”

I felt my ears flush as I turned my attention to the foyer wall, my mind wandering to Avery's cool, pillowy doctor's hands coated in massage oil, squeezing and kneading my bare shoulders…

I cleared my throat, meeting his eyes only briefly, as if staring too long would allow him to read my mind.

“Don't we have a fish to torment?”

“Ah, yes! I'm sure he's up there getting impatient… which makes me worry for the state of our home. Shall we?”

He gestured to the stairwell. I took a step forward, then halted, eyeing him warily.

“... After you.”

Avery grinned. “No, really. I insist.”

“You’re a doctor; such a title affords you the right to go first, don't you think? Please permit me to offer this token of my respect.”

I watched him try not to laugh. So was I, but I was better at it.

“...You flatter me. Very well, I'll lead on.”

I let Avery believe I wasn't going to do anything. I was certain that by the time we’d passed the halfway point, I'd convinced him of my innocence. Surely if I'd planned on doing something, I would've by then. Right?

Right…?

Wrong. With about ten steps in the winding staircase to go, I reached up and gave the elemental a quick scribbling along both of his sides. Avery gasped in surprise, followed by a flurry of defeated, yet joyful laughter.

“Oh, you cheeky little-”

Just like Finnegan had done to me earlier, I ducked under Avery's hands as he reached back to snatch me, clambering to pass him on the staircase. Unlike Finn, though… dodging Avery's hands didn't guarantee my safety, as a forceful gust of wind knocked me backwards and right into his arms. I screeched with laughter as he lifted and tossed me like a sack of potatoes over his soft shoulder, my legs kicking as he easily carried me the rest of the way.

“Oh, no you don't,” he admonished, reaching up to tweak the crease at the top of my thigh with his thumb and forefinger. Panicked laughter filled the living room we now stood in as I thrashed, but none of my wriggling did any good; he was simply too strong. Avery chuckled as he gently pinched, forcing a torrent of squealing, frantic laughter from me, until he deposited me carefully on the couch.

“Did you know I was going to do that?” I asked, still giggling.

“I had a suspicion… but I will concede that you lulled me into a false sense of security.”

“Yessss!” I cheered, earning another lighthearted glare as he reached down with both hands, quickly wiggling his fingers along my sides and belly. I curled into a ball on the couch, filling the room with my hysterical squawking as he tickled any spot he could reach.

“You might be a systems admin, but you moonlight as a troublemaker, don't you?”

“NOHOHOHOOO!”

“I think you doooo~” He lilted, worming his fingers under my arms, between my neck and shoulder, and any other ticklish creases I created with my defensive posture. I was still screeching as Finn appeared in the doorway.

“Don't worry, Casper, I'll save you!” His bare, webbed feet made a sound like a duck running as he charged Avery, who whirled on him before Finnegan had a chance to try anything, easily scooping the triton into his arms and nuzzling into him.

“EEEEEHEhehehee!” Finn laughed, his fingers squishing Avery’s soft head as the cloudman kissed his neck.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Avery tittered, taking a seat on the sofa beside me, Finn still in his arms. “Will you please let me finish your physical, brave warrior? I'm almost done, I promise... I just need to check your belly, now.”

Finn sighed dramatically, then sprawled across Avery's lap, adjusting his body such that his head rested on my thigh. I grinned down at him.

“Hi, Finny-Finn-Finn.” I swept his hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead. The warmth of his scales was always a bit of a surprise, especially compared to Avery's chilly skin.

I was expecting Avery to go in for the kill, but as I watched him methodically inspect Finn's abdomen, I realized he was conducting a legitimate physical. He gently pressed and palpated the softer scales of his belly as he used his free arm to keep the merman’s squirmy legs still. Finn giggled, and I couldn't blame him; I'd been on the receiving end of plenty of physicals from Avery, too, and I knew those fingers tickled no matter how professional he tried to be. In the back of my mind, I knew it was likely a conflict of interest for Avery to treat us… but since he was the only doctor in Port Oleander – and more importantly, one of the few on land who could treat merfolk – I supposed an exception had been permitted.

“Does any of this hurt, Finn? Has your belly been hurting at all, lately?”

“N-no, it's not hurting. Uhm… my belly hurt last night, after dinner, though…” He admitted.

I frowned, unable to recall him saying anything about a stomach ache. Last night had been my turn to cook. I wasn't a great cook to begin with, and admittedly… it was difficult to prepare meals that both Finnegan and Avery could eat; the elemental couldn't digest any food that was too dry, and Finn’s rainbow trout biology was primarily carnivorous. Soups, stews, and curries were common in our house – dinner last night had been red curry with chicken.

“What kind of hurt? Was it stabbing, dull, hot, achy…?” Avery asked, concerned.

“Hot, especially when I was laying down in bed.” Finn looked away from me. Avery and I exchanged a glance.

“I'm sorry, Finn… I probably made it too spicy. I won't make that again. Why didn't you say anything? I would've gotten you some medicine to help you feel better.” I stroked Finn's hair back again, my face etched with guilt. Now that I was thinking back to the previous night, he had seemed more quiet than usual… but I had been too tired to comment on it, chalking it up to him being tired, too. I kicked myself; Finn was never tired. The only time the triton lacked energy was in the five – maybe ten – minutes wherein he would go from bouncing off the walls to being dead asleep. Had I been more observant, I would've realized that.

Finnegan's eyes were serious as he looked back at me, an expression that seemed foreign on his gamine face. He looked away again, though, as he started to speak.

“It's just… you've been working so hard this week, Caspy, and I didn't want to hurt your feelings or make you worry about me.”

I couldn't bring myself to meet Avery's eyes again as an arrow of regret pierced my heart. I really had been disconnected from them all week.

“Finn… nothing is more important to me than you and Avery, okay? I’m sorry I've been so busy this week, I should've paid more attention to how you were feeling. Please don't suffer in silence again, okay? If your tummy hurts – or anything hurts – please promise you'll tell us from now on.”

Finn's tail swished uncomfortably… but he managed a smile, looking up at me again.

