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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years

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The Hero's Countdown | PJM (One)

Summary: Soulmates: The one you are bound to. In this world, you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, everything. Once day you feel the most excruciating amount of pain only to find out your soulmate has died. What happens when the God’s of Time offer to turn back time so you can make things right and save your soulmates life?

Pairing: Jimin x Female reader

Genre: soulmates au, Gods au, fluff, smut, angst, crack

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: swearing, suicide, mentions of sex, oc is kinda a bitch

Notes: And the first chapter is finally here! Sorry it took so long!! I don’t know why I have been so nervous to post this…but It’s going to be a fun journey! Send an ask if you want to be added to a taglist or if you just want to chat:) (Remember this is all fictitious)

Taglist: @mawwnsterr @fancycollectormoon

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June 21

Pain. Excruciating pain. You feel it in your chest first, then the intense feeling travels from your beating heart to the tips of your fingers. You choke on air trying to compose yourself, but the pain is so unbelievably powerful that you struggle to catch your breath. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong. Your hand goes to your chest, you pull at your shirt as you try to breathe and then suddenly it stops. Just like that. Something happened. Something happened to him.

Soulmates: Two people with the soul connection who feel they are linked on a soul level in a significant or extraordinary way. In this world that means the person you are bound to. When you meet you feel an incredibly intense pull of instant recognition and intense attraction followed by intense emotions. And you feel everything they feel. Their joy, their pain, just everything if it’s considered intense. Physically and emotionally. And that doesn’t stop until you officially “connect” with your partner. What does that even mean? Connect? Does that mean fucking? That sounds like it means fucking. It probably means fucking. You don’t believe in all this bullshit though. The universes predestined bullshit can kiss. Your. Ass.

You’ve learned the hard way that even destined soulmates can’t always make it work…and leaving it up to fate leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. So you ignore fate. You do the very opposite of what fate wants. Fate is strong though and very hard to ignore. It pulls you in the direction of your soulmate constantly—quite literally. Whenever you get the urge, like urge to do something—like out of nowhere get the idea to visit the new bookstore down the block…even though you don’t care for reading. Yeah, that’s a sign that fate is trying to work its magic but you resist that god damn urge and do your own thing. And that’s just one example.

Feeling all your soulmates feelings wouldn’t be so horrible if the man you are destined to be with wasn’t so god damn emotional. Fucking Park Jimin. Yes, you’re well aware who your soulmate is…how else do you know how to avoid him so perfectly? As much as you can at least…considering… But he doesn’t seek you out either—thankfully. But you know he wants to. You can quite literally feel it…his yearning is so powerful it makes you nauseas. But he agreed to stay away. So now you live your life however you please! You have an amazing job that you love, a fantastic group of friends and a hot man you sex up on the regular. Things are good!

The only thing that isn’t good is that you still haven’t bought Isabelle a gift for her birthday party tonight. You’re walking on the sidewalk back to work from getting a coffee on this breezy Monday afternoon when you are hit with realization that you are the worst best friend ever. She always goes above and beyond for your birthday but you can’t even think of a decent gift for her! You listen to the click clack of your heels hitting the pavement as your mind wanders…what could you possibly get her that she doesn’t already have?

You feel your phone buzzing and speak of the devil.

“Hello?” You bring the phone to your ear and your coffee to your lips.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite Julio to my birthday event? Because I just got a text from him asking if he needs to bring anything.” You hear your frazzled best friend on the other line.

“He’s my date tonight.” You say nonchalantly. “Come on, when you guys drink together you…kind of…get along.” You shrug even though she can’t see you.

“Good lord, y/n. You know I can’t stand him. I know he’s got “that good dick” but couldn’t we have went one night without him.” she whines into the phone and you chuckle.

“I’ll make sure he behaves.” You promise. “Now tell me,” you stop at a cross walk and wait for the little person to light up. “What the hell do you want for your birthday?”

“…classic y/n.” Isabelle sighs out, “Just do what you did last year and buy me yet another scarf for my collection.”

“Okay I’ve only bought you like three scarves.” You defend with a pout.

“Four actually, but okay.”

“I’ll just figure it out. See you tonight boo.”

“Fine, see you tonight.” And then you’re bringing the phone down and clicking the end button. Isabelle and Julio (your fuck buddy) don’t necessarily get along. They’re both too similar, you think. But neither will admit that. You’ve been seeing Julio for a few months now, it’s nothing serious of course. He has yet to meet his soulmate and you’re just totally against soulmates. So it makes for good sex.

You walk up to your building and take a deep breath, time to get back to work. You love your job, you really do. But you constantly put your job before your sanity. Because—

“Oh hey.”

Him. You felt him before you even saw him…that’s how strong the pull is. Fate is a funny thing. It brought you to this job, and it brought you to him. But instead of purposely choosing another path and avoiding him like the plague you chose to endure. Because you fucking love this job.

You write scripts for video games and it’s the most fulfilling thing in your life right now…yes even more fulfilling than Julio’s dick. But seeing him 5 days of the week and feeling how he yearns for you is really fucking your head up.

“I said don’t talk to me, remember?” you say with a tight smile. “Seeing you is hard enough.”

Jimin’s eyes soften as he looks at you and he offers an apologetic smile.

“Goodbye, y/n.” and he’s walking past you as he decides to take the stairs while your lazy ass waits for the elevator.

Pain. You feel his pain. And you wince at the overwhelming feeling. But you have to endure and move forward!

“Afternoon y/n.” Your boss comes up to you as you both wait for the elevator. “You got that new script ready for me?”

“Yes sir, I’ll bring it up to your desk before I leave work today.” You offer him one of your sweeter smiles and he brightens.

“Great!” he chuckles wholeheartedly and pats your back, then he’s walking forward once the elevator arrives.

You sigh out in relief that he didn’t question you further…because in truth, that script is not ready and you’re about to have to work your ass off for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

It’s pretty chilly for being an evening in the summer but hey, you won’t complain. It’s better than the blistering heat from a few days ago. You have the address on your phone for the restaurant you’re meeting Isabelle at for her birthday bash. The streets are busy as usual since the city never rests. You walk towards a group of people when you suddenly are hit with an intense feeling of…despair? God, it hurts. But it’s over just as quickly as it started. You compose yourself and continue walking…a few worried looks from strangers but you brush it off.

“She’s finally here!” Isabelle slurs out, “My best fucking friend bitches!”

“Oh my god who let her get drunk before dinner?” you ask, scratching the top of your head as Isabelle rushes to hug you.

“It’s my birthday, I can do what I want.” She drunkenly giggles. “Hurry, hurry.” She ushers you to take a seat and you do. You plop down in the spot next to her, setting your birthday bag down on the ground.

“Another scarf?” she teases, pointing at the bag.

“And if it is?”

“Then I’ll love it you predictable bitch.”

“Hey gorgeous.” You feel a pair of lips kissing your cheek and you know just who they belong to.

“Hi.” You breathe out, “just getting here?” you ask and Julio nods his head yes.

“I didn’t want to get here way earlier than you…I wouldn’t have a friend to hang out with.” He playfully pouts, “But you’re here now.”

“Yes, now you have a friend.” You wink.

You’re about to speak again when another wave of pain hits you. You throw a hand over your racing heart and breathe out heavily.

“Hey, you okay?” Julio rubs your back, “y/n?”

And then it disappears as quickly as it came…

“Yeah, yeah.” You gasp out, “Jeez, wow.” You whisper. “I’m fine.”

Julio gives you a look of concern before he’s nodding his head slowly and turning his body to grab a drink.

“If you say so.” He mumbles.

You try to shake off these strange feelings, and try to have a good time. Isabelle is throwing back drink after drink and after dinner you join her. You begin to loosen up, the alcohol working its drunken magic on you. Isabelle is dancing on a table as the restaurants staff tries their best to get her down, you just watch and laugh like a maniac.

Everything is going good, really good…until pain.

“y/n? y/n?” You hear Julio call out for you desperately as you try to even out your breathing.

“Hey, you okay?” his voice sounds so distant, like he’s getting further and further away from you. “Get out of my way!” You now hear Isabelle’s voice, she’s pushing through the crowd that surrounds you. “I said, get out of my way!”

Then finally she’s at your side, you are heaving, you are struggling to breath. You feel your cheeks wet from the tears that managed to escape your eyes unknowingly.

What the fuck happened? What’s happening?

Finally, after several minutes of gasping for air, you manage to relax.

“What the hell happened? Are you okay?” Isabelle looks at you with worried eyes, her hand on your back as you straighten yourself.

“Isabelle…I think something happened.”

“What?”

“It’s Jimin, I can feel it.”

Isabelle’s eyes widen and she nods her head in understanding. “Let’s get you home.”

“You have reached the voicemail box of…” you slam your phone down on your coffee table and sigh out in frustration. You have called Jimin maybe 10 times now but it just keeps going to voicemail. What the hell happened? Is he okay? This feels wrong, you feel wrong. You feel empty for some reason like someone stole your life away, like they sucked it right out of your body. You feel weak. You are barely able to move from the coffee table from how fucking weak you are.

You decide to call it a night, you will just confront Jimin at work tomorrow and ask what the hell happened. You drag your weak, weak body to your bed and try your hardest to fall asleep. But all you can think about is Jimin, he’s taking over your mind. Like, you can’t control it. You see images of him and images of his life, maybe you are just imagining it? But you’re sure these are images of his life…is that something soulmates can do? You toss and turn for hours, until finally you see the sky turn a dark blue and eventually the sun is rising.

You decide to just say fuck it, and get up. You’ll get to work early today. You have so much trouble getting ready, you feel ill. Like, a demon sucked you dry of your energy. But you endure because you really need to see Jimin today.

You grab a coffee on the way to work when you feel yourself being pulled into the direction of your office—Jimin must be there. You walk a little faster and when you finally reach the building you notice something is off. There’s groups of people gathered around the building and police officers inside, you walk in and see your boss talking to one of the officers.

“Oh y/n!” your boss calls out to you, his hand raised up to get your attention, and then he’s waving you over.

“Yes?” you look between him and the officer, “What’s up? What’s going on?”

“Did you know Park Jimin?” The officer gets straight to the point.

“I…do…” your eyes scan the inside of the building and you notice a couple of women that work in your office crying into each other’s arms.

“Do you know if something was going on his life? Something that could lead him to commit suicide?”

“C-Commit?” you look around the room again, you notice your boss looking antsy and the couple of women crying did happen to work in Jimin’s department.

“Yes mam, we understand this is difficult. But any information you have could be crucial. We need to make sure we can rule this out as suicide and not something more serious.”

“He loved his job.” Your boss cuts in nervously, “So it’s not because we didn’t treat him well or something…”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “Commit suicide?”

“We found Park Jimin’s body this morning in his apartment. Overdose it seems. His elderly neighbor usually brings him breakfast in the mornings and when he didn’t answer she got concerned. She was shocked to say the least.”

“He-He’s dead?” you blink at the officer repeatedly, “He died?” you are in a state of shock yourself. There’s no way…you just saw him yesterday…but…but those waves of pain you felt then that huge wave that felt like…death itself.

“I think you’re wrong.” You say, in a state of denial now. “Jimin was just here…I just saw him yesterday.”

“Time of death is some time last night.” The officer confirms. “That’s her!” you hear the voice of a woman scream out. “That’s that bitch!” you turn around in a daze, trying to find the source of the screams.

“You fucking bitch!” you see a woman charging at you, screaming at the top of her lungs with her finger pointed in your direction.

“M-Me?” you point at yourself in confusion.

“He just…why couldn’t you give him a chance?” The woman breaks down, falling to her knees in front of you. “You’re his soulmate for fucks sake. This is all your fault!” She cries out, defeated.

You stand here, confused as hell. He told people? And how is this your fault?

“H-He’s not gone.” You say weakly, your shock still very fresh. “I’ll call him.” you quickly grab your phone from your pocket and dial Jimin’s number.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

You gulp, trying again…

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

And again.

“You have reached the voicemail box of….”

Fuck, why isn’t he answering? You start to panic now. You blink back growing tears, your body seems to be growing weaker and weaker.

“He’s just…”

“He’s dead!” she screams out, looking up into your eyes, her own eyes bubbled over with tears. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