“Okay, I'll tell you from now on… I promise.” He shifted his gaze to Avery, whose hands were still resting on his scaly belly. “Am I done, now?”

It occured to me then that the part of the physical Finnegan disliked wasn't the tickling, it was staying still. Avery's concerned expression relaxed; a rainbow after a storm.

“Yes! You're a very healthy fish, Finn. Just keep remembering to soak in the tub at least once a day when you can't go swimming, so your gills stay healthy and your scales don't dry out.”

“Okay!” He was already off the couch, stretching his arms over his head and swishing his tail, as if laying across our laps for ten minutes had made him stiff. I shook my head, grinning. “I'll go for a swim right now, actually! Love you, Caspy! Love you, Avery! Bye, bye, bye, bye!” Each ‘bye’ grew progressively quieter as he descended the stairs, tail thumping clumsily the whole way down.

Once he was out of earshot, I looked down at my hands.

“I feel so bad… he got sick because of me, and he didn't even say anything.”

Avery shifted, pulling me into his arms again. I rested against his soft, cool body.

“He got a bit of a tummy ache from eating something too spicy, not an incurable disease, hehe. You won't make that dish again, and he'll tell you next time something doesn't agree with him. No need to worry yourself sick, okay? Life is unpredictable and stressful, sometimes… but we're your family, Casper. We understand.”

I snuggled against Avery's side as he held me, my throat constricting as he said the last few words. He looked down at me, and then I felt my favorite little tickle under my chin, coaxing me to look at him.

“Now… I believe I need to tend to my other patient, hm? Why don't we start your weekend with a little physical therapy on those shoulders? I swear, you're wound up tighter than an eight day clock.” He brought me up with him as he stood, strong arms carrying me bridal-style in the direction of the bedroom, giving me no room to protest.

Not that I would have. My fingertips fiddled with the collar of his shirt, the ghost of a coy smile dancing across my lips.

“Alright, doctor… but you'll have to let me return the favor, afterwards. After all, I've got a whole week's worth of lost time to make up for. Think you can handle that much…?”

The shade of cerulean that rose in his cheeks told me he caught my meaning, and I watched his wisp of surprise turn into a bashful giggle.

“Can't wait, dewdrop.”

#I wrote this at like 3am #Well - most of it. The beginning gave me a bit of writer's block strangely but I got past it!#tickle fic #fluffylore #tickle fluff #avery nimbus #casper reid #finnegan reed #tickling #tickle #tickling community #tickles #hurt/comfort #fluff fic #sea and sky au #s&s au

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icequeenlila · 2 days

Text

Context: They're walking back to their shared dorm.

"Don't you worry what people think when they see you with me?"

This time the pull inside his gut wasn't as bad, still Bradley couldn't find it in himself to look at Max.

"You know", Max said. "I'm amazed every time I remember you managed to make an entire campus believe you're this untouchable ego-king." He cocked his head, looking at Bradley with caring eyes. "When in reality, you have pretty much no self-esteem."

Bradley kicked a pebble on the floor.

"If you only ever interact with people on a shallow basis, it's pretty easy to pretend", Bradley said with a shrug. "And before you, the only person I ever actually talked to was Tank."

"Well, then I consider myself honored to be one of the few people allowed to see your real self", Max said and the smile on his lips was so fond that it left no doubt he actually meant it.

Bradley didn’t deserve him.

"And to put your mind to rest," Max said, his thumb running along Bradley's palm again, sending shivers through his traitorous body. "If it was possible I'd let the whole world know that I am dating Bradley Uppercrust the third, and that I'm so, so very happy about the fact."

Bradley felt that fragile thing inside his chest again. His cheeks burned and he didn't try to hide it. There was a lump building in his throat, and Bradley swallowed it down. If it was just Max, maybe he'd let his emotions run free, but there was just no way he'd let a single tear slip when he was outside, in bright daylight.

"I'm very happy too", he said and his voice was barely audible even to his own ears.

Max’ smile was booming. He looked at Bradley like he was the most precious thing he'd ever seen.

The thought alone made his heart swell with unbearable warmth. The thought that Braldey might be precious to Max.

"Wait", Max said, eyes growing big. "I have an idea."

He abruptly stopped on the sidewalk, almost making a guy on a skateboard bump into them.

"Yo, watch your step!"

Max completely ignored him, instead looking at Bradley with wide eyes and a smile that told him he was up to no good.

"Max?", he asked, his voice wary.

"Two flies with one strike", Max blurted.

"What?"

"You're worried people will judge me for being with you, and you're scared people will realize you're a complete softie for me."

Bradley frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say it like that- "

"I'll proof to you that I don't give a fuck about what people think and draw all attention from you."

Max sounded more than excited now. Bradley was surprised he didn't see a tail wagging behind his back.

"Goof, I have no idea what you’re talking about", Bradley said, crossing his arms.

Max's smile only grew.

"See those people?", he asked.

They were close to the dorms now. There weren't as many people here as there had been by the main building, but it was the middle of the day and most students were on their way to lectures.

"I do", Bradley said, still lost on what Max was trying to tell him. "What about them?"

There was now a full-on grin on Max' face. "People won't even think of painting you the love-sick one when they see that I'm far worse."

"Wha- "

But it clicked.

If possible, Max’ grin grew even wider.

"Goof", Bradley warned. "Don't do something you'll regre- "

"Hey, everyone!", Max yelled, spinning around with his arms spread wide open.

Pretty much everyone within earshot turned at the sound of his booming voice. He was their golden boy after all.

"Max!", Bradley hissed, hiding half of his face behind one hand.

People even stopped on both sides of the sidewalk to listen to what Max had to say, smiles on their lips and curiosity in their eyes.

"I'm dating Bradley Uppercrust!", Max yelled and Bradley's heart did a painful jump inside his chest. "I'm down bad and I'm super happy!"

People's eyes went wide, a universal murmur filling the campus street.

"No", Braldey said, turning on his heel and power walking away from him.

He felt his heart thundering inside his chest, a mix of adrenalin and euphoria setting his insides alight. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

He heard Max laughing behind him, and then warm fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Wait for me, Brad!", he called, giggling. "People will think I'm a liar."

"What are you doing!?", he hissed, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from rising.

"Telling everyone how down-bad for you I am", Max answered with the sun in his eyes.

"People will talk!" There was a quiver in his voice, he only barely contained the laughter bubbling up his chest.

"I sure hope they will", Max said, a giddy chuckle in his voice.

"You're mad", Bradley scolded, but no matter how hard he tried to contain it, he couldn't keep the giggle from his voice.

"Only because I wanna kiss you so bad right now", Max said with a dopey grin, his fingers pressing down around Bradley's hand.

Bradley blushed, almost stumbling as they walked towards the nearing dorms in hurried steps.

"You can kiss me all you want once we're back home again", Bradley said, almost feeling ashamed at his own boldness.

But no shame could fester inside his chest when Max looked at him like that. His warm brown eyes widened in surprise, his pupils slightly blown at Bradley's promise.

"Hurry up or I'll carry you", Max said, pulling Bradley along.

From chapter 10 of 'Good Luck, Babe!' on ao3.

#maxley fanfic #maxley #bradley x max #bradley uppercrust iii fanart #bradley uppercrust the third #bradley uppercrust #max x bradley #max goof #ao3fic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #an extremely goofy movie

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lambilegs · 3 days

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Lee who takes care of you after she comes home really late from work one night after unexpectedly being asked to stay longer and you’re just absolutely beside yourself because you have anxietyTM and were convinced something terrible had happened when she wasn’t home when she said she would be and wasn’t answering her phone

lee comforting you after she unexpectedly returns late one night (angst + hurt/comfort)

awe :(( this is so sweet and angsty I'm in love (tysm for the request!! I loveee angst and hurt/comfort, so this was so tender to write :''))

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

when lee enters the elevator in the bureau, bidding a farewell to agent carter, she immediately sags against the wall, her legs nearly aching. she hasn't had such a packed, tight-scheduled day like this in a while. she got in, and immediately, was flooded with photographic evidence and documents that she had to spend hours pouring over and making notes of. she took a short, twenty minute lunch break, which consisted of making coffee, calling you and eating a quick granola bar. after visiting the library and spending hours on even more research, carter then asked her to stay back to visit one of the victims' homes with him. of course, she wanted, and needed, to say yes, curiosity burning in her to discover more about the recently deceased man and provide answers for his family.

but, she's now weary to the bone. the urge to yawn keeps swimming up her throat, mouth wet with the drool from it and eyelids heavy. she forces herself to remain upright, walking cautiously through the parking lot, eyes scanning around. upon entering her car, she leans her forehead on the wheel, sucking in a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of the exhaustion so she can focus on the drive home. after squeezing her eyes open and shut, she finally starts on her way home to you.

upon entering her cottage, an unsettling feeling washes over her. she checks her watch -- it's late, sure, but you're usually up at this time, doing some work of your own or on the couch, watching television. but, her home was eerily silent. she quietly locks the door, slipping her shoes off and neatly placing them on the rack, before venturing further.

she calls out for you, her chest beginning to tickle with nerves when you don't answer. she silently makes her way to her bedroom, door creaking as she pushes it open. "babe?"

her breath hitches when she sees the state of you. you're curled into her blankets, eyes teary, mouth tight with anger. when she steps in, you practically glare at her, and the sharpness of your stare is enough to have her freezing in place. "what is it?" she asks, voice hushed, the teeth of worry beginning to sink into her gut and sending her muscles contracting.

you sniffle, mouth quivering, and she feels herself frown. god, you look so distressed, and at once, both betrayed and immensely sad. the complications of such an expression has her unnerved, and she tenses up, waiting for your answer.

"do you remember what time you said you'd be home, lee?"

immediately, it clicks, the memory of her call with you making its trail through her brain. in the footsteps, she remembers her words, promising to be home by 7:30PM. when she had just checked her watch, it was 10:28PM.

her eyes shift to the ground, shame coursing through her at the broken promise, fingers thrumming on her thigh as she tries to formulate a response -- anything, really, it just had to be the right response. you deserve that much. "I... I'm sorry. carter asked me to stay back, and I couldn't say no."

"well, did he also ask you to not call me?" you ask sarcastically, your words containing a bite that she isn't accustomed to receiving from you.

"no, he didn't," she answers truthfully, though part of her suspects your question was rhetorical. "that was my fault. it slipped my mind, that I had promised to be home early, that I should've called you." her voice lowers, thick with shame at her own irresponsibility. "I'm sorry."

your face softens, eyes drinking up the way she avoids your gaze, the way her voice sounds so small, losing the natural straightforwardness it usually possesses, and the movements of her hands clumsy, folding in on themselves. "I was just so worried, lee. you said that this guy you've been investigating has a violent history, and has made threats to the FBI. and I..." you breathe in shakily, fresh tears beginning to well in your eyes. "I was terrified something had happened. I tried to reassure myself, but I couldn't do it. everything in my head was panicked and was moving a mile a minute. all the possibilities of what could've happened to you felt even worse than just saying them out loud. and, and you didn't pick up."

she nods quietly to your words, wanting you to have the space to express what her actions caused. she knew you dealt with anxiety, and was well-aware of how her being an agent could impact that. yet, still, she managed to screw up. what is wrong with her? guilt latches onto her gut and tightens its grip, and she feels her fingers, slippery and clumsy, continuing to fiddle. "I understand. I'm really sorry, baby. I promise, it won't happen again." when she looks up at you, your lips part at the sight of her eyes sheen with tears, eyebrows scrunched together in determination. "it won't happen again. I'm sorry it did, though. I know the circumstances, and it was messed up for me to forget to call you again. and I'm just -- I'm sorry." she feels a tear slip down her cheek, and her hand flinches to wipe it away before deciding against it, not wanting to draw attention to it in case you missed the sight of it in the dim lighting. "I've just been so caught up in work, and this case, and just got lost in it today. and I was so tired, and carter asking me to help him was just so rushed that I didn't get to even think, and..." she falters, realizing she's rambling, trying desperately to explain herself and make this up to you. but, she knows no amount of excuses will ease your hurt. only her promise to do better will. "I'm sorry."

she swallows down the urge to cry, wanting to remain focused on you. but, you're quiet for so long, and the silence of the room causes anxiety to unfurl in her, the sudden feeling making her shift.

finally, in her peripheral vision, she sees you move, and tentatively looks up to find you sitting up in the bed, arms stretched out.

relief flushes through her, as welcome a feeling as a gust of wind on a humid summer day. she immediately walks towards you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and burying her face in your neck, arms clinging to you, desperate to feel your touch, your forgiveness. "baby, I..." her words catch on a broken breath, the urge to cry choking at her.