The officer is helping the women off the floor and escorting her outside the building. You stand here in complete shock still, your body about to give out on you. There’s absolutely no way Jimin is dead. And there’s absolutely no way it’s your fault. Right?

~~~~~

Your limbs are so overwhelmingly heavy as you are draped over your sofa. You are unable to move. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat. You are unable to form sentences at this point, you feel drained. Completely drained. You still can’t believe the news. Jimin is gone. You don’t want to believe it but you do feel heartbroken…you feel so lost and empty and incomplete.

You close your eyes, hoping to drift off into a deep, deep sleep.

“We should let her sleep…”

“No! Girl needs to wake up and we need to get this show on the road!”

“Jin…”

“What? The more time she sleeps the more time she wastes.”

“We literally control time we can let her sleep for 5 more minutes.”

“Exactly, we control it so you know how precious it is, Namjoon.”

You swear you hear voices but you’re too fucking tired to open your eyes, they sound so far away…

“Listen I’m only letting her have these 5 minutes because girl needs her beauty sleep. Do you see those horrible dark circles?”

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“Okay, she has like 30 seconds left and we are waking her ass up.”

“Fine.”

“Hey! Hey!” your shoulders are getting fucking rocked as somebody tries to wake you. “Wakey Wakey, hands off snakey!”

“She doesn’t have a snakey dude.” You hear another voice.

You slowly begin to open your eyes when you see a man with his hands on your shoulders. You scream. You scream bloody murder.

“Hey, woah, woah!” The guy puts his hands up in surrender. “Not going to hurt you!”

“We’re just here to talk.” The other voice cuts in, you snap your head to the side and notice another man. You scramble on the sofa, getting into a defensive position as you scream again.

“Have ourself a screamer, don’t we?” the first man winks, “Huh? Huh?” he opens his arms wide and shakes his head around. “No? Tough crowd.”

“Who the hell are you two? Take what you want! Please just leave me alone!”

“We don’t want anything and leaving you alone isn’t something we can do.” The second man says, he sighs out and crosses his arms. “Look, we need to talk.”

“Oh!” the first man quirks a brow, “We don’t want to take anything…no offense, maybe a little offense, but your apartment isn’t that ni—”

“Jin, now is not the time.”

“What the fuck is happening?” you yell out, “Who are you two?”

“Right.” The first man says, “Introductions. Should we just say who we are or should we do our little number that you refuse to rehearse?”

“We aren’t singing as our intros, Jin.”

“Why not? So unfair, Tae and Hobi do it.

“They’re a special breed.” The second man releases a long breath, “I’m Namjoon.”

“And I’m Jin.”

“And we’re—”

“The Gods of Time!”

You blink at the two psychopaths in your living room with your mouth wide open. What the fuck?

“How did you two get in here?!” you ask, deciding to ignore their little introduction.

“Walked through the front door.”

“But it’s locked—“”

“No, like literally.” Jin states, “We walked through it. Because we’re you know, Gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Did you just tell a God to shut the fuck up?” Jin grins, “Brave girl.”

“We have an order of business.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at Jin, “We need to talk.”

“We aren’t talking until you tell me how you got in my apartment! And what you fucking want!”

“He told you already,” Namjoon sighs, “We walked through the front door and we want to talk.”

“You walked through? Because you’re Gods? Right, like I’m supposed to believe that.” You huff out and Jin lights up with an idea.

“Here.” He’s suddenly handing you a knife. “Stab me.”

“What the fuck?” You hold the knife in your hand, where did he even get a knife so quickly? “I’m not going to stab you!”

“Just do it!”

“No!”

“Yeah, just do it.” Namjoon encourages you with a tired face.

“No!”

“Come on just a little stabby wabby.” Jin sings, “Come on!”

“Fine!” you stick the knife in Jin’s leg and he starts screaming in agony.

“What the hell!!!! Why would you really stab me?!?!? Oh MY GOD?!!!”

“YOU TOLD ME TO?!?!” you stand up in panic, rushing to his leg and seeing if it’s something serious.

“YOU MANIAC!!!! YOU REALLY STABBED—” then he’s laughing hysterically as Namjoon just claps his hands with an unimpressed face.

“Great performance Jin, but can we get to the point?”

“Performance?” you stutter, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m a God. You think a little human knife can hurt me?”

“Wait, wait, wait! You really are okay? I stabbed you! Oh my god,” you start spiraling, “I stabbed someone.” You whisper. “Oh my god. Are you okay? I am so sorry!”

“Once again, we are God’s.” Namjoon states matter of fact. “Human weapons do not hurt us.”

Your eyes widen in complete shock, you look between the two men and start shaking your head—spiraling even further.

“God’s? God’s of what?” you breathe out. “This is…this is impossible.”

“God’s of time.” Jin snaps his fingers, “and do we have an offer for you.”

“W-What offer?” you plop down on your couch, your face has gone pale. What the hell is happening?

“Your soulmate, Park Jimin…” Namjoon begins. “Committed suicide last night.”

“And full offense girly, but it’s sort of your fault.” Jin chimes in. You feel your entire body go weak again.

“But we want to offer you something. We will roll back time by one month. Giving you the opportunity to make things right and save his life.”

“Turn back time?” you mumble, “That’s impossible.”

You watch as Jin rolls his eyes and with his pointer finger he’s making small circles.

“Turn back time?” You mumble, “That’s impossible.”

Suddenly you’re hit with Déjà vu. “Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Jin grins and making small circles with his pointer finger again.

“Wait, didn’t I just say that?”

Your eyes go comically wide. “Woah. How did you do that?”

“God’s of Time, it’s literally our specialty.” Namjoon says.

“This girl really don’t listen.” Jin sits down on the couch next to you and you try scooting away.

“Okay…say you really can turn back time…why one month? And why are you giving me this chance?”

“One month because that’s how long it will take to change Jimin’s mind. And because…” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side…”We were sort of pressured into this.”

“By who?”

Ding Dong

“Great, they’re here.” Jin whines, “I was hoping we would have more time with the human by ourselves.”

“Who’s here?” you start to panic, “Who pressured you?”

“Pressure? That’s not very nice to say.” You hear a new voice and it startles you. “Hi there.” You look up to see two new bodies in your living room. “We are—”

“Great, they’re going to sing.” Namjoon sighs. “On with it then.”

“Taehyung and Hoseok!” They say as melodically as possible, “God’s of Fate!” You swear you can see flowers and hearts and stars surround them.

“And we are not happy with you!” Taehyung dramatically pouts while pointing at you, “We have set up such a nice life for you but you always do the opposite. You really hurt our feelings.” Hoseok smiles a huge ass smile, ultimately confusing you further.

“God’s of fate?” you stand up and shake your head frantically. “What’s happening? What’s happening?”

“If you would have followed our path—the natural path—then you and Jimin would be happily together right now.” Taehyung lightly scolds you.

“But instead…” Hoseok begins, “You did the opposite of what we wanted and now look what happened.” He says with a smile still. “You messed with the natural order of things.”

“You’re saying it’s my fault? That Jimin is…”

“Didn’t I literally say it was your fault?” Jin questions and Namjoon swats his arm. “It’s okay though girly, we are offering you a chance to fix this. You can save his life.”

“He’s right y/n.” Namjoon walks closer to you, “You can save his life.”

You can save Jimin? How is this even possible? Suddenly, you hear faint knocking on your front door.

“Oh man. They’re here.” Taehyung looks towards the door.

“Well, we knew they would show up.”

“Who? Who?” you ask, clearly not ready for more guests.

“May I?” Hoseok gestures towards the door, asking if he can open it. You just shrug at this point.

Hoseok walks to the door and swings it open, revealing two more men.

“Oh if it isn’t mister sunshine and sunshine Junior.” The shorter man says under his breath as he walks past Hoseok and Taehyung. Another man following closely behind.

“We actually like those nicknames.” Taehyung says with a smile. “But yes, what are you doing here?”

“You know why we’re here.” The taller man smirks. “We have a soul we don’t intend on returning.”

“Who the fuck are you two?” you grit out, clearly tired of everyone at this point.

“Yoongi.” The shorter man states like he’s bored.

“And I’m Jungkook.”

“Okay? And?”

“Introduce yourselves properly you fools!” Jin yells out.

“Right right.” Yoongi nods his head subtlety, “God’s of Death.”

Your eyes widen in terror. God’s of Death? “So you kill people? Oh my god…you killed Jimin…”

“Okay, one… we don’t kill people.” Yoongi states and Jungkook jumps in.

“But we do like it when they die.” He says with big doe eyes and Yoongi’s expression changes like the realization has hit him.

“Yes,” he admits. “We do like that.”

“Actually we love it.” Jungkook pipes in again.

“Yes, we do love it.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly.

“And two… Jimin offed himself, we just wait to retrieve his soul.”

“His soul is all we’re interested in.” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “That’s all.”

“Oh? Is that all?” Taehyung mutters underneath his breath.

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on and why you all are in my apartment?”

“Damn girl, you really don’t listen.” Jin puts a hand on his hip.

Namjoon steps closer to you again and pats you on the back, urging you to take a seat.

“Taehyung and Hoseok are the God’s of fate, they want to bring you and Jimin together for your epic love or whatever…Jin and I may owe them a favor. So here we are, the God’s of Time…offering you a chance to turn back time and save Jimin’s life. But the God’s of Death over here…” he gestures towards Yoongi and Jungkook, Jungkook looks at you with a wink, “…don’t want that. They’re here to stop you so they can keep their soul like the soul hungry bastards they are.”

The other 5 men nod their heads in agreement as you look at each of them incredulously.

“And you expect me to believe this?” you wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and sigh out heavily, not believing a word.

“Should you stab me again?” Jin offers with a grin, showing you his little human knife you just stabbed him with earlier.

“What??” Jungkook slumps his shoulders, “Jin got stabbed and I missed it?” Jungkook frowns, “I always miss the good stuff…anyway, I vote you stab him again.”

“No!” you’re quick to yell out. “No more stabbing.”

Jungkook physically deflates once again, clearly disappointed.

“y/n…” Namjoon puts his hand on your shoulder, “Make your decision. Do you want to save Jimin or not?”

Of course you want to save Jimin…you don’t want someone you know dead, like come on. But what does it mean to save him?

“Follow our path.” Taehyung whispers to you, “The natural path.”

“You mean your predestined bullshit?” you spit out and Taehyung and Hoseok frown.

“It’s not bull…” then he whispers, “shit.”

“You can say cuss words sunshine junior.” Yoongi smirks, “come on, say ‘fuck’ just once.”

“No!” Taehyung whines

“Stop trying to make our Taehyungie do bad things!” Hoseok stands in front of Taehyung, defending him.

“I’ll say ‘fuck’.” Jungkook looks around the room raising his hand, offering his foul language.

“You already say it all the time, doesn’t count.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Get sunshine junior to say it though and I’ll give you 5 bucks.”

“Come on bro, say ‘fuck’ let me get 5 dollars.” Jungkook begs.

“Human money literally means nothing to us?” Jin questions.

“I still like to collect it.”

“Collecting souls isn’t enough?” Namjoon deadpans.

“I’m a collector, leave me alone.”

“More like a hoarder…” Yoongi cuts in, sighing out.

“Okay!” You stand, “Enough!”

“Finally, someone with some sense.” Namjoon says, “So are you taking us up on our offer? Going to save Jimin’s life?”

“Listen girly, take the offer. Be a hero. Because right now you’re technically the villain.” Jin says matter of fact, his hip poking out as his hand rests on it.

“Or live the life you want. It’s not your fault lover boy offed himself.” Yoongi walks closer to you. “He basically gave his soul for free.”

“You know Jimin was a good person…” Hoseok tells you, “You could feel it.”

You feel yourself grow guilty…this should be a no brainer right? You may not like the idea of soulmates but Jimin doesn’t deserve…this. He deserves to live.

“I’ll do it. I’ll make things right with Jimin, I’ll save his life.” Your firm voices echoes throughout the apartment and Jungkook scoffs.

“You think you can change his mind in a month? He’s set in stone, sweetheart.”

“One…gross, don’t call me sweetheart, and two, I can try.”

“Have fun trying with us by your side.” Yoongi states, a scowl taking over his face.

“She will have us buy her side as well.” Taehyung offers, “We will guide her every step of the way. You can rely on us, rely on fate.”

You roll your eyes, you don’t want any of these guys by your side.

“Is this your final decision?” Namjoon asks, he looks at you with a serious expression and you shudder.

“…Yes.”

“Did you hear that besties? Girl has made her final decision. Shall I do the honors?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. When you wake up y/n…it will be one month ago yesterday. Are you prepared for that?”

“Will I be aware?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Remember you have 30 days to make things right.” Namjoon reminds you and you nod your head.

“Okay, here we go!” Jin spins in circles and you all watch him …it’s lasting for several seconds too long, you grow confused. Jin keeps twirling around, doing little curtseys and now he’s doing the fucking robot…until Namjoon stands up.

“For heaven’s sake.” He uses his finger to spin in circles and things start fading to black, time slowly turning backwards.

May 21

It’s morning. You check your phone and it’s around 7am on Friday, May 21st. What the actual hell. It worked? You went back in time, right? This isn’t just some really incredible, elaborate prank right?

“If you’re thinking if this really happened…it did.” You hear Namjoon speak up from across your room.

“And if you’re thinking ‘wow these two super handsome guys really did that?’ we did.” Jin says hovering over you in bed. You can’t help but yelp, still surprised of their presence.

“Why are you guys here still?”

“Oh honey, it’s not just us.” Jin says matter of fact.

“It’s us too!” Hoseok says cheerily.

“Hoseok and Taehyung too?” you question slowly, your eyes scanning the room.

“Please,” Taehyung throws a hand over his heart, “Call us Hobi and Tae.”

“It’s just you four—”

“You really need to go grocery shopping.” Jungkook walks in the room with an apple in his hand, he brings it to his mouth and takes a crunchy bite.

“And as expected of the human world, the TV is trash.” Yoongi walks in after him, throwing your remote on your bed.

“Why the hell is everyone still here?” you yell out, grabbing at your hair. “I thought I was on a solo mission now!”

“Oh baby girl, it’s not just you anymore” Jungkook smirks, taking another obnoxious bite of his apple—your apple.

“Okay, if I didn’t want to be called sweetheart what makes you think baby girl is gonna pass?”

“I don’t know, thought I’d give it a shot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway,” you roll your eyes. “What do you mean it’s not just me?”

“You insist on saving Jimin’s life…we insist on keeping his soul. We have opposing goals here.” Yoongi explains, a bored expression drawn on his face. “We are going to make sure you are not successful. We can only interfere so much though.”

“And we,” Hobi cuts in, “Are here to make sure you are successful. You see, we are here to guide you on your little journey.”

“Think of us as your friends.” Tae grins at you.

“Yeah, I’d rather not.” You deadpan.

“And you two?” You point at Namjoon and Jin. “What is your purpose?”

“To make sure you don’t fuck up, to put it simply.” Jin states. “You do that a lo—Ow!” Namjoon hits Jin in the gut.

“What Jin is trying to say is, we are giving you a total of 3 mess ups. Once you strike through all 3, you’re on your own. We won’t manipulate time any more for a human like you.”

“A human like me?”

“I just mean, a human in general.” He clarifies and you relax.

“Can others see you?” You ask, quite curious. This whole thing is curious actually. You have 6 God’s chilling in your room right now and you are surprisingly chiller than you thought you’d be.

“They will…” Hobi’s eyes slide to the side. “Listen,” he sways on his feet. “We are going to be spending a lot of time together this next month so let’s all get along.” He smiles that big ass smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yes, let’s all get along!” Tae chirps, “Except maybe not with these two.” He points at Yoongi and Jungkook. Jungkook narrows his eyes at Tae and slumps his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get you to say ‘fuck’ sunshine junior, mark my words.”

“Not likely.” Tae narrows his own eyes before he’s spinning on his heels to face you again happily. “y/n.” he sings out, “Our new companion!” Hobi joins in on his song, they both start humming and whistling and suddenly Hobi is rapping. It’s all too much, really.

“Yo yo yo, Jin is in the house too—OW!”

“Anyway,” Namjoon brings a small book from his pocket. “There’s rules. Just a couple.”

“Rules?” you mumble, “What rules?”

“Rule number 1,” Jin starts, “You can’t tell Jimin you’re aware of his suicidal thoughts—this can just have more negative effects. Keep his little secret.”

“And rule number 2,” Namjoon closes the little notebook. “You can’t tell anyone about us.” He gestures towards all 6 of them. “You have to swear on this book.”

“What happens if either of those things happen?” You ask.

“Oh they won’t girl.” Jin shakes his finger at you. “Once you swear on a God’s book…you are bound to secrecy. You will literally not be able to talk about it. Your mouth will physically shut.”

“Jin’s right.” Hobi says, “That’s the law of the God’s promises.”

“And you are promising to us.” Tae adds in.

“That’s just the way it is.” Yoongi comments nonchalantly as he picks at his nails.

“Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll swear on the book.” You get up from bed and walk towards Namjoon, you eye his little notebook and then you look at him incredulously.

“Book of the God’s my ass! You can buy this exact notebook from the dollar store!”

“I like human objects too.” He mumbles shyly, “But it is property of the God’s so…are you going to sign it or not?”

“Do I…do I have to like sign with my blood or some—”

“—Yes.” Jungkook says.

“No, no. Stop that Jungkook,” Namjoon pulls out a pen from his pocket. “Just a regular pen. Also probably from the dollar store you speak of.”

“Okay, I got it…” you grab the pen from him and sign your name to the paper. The notebook starts shining a bright gold, almost blinding you. Then the glow fades and you see your signature in gold letters.

“It is done.” Namjoon says, nodding at the others.

“We are going to be with you as much as possible.” Taehyung smiles at you, “So please take care of us.” He bows his head towards you and you wave him off.

“You guys do realize I still have to work right?”

“Oh,” Namjoon’s eyes slide to the side, “We are prepared for that.”

“How are you prepared for—”

~~~~~

You sit in your little cubicle in complete and utter shock, your jaw literally on the floor.