"I know," you whisper, hands combing through her hair. "I was just so scared. I tried to call, but you didn't pick up."

"I'm sorry," she says, voice muffled against your skin. "I was out with carter, but I should've told you." her arms tighten around you, and through that motion, you feel the guilt whirling inside her, the love threatening to spill from her lips.

"yeah, you should've," you say, pausing as a small sob bubbles up in your throat, tears beginning to leak as you remember the anxiety that had plagued you just minutes ago.

she hears it, immediately pulling away to watch you, mouth clamping shut, worry creasing her temple, as you start crying again. for a moment, she just watches you, devastation gnawing at her from seeing how pained you are. she should've done better, she knows that now, but the guilt is ceaseless. she never wants to cause you such worry, such hurt.

her arms wrap around your waist, long fingers drawing gentle circles into your back, as you weep into her chest, soaking through her dress shirt. she silently lets some of her own tears fall, paying no mind to them as she strokes your hair and quietly listens to your broken words and croaking hiccups, murmuring apologies into your hair, which still smells fresh from your shower.

"I-I'm sorry, too, for snapping," you gasp out through your sobs. "I was just scared and anxious, and it made me antsy and upset with you, but I know it was an accident. I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry."

something inside her softens at your apology, the earnestness of your words enough to comfort her. you taking a harsh tone with her always feels unfamiliar and unsettling, and to hear you take it back helps her more than she'd like to admit.

after you calm down, the hiccups slowly beginning to subside, she combs your hair back from your sweaty forehead and damp cheeks. her eyes, wide and earnest, explore yours and you nearly shrink under the intensity of the gaze. the feeling is moulded into a sweet longing when she presses her lips to your cheeks, softly kissing away your hot tears. "what can I do?" she whispers against your skin, her touch so light and delicate.

you shrug, voice still raspy from your cries. "just, stay with me. and, I don't know, can we hang out?"

her eyebrows draw together, face firm as she gives you a hard nod. "of course. I want to." she pauses, eyes glancing to your lap as she swallows. "you know that, right? I want to be here with you."

you nod, not trusting your voice. everyday, she eagerly greets you upon her arrival at home, and even on days when she's weary and drained, her head immediately lays in your lap, face nuzzling into your thigh. you know she wants time with you. despite her quietness, her actions show that. the way she almost always keeps her promises as to when she'll return, her consistent calls when at work, your long talks before bed. you know it.

she holds you for the rest of the night, turning on one of your comfort shows when you admit still feeling uneasy in spite of her return home. she makes each of you a cup of tea, bringing it to bed, and carefully placing it in your hands. she rubs your back, whispering gently, "I'm here, I'm home," (the words ease her as much as they do you, the comfort and safety of having someone to return home making her overcome with emotion and gratitude) pressing kisses to your brow. but, she doesn't rush you, she never does. she just stays near you, ready to wait however long needed, so long as it meant you could breathe easily.

when you both fall asleep that night, you immediately sink into a slumber, the exhaustion of the anxious night wearing you down. she watches you for a while, brushing her knuckles against your cheek, a protective urge surging through her to stay up in case you woke up, for she knows how difficult it can be for you to rest easy on such nights. but, as her eyes get heavy, she curls closer to you, her knees lifting in her usual fetal position of sleeping. your hand lays next to yours, and she cups them, quietly kissing your fingertips. when your eyes briefly flutter open, heavy-lidded and bleary, she smiles, her stomach feeling like it will burst at the sight. "wake me if you need anything, okay?"

you lazily grin, nodding into the pillow. "okay."

she pauses, eyes searching yours. "I love you, okay?"

"I love you too, lee."

with the quiet confession whispered and lost into the night, you both sleep, minds, at least momentarily, at ease from the assurance.

#scheduled #I love angst and hurt/comfort omg you guys could totallyyyy request more if you want hehe #me “hehe”-ing after writing something so emotional LMFAO #s.writing #lee harker x reader #lee harker #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs fanfiction #longlegs 2024 #longlegs

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writingcold · 1 day

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Chapter Eight - Internal flaws and internal conflicts will lead the way

Content Warnings: I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate.

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter Eight word count: approximately 6000 words

Warnings in this part: Sibling arguing, feelings of self doubt, grief.

Chapter 8.1: Swansong in the Graveyard

“Spill it,” Owen said as he stared directly into his phone.

Fighting the urge to laugh, I found distraction in yanking the pan of eggs from the stove before they burned. “Spill what?”

“Gran says that you’re still in Frankenmuth.”

I nodded as I plated up my breakfast. “So?”

“I don’t know when the last time you were in a single place that long just to do research,” he jabbed. “If you wanted a dude in lederhosen, I could’ve flown you here to-”

I grumbled, bobbling my plate and coffee to the table away from the phone. “It’s just more than I planned on. That’s all.”

“Still not talking about the story is what is bothering me,” he admitted, turning back to the screen just as I returned to grab my phone from the counter. “Typically you’re done with research and writing by now. How interesting can that touristscape be?”

I rolled my eyes and moved the topic away from me but it boomeranged back within minutes.

“What about that literacy bit you have - isn’t that coming up?”

Eating slowly, I explained how the conference would traverse across three days and many state-based authors and educators of all levels teaming up for more impactful and meaningful methods of catching the interest of kids and adults …

“Stop,” he growled as I finally hit the bored button. A twinkle in his eye caught me off guard as he leaned in close. “You gonna take the cute pilot to the conference?”