“And this is our new team of writers, editors, and soundtrack producers. They’ll be working on a new game that is still under wraps.” Your boss gestures towards 6 men. The same fucking 6 men that were just in your apartment. Can you even call them just men? They are God’s!

“Please introduce yourself to the rest of the staff.”

“Right, I am Namjoon in charge of writing along with my partner Jin—”

“Jin is me, yes hi. Call me Worldwide—Hey!” Namjoon swats Jin’s stomach. But Jin recovers quickly, blowing a kiss around the office.

“I’m Tae.” Tae brightly waves at everyone, “In charge of editing scripts. Please take care of me.”

“And I’m Hobi, also in charge of editing! Let’s get along everyone!”

“Yo. Names Yoongi.” He quietly says, waving like a shy child.

“I am Jungkook, I am single and I—”

“They’re in charge of soundtrack production.” Namjoon cuts in. “Nice to meet you all.”

The office starts to quietly applaud, nodding their heads in approval as you sit here with your jaw on the floor. There is no way…absolutely no way this is happening.

“Ah, y/n!” Your boss calls out for you, he’s already walking to your desk. “Namjoon here says you all know each other, so I would like for you to help get them get settled in.” The group of 6 men follow behind him. You look at Namjoon like he is absolutely insane.

“Help them how?” you ask quietly. “Like, show them where the coffee maker is? Oh, look. Its right over there.” You point to the left of you. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh y/n! You’re so funny!” Jin slaps his knee, “I need help with some formatting on the first script I have…apparently you know a thing or two about that.” He grins at you and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t worry…” Hobi begins, his eyes looking around the office. “We won’t just rely on you for help around here…ah! There he is!” Hobi nudges Tae shoulder. “Jimin!” he begins waving the man over.

Jimin looks around the office as if he isn’t the only one with that name. He points at himself and mouths ‘me?’ Hobi and Tae smile widely and nod their heads in unison as they wave him over.

“Yes?” Jimin walks up to you all, his eyes on you…he feels himself grow nervous. “Can I help you?”

“Actually yes.” Tae starts, “Boss man here says you’re an editor just like us, maybe you can show us the ropes.”

“Ah.” Jimin slowly nods his head with his mouth slightly open. “I see.” Then he is nervously looking at you again. “Is that okay? For us all to be working together?” he looks at you while asking this and you scoff.

“I don’t control your life Jimin, do what you want.” You spit out and Jin hits your arm.

“What she means to say is, yes of course we can all work together!” he sings.

You release a long breath, remembering you are on a mission. You muster the fakest smile you can and make eye contact with Jimin.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” You continue to grin and Jimin scrunches his brows as he slowly nods his head again.

“O...kay…”

Hobi jumps in excitement and repeatedly hits Tae’s arm, like he just got an amazing idea.

“Why don’t we all go out tonight to celebrate?”

“What are we celebrating?” you deadpan but Jin hits your arm again and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Remember…fate is guiding you. Do as they say.” He says through a tight lip smile.

“Yeah…” you find the energy to say, “Sounds fun…let’s do that.”

You hate this. You are only barely talking to Jimin but you can feel the pull intensify with every word you say to him and every word he speaks to you goes straight to your heart and your fucking vagina.

To call Jimin attractive is an understatement. He is beyond that…he is beyond handsome, beyond cute, beyond gorgeous and beyond sexy. He has a charming way about him, his sharp jawline, his smile with those full, full lips, his eyes. He is effortlessly beautiful…and it drives you absolutely insane.

You remember the first time you saw Jimin…love at first sight? Also an understatement.

He was blonde then. His hair swept across his forehead, you would almost think that was his natural color because it looked that god damn good on him. Now his hair is black and holy hell, it is also his color. But you might think any color is.

“Celebrate how?” Jimin speaks up, his eyes going to Hobi.

“Drinks!” Tae chimes in, “But only one because we all have to work in the morning.” He chuckles and the rest of the boys join in.

“I don’t believe in hangovers.” Jungkook says with his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk gracing his features.

“You literally had one like 3 days ago.” Yoongi comments, “You also said ‘I’m never drinking again’”

“That was a different Jungkook.” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I’ve matured since then.”

“Yeah, right.” You laugh. “Also you guys realize tomorrow is Saturday…”

You actually laugh and the 7 boys snap their heads towards you and smile. All but Jimin…and kind of Yoongi.

“What?”

“You can laugh!!!” Jin takes your hand and high fives himself with it. “Amazing.”

“And you laughed because of me!” Jungkook cheers. “God, I knew I was fucking hilarious.”

“Chill out, kid.” Yoongi shakes his head.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “There’s a bar in the building next to us. We can meet at 7.”

“Actually let’s meet right after work, we can all walk together.” Hobi looks at you knowingly and you roll your eyes.

“Right. Okay, after work then.”

“Sure…” Jimin says slowly, “I will meet you guys here then.” Then he’s taking one last look at you before walking away back to his side of the office.

“Are you guys fucking insane?!” You whisper shout towards the 6 gods. “You work here now?!”

“We have to keep an eye on you and make sure everything goes smoothly…” Tae pouts, he messes with his neck tie nervously. “I even bought these cool human clothes…I thought maybe you would notice.”

“Yeah, yeah. You look nice.” You gesture towards his body and you swear you can see puppy dog ears and tail wagging behind him from how happy he is.

“What about me? What about me?” Jin motions towards his own body as he winks at you.

“You? Fine you look nice too.”

Jungkook slowly walks in the middle of your circle and shows off his outfit to all of you, spinning in a few circles.

“And me baby girl?”

“Call me baby girl one more time and I swear I will kick—”

“Jeez, no need to be aggressive!” Jungkook puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll take the L for now.”

“Namjoon, please say something as the only person here who is sane.” You turn to face Namjoon and he is looking down at his own outfit.

“Human clothes are so boring.” Is all he says.

You can’t help but groan…then you feel it. Eyes on you. Not just any eyes. His eyes. You follow the feeling until your eyes meet his, he immediately looks away and you feel a sense of guilt. Jimin is going to kill himself? And it’s supposedly your fault? Can you fix this? Can you change his mind? Can you save his life? Can you?

~~~~~

The bar is quiet, well it is only like 5pm. But you assume in the coming hours it will be booming thanks to it being a Friday night. You are seated between Tae and Hobi as they fill your mind with thoughts of Jimin while he is in the bathroom.

“Can’t you just feel how badly he wants to sit next to you? His jealousy that you’re between us?” Tae giggles. “I can’t technically feel his yearning like you can but dudes, it’s so obvious.”

“I get it, I get it.” You groan, “So what’s the plan?”

“Oh that? You are going to ask Jimin out on a date.”

“A d-date?!” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Not at all…” Hobi takes a sip of his beer with a fucking straw. “Trust us.”

You’re really about to trust mister sunshine and sunshine junior? They are drinking their beers with straws. Fucking straws.

“ You don’t owe Jimin anything.” You hear Yoongi’s voice from behind you. “You don’t want to be here y/n. Why are you forcing yourself?”

“She just wanted to hang with me.” Jungkook nudges Tae out of his barstool seat and takes it.

“Heeeey…” Tae pouts as he is left standing, watching Jungkook take his chair. “I was sitting there.”

“Say ‘fuck’ and I’ll give it back.”

“You’re mean.”

“Anyway,” you cut them off before they can continue, “Why do you want his soul so bad? Aren’t there more souls out there?”

Yoongi for the first time curls his lips upwards and smirks at you.

“Jimin is a pure soul. It’s worth more. And he gave it for free, his own will. That much more worth it.”

“Pure soul?” You raise a brow, is Jimin really that perfect? You can’t help but scoff.

“He’s a really good person, y/n.” Hobi says softly, “You know you can feel that.”

He’s right. When you first met him and you had that instant recognition, you could feel just how good he is. It hurt even more, considering how things went…

“I have shots!!!!” Jin comes up to you 5 with a tray of shots, “As the kids say, I am trying to get lit!”

“Barely anyone says that anymore dude.” Jungkook frowns, “Which is unfortunate because it… was…lit...”

“Where’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, grabbing a shot from the tray, he takes a sniff and fake gags.

“Jesus Christ, I told you anything but Tequila, Jin.”

“He’s in the bathroom…” you say, your head falling in your hand on the bar top. You stare at all the bottles on the shelves and wish you could drown yourself in each one.

“I’m back.” Jimin says from beside you and Jungkook.

It looks like he washed his face with cool water, his bangs slightly wet. He’s nervous, you can quite literally feel it…that’s how intense it is.

“Jimin…” you say his name and it sounds and feels so weird on your tongue, his head whips in your direction with wide eyes and he tilts his head to the side.

“Yes?”

You two lock eyes, his gaze is intense. You can’t help but feel like you’re falling for some sort of spell as you stare at him. The pull between you two only grows…you find yourself leaning in closer to his direction before you’re shaking your head, clearing your throat and looking towards the other boys.

“Uh, there’s shots.” You point at the tray Jin is holding. “Let’s hurry up and take them.”

A few hours pass and your group is collectively drunk. Jimin seems to be the only somewhat sober one. Even Yoongi is shimmying to whatever song is playing! You look at Namjoon who is smiling at Jin as they talk to one another and you wave them over.

“I thought human things didn’t effect God’s? Why are you all so drunk?” you laugh, slurring your words.

“Alcohol is alcohol baybey!” Jin throws an arm around your neck as he continues to dance.

“Jin is right.” Namjoon points at him, “Alcohol is the same for us.”

You only nod in response as you eye the bar, Hobi and Tae are dancing with Jimin and he actually looks like he is enjoying himself. You stand from your stool and walk to the dance floor and join them, surprising Jimin.

“Came to hang out with the fun go—guys?!” Hobi moves his body expertly as he speaks.

“Just came to talk to Jimin…” you admit shyly and Hobi and Tae nod in understanding with their eyes wide.

“Good idea.” Tae yells out, “We will keep Yoongi and Jungkook distracted.”

“Thanks…”

“You want to talk to me?” Jimin says over the music, “Me?” he points at himself and you chuckle.

“Yes, you.” You reach down to grab his hand and fuck. You feel like you are being shot with electricity. “Uh,” you quickly drop his hand and gesture for him to follow you. “Come on.”

You and Jimin walk outside the bar, the night is a little chilly, even for May.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks nervously, he sways back and forth on his heels and you can feel his anxiety and it’s making you nauseas.

“Go on a date with me.” You blurt out.

Jimin is silent. His eyes harden as he stares at you and he breathes out roughly.

“You’re drunk.” He states.

“Don’t be difficult.” You begin, “Go on a date with—”

“No.”

“No?”

“You think I can’t feel it?” he asks quietly. “How much you…hate me…?”

You automatically get hit with a wave of guilt. He releases a few shaky breaths and continues. “You are forcing yourself…I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable around me.” He gives you a sad, soft smile and turns around to head back inside, leaving you out in the chilly May air.

“I thought you guys were fucking gods? I did what you told me and he fucking rejected me?!” you slur out angrily. Tae and Hobi exchange awkward glances before smiling for you.

“You have to put a lot of effort. Remember…you are working hard to change his whole mind. It isn’t going to be easy y/n. Even with us helping. We lead you on the right path but ultimately you humans do have free will.” Hobi says quietly, he looks around the bar to make sure no one can hear.

“And like Jungkook said…at this moment, Jimin is set in stone. It’s going to take some convincing.” Tae finishes. He messes with his neck tie some more before he is loosening it all the way. “And you better hurry to talk to him because he is with Yoongi and Jungkook. Who knows what nonsense they are feeding him!”

You look over your shoulder and Tae is right, Yoongi and Jungkook both have an arm draped over Jimin’s shoulders and chatting away. They both have sly smiles as Jimin nods his head in drunken concentration.

“Help me get rid of them…” you roll your eyes as you begin walking towards the God’s of death and their meal.

“You got it!” Hobi yells out brightly. “Let’s go TaeTae.” He grabs on to Tae’s arm and drags him towards the death gods. You follow closely behind eyeing Jimin carefully.

It’s a lovely spring day, the flowers are in bloom and the sky is blue with splashes of pink now that the sun is beginning to set. You finally found your dream job that you start in 2 weeks and an affordable apartment. It’s not thaaat much nicer than your previous place but still, an upgrade nonetheless.

Today you woke up feeling…different. Fuller, more whole. Something completely unexplainable. Once you stepped outside even the world looked more beautiful, colorful, vibrant. Your chest is warm and buzzing and you can’t help but fall in love with the feeling. What is going on?

You walk the streets in your restless city and you feel it. The pull. The pull is practically dragging you around without you totally realizing. You just walk the streets in a daze, the pull becomes more and more intense the closer you get to the main park downtown. You realize you don’t visit this park often which is such a shame because it is beautiful.

You stroll around, feeling yourself being pulled closer and closer to this gigantic tree in the center and then you feel your insides burst. Your eyes land on a figure, you can only see his back but you just know. He must feel it too because he is quickly turning his body around and facing you. His eyes find yours immediately and holy fuck.

You know him. As soon as your eyes meet you feel like you fucking know him. You feel yourself being drawn to him like there is spell you are both under. You don’t stop your feet from moving as you walk closer and closer. He only stares at you with wide eyes until his thick lips curve up into the most beautiful smile you have ever seen. Little did you know, this would be the only time you will see him smile like this.

Love at first sight? He is the most gorgeous human being you have ever had the pleasure of your eyes landing on. His blond hair swept over his forehead, his piercing eyes, his full lips, his entire figure. His beautiful, beautiful smile. He has charmed you. And it doesn’t help that you feel that instant attraction. That recognition and the intense, intense burst of love you feel.

But it is not your love that you are feeling. It is his. Because you feeling love for a someone you don’t actually know is impossible…that this is just some forced, predestined façade. And you are hit with the reality and the truth. You feel your insides turn from a gooey mess to hard. You feel yourself grow angry, you feel hatred grow within you and it must be intense because Jimin must feel it too. The way his smile drops and how his face goes pale. He takes a hesitant step away from you and looks at you with so much question. He feels how you loathe him.

You continue to look at Jimin as you walk closer and closer to him in the bar, Tae and Hobi pulling Yoongi and Jungkook off his body as you make your way over. Even walking closer and closer to him you feel all of your confusing feelings. You hate him yet you are drawn to him.

“Jimin.” You say his name, it comes out rough and breathless and he pinches his brows together.

“Yes?” he asks softly, he walks closer to you as well. “Is everything okay y/n?”

You swallow down your pride as you stare into his eyes. They look sad…empty even.

“Date…” you murmur. Jimin’s sad, empty eyes flash with a sliver a hope before they turn dark again.

“Why?” he finally asks…he walks just a bit closer to you and you step back, feeling suffocated. If he gets any closer you…

“I want to make things right.” You admit between a few breaths, “I want to get to know you.”

You aren’t lying, you do want to make things right. He doesn’t necessarily know what you mean but that’s okay. “I haven’t been the nicest to you but I want to change that.” You mumble.

“You want to know me?” he gulps, “You want to…spend time with me?” you can feel how nervous he is and you can’t help but chuckle just a bit.

“Coffee? We can start there.” You say, feeling your own nerves spiking. Who knew talking to your fucking soulmate could be this hard.

Jimin bites down on his thick bottom lip, his cheeks warming up as they turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Okay….” He says, trying to hide his growing smile “Coffee.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #gods!au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #the hero's countdown chapter 1

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kjack89 · 3 years

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An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 7/?)

This Author does not normally deign to speak of love in these papers, as love is not what society marriages are traditionally built on (nor, for that matter, is good gossip built upon love). Love, it seems, is good for nothing more than making one do foolish things: it causes men and women alike to abandon all reason and do things to which they would otherwise not be remotely inclined.

And yet sometimes love is the simplest explanation in the world that one can offer to allow everything else to make sense.

Rumor has it that the Marquess of Enjolras has taken his new bride on a brief honeymoon trip before returning to the city, leaving Mr. Grantaire behind. A honeymoon seems an odd choice for a couple forced together by circumstance, which is why this Author is pondering whether there is more to this story than meets the eye.

Perhaps this was no mere scandal, after all. Could the Marquess have traveled to the Grantaire manor only to find not just a bride, but love? Could that explain the delay in returning to the city, and the reason for not involving friends or family, lest they try to talk him out of it?

Or could there be another explanation for why the Marquess seems so reluctant to show his face?

If this is a love match, this Author will owe the Marquess and his bride a mea culpa, but never fear – the course of true love never did run smooth, and this Author suspects that one way or another, there is certainly more to this tale than meets the eye. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 8 MAY 1831

Grantaire glared defiantly at him, which Enjolras thought was quite extraordinary, since the man’s clothes and hair were completely plastered to him by wind, rain, and mud. “I said I’m in love with you.”

“You are?” Enjolras asked dumbly.

Grantaire jerked a nod. “And evidently I’ve been much more subtle about it than I thought.”

“Let’s perhaps not rule out me being extraordinarily stupid quite yet,” Enjolras said, unable to take his eyes off of Grantaire, as if seeing him for the first time. Despite the fact that he was soaked through to the bone, he felt a warmth flooding through him as he looked at Grantaire, really looked at him, the man he had known for years and the man he was beginning to suspect he didn’t really know at all.

But God, he wanted to.

Something shifted in Grantaire’s expression as if he realized Enjolras was not going to throw him out on his ear for what he had just confessed. “I’m certain I owe you an explanation,” he started, but Enjolras shook his head.

“I believe we can save that for when we’re back indoors.”

For one moment, it looked like Grantaire might argue, but then he jerked his head in another nod and both men started trudging back towards the house. Enjolras kept glancing sideways at Grantaire, so many things that he wanted to say dying on the tip of his tongue.

It was probably for the best that he couldn’t seem to speak: the rain and mud made the trek far more hazardous than it should have been, and besides, as the rain soaked through all of Enjolras’s clothing, his teeth began to chatter, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Grantaire, who had been out in the rain for much longer—

He stopped in his tracks so abruptly that Grantaire almost did not notice, pausing only when he seemed to realize Enjolras was no longer next to him. “Have you lost your mind entirely?” Grantaire demanded, half-turning to glare at him.

“Not my mind,” Enjolras assured him, unbuttoning his coat as quickly as his shaking fingers would allow. “Just my manners.”

“Your—” Grantaire started, his confusion turning to bafflement as Enjolras shrugged out of his coat and held it out to him. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Wear it,” Enjolras said, as if it was obvious. “A gentleman should always offer his coat when his companion is cold, and I’d imagine you’re considerably colder than I am, given how long you’ve been out here.”

Grantaire just stared at him. “And what, pray tell, is your coat supposed to do?”

“Keep you warm.”

Grantaire took the outstretched coat and held it up. “This is supposed to keep me warm?” he asked, incredulous. “It’s soaking wet.”

Enjolras blinked, realizing all too late that Grantaire was right. “You may have a point there,” he admitted.

Then, suddenly, both men were laughing, deep belly laughs that had them both almost doubled over, oblivious to the still-pouring rain. “God,” Grantaire said finally when he straightened, wiping rain, or tears, or both from his cheeks. “What a pair we make.”

Enjolras laughed again, a gentler laugh. “I did warn you not to rule out me being extraordinarily stupid.” He held his hand out. “You may return my coat to me,” he told Grantaire. “I won’t make you carry it the rest of the way just because I’m a fool.”

Grantaire cocked his head. “Last I heard, a gentleman has an obligation to offer his coat to his companion,” he said mildly. “I heard nothing about an obligation to return it.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Perhaps not an obligation, but I really must insist.”

“Oh, you insist, my lord?” Grantaire returned, with a playful lilt to his voice, something about it warming Enjolras more than his sopping wet coat possibly could. “And what if I were to insist upon wearing it? After all, you offered it to me. Would you renege on your offer?”

Again Enjolras rolled his eyes, doing his best to drum up some requisite irritation, despite feeling like he wanted to grin. “Grantaire, don’t be daft—”

“Do you wish to stand here and argue with me, or do you wish to return indoors?” Grantaire interrupted. Truthfully, there was a not-small part of Enjolras that would quite rather wish to stand and argue, but he knew a losing argument – on both fronts – when he saw it, and just sighed and shook his head in acquiescence. “That’s what I thought,” Grantaire said, just a little smugly, as they started toward the house again.

Were it not for the smug tone in his voice, Enjolras might have let it slide, but he had never let Grantaire have the last word when he could help it, and he was not about to start now. “You’re an idiot,” he said, more of a sigh than anything else.

Grantaire just shrugged blithely. “Perhaps,” he said, before glancing sideways at Enjolras. “Or perhaps a gentleman also does not allow his companion to feel like the only foolish one.”

The warmth that flooded Enjolras from that was almost enough to sustain him the rest of the way to the cottage.

By the time they arrived, the rain was finally beginning to let up, not that it did anything to help the two men as they hurried inside and made a beeline for the fireplace in the library, teeth chattering. “I’ll bet you wish you had some alcohol in the house now,” Grantaire muttered, rubbing his hands together.

The exact thought had crossed Enjolras’s mind, but he refused to dignify Grantaire’s comment by admitting as much. “We should bathe,” he said instead, remembering the boiling bath his governess had forced him to take after his horse had foundered and he’d been forced to walk home for several hours in the pouring rain. “Warm water will do us good, and that way we can also get the mud off.”