I blinked. I blinked again as my brother’s grin grew smug. “Pardon?”

“The pilot? Maybe he can fly you two out and then-”

“Owen,” I tried to break in, but he continued to ramble. He spoke unabashedly. “Owen, please.”

“Come on, Y/n,” he jabbed. “He’s a good looking guy. How could you not-”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No! What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

He sat back in his chair. When I finally looked at the screen and took in his expression, I knew he got it. Maybe.

“Since when?”

“Since when, what?” I dodged.

“You’re not seeing that guy.”

“Well, since it wasn’t anything but fun anyway-”

“Jesus,” he huffed. He did not bother to wait for my response. “When are you gonna give this up and take meeting someone seriously?”

“Maybe when you-”

“Dumbest argument ever.” He flipped me off and my jaw dropped. “I at least got married. Divorced, yeah. But I was married and loved it, remember? You won’t even try for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m just saving a whole lot of trouble for someone.”

“Bull shit.”

“You’re not my therapist.”

“Considering you don’t have a therapist, I kinda am, sis.”

“Owen, let it drop.”

His eyes pierced the screen and hit mine and my cheeks colored all the more. It was the same look mom would deal out when we were caught avoiding chores or doing something naughty.

“I just want you to be happy.”

“I don’t need to be in a relationship to be happy.”

“No, but you sure as shit deserve to be happier.” He fell quiet and I picked at a bit of dry skin on my palm. “I know this year is hard. Shit, every year has been hard.”

I swallowed. He looped us back to a conversation from my prior year’s birthday. I had officially out-lived my mother. To think that by the time she was thirty two, Corrine had lived her whole life. The notion made all the bruises of losing her and Dad all the more fresh. Grief is strange that way. Loss does not get easier as the years pass. It doesn’t heal. No. Those are the kind of wounds that are permanent. They rear up every day and your brain just puts the pain into a box with a lid and a label to remind you. But it never goes away. Owen was the only one who knew who Mom and Dad were for us. Gran might have been her mother, but Corrine was our mom. That kind of permanence doesn’t go away. Not ever.

Feeling wrung out and done, I told my brother that I loved him and would talk with him in a few days. Upset was not the right word. It was easy to brush others off as just not understanding the situation. With Owen, hiding was not an option. What was an option was to shove the whole conversation to the side and ignore it for a few blissful hours to focus on research.

“Fuck,” I sighed as I looked at my scattered pile of notebooks and the singular tab that was open on the laptop.

What was there really to research? I had followed the thread of Jake Thomas and of Yakov Petrov to its end. Whoever the hell it actually was in that cemetery was just as elusive as the story itself. Was there a pirate? Yup. Was there a love story right out front and center? Yes. It hurt my head all the more that both were dead and stuck in a cemetery trying to figure out how to ‘move on’ but not leave each other.

“God, this sucks balls,” I griped.

How dramatic would it be to torch a manuscript? Would it hurt? Would I laugh maniacally as I dropped it page by page into the open flame? Or perhaps let it spoil in the rain. Ah, even better - cast it to the wind off some mountain would be delightful, I would imagine. The writers of old must have relished in the self murder of their work, unlike what it takes today. Striking a simple delete key does not seem to have the same killing stroke.

My vibe must’ve been casting a bat signal as a text came through from Vin, scheduling a check in in a few days. I grimaced. I was going to have to get my shit together and make my story the best ever gothic pirate romance. Fuck my life. In truth, I was at a dead end. No pun intended, of course. Guitar Jake or Yakov the Artist. There was no real way to incorporate them in the story either. Maybe they could be side characters? The dynamic could add to a comedic element. Twentieth century hedonist rock star meets nineteenth century hedonist artist from deep in his own family tree…

“I have officially lost my shit,” I muttered as I made myself move away from my perch at the table.

Truth be told, if my research was complete, there was no reason to stay in Frankenmuth - was there? The idea seemed wrong. The thought was frayed at the ends like it was trying to stop me from leaving. I melted into the soft cushions of the sofa. Funny idea that was - but why? My fingers found the comfort of the tangled, corded fringe of a pillow as my mind began to drift.

⭒☾ I smoothed the scratchy lace down across the bodice of the dress. The pit of my stomach bristled with opposition. I did not need another party. I did not need to dance and smile and laugh falsely. I did not need to breathe in smoke and the same conversations over yet again. I wanted to lay with my Jakub and feel his warmth around me. I wanted to read to him and him to me and listen to his breathing with the crash on the velvet shore as the sun cast its last rays to the sky. I wanted to feel his strength and bask in the heat of us.

However, there I was, walking down the grand stairs, eyes cast to me as if I were some entity to be in awe of. Father was clapping his hands and his voice was booming across the house guests in a tone of celebration. The players began to draw their bows across their strings in a lively jig that tugged the gathering to the wide planks of the ballroom. I blew out a breath that was sour as I cast a wary eye at the backs of my guests. I took refuge with my lovely sister-in-law, Celeste, in the sitting room where voices were hushed and tempers were placid. Somehow, she had hidden a tiny book of sonnets in the folds of her skirts. We read together and kept out the voices of those around us.

“Have you seen him? Has he been here to call upon you?” she whispered, her voice full of conspiracy wrapped in grace.

I nodded as I turned the page. “Been here two days and every moment he can, he is here.”

“I thought I had caught a glimpse of him on the beach when Astrid and I were at the market this morn,” she said. Her smile was dreamy as she leaned into me. “He’s so handsome. If all you say is true, Maéva, he is a good man that you love.”

The words shivered across my skin and tingled in my breath. Celeste was my only confidant. She was the only one that knew of how my heart fluttered and my smile sparkled any time my Jakub was near. She was the only one I knew would not cast judgment to his station in this world, as she herself was the daughter of a stablemaster. And she was just as giddy as me when it came to my tales of how we would dance in the tide as it tumbled ashore, or the little trinkets that he would bring to me from his ports of call. She would swoon just as much as I would over the pretty little rock or the pressed flower that would remind him of something I wore or made him feel.