Both men had indeed attracted an absurd amount of mud from sloshing their way back to the cottage, enough so to make it difficult to tell where their clothes ended and their skin began.

“Personally I think the mud only adds to my good looks,” Grantaire said blithely, before adding, “Besides, Jehan was telling me that in ancient times, they used mud as a restorative for the skin, so perhaps we should leave it on to be safe.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “You were that child that always refused to take his bath, weren’t you,” he said with a resigned sigh.

Grantaire laughed. “I have no idea what makes you say that,” he demurred. “That said, I’ll let you take your bath first.”

“Don’t be an idiot, you’re the one who was out in the rain for two hours,” Enjolras told him.

“Yes, but—”

“Besides, the tub is big enough for the both of us.” Grantaire’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and Enjolras added, “After all, you owe me an explanation, and this seems as good a time as any.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed, but he attempted no argument against the idea, merely telling Enjolras, “Then we’d best start heating some water.”

They worked in seamless unison in the kitchen heating massive pots full of water to transfer into smaller buckets to carry up to the massive porcelain bathtub in the room off of Enjolras’s bedchamber, as it was the only tub in the house. As Grantaire hefted his fifth and sixth bucket for his third trip, he gave Enjolras a look. “I bet you’re also wishing you had servants in this house.”

“Who needs servants when I have you?” Enjolras shot back, saccharine sweet, and was surprisingly gratified when Grantaire just flushed and mumbled something incoherent in response.

If anything, the task of filling the tub was enough to warm them up even without the bath, but since Enjolras had been the one to suggest it, he felt they might as well follow through. And he really did want to get the mud – which had now dried enough to be caked onto his skin – off.

Once the tub was full, both men stood awkwardly in the bathroom, and Enjolras wondered if he should again offer to let Grantaire bathe first, and alone.

But before he could make his offer, Grantaire started unbuttoning his shirt. Despite his initial reluctance to the idea, he exhibited no shame in peeling off his damp clothes in front of Enjolras, who, despite it being his idea in the first place, still hesitated.

“I have seen you naked, you know,” Grantaire told him as he struggled to get his wet trousers off, adding, “if that was your concern.”

They both had, having gone swimming many times during one summer at one of the de Courfeyrac’s country manors, one that boasted a secluded lake perfect for young men to cool off in. None of Les Amis had brought their swimming costumes but they were all young and foolish and didn’t care, stripping down to nothing and splashing about more like children than the young gentlemen they had been.

But Enjolras rather suspected that they both realized this was nothing like that.

Still, Grantaire’s words were enough to finally dispel Enjolras’s hesitation, and he began stripping his own clothes off, albeit at a much slower pace from Grantaire.

Grantaire got into the tub first, settling in on the far side of the tub and tilting his head back, eyes closed as he soaked in the steam. Enjolras hesitated once more and Grantaire cracked one eye open. “I’m not going to do anything to you, you know.”

Enjolras flushed. “I know,” he said, finally stepping out of his trousers and slipping into the tub, settling opposite of Grantaire.

“Do you,” Grantaire murmured, his head still tilted back. “Sometimes I wonder if you would even know what it looked like if someone were to try to do anything to or with you.”

The warmth of the water was slowly seeping through the chill that clung to Enjolras, and it felt good enough that he was tempted to let Grantaire’s comment go uncontested.

But even when stark naked and still freezing cold, Enjolras had never been one to let things go uncontested.

“I would too,” he said, knowing full well that he sounded like a petulant child and hating it. “I am not completely ignorant, you know, to the world.”

“To the world,” Grantaire repeated.

Enjolras busied himself with trying to scrape the mud off of his fingernails. “To…to the physical act of lovemaking.” He flushed scarlet and studiously avoided looking at Grantaire. “I am not a virgin.”

“I see.”

Those two words may have been the most infuriating thing that Grantaire had ever said, if only because Enjolras had no idea what to read into them, if anything. Grantaire’s eyes were still closed, his expression as unreadable as his tone, and Enjolras felt as if he had no choice but to explain further. “Courfeyrac took me to a brothel when my father died,” he said, still flushed. “He said that he could not in good conscience allow me to become a Marquess without ever having lain with someone.”

Grantaire opened both eyes. “I truly cannot imagine you at a brothel,” he remarked.

Enjolras shrugged, trailing a hand through the water. “It was not as terrible as I expected,” he admitted. “Courfeyrac picked out a young woman for me, and I spent over an hour or so just talking with her.” Grantaire looked very much like he wanted to interrupt, but Enjolras did not let him. “I wanted to know about her conditions, about what working there was like, and how she had found herself there. She told me that she used to be a factory worker but made twice as much in less than half the time worked, and with four mouths at home to feed…” He trailed off an shrugged. “To her, it seemed a fair bargain, and no matter my personal hesitation with the profession, she seemed in a better position to judge it than I.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Only you could go to a brothel and emerge with a tale of the plight of the working class,” he said with a dry chuckle. It was his turn to hesitate, just for a moment, before asking, in what he clearly deemed a casual sort of way, “And then after that, you slept with her?”

“No.” Grantaire’s eyes flew to his and Enjolras felt himself color again. “After that, she kissed me, and it was…fine. Serviceable. But then she asked—” Enjolras’s blushed deepened. “She asked if I would prefer the company of a man.”

Something almost like relief flickered across Grantaire’s face before his expression smoothed back into something unreadable. “Ah.”

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “And I said yes. So she went and got a man who worked at the establishment, and...well…I did. Very much so. Prefer it.”

“I see,” Grantaire murmured. “And did you similarly inquire of this man what conditions had led him to working there?”

“We found ourselves rather too occupied to do much talking,” Enjolras muttered, assuming Grantaire would understand his meaning. He took a deep breath before asking, “Is that…is that what you were hoping would happen when you agreed to help me?”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “This was not an elaborate seduction, if that’s what you mean.”

It had been, but Enjolras felt suddenly foolish for asking. “No. Yes. I’m not sure what I mean. Speaking of my father’s death,” he said, ignoring the look Grantaire gave him at the abrupt segue, “I don’t recall seeing you much in those days.”

Clearly judging himself clean or at least warm enough, or perhaps just tired of sitting in the water, Grantaire stood, and Enjolras averted his eyes as he reached for a towel. “Yes, well. Some of us took it harder than others.”

“The death of my father?” Enjolras asked, confused, and he was so taken aback that he looked at Grantaire, modesty be damned.

Grantaire had a strange, closed look on his face. “The death of what could have been, more accurately,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Enjolras. “It is one thing to want something you know you’ll never have, and quite another for the world to remind you at every turn that it is an impossibility.”

“I’m not certain I understand,” Enjolras said slowly.

Grantaire shook his head, once, before looking at Enjolras. “Ask me again,” he said abruptly, and Enjolras frowned.

“Ask you what?”

“You know what.”

Grantaire sounded almost impatient, and Enjolras realized he did know what, the question that had been answered in the most unexpected way in the pouring rain, the question whose answer still demanded an explanation that Grantaire had promised to provide. “Why did you do this?”

“Because you asked me to,” Grantaire said simply. “Because only once before had you ever asked me to do something, and I failed you then.”

Enjolras squirmed uncomfortably, well aware of that to which he referred. “The Barrière du Maine was not—”

“I failed you,” Grantaire interrupted sharply. “And when presented with another opportunity, I knew this was my only chance to prove I would not fail you again.” He shook his head, bracing himself against the wash stand. “It was meant to be simple, really. One and done, fake married to my sister and then we part as friends with you having consented to try me once more and this time with me proving you correct in your estimation. But you…”

He trailed off, but Enjolras did not try to interrupt again. “I love you,” Grantaire said finally, and even though he had uttered those words once before, they still hit Enjolras just as if he was hearing them for the first time. “That is why I did this. Not to seduce you, or to take advantage of you if that was also something you feared. I did it because I love you, and because you asked me, and if I could not have you – and I cannot, I know that as clearly now as I did the day your father died and elevated you to a position you’ve never wanted, a position that made how I felt for you more of an impossibility than it always had been – then at the very least I could have this.

“It is why I left earlier,” he continued. “Because this, whatever this is, was nothing like I pictured it, spending this time with you, and I could not stand to hear you call everything I have ever dreamed of a fiction, even though it is, even though it must be. For me, every word I have uttered has been the truth, including the words I spoke before the wedding and the vows I made therein.”

Enjolras felt his heart sink in his chest as he remembered how he had laughed at Grantaire’s words before the wedding, how he had brushed off every hint at what the man had felt. He felt foolish for not realizing it all sooner, and, true to form, he took it out on someone other than himself. “Well, why in the world did you not say something sooner?” he demanded.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “When would you have preferred I tell you?”

“I don’t know, at any point in the past decade?” Enjolras shot back.

“What good would have come from it?” Grantaire asked simply, but the words felt like a blow to Enjolras’s gut. “I was...not happy, I suppose, but content, at least, with the pieces of you that I was privy to, with our bickering and arguing, even, if that’s what it took to get your face to flush that delightful color I love so much.” Grantaire’s expression hardened, something bitter creeping into his voice. “And now I don’t even have that. Just this fake, preternaturally nice version of you and all because I suppose you think you owe me something, as if I was doing this all from the goodness of my heart and not because I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Grantaire turned to leave. “You should get some rest,” he said over his shoulder. “I will see you in the morning.”

With that, he left, and Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was just the nature of the bathtub water cooling to lukewarm or something else, but it felt like all the warmth went with him.

----------

Enjolras had a reputation for rash action that he felt was remarkably unearned. Weeks if not months of planning went into every public action he took to assure maximum impact, and the same could be said for his personal considerations. If anything, he was even more deliberative in his personal life – once, he took so long figuring out the best way to tell Combeferre that he hated his most recent haircut that by the time he got the words together, the man’s hair had already grown out.

Still, it was a reputation that lent him credence in some circles, so he did not often push back against it.

But as he lay in bed that evening, staring at the ceiling, his usual deliberations did not seem to be helping him make sense of the day’s revelations.

Once the shock had worn off from Grantaire’s confession, Enjolras found that one thing he didn’t seem to feel much of was surprise. It wasn’t that he had known all along, or anything remotely of the sort. It was just that, looking back on it, all of the signs were there. Signs that Enjolras had ignored, certainly, or pretended weren’t there, but signs nonetheless. Breadcrumbs leaving a trail to this very moment.

And as he pondered it, he realized that the signs were not just from Grantaire. He had left a trail of his own in every conversation, in every action, in – just as frequently – every inaction. He and Grantaire had never had the same type of friendship that he had with each other of Les Amis, or even with Marius. Theirs had always been more complex, more complicated, more— Well, just more.

Nothing from what Grantaire had said had changed that. It had just provided him with a long overdue reason for it.

A reason that to Enjolras did not change anything, least of all his own feelings. It simply illuminated them.

He stood, his mind made up, and grabbed his dressing gown before slipping out of his bedchamber and crossing to Grantaire’s. He hesitated, his fist raised to knock on the door. There would be no going back after this, and a decision of this magnitude required deliberation at the very least.

But it wasn’t rash, he reasoned. It was the furthest thing from rash, this decision having been deliberated for years now if he was being honest with himself.

No, it was anything but rash.

It was just that his mind was finally made up.

He rapped on the door and waited, hoping that Grantaire had not yet fallen asleep, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Grantaire called, “Come in.”

Enjolras opened the door and stepped just inside, leaning against the doorway as he looked at Grantaire, who, though in bed, looked no closer to sleep than he had been. “Is it morning already?” Grantaire joked, clearly aiming for a moment of levity to hide the wariness Enjolras could read in his expression.

Enjolras ignored him. “Would it make it better or worse if I told you that I never once thought you were doing this from the goodness of your heart?” he asked, picking up the conversation where they had left it as if no time had passed.

Grantaire blinked, his brow furrowing. “Why did you think I was doing it, then?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I genuinely had no idea. It was driving me a bit mad, honestly.”

“And now?”

Some of the wariness from Grantaire’s expression crept into his voice. Enjolras just shrugged again, crossing his arms in front of his chest mostly to give himself something to do. “Now at least I have an explanation.”

Grantaire snorted. “And what an explanation it is,” he said, a little bitterly, tracing a finger down the stitching of the quilt as he avoided look at Enjolras.

“It’s almost a gift, actually,” Enjolras said mildly, and Grantaire looked up, startled.

“How could what I have said possibly be a gift?”

“Because it gives me the words to use to understand what I’ve been beginning to feel. Or rather, what I’ve been beginning to allow myself to feel.” Grantaire stared at him, and Enjolras took a deep breath before continuing, “I choose my words carefully, you know that more than anyone else—”

Grantaire did, more than any of their friends, as it was he who was always at the Musain late at night when Enjolras grew frustrated with his writing and sought to punch it up. “I do feel at times as if I’ve been little more than a walking synonym dictionary,” Grantaire said faintly, and Enjolras smiled slightly before continuing.

“So I’m not fully prepared to make an equal confession. Not yet.” He paused and took another deep breath. “But when I stood up next to you on our wedding day, it was not fiction for me either. Not fully. And it took, as it always seems to, you shouting at me for me to realize it.”

Emotions flashed so quickly across Grantaire’s face that Enjolras could not possibly track them. He thought he saw relief, and just a hint of smugness, and something so soft that it made Enjolras’s knees feel weak. But then Grantaire’s expression evened out, and the look he gave Enjolras was almost calculated. “I made an oath to myself,” he said, his voice low, and Enjolras felt his heart stop. “I swore to myself that when I kissed you before, that I would never do so again. But I believe I may need to amend that oath.”

“In what way?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire grinned at him, too jubilant to be the smirk he was almost certainly intending. “That I will never kiss you without your full and enthusiastic participation.”

Enjolras was only too happy to oblige.

He crossed the room in three long strides and caught Grantaire just as the man was starting to get out of bed. He cradled Grantaire’s face between both his hands, their noses just brushing against each other, and for one moment that might have been infinite or the briefest of seconds, neither man moved, both just breathing the same air in the mere millimeters between their lips.

Then Enjolras kissed him.

Their first kiss in the church had been chaste, and clumsy; their second, that Enjolras had not even been able to participate in, had been like fire.

This was like a lightning bolt of perfect clarity, the undeniable knowledge that there was no where else in the world that Enjolras would rather be than right here.

And then Grantaire turned it back to fire, teasing the seam of Enjolras’s lips with his tongue until they parted, his hands grasping Enjolras’s hips hard enough to bruise through the fabric. He tugged him down onto the bed and Enjolras was only too happy to comply, eager to rid them of any space left between the two of them, eager to drink in every noise and sigh that came from Grantaire’s mouth, usually wielding words so sharp and now so soft against his own.