“Dance with me.”

I looked up to find Matthias hovering above me, his hand, although turned up for me to take, was kept against his hip bone. I did not like his face. There was a darkness about him that he did not shake, nor did he try to truly hide. His status as a future viscount was his bank that he had overdrawn upon to make himself elevated over the rest of us. We all knew why the viscount had brought his family to this place - he was poorer than those that made their way on the beaches and on the ships of the harbor. He only presented lavishness and superiority due to the blood in his veins. Looking into his dead eyes and his flat mouth, I made my apologies that I was not well enough to dance. Celeste slid her fingers through mine to hold me close.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said as if her tone was filled with silk. “But our Maéva feels a fever coming upon her-”

He reached for our joined hands and separated us. “She looks plenty strong enough.”

I searched for my father, but he was too busy clapping Matthias on with encouragement that I knew any argument would be for not. The anger toiled under my breath as I voided my expression. One dance. And then I could build upon Celeste’s fever fib. My eyes stared forward while my feet and frame moved in time with the players. I imagined my Jakub, dressed in the fine fabrics that Matthias wore, showing off the strong body and grace he had been blessed with. I saw him with his hair drawn back and his hands polished. But that was not him. No. My Jakub was wind blown and wild and hardened by work. His mind was open and his words were shaped by his experiences. That was the man I loved. Threadbare and hungry.

Father and the viscount were close, talking with wide smiles. Their words were fast and glib looking. Father’s excitement was palpable. His hands were like two excited birds flitting around him. I gave the man I danced with no satisfaction of words. But then he gave me only silence anyway. It was as if he and I were in unvoiced agreement to pacify the patriarchs that were obviously so much more aflutter over our nearness. Soured thoughts were bending the joyful notes that filled my ears. Each face that I looked upon held anticipation and cheer. Anxiety stabbed at my feet. My limbs turned heavy as I turned away from him to give me some distance from his nearness. Celeste hurried towards me, her pretty face stretched with concern.

“Come. The air grows too close for us here,” she was saying as Matthias reached to catch my shoulder.

“They expect us to dance, madam,” he said, voice icy and hand heavy on my skin.

“They can be disappointed then,” she remarked.

My feet fumbled forward. I was thankful for the full skirt to hide such ungainly steps. My breath felt hot in my mouth and my stomach lurched. Everything felt woozy as Celeste maneuvered us through the tangle of guests. I wanted my rooms, but instead, she drew me to the parlor where she could shut away the eyes and wagging tongues but get me to sit.

“You do have a fever,” she said as she cast the window open.

“No,” I said, wiping at my mouth. “I was just faint. Perhaps his sickish perfume was too close to my nose.”

“He really is a brute. I heard Abel saying some rather unkind statements about that one.” She was pouring a few drops of wine into a tiny glass as I tried to compose myself. “We can hide here for a while. I’m sure Papa will be on the hunt for us, but I say let him hunt. I do not trust him when he is with the viscount. He changes when that man is near.”

She was correct. Father changed in the face of bred privilege. My soul quivered across the notion. My father’s intentions were becoming very clear. It sickened me. I wondered if they were in negotiations for my hand already, or perhaps still in the discovery phase like two dogs, sniffing at each other to see if the carcass of the other was willing to submit. Tears prickled at my eyes at the thought. I had no control over this and it was as if I was a prized bitch looking to be sold. Celeste took to my side, but I could not be consoled. I wanted my Jakub. Such a simple dream to love him and be with him… ☾

My lungs burned like I had been under water too long. I sputtered and coughed through emotions as I pushed away from the couch. I was crying. My cheeks felt hot and sticky and wet with strangled cries that I had just been having in my dream-state. I was quick to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water to cool the effects. The dreams were getting harder to take. I had tried to write them down as is, but they were like smoke through my brain, too thin and elusive to really record. Although, I was discovering that elements of these pieces were landing more often into the story. Spooky. It was the sense of my brain leaking out uncontrollably onto the proverbial page that bothered me more than the gothic pirate love story as a whole.

I needed out of the rental for a bit. It was too late for lunch, but early supper wasn’t a horrible thing. Deciding on the diner, I packed up my bag and thought perhaps I could tuck into a corner and proof the last few pages over coffee and sandwich without having to hog a booth or table during a rush. I was correct that it was not busy, but there was a rather large, loud group that had pushed six tables together in the middle to accommodate their numbers. By the look of it, it was a men’s group that was meeting for their afternoon dose of gossip.

I slid into the booth that the server had waved me to. My eyes rolled closed over the first sip of steaming coffee. God that was good. I tucked behind the laptop, fighting to keep my expression blank as I read over the squishy words that I was daring to call worthy of a story. I sat back as the server returned to take my order. As I handed her the menu, I noticed a set of eyes I had seen before - faded blue jean colored and a very sun weathered smile met my gaze. I grinned at the kind man from the park who had been working.

Dinner finished, and some hot gossip taken in with hearty laughter, I decided to walk through the park by the library, and perhaps step foot inside as it had been a few days since I had looked across the books and care that Becca and the others had helped me through. Stopping at the florist, I purchased a few large plants to take along in thanks. It would be my first step in severing the connection here. I owed them so much, even if it did not amount to what I would really be using in the story.

“I come bearing gifts,” I announced as I struggled through the door.

Becca was quick to help. “Oh, these are lovely.”

“I thought a little more green in here would keep you bright,” I said, smiling across the wide range of plants and live displays that would carry the library through the winter.

I helped her put them close to the windows by my workstation. I grinned as I looked at her. “I’m afraid I’m nearing the end of my stay,” I admitted, my fingers drifting across the huge binding of the newspapers.

She smiled. “You’ve found what you’ve come for.”

I nodded, though reluctance swam across my heart. “I believe that I have. You have been so good to me here.”

Emotional outburst aside, it was going better than I planned. We chatted a bit before I set into the books that had become the path of my story that made my fingers itch, despite not really liking the plot. Perhaps I will settle into it at some point.