Enjolras did not know if they stayed that way for a minute or an hour or an entire day – every option seemed equally likely, lost in each other and this moment years in the making. And when they finally broke apartm neither man moved far from the other. “How was that for enthusiasm?” Enjolras asked, a little hoarsely.

Grantaire laughed lightly. “I’ll take it,” he said, reaching up to card his fingers through Enjolras’s still-damp curls, and Enjolras shifted to pillow his head on Grantaire’s chest. “You should really return to your room, though, lest I be tempted to see just how far I can press your enthusiasm.”

It was an idle threat, and they both knew it: Enjolras knew as he always had that Grantaire would never do anything to hurt him or trespass upon his boundaries. And the kiss had been spectacular and more meaningful than Enjolras thought he would ever find the words to describe, it had also been somewhat chaste, neither man making a move to turn it into something more salacious.

So Enjolras merely tipped his head up to capture Grantaire’s lips again. “Let me sleep here,” he murmured, his lips moving against Grantaire’s.

Even as he said the words, he knew he did not just mean for the evening. This was not just one night between them, and even if he was not yet ready to return Grantaire’s confession from earlier in word, he knew that he was ready in practice. He was asking for so much more than one night – for a lifetime more.

For one life and one love.

Let me sleep here until I die.

Grantaire sighed, and Enjolras wondered if he knew what Enjolras felt in that moment, if he understood what he was asking, if he felt the same way, too. “I am, as always, helpless to refuse,” he murmured, but the way he wrapped his arm around Enjolras’s waist and pulled him close told Enjolras that he had equally little desire to let Enjolras go.

It was Enjolras’s last coherent thought before Grantaire kissed him once again, and when sleep finally claimed them, he fell asleep with a smile.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #bridgerton au #regency au #canon era #chaptered #developing relationship #fake marriage #part 7

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mirach · 4 years

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Good Omens recs

Here are some of my all time favourite stories, but be warned that my taste is rather specific and can get into darker themes. I especially like hurt/comfort focused on Aziraphale, but that’s not the only thing you’ll encounter in this list.

The Strong Tower by @aziraphalelookedwretched (M, 41,458)

After the failed executions, a vengeful angel takes it upon herself to neutralise the threat presented by Crowley and Aziraphale.

All stories by BuggreAlleThis are wonderful even if they get very dark in places. There (almost) always is comfort that’s more than worth the hurt and I love them all, but this one remains special to me as one of the first stories I read in this fandom and awaited every update eagerly.

White Walls and Dead Air by BabyHoldMyFlower (G; 3,382 words)

It’s after the fourth day that he decides he hates God. He’s too tired to hold it back. Too miserable. Too busy dying. He knows he’ll go back on it later. He knows that he’ll repent later, and he’ll mean it, he thinks, once he gains some perspective, but there is nothing that could stop this bone-deep agony from churning and rising into something ugly. He’s not supposed to feel this way. He’s an angel, he really shouldn’t be thinking these things. Blind obedience is what they were created for. It’s in this moment that he can admit to a flaw in the Almighty’s design. If she wanted soldiers, she shouldn’t have given them the capacity to love.

Beautifully written and bittersweet, with lovely wing grooming and insights into the characters.

A Demon Would A-Wooing Go by @shinyhappygoth (G; 301 words)

“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.—Good Omens

Filk of "A Frog He Would A-Wooing Go".

I just love a silly take on a silly folk song that was actually referenced in the book, okay?

Flaming Sword by Bookwormgal (T; 8,576 words)

A dark shape in the not-quite-empty darkness. Dressed in black robes. Humanoid. Skeletal. Then wings unfolded. Angel wings, but not ones of feathers. Wings of night. Wings that Aziraphale could sense more than see in this strange place. And even if the thin thread didn't truly exist except as a concept to better understand what was happening, one skeletal hand rested on the weakening connection. Waiting patiently.

Azrael. Creation's Shadow. The Angel of Death.

"Oh," he said quietly, his voice swallowed by the emptiness.

Aziraphale remembered what happened. He remembered moving. He remembered the blade sliding in, sharp and sudden. He remembered pain. And then…

"I died, didn't I?" he asked.

I like the exploration of the theme of self-sacrifice here. This is just my personal pick from several of my favourite stories from this author.

Courage by Anonymous (E, 21,595 words - WIP)

Ten years after the world didn’t end, Heaven and Hell want to punish Aziraphale and Crowley for their treason. Gabriel decides that the perfect way to punish both of them is to torture Aziraphale and force Crowley to watch; Hell agrees to the plan. Aziraphale and Crowley are kidnapped from their South Downs cottage and taken to a neutral location; Aziraphale is tortured and raped and Crowley is forced to watch; they are then returned home, Aziraphale critically injured.

This is the Prologue (the first three chapters; all of the violence is confined to chapter 2, which can be skipped).

The real story begins in chapter 4; it’s the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley recover from the trauma. They are both profoundly traumatized; it takes a long time, but they work through it together, and their marriage recovers. There will be a happy ending.

Aziraphale and Crowley heal each other.

This story is a WIP, but it already got to the part where things are getting better. It’s very (very!) heavy, but absolutely beautifully written, it’s giving me goosebumps.

Love Seeketh Not Itself to Please by die_traumerei (T, 14,645 words)

After Aziraphale is left gravely injured by a summoning, Crowley must take him to heaven and bargain with the angels for his life. It doesn't go as he'd expect.

A hurt/comfort story that’s focused on the comfort part, really satisfying to read!

Evolution by @lady-divine-writes (M; 1,455 words)

Five times Aziraphale wasn’t the most confident Dom, and the one time it finally clicked.

Again I’m only picking one story, but there are so many more from this author that I love! I bookmarked this one because I don’t usually see Aziraphale as Dom, but here he is fully in character and gets there through conscious effort, and it feels very empowering.

The Longest Night by @charlottemadison42 (series rated T-E, 34,747 words)

The night the Apocalypse doesn't happen, an angel and a demon share a bus bench on the way home to face their fates. This is the story of their evening spun out line by line, all the little moments that carried them through the night they knew might be their last.

A wonderfully written series giving a detailed account of the night before the trials, complete with drunken talk, with wonderful grasp of the characters. Again just a personal pick from the stories by a really great writer.

Who Needs Heaven (when we have each other)? by Kat_Rowe (series rated G-M (so far), 48,057 words so far)

Now that they're independent of Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley become even closer. Friendship eventually turns to romance, and emotional intimacy to physical. (Slow-burn friends-to-lover fic series.)

A very gentle series starting with wing grooming and continuing through the exploration of a relationship in which one of the partners (Aziraphale) is asexual.

Fancy Patter on the Telephone by @hotcrosspigeon (G, 12,854 words)

A series of telephone conversations between Aziraphale and Crowley during the Lockdown.

They get steadily more desperate and ridiculous as the weeks go on.

Featuring a moping demon, a teasing angel, a pub quiz, an explosion, extraordinary amounts of alcohol, a bubble bath, awkward flirting, several love confessions... and an ill-conceived bet on who can last the longest without seeing the other.

What could possibly go wrong?

HotCrossPigeon is an amazing hurt/comfort writer who writes absolutely delightful Aziraphale ahurt/comfort from Crowley’s spot-on POV, so definitely check their other stories as well, but I just had to pick this one that’s actually humorous and doesn’t contain even a drop of blood because I couldn’t stop laughing with it.

Feathers by @29-pieces (series rated G; 23,247 words)

Pre-Apocalypse shenanigans. In this AU, when an angel and a demon fight, the victor customarily takes a feather from their opponent signifying victory over them. Usually followed by killing them, naturally. But sometimes the defeated angel or demon is left alive, minus a feather, so that everyone KNOWS. Neither Crowley or Aziraphale ever took part in that sort of thing because it's really just a mean thing to do.

A series of three stories, two with hurt Aziraphale and one with hurt Crowley.

5 Times Aziraphale was Almost Discorporated and One Time He Actually was by @charliebrown1234 (series rated T-M; 29,011 words)

This series is an absolute match for my need of Aziraphale hurt/comfort, just like their more recent story Ex Infirmitas, Sinceritas. One of the authors I’m subscribe to and read everything they write.

The Whole Sky Fell by @thepaisleyelf (T, 9,692 words)

“Okay, Aziraphale, out with it,” Crowley said finally. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale blinked. He suddenly seemed very interested in looking anywhere that wasn’t at Crowley, fiddling with the napkin in his lap.

“I don’t -- I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Aziraphale really was a terrible liar. Under other circumstances Crowley might have found it charming, cute even, but his concern had been growing ever since he’d picked Aziraphale up for breakfast that morning....

Same as above, Turcote just knows what I love to read. Definitely check their other stories as well!

Desperate Ground by @desperateground (M, 55,883 words)

After they prevented the apocalypse and escaped execution, Crowley and Aziraphale thought they were safe from the machinations of Heaven and Hell. But there are still some demons with scores to settle - and since the angel and demon have made it clear to the world how far they're willing to go for each other, Hell has plenty of leverage on them.

A breathtaking story with torture and unwavering loyalty of the characters to each other.

***

And if you find these recs to your taste, then you might also enjoy

Back to the Roots by me (M, 90,946 words)

"We always knew it would end. Like mortals know that they'll die." Crowley closes his eyes, finding the stare of his own reflection unbearable. "When you're immortal, you can afford to pretend and hide and go slow. And then, when you finally figure it all out, it turns out that what you have can end anytime. It's unfair..." ---------- The morale in Heaven and Hell is low after the failed Apocalypse. Punishing the traitors (effectively this time) seems like a good idea to raise it for both sides - the angels would see what awaits them if they dare to disobey and the demons could just use some fun. And then there is someone else as well - someone whose grudge is even more personal.

Also torture and unwavering loyalty, breaking the characters and then putting them together with great care. This is the darkest from my stories, so if torture is not your thing, you can check my other ones (mostly Aziraphale hurt/comfort too).

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens rec #hurt aziraphale

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airi-p4 · 4 years

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Last chance - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3 This chapter is Luka's POV of what happened before day 6 and during chapter 3 (present time).

___________________________________________

Luka’s POV

6 days earlier - somewhere in United States of America

As soon as I reach the airport with Chloe, our private jet is already ready, with her loyal assistant (butler?) ready to take the controls of the plane. Who would have thought Mister Jean… what was his name again? Jean-Paul? Jean-Pierre? Jean-Pascal? Whatever. We have a pilot and we can reach Paris in a few hours.

The plan is to get there and use Adrien's private plane instead of Chloe's to go to Tibet: a safer plane for difficult flying conditions, that’s mostly it.

Adrien… it's been a while since we talked. I wonder if he hates me like Chloe used to. Was he even aware of Chloe's revenge plans? I can't deny I'm curious, but these aren't the thoughts that occupy my mind at the moment.

There's still a few hours left and I can't stop thinking about Marinette's messages.

'I love you'

Is it for real? This isn't some kind of hidden camera, isn't it? Can I trust these words? I certainly want to… but should I? I need to hear it directly from her to believe it. I don't want to keep my hopes up just to sink deeper.

No matter what, I need to arrive earlier than the time Alix created for us. I need to stop her from doing something stupid and unnecessary.

Please… let me save her. Let me make it in time. Let me help her find her happiness. That's all I've ever wanted… What can I do to help her? Am I really the one she wants? Can I really help her? What if I'm not enough?

A big sigh leaves from my mouth.

"Baby, you should rest. You haven't slept much tonight, haven't you? There are still some hours left. Try to get some sleep"

This… is unexpectedly considerate from Chloe. I'm relieved her attitude has improved after these years. Hell, I wouldn't have proposed to her if I weren't sure she had changed. But her plans against Marinette… Oh, that’s right. I still have some talking to do with her. But maybe I should listen to her advice and get some rest first.

"Thanks, ho- Chloe"

Stupid habits. I need to stop calling her ‘honeybee’ already. Ugh… it's not as easy as I expected… I'm the type of man who likes stability… habits are hard to break for me.

I don't need to see Chloe’s face to notice her heart song is now sad and remorseful. My eyes are closed, but I can't sleep. Worries about Marinette keep my mind occupied. But it seems at some point I had entered my dreamlands. I really was exhausted, no wonder. A music video recording plus wedding preparations with Chloe is some energy-draining combo.

"Where are we now? How much time until Paris?"

"Still a long way. You've only slept for 30 minutes. Get some more rest, baby, you’ll need it"

"No. I'm fine. I got enough sleep. Instead… We should talk"

I’m trying to sound serious and not scary, but I’m not sure if I’m accomplishing it… probably not.

"Oh… already? You didn't need to think much, huh? Geez. All this is ridiculous. Am I that easily disposable to you?"

"You know that's not it, Chloe. You know I care for you. But you also know my feelings for Marinette are… never going to fade. I don't know if she's still the same girl she was when we used to spend time together, but if she is… Then I know my heart won't hesitate"

"Yeah… I've always known that. Always Dupain-Cheng. I've never been good enough for you"

"Hey! That’s not true. Don't take it as if you're not extraordinary, Chloe, because you are. And I’m sure there's someone out there ready to notice and appreciate you. You deserve better than me"

"Well, I don't care about that 'someone out there'. All I want is you, Luka! Is staying with me even an option for you? Has it ever been? Why did you propose to me if you planned to throw me away as soon as you had the chance to?"

She's hurt. Horribly hurt. Still working her pride to cover how devastated she actually is. But the tears on her eyes are not doing a very good job to hide it.

I feel horrible.

And I have no excuse.

I never expected Marinette to return my feelings. But if she really does… I have to be honest with Chloe. She deserves the truth.

"No, hon- Chloe. I'm sorry. I never planned to use you as a rebound. I wanted to marry you, for real. I really tried to move on. I’ve wished for Marinette's happiness over everything, and... If I had known she wasn't happy… things would have gone differently, no doubt. I’m sorry for hurting you. You don’t deserve it"

"You would have run to her the instant she broke Adrien's heart if you had known about her feelings. You’ve never loved me like you love Marinette, not even close if you’re able to decide this fast to dump me even when our wedding is coming soon. You have no shame"

Wow, her words surely sting. Who is supposed to be the snake one here? Oh, well. I guess she wasn't a wasp for nothing…

"I wouldn't have met you if I had known she wasn’t happy. I don't regret the time we have spent together. I love you too, just in a different way"

"Do I have a chance to win you back?"

Straight to the point, huh? Typical of her. I don’t want to hurt her, but I need to be honest with her.

"I don't know. Probably not, I'm not going to lie. But I really wish for your happiness and I wish we could still be friends when everything is over"

Ah... I can feel that deadly glare pierces through my heart. Wow, she’s really angry. And hurt. Not that I can complain. It’s totally understandable and I deserve the hate. Anger over embarrassment, huh?

"Give me a percentage. What are my chances?"

What an unbelievable question. But it’s so Chloe. I blink a few times as I think of a proper answer. I like her, I can’t deny that. But if Marinette is ready to accept me this time… I’m not going to reject or ignore her and regret it forever. No more.

"Love and feelings don't work with percentages, hone- Ugh. Chloe. They're uncontrollable, beyond our understanding and wishes. But... if you insist on a number… a 2% maybe? I don't know. Almost 0% if Marinette's feelings are true and her heart song remains unchanged"

"That’s so low it’s ridiculous... Hmph! But it’s still not a 0, so I don’t have to give up yet. I'm not losing to Dupain-Cheng again. Not without putting on a fight, at least!"

I can't help it but giggle. She's adorable in her own way.

"Good luck, then."

To be honest, a part of me doesn't want to break up with Chloe. Even if her original reasons to approach me had evil intentions, I know she has changed now. But if Marinette's feelings are for real… if she really turned her heart towards me… that's all I've ever wished for. And I'm not going to run away from her.

Not again. Not anymore.

But first...

"Hon- I mean- Chloe. I want you to return me the ring I gave you”

"WHAT!? NO!! No way I'm giving it up! You're still my fiancée! At least until everything is over or until we get married. I really hope it’s this second option, let me tell you! I have no intention of canceling our Wedding!"

Stubborn as always, huh? I sigh again.

"OK. You can keep it for now. But you're returning it to me when everything is over”

Chloe seemed to be about to say something, but she stopped.

“Hmph”

Her face then buries on my shoulder and I hug her a little, patting her head. She’s mad and sad, of course. And her bawling starts, like a baby. I feel bad for breaking her heart like this and I’m sorry for her. I’m the worst... I wish she finds her happiness and someone who can fully love her as she deserves.

___________________________________________

My eyes open again at the sound of the PA message.

“Landing in 10 minutes”

Chloe has fallen asleep with me at some point. We exchange looks and a nod, preparing for the arrival to Paris. I look at Chloe. I know she’s afraid of landings, so I hold her hand, like always, and I notice her relax a bit, closer to me. Damn, she's cute when she’s scared.

And here we are: Paris.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. But I won’t be staying long. The Eiffel Tower looks as pretty as I remember it. Home... I wonder if I can go back when everything is over...

Adrien’s bodyguard (doesn't he have a name?) is waiting for us at the airport. He grabs Chloe's massive amount of luggage (when did she have the time to prepare it?) and guides us to Adrien's private plane.

The plane is definitely bigger. Just how rich is the Agreste family? Did Marinette really renounce owning part of this empire? I know she’s not interested in money or fame, but if she really gave it up for me, then I’m more than flattered. It still doesn’t sound real, though.

The Gorilla leads us inside and everyone is waiting for us there: Alya, Nino and Adrien. I can immediately notice the tension in the air when they see me. Wary of Adrien’s and my reaction. Nothing to be surprised about, I guess…

And there's Adrien, handsome as ever, standing in the middle of the plane and looking at me with his intense emerald green eyes. Before I can move or speak he takes the first step and hugs me.

"Luka!"

"Hey. Nice to see you, Adrien" I hug him back as I hear his friend's relieved sighs. What did they expect?

Adrien looks like he really wants to have a word with me. Something serious. And I'm quite sure I know exactly what it is. But before he opens his mouth...

"Hey, Adrikins! I'm here too, you know? Where's my hug?"

Chloe. She really doesn't know how to read the mood. Geez... Well, go on, I signal to Adrien, who follows Chloe's petition.

"That’s better. Now bring me my favorite drink and let me sleep for a while. Make it double in alcohol. I’ll be at the back of the plane. Don’t disturb me!"

And there she goes, disappearing through the aisle. I can't help it but smile. That's so Chloe: looking for an excuse to cry alone at her heart content. I’ll check on her later, but she'll have to get used to it.

I exchange some greetings with Alya and Nino before Adrien calls me again.

"Luka, come here. We need to talk"

"Yeah, I figured. Can I do something first?"

The plane is getting ready for take-off, but I make sure to grab the speaker first.

"Hello everyone. Luka here. First of all, I want to thank you all for coming. Sorry it's been so rushed, but the cause demands immediate action. As you may know, Marinette is trying to use some of the Miraculous for her own benefit and we can't allow that. Adrien may know better than me, but the universe’s balance could break because of that and we can’t let it happen. Since there's a long way until Tibet, we'll hold a strategy reunion when we get closer. Miraculous team: let's save Marinette, let's save Ladybug! Now get some rest and we'll discuss the strategy details later. Thank you for your attention"

After some claps, I return to my seat next to Adrien. Take off takes place without incidents and we can reassume our conversation.

"Luka… I-... I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry... Back then... I hurt you, didn't I? I didn't know you had feelings for Marinette and yet… all the advice I asked you for… whenever you joined our dates… you never looked sad and… Why didn't you tell me? I would have been more careful and-"

Yeah… Giving Adrien advice definitely hurt me. Seeing how happy Marinette was after he followed my indications to surprise or make her happy made it even worse. But Marinette was happy and Adrien was happy too and I convinced myself that it was enough for me to be happy too (for a while, at least…).

"I just wished for your happiness, Adrien. My friend's happiness makes me happy too”

"But Marinette's not a friend to you. Why did you leave? She’s never been the same since you left… I couldn’t fill in for you in her heart…”

“One-sided love hurts, Adrien. It’s like a double-edged blade. You can be happy for the one you love but lonely for not having them by your side as you wish”

“That’s- I see… It makes sense…” he pauses and looks straight to my eyes. “Luka, do you still love Marinette? Will I be able to understand your feelings better if you two get together? I still love Marinette but I’ve only seen her unhappy since you left and I hate it. Can you make her happy again?”

His green eyes are honest as usual. I keep holding my gaze, never breaking eye contact as I answer his questions.

“Adrien… I’ll be honest with you: I love Marinette, I’ve always had. Since the first moment she appeared in front of me, even now. All I’ve ever wished was for her happiness. I confessed to her and she never gave me an answer. She was in love with you. And I was happy for her happiness with you. That’s why I left: I didn’t want my feelings to interfere with your relationship. I had no chances anyway… You know: destiny is supposed to be unavoidable. I could have never imagined you two not getting a fairy-tale-like happily ever after”

“But it happened. Destiny didn’t work this time... Why didn’t you say goodbye? It broke Marientte’s heart the way you left, I was hurt too. I thought we were friends”

“And we are friends, Adrien. Wouldn’t you have asked me to stay if I had told you? That’s why I never did. And then there’s…”

“There’s what?”

“I don’t know if Marinette has ever told you, but I kissed her. The day before leaving. I know I should have been more considerate about you but I was selfish. I needed to move on and… Oh, but she rejected me immediately. ‘I hate you’, she told me. How could I stay after that?”

"That's- I see. She never told me that… That explains… many things, actually… But that doesn’t change the fact you weren’t there for her when she needed you the most”

“I left my contact open for her, Adrien, but she never contacted me. Hell. I thought you were married until yesterday!”

“Wha- Why? Didn’t you see the news? It was everywhere! The press wouldn’t stop following us around for a while… The gorilla even went to trial for punching one ‘journalist’ while protecting me”

“Wow, that’s rough. I’m sorry this happened to you”

“Marinette’s case was even worse… They even managed to sneak into her office. No chill. I think that was the start of her depression… Wait! Yours and Chloé’s news was what made them stop, now that I think about it… Maybe that was the true reason they left us alone… and the true reason after Marinette’s depression...”

“I didn’t know… Chloé made sure to hide all those news from me”

“Why would she do that?”

“She did it for you. And for herself. But you should ask her directly. Phew, I was scared to ask but I’m glad you weren’t aware of her plans”

“What plans?”

“You should ask her about it. I don’t know much about them, to be honest, but she wanted to get Marinette back with you and keep me out of your way”

I shrug my shoulders and Adrien makes a surprised face that makes me smile.

“Chloe… never learns, doesn’t she?” he says, and I chuckle at his words.

“Isn’t that one of her charms?”

“Maybe?”

It’s nice we can laugh together after all what happened. I’m happy to have Adrien back as a friend.

“Hey, Luka. I want you to be honest with me. Do you love Chloe? What do you plan to do when this is over?”

I’m not surprised at Adrien’s question. But I’m not sure what answer he is expecting.

“What would you like me to say?”

“Tell me your true feelings. Both Marinette and Chloe deserve to be happy. But they both love you and you can only be with one of them. I’m going to encourage you whatever your decision is”

Adrien has really matured, hasn’t he? I’m glad we’re on good terms, sincerely speaking, no hard feelings. Just like old times. I guess I missed him too.

“The truth is… I don’t know. You all keep saying Marinette has feelings for me but it’s still hard for me to believe it. I don't think I can believe it until I hear it coming out her mouth. But… If she really does love me the same way I love her… Then I’m never leaving her side again”

“So Marinette will finally get her happiness… that’s good, I’m relieved. What will you do about Chloe?”

“We’ve already discussed it. Our engagement is practically broken and, as much as it pains me, our relationship can’t go on. I’m sorry. I know she’s your childhood friend”

“She must be very sad and angry now... I’ve never seen her so in love before. You really mean a lot to her”

“And I care for her, too. But Marinette…”

“Yes, I know. Marinette is amazing, isn’t she? How can she be so cute and strong at the same time? How can one not fall for her? I don’t think I need to tell you this, though”

“Certainly not”

Funny how we can laugh together about loving the same girl. I’m glad I got to talk to Adrien from man to man, from friend to friend. I hope we can keep in touch from now on. But I won’t stop him if he ever wants to stop contacting me. Because I did the same at some point and I would understand his reasons.

“What are you going to do, Adrien?”

“Me...? Do I have a choice? Marinette has stopped contacting me after we broke up. I doubt she wants to see me anymore. But I can’t ignore her when she’s asking for help. And I want to help you too. I’ll wish her happiness from the shadows, like I’ve been trying to do for a while”

“Adrien… Don’t take it in a bad way, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Look at me. I had to leave exactly for that same reason. I’m not saying this out of fear or jealousy, but as a friend: why don’t you try to move on? I’m sure you can find happiness. You’re young and handsome, and you have one of the purest hearts songs I’ve ever heard”

“How do you expect me to forget about Marinette, Luka? You should know that it’s impossible… It’s fine, I’ll live with it”

Well. I can't disagree with his words. He's totally right. But I still want to support him.

“Hey, you can count on me anytime, ok? I’m sure you’ll find the right person when you expect it the least, you’ll see”

“I don’t think so… but thanks for your words. I’m happy to have you as my friend”

“I’m glad too. Don’t worry, it will be fine. You deserve happiness, Adrien”

It’s only at this point when I notice the time.

“Oh, look at the time. Should we start our strategy meeting?”

“Sure, I’ll let Alya and Nino know. Can you get Chloe? I doubt she wants any of us to see her… you know…”

“Got it. Meeting in 10 minutes”

__________________________________________

As expected, Chloe is crying with her eye mask on at the back of the plane, lying down on her first-class like seat. The bottle of her wine is empty. Great...

“Hey honeybee- Chloe!” Damn habits! “It’s time for the strategy meeting. C’mon, show me your face”

Wow, her eyes are red and puffy as I remove her eye mask. Can she even stand up? She looks like she’s about to throw up. Great… I bring her a cold towel and a disposable bag and pat her back a little while I check her temperature. No fever at least. Good.

“C’mon Chloe, answer me”

“I’m not going… Let me sleep, snacky. Or kiss me and I’ll go. Yeah, kiss me…”

And there she goes, bawling again. That’s why I never let her drink… I guess she’ll have to miss the meeting.

“Have some sleep. I’ll explain you the plan when the discussion is over”

“No… Don’t go… Stay with me… Don’t leave me…”

Ah… honest Chloe is finally talking. I wish she didn’t need the alcohol for that. Crap, since when was her grip that strong? She’s not letting go of my jacket. I can’t help it but roll my eyes. I kiss her forehead to distract her and remove my jacket. Good thing I’m fast enough to avoid her catching my shirt next.

“Sleep well. See you later”

Ah… There she goes again- the crying. I wish the pain in my heart could finally end… I hate seeing her like that.

But what else can I do? If I have one last chance with Marinette, I’m definitely not going to waste it.

Wait for us, Marinette. We’re coming back to you.

_________________

The meeting goes on smoothly. We discuss the essential: how to reach the cave (Adrien has the Miraculous Compass that should lead us there), which Miraculous could be used and how to act in any case (keeping special attention to the absolute power of creation and destruction Miraculous used together and the rabbit Miraculous, which was most likely the one planned to be used), and finally, how to proceed if anything goes unplanned.

One more thing is decided: the team will be led by me. I’m not really comfortable giving commands, but I guess the cause requires some leadership, and with my experience with the snake Miraculous, Adrien, Nino, and Alya all agree I’m the best fit for that role. I have no choice but to accept. Failure is not an option.

There’s something more to take into consideration: Alya’s state. She has just had a baby and her body is not ready for harsh action, so I need to make sure she has a back-up role, nothing dangerous.

We come to an agreement that what we must try first is to stop Marinette from using the rabbit Miraculous. And, if we can’t stop her at step 1, stop her at step 2, before she can enter the time portal. It’s game over if she gets in.

No resets available- a one chance mission.

We can’t afford to lose.

And in case absolute power is called… We don't have much knowledge about it, but we’ll have to try to remove her Miraculous or make her pass out before she can ask for her wish. Nino, Adrien, and I should have enough strength to stop her and carry out the mission- if there are no surprises. And if it fails, Alya is carrying some chloroform to make her sleep in a few seconds - or at least that’s how it works in movies, according to Nino.

After setting the plan, I return to Chloe’s side and try to get some more sleep. I tell her about the plan, and she just nods “Why didn’t you give me a role?” she asks, but I have no answer to that. I guess I can’t trust her around Marinette… But I better not tell her that. I already feel bad. I really don't want to hurt her unnecessarily any further.

At this point, I’m not sure why I keep looking after Chloe this much. Is it because of love? Pity? Remorse? Worry? Habits? Ugh… Habits can really be bad, can’t they? Here am I, holding her hand at her sleep again. I really should stop this… but my eyelids are so heavy…

“Landing in 10 minutes”

I shake at the call and get Chloe on her seat, fasten our seatbelts, and get ready for imminent landing. Poor Chloe is not even awake, she’ll surely get surprised when we touch the floor.

“UaAh!!”

See? What a jump! I can’t stop laughing at her reaction. And now she’s angry and embarrassed. Cute.

“Stop laughing!”

Oh. She should know at this point this only makes me laugh louder. Chloé is funny. Not the same funny as Marinette, but still funny. Damn… I miss Marinette's laugh and funny actions… But maybe I shouldn’t think of her now that I have a deadly glare on me. I can feel a chill going down my spine. Chloe can be really scary when she’s angry...

______________________

And we finally arrive at the Temple of the Miraculous.

It's good Adrien's Compass is working well. And it's also a good thing Adrien can speak Chinese because we would be screwed otherwise. But Adrien's translation gives us some bad news.

“We can’t go to the cave…”

“What!? Why not, bro?”

“Only the Guardian can enter the cave… Unless the guardian is with us, we can’t go in. And they said Marinette is already inside… so the gate is closed again”

Silence surrounds us for a moment, until Alya breaks it to speak- shout.

“No! This can’t be!! What are we going to do now!? I’ve never heard of anything like this in my research! There has to be a way! We can't just stay here and do nothing!”

“I know Alya… But I have an idea… I don’t know if it will work but… It may take us at least one or two days too... but maybe…”

Adrien doesn’t look confident, but we don’t have any other ideas, so it’s worth giving it a try. I want to do anything to save Marinette. Hell. We must save her at any cost!

“It’s ok, Adrien! Tell us! We need to rescue Marinette!”

God, did I sound as desperate as I am? It’s difficult to keep my cool when it’s Marinette related stuff, even if I’m trying hard. Yep, Chloe’s glare confirms it… Desperate. Of course I am! What do you expect? Shit. Focus, Luka! I need to pay attention to what Adrien has to say.

“Listen. I know the previous guardian of the Miraculous, Master Fu. He’s the one that entrusted me and Marinette our Miraculous at first”

“Good, we have a guardian then. Where is this Fruit person?”

“Chloe, show some respect” I warn her. ”Tell us, Adrien”

“That’s the bad thing… He’s in London but… he lost his memories after passing the Miraculous box to Marinette. He doesn’t have his knowledge anymore…”

Everyone becomes quiet, pensative, and Alya is once again the one to break the silence.

“What are we going to do, then!?”

All looks focus back on Adrien and he starts talking again. Everyone is listening to him carefully.

“I have a plan. We’ll go get him anyway first. We’ll take him in front of the monks of the Temple, and explain the situation. Maybe… if anyone here recognizes him, an exception can be made for us. I would destroy that stupid door if I had my Cataclysm, but it seems Master Fu is our only chance. What do you say?”

“Well… it’s uncertain and risky, but we have no choice. We should leave as soon as we can. No time to waste”

“But we’ve just arrived! Don’t be ridiculous, baby”

“Nino, Alya and Chloe can stay here. Adrien and I will go get him” I tell them and they nod. Except Chloe… as expected.

“Oh no! No way! If you’re going I’m going too!”

“Chloe, don’t be childish. Stay and wait here. Try to find out as much as you can about the Temple, the cave and the miraculous meanwhile. Will be back soon”

“HEY!”

Chloe tries to follow us but is stopped by Nino, who wishes us a safe flight.

“Take care and good luck”

And there we go, Adrien and I rushing to the plane once again.

Next stop: London

______________________

It wasn’t easy to convince Master Fu to come with us when he can’t remember Adrien, but somehow we managed to after insisting for a whole two days. Well, Adrien did, as expected.

After using one of the Zodiac Miraculous, one of the monks recognized Master Fu, and lent him one of the Miraculous with memory-related powers.

And old Master Fu was back. Along with his knowledge.

The old man cried and apologized to the monks for his mistake when he was young, and then to Adrien, for leaving them alone against Hawk Moth. Adrien then explained the situation with Marinette to Master Fu but the shock of what was happening was too big for him and he passed out for some hours.

As soon as he recovered he rushed to the gate to open the door, but nothing: memories and knowledge weren't enough to open the gate. He needed to become the guardian again, so they started a ritual to give him the guardian status permanently. The ritual took a few days… and we finally made it. Just in time: day 6.

Finally! Waiting while unable to do anything was frustrating and stressful.

Will we make it on time?

We need to hurry.

And it looks like a joke how easily the Master could open the gate to enter the cave after having his previous status back. We had tried everything and nothing. And yet, with one sole finger, Master Fu could completely open it. The power of the Guardian is surely impressive.

I nod to the team and we hurry inside, each one of us carrying a torch. Nino is taking care of Alya, who at the same time is looking up for Master Fu. Adrien is slightly in front of me and Chloe is grabbing my jacket from behind, scared of the dark. We move deeper into the cold darkness that surrounds us, guided only by Adrien’s compass.

Here we go, Marinette. Please, wait a little longer.

Don’t leave us. Don’t leave me!

___________________________

Torches guide us through darkness and we finally arrive at the room the Miraculous rest in. My throat hurts like hell from the shouting, but I don’t care if I’m not able to sing ever again: Marinette is much more important than that to me.

And there she is, in her rabbit miraculous suit and in front of the time portal: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

I can only see her from afar but she looks beautiful in that suit… long ears on her head and a cute ponytail. Wow. But now is not the time to admire her beauty. We must stop her before she disappears forever!

I'm so relieved we made it on time before she acts. It was a good thing Adrien’s plan about Master Fu worked. We made it barely on time, but on time, nevertheless. But we need to hurry. And I run, closer to her, still shouting.

Meeting Marinette’s eyes sparks something in me that seemed forgotten for a long time.

I love her. I love her so much.

How can I be without her now that I've met her again?

I can't.

My feelings are as strong than ever. My heart-beat is beating fast and is at this point when I want to believe she feels the same way the most.

I need to know. I’m ready to give everything else up for her. Can’t you see it, Marinette? I’ve never stopped loving you!

I can see how she's trying to run away from us, moving inside the time portal.

Shit! I won’t make it on time. I need to try to stop her with my words.

“Marinette… Marinette, please, stop! Don’t go in there, I beg you! Don't you have something to tell me? Let me listen to it from yourself, with your voice! Let me see your face so I can dare to believe it! Don't make me go after you across that portal or wherever you’re going to”

She seemed to be about to listen to me but her face suddenly lost her light. What happened? How could I let her become so sad? Is it my fault? I don't want her to go.

So I ran towards her, the fastest I can.

"Goodbye…" she says in an almost inaudible voice.

“NO!! Marinette!!!!"

And she slips through my fingers- just like the time we've been apart: lost forever.

No! No! No! DAMN IT! Was I late again? This can’t be! Please… I was so close!!

And just like that, all hope disappears from my heart. Broken again. Even worse than she told me ‘I hate you’.

I still wanted to apologize to her… To tell her so many things… To ask if it’s true I can have a future with her… but the portal in front of me is blank and my tears won’t stop falling like waterfalls. Any question is pointless now… I wish I could have apologized in front of her…

"Marinette… Sorry for being absent for so long. I’m sorry I left... I’m sorry for being selfish…I’m back now. Please… Come back… Is it too late...? Please… Please!”

I can feel the rest of the team sobbing with me, as I beg to Marinette to come back. I appreciate Adrien’s hand on my shoulder, in support, but the pain I’m feeling now is unbearable.

I failed… it's over...

I take a final hopeless look at the portal, waiting for something magical to come and erase us. But I find something unexpected instead: HOPE.

Marinette’s long rabbit ears from her magical suit are slightly coming out of the portal, which means- she’s still here.

It’s not over yet! I’m not giving up. Hell no!

NEVER AGAIN.

But I need to be careful with my words…

“Marinette… I know you can still hear me from the inside… Please, come out. We're here for you. Please… Come back…"

I’m not sure what the best words to convince her would be (I've never been good with words), but I have to try with what I’ve got. She’s not answering, as expected. Is she considering getting out or she’s already moving towards a new timeline? Her ears are not visible anymore, so I can't know. But I’m not willing to wait to find out. Yes, I can be impatient too- why does everyone seem surprised?

“You don’t want to come out? Very well, I'm coming in, then! I’ll get you out of here even if you don’t want me to. Excuse my rudeness, but you leave me no choice”

And her hands appear in front of me to stop my actions, just as my hand is about to touch the portal.

I hold a gasp when master Fu explains what happens to those who enter the portal without a magical suit.

I didn’t know that.

Not that I care about disintegrating- Marinette’s more important than myself at this point, and I don’t mind disappearing if her existence banishes from this world as well.

How I'm supposed to be happy in a world without Marinette, anyway? It's impossible.

And my heart gets filled with something warm the moment I can finally touch her hands. My long fingers find their way to lock with hers and I’ve never been more relieved than the moment she falls into my arms, after I pull her out of the magical time hole.

I missed her so much… Can I keep holding her forever? Can I be selfish this time? I'm so glad she's safe…

I thought I could feel her corresponding my feelings: love, need, comfort, relief… but I must have misunderstood again, because the sweetest dream becomes a nightmare the moment she speaks again…

“Plagg, Tikki, unify”

The darkest nightmare.

#my fic #fic: last chance #airipyon #airip4 #I hope I can finish this fic within this month #Ch 5 and 6 coming soon (I hope)

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asublimehimbo · 4 years

Text

Aziraphale flipped the last page of Le Temps retrouvé and closed the book. He'd spent all of June ignoring that terrible aching in his chest because, well, no Crowley, by rereading dear Proust's In Search of Lost Time, and somehow it had just made Aziraphale miss him more.

Somehow, when he closed his eyes, all he could see were Crowley's eyes, those stunning, saturated yellow eyes. He loved them. He loved every part of Crowley, really, but he liked to pick one thing to focus on at a time so he wouldn't get overwhelmed. So he could give each beautiful part its own spotlight. He could feel, still, that Crowley's feather soft hands on his when they had switched bodies. He missed those hands, as silly as it sounded. He'd never wanted to feel someone else's touch before, not so badly, but he supposed there had always been something different with Crowley. Different about Crowley, for that matter. He just missed him so much.

Aziraphale stood, stretched, and let his corporation get used to standing again, and miracled himself into the hallway outside Crowley's flat. He knocked on the door. He could feel excitement in a way he hadn't before, this strange buzzing going from his fingertips to his toes to his nose, getting stuck up in his mind and causing his heart to race. He wrung his hands, pursed his smiling lips to trap a little squeak before it could release itself into the world. And then he knocked on the door.

It flung open under his knuckles.

"Angel!" Crowley nearly shouted at the same time Aziraphale let out a high-pitched, excited hum.

They nearly flew into each other's arms despite themselves, despite the world. For a moment in time that would be forever locked into the insides of both their brains, they were one thing. One holy, damned, divine, unholy thing. Aziraphale nuzzled into his neck and braided his fingers through Crowley's now-long hair, and inhaled him, his forest-right-after-it-rains smell. Aziraphale held the firm opinion that Crowley's smell should be turned into a candle somehow, so he could enjoy it even when the demon wasn't around, but that was another matter. He was here, and Crowley was here, and they were together. Crowley was warm, because he was always warm despite being cold-blooded and worlds skinnier than Aziraphale, and the angel let the feeling of holding him soak right down to his bones. Crowley tightened his grip around Aziraphale, hunching over to put his face into the angel's hair. Aziraphale thought that maybe if he got burned in hellfire right now, he would go happy.

And then they parted. Aziraphale almost mourned the loss of contact, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to like holding Crowley as much as he did, and shoved the feelings away. They would be resolved at another hour. Right now, he was to be with Crowley, and that was all that mattered.

"How are you, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, and Crowley just shrugged, then gestured for Aziraphale to enter his flat.

"How'er you?"

Aziraphale sighed. "Ecstatic to see you again."

Crowley let out a noncommittal sound that Aziraphale beamed at. "You sent me three letters."

"I was bored."

"You miracled me five cakes."

"I was worried you'd wake up hungry."

"Angel," Crowley said, snapping his fingers. A bottle of wine appeared in his hands. "I don't eat. You know that."

"Oh, my, I must've forgotten! I'm sorry, Crowley."

"S'alright. Kind of nice to wake up to a reminder that you've been thinking about me," he mumbled, striding into his flat's stylish (cramped) living room. Aziraphale followed him, a small smile stretched across his face. They sat down next to each other, perhaps a little closer than friends would have, and drank until they were spewing gibberish.

"I just think that it would've been a lot easier if-" Crowley was interrupted by a stubborn angel's voice.

"Crow..."

"What s’up, angel?"

"You've got some-thing on your face, dear."

Crowley scoffed. "Where?"

"Lemme," Aziraphale said, and ran his fingers gently over Crowley's nose. "Angel, I'm pre- pretty sure that's sup- suppo- oh, on purpose."

Aziraphale smiled. "I like your face."

"I like your face." Crowley said it like he was throwing back an insult, but he was grinning too.

Aziraphale hummed softly, then leaned his head on Crowley's chest and closed his eyes. Crowley tensed up in surprise. This was surely violating some unspoken rule of theirs. Something... but he wasn't sure what, exactly. It felt alright. Good. He let himself relax into the touch, and closed his eyes as well, leaning his head to rest on the back of the couch.

"This s'nice," he said, but Aziraphale was already asleep. He wonder vaguely if the angel had been waiting for a moment just like this to "forget" to Sober Up, then decided he would let it rest in mystery.

And then he felt sleepy too, despite having just slept for a month, as drinking quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol is apt to do to most beings, even angels and demons, and so he slept.

There were lots of denials to be had when they both woke up, but not even an outsider looking in would've been able to deny the quiet, intense kind of smiles on their faces.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fanfic #fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #antony j crowley #fanfiction #ineffable idiots #wakeupcrowley #wakeywakeysnakey #wake up crowley #awakethesnake #awake the snake #wakey snakey #drunk aziraphale #drunk crowley #fluff #so fluffy

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noonaduck · 4 years

Text

In the eye of the storm pt.1

Pairing: reader x Hoseok /OT7 genre: Superhero &super villain AU, Smut, fluff, angst. series. Warnings: oral f&m, fucking. sex generally, cursing. Words: 3297 A/N: Hohoho you didn’t see this coming! ps. I have no idea of how often I will update this fic! Summary: You lived in a world where superhuman abilities were reality. Around 15% of world population went through a mutations in their mother's womb that scientists weren't able to explain. These people with supernatural abilities were called meta-humans. Some of meta people decided to serve the world as superheroes whose job was to keep everyone safe. Like every coin people gaining superpowers had its down side. Because there wasn’t choosing who would born with extraordinary abilities sometimes the powers ended up manifesting in wrong people. Those people used their abilities for their own gain and the counter force for the superheroes was born. > 2.

[gifs belongs to their rightful owners.] -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You tried to block other passengers voices out with your headphones. You thought that with the amount that your plane ticket had cost you would been able to get some peace and quiet, but no. For your luck you were seated in front of pair businessman who were enjoying the benefits of their flight. They were arguing loudly while enjoying alcoholic beverages that the flight attendants were carrying for them. You were sure that the headache that was waiting for those men in few hours would be a nightmare. You were also suffering from headache but for completely different reasons. You hadn’t slept well for three days and were ready to bite the men’s head of in any given minute. You are ready to start your angry rant towards the men when a interesting news on the screen on the back of the seat in front of you gets your attention. You take your headphones of to listen.

‘’...Due the fact that no one hasn’t been able to stop Storm causing terror in Electro City the police forces has asked help from U.O.J (Union of justice) to bring Storm and her associates in front of justice....’’ The newscaster tells with excitement in her voice. On the background is a tall skyscraper with the big blue logo U.O.J on display. Union of justice was an organization which controlled all the other superhero units around the world. U.O.J was acting as police force who supervised the supers. Their job included to relocate superheroes in to areas where wasn’t any or where they were needed the most. Famous leagues of superheroes like a BLACKPINK, which only accepted female superheroes or K.A.R.D which was famous of their mental abilities were all working underneath of U.O.J’s watch. ‘’So we are going to get new defenders of the law on our tail?’’ Yoongi’s lazy voice distracts you from the news on the screen. ‘’I thought you were still sleeping.’’ You say surprised. ‘’I was trying to but the passengers behind of us kept waking me up.’’ Yoongi sighs annoyed and pulls a sleeping mask from his face. His raven hair is messy after sleep and his brown eyes are paired with heavy bags. After all Yoongi had had stayed awake as long as you had.

‘’...The group assigned to look after Electro City is called BTS which is shortened from Battle trusting supers.’’ The reporter continues while you listen with one ear. There had been other attempts to stop your plans and all of them had failed miserably so you weren’t that worried. ‘’Hmm, what do you think about the new heroes, can they put us behind the bars?’’ You ask quietly mildly interested in Yoongi’s opinion. Yoongi waits until a flight attendant has walked past your seats and answers with a smirk. ‘’They don’t have a chance.’’ ~

After painfully long security check at the airport you and Yoongi are finally able to leave to pick your bags. ‘’You would think that security checks would be faster with the current amount of technology.’’ You whine while walking towards the carousel carrying your bags. ‘’Perhaps it would be little bit faster if the city didn’t have a super villains to worry about.’’ ‘’Damn it, why anyone can’t catch Storm?’’ You complain while you wait for your luggage to arrive. ‘’Perhaps the police force isn’t capable enough.’’ ‘’excuse me, I couldn’t stop myself from hearing your conversation.’’ A very handsome stranger breaks into your conversation. The man has a bleached hair, wide shoulders and bright brown eyes paired with most luscious lips you have seen.‘’ While you keep checking the man out he continues talking. ‘’I heard that the city has been assigned with some new superheroes whose job is to end the terror of the Storm.’’ ‘’Yeah, I saw the news too.’’ You nod. ‘’Don’t you think that our city is losing its face when they have to call team of superheroes to help even though the captain of the force is super themself?’’ You add enjoying the opportunity to argue about the topic. ‘’To be honest I don't think that ability to control sound waves is that useful.’’ Yoongi adds in the conversation. Yoongi spots your luggage and goes to pick it up. ‘’Well I think it's quite nice