“Oh my goodness,” Becca exclaimed from behind the glass of the back office.

I was not the only one to sit up, prairie dog style looking for the source of upset. She was making her way towards me with a look that might have been inspiration. I glanced around to find that other patrons were just as puzzled as I was.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before, Y/n,” she proclaimed as she had eyes cast down on her phone, scrolling. “What was I thinking? Or… well. Not thinking is more like it.”

“Uh, wanna catch me up here, Becca? I’m not from here, remember,” I laughed at her flustered state, sure she was thinking full sentences, but what was coming out made no sense.

She grinned as she waved at me. Her exuberance washed over me and it was hard not to get caught up in it, even though I had no idea what was going on. “I have someone I need you to meet.”

Chapter 8.2: Swansong in the Graveyard

“We need to run.”

The words blazed in my thoughts as I watched the creature rise from my grave once more. I had come to the decision that this feminine form could not be Maéva. If the memories that had been shown to me thus far were true, then this thing could not be her. If this thing were my soulmate, there would be no hesitation within and know me for what I am - hers. And the truth would be the same for me, but all I could feel towards it was… curiosity. Perhaps anger. Jealousy, even. How such a creature could be doomed to repeat or seem to repeat the same construct of a path over and over without meaning… Wait. What am I if that road of thought were true? What am I in this half existence but the same as the creature - am I nothing more than goo from the ether that has been chained to a strip of ground because of some man’s greed and foul nature? For lack of a better phrase, I closed my being off from the lights of the world as the creature slipped away once more. Could something such as myself be petulant? The stray thought struck as the gate whined to its closed position.

“We need to leave.”

Her hands were shaking against my chest. Whatever had happened had just occurred. She had run to me still dressed in her fine cream and olive green gown. The lace puckered and draped across her breasts and dripped from her shoulders. I could not stop myself from dragging my fingers across her collarbones and up along her graceful neck. I tried to soothe her with my words and touch and kisses, but she whipped herself away from me.

“Jakub!” she cried, her delicate fingers tucking into tight fists.

“Just tell me then what has happened,” I said, unable to keep the edge of impatience from my tone.

She withdrew a few steps. Her features slacked with an expression that made me quiet. “I am to marry.”

The bottom of my very shallow world fell away. I could not understand her words that she continued to speak. Every bit of me was frozen on the notion that she was meant for another.

“Jakub,” she whispered.

I kissed her. It was all I could do. Our dream was to be severed. I pressed my fingertips into the plump of her blurred out cheek and the hardness of her back as if I could force her to be part of me through this mourning. She reeled back from me with a frustrated cry.

My thoughts thinned and I found myself kneeling, hands dug into the darkness of the dirt. I begged the cosmos to allow me to see her - to see my Maéva. To know her features, her expressions, her… her soul and how it resided in her eyes. I could feel her innocence. I could feel her goodness. It danced across my fabric. But to just glimpse her eyes and know her. My chin tipped and I looked into the velvet of the night sky and the swirl of songs and begged for that scrap of memory.

“No- no, Jakub,” she stammered. “We can leave this place - together. We can go to the east! We can build our lives there!”

“Maéva, you don’t know what it’s like-”

The sound she made hit me. I had insulted her.

“I don’t know what? How to live without my family? Or do you mean to say I do not know how to live without my family’s wealth?”

I felt a sigh bubble through my chest. “You don’t know what it truly means to be cold or hungry. Despair is not what I ever want for you.”

“If it means we are together, I would gladly show you what strength lies in these bones of mine.”

She was so resolute. So sure of herself. It was the trappings of her always having what she needed that gave her that kind of confidence. I felt small for these thoughts. She possessed such knowledge, such a drive to learn - but this. What she was asking would take away the shelter that allowed her to thrive in that world.

“Jakub - you could learn to farm, or build ships or apprentice in some other trade,” she was explaining. “And I could teach!”

“Teach?”

“I taught you. Surely there is no other more stubborn student!” Her laugh was pulling at my resolve. “Or I can learn to be a clerk, or even farm at your side if you are willing to have me.”

She was reaching for me once more and I could not keep my hands from passing across the fine fabric that held a menagerie of flowers and moths and swirls of colors that I could’ve studied for days to pick out all of the finer details. She knew there was nothing I would not do for her. But this - to just run. To leave them all behind and live in this world together - as equals.

“My mother,” I whispered into her hair.

“Of course we will bring her,” she said without hesitation.

Her exuberance was hard not to purchase in to.

“You have been to Boston and New York. We can make our life there. We could be free there,” she continued on.

I paused, knowing that no ship would be leaving any time soon. “When does your father expect this wedding?”

“June.”

The lake ice would have the harbor locked up for a few more weeks. If LaBeau was willing to wait to give his daughter away, that gave us the opportunity to book passage. My purse was too light to do this - to make our escape. I was already a beggar. How was I to do this without coin, without…

She kissed me and led my hands against her fine dress. She was shivering with cold. I folded her close knowing that I needed to return her to the cage of her rooms - at least for now. I wrapped my coat around her, the bite of cold nipped at me but she allowed me to hold her close as we began to walk. Maéva was like a bird, chirping out plans and flittering with excitement.

The doubt attacked in the silence of my brain once it was alone. How could I care for her? Surely she would come to regret stepping so willingly into the depths of poverty and find her love turning to resentment when the realization came that her belly was empty and her body exposed to the true harshness of this world. To know that she would willingly walk into the sheer unknown only because she loved me, set my brain on needles with thoughts of unsureness. She trusted that I would provide what I could and in trade she would care for me. Though these lands of the new world were framed as obtainable dreams, that was still only true for those of wealth. Maéva would grow tired of the scrabble to just survive on the daily means of hard labor. Perhaps I should walk away and let her to her path of husband and titles and …

My gaze turned to the way the tops of the trees bent under the angry gust of wind. It matched my own thoughts. I had entertained leaving her behind? I wanted to leave her to a fate chosen by her father? If an entity such as myself could feel shame, I am sure I was feeling it the only way I knew how. The waves of color that thundered around me, billowing into storm clouds, were gathering to punish me. Fun was on them - apparently all of this was punishment across all time.

I had watched the ice slowly crush against the shore. Maéva fought with me to take her purse and purchase three tickets on the first ship that could carry us east. It was going to be hard enough to try to get her aboard without recognition, but to be forced to use her own money - it was not the start to our lives that I wanted and it bruised my ego in a way that was difficult to swallow. After years of watching my mother struggle to keep us alive, then adding my hands to the work, it was beyond hard to take her money, no matter the cause. I had fought my way through this life. I would fight my way to get away with her, even if it meant I had to take her as a married woman - take her from that rogue of a man her father deemed better.

It was bitter. My need to stand in our way because of some perceived notion that I had to be a man for her was dragging upon us, threatening the tender thread of a chance that waited for us. What a fool I was.

Another grand ball celebrating the engagement roused me from my sulking, for that was what I really was doing - acting like a child who had been scolded and paddled. I snuck up onto the side patio, staying to the shadows with my eyes searching for Maéva. There were musicians playing and people moving around with huge smiles that oozed privilege. I saw LaBeau waving his arms around and acting like he was the rooster on the field while his daughter stood at another man’s side. I hated it - the sight of that man, that Matthias, being so close to her made a rage boil in my belly that I could not tolerate.

Their hands met and he guided her through a dance that made the guests of the party clap their hands and smile their most beautiful smiles. No smile was upon Maéva’s mouth, however. Quite the opposite. What more, Matthias mirrored her hard expression. I watched as she turned, full of grace, full of beauty while her father beamed in his greed and lust for title for the family. And the man who was equally bright - that must have been the viscount. He was practically leering over the merchant’s purse that swung so heavy at his side and dripped from the walls of his marvelous manor house. They were the mechanism that drove this union, surely.

I caught Maéva’s eye, but withdrew deeper into the shadows. Amongst the smiles and delicate music, I solidified my presence as an outlier. I would free her from this fate that her father wanted more for himself than for her. To know that he would damn her for a few scraps of veneration was sickening. Was his wealth not enough, must he really have a title to put before his name as well?

Pathetic.

The veil of clouds streaked across the velvet of night, curling and swirling through the air like the smoke from Monsieur LaBeau’s fine pipe. I could feel the anger I had felt across the expanse of time. If that was a lesson that I needed to learn from, then in my stubbornness, I never learned to let that malice subside. I could feel it still bubble and toil on my echoed thoughts.

I stole away from the manor house like a stray cat turned away from its supper. I lingered on the edges of the beach, not wanting to be seen by anyone for fear of seeing the toil of my struggle over her. I had sequestered her coins under the floor of my bed. I would collect those coins and find a ship to the east coast. It would be easier to hide in a city. Perhaps we could get to Savannah. I had listened to a fellow deck hand ramble for hours about the warmth and wild beauty of the near tropical port. Or maybe Philadelphia. There were many, many people there making hiding amongst them easier.

I knew she would be in the market the following day with her matron. We’d found it easy enough for me to shadow her for a chance to talk. It was always near the baker when Leila would have her attention pulled enough away from her charge that we could sneak away for long enough for the woman to take no notice. The morning found me lingering amongst the fringes of the market square, my stomach empty. Mother had used the last few coins for medicine for the woman next door. The babe had been sick for days. Mother had been trying to apply the typical remedies, but the fever was slow to break and it was obvious that the child's needs were beyond her hands. She bartered where she could, but when there was nothing left to barter with, she would turn to what her body may earn. I would be sure to beg the stable master and the blacksmith for work, even if it meant for a few scraps to get us through a few days.

And there it was once more. I hid this from Maéva. This aspect of struggle. I wondered if I did it to protect her or keep her blind? It did not matter. She would hear me once more lay out what was ahead, but I knew in my heart that she would not listen. She would have to learn hunger and need through experience and I would have to keep my tongue about me as she waded through the mire in hopes that she would not wake and realize the horrible mistake that she was making on loving me.

Close to midday, I was near giving up that she would arrive, and getting more frustrated as I knew I should be finding work for my hands, not standing idle. Finally, she appeared, fresh and bright amongst the damp and dingy pier. I fought my heart from just running to her. How foolish would that be. No. I waited and quietly watched as she looked over the wares she was there to procure for another day in the grand house. Her matron was already looking thin of patience. I wonder if Maéva had deliberately worn her through before even reaching the market for the sole purpose of this visit. I bided my time, moving slowly and making sure to look at the different vendors before stopping once more before the baker’s stall. My stomach stabbed and complained. I was fighting the urge to snatch a lump of bread that had been cut apart and tossed to the side as stale as it was easier to feed it to the birds than a human in need. I dug my fist deeper into my torn pocket in hopes that it would keep me from the easy notion of theft. She approached, relieving my thoughts of my hollow belly.

“Good day,” she whispered, hiding her mouth in her outstretched arm.

I smiled and nodded as I looked for the matron. “Talk?”

I moved away as was our warrant in such affairs. I would find her once more closer to the beach once she was able to slip the eye of Leila. There was a spot under the well trod boards of the pier that was in between the massive pylons where the boulders sheltered the land. I waited, breathing in the soured, fish riddled air. Maéva appeared in all of her faceless brightness, but I could feel her smile radiating off all of her body. It was always the same without fail whenever she came near. I could only imagine what I actually looked like, but on the inside - I swooned over her nearness.

She took my hand and I leaned in to kiss her mouth, but I stopped before the sweet crush touched my lips. “Will you want to go to Savannah?” I whispered.

Half of a breath later, her arms were thrown around my neck and her lips to mine with a trill of laughter. I found myself caught up in her exuberance. My love for her was absolutely consuming and yet so strong that I felt as if I could sustain on our love alone.

Coyotes chirping in the distance drew my eye back to the present. The creature was once again laying upon my grave. It was torture not knowing the significance of this being. Or perhaps it was the anguish of knowing this lingering was my form of purgatory. I was languishing across centuries of time that I should have been with her - with my Maéva.

Yeah. So where do we go from here? 💚

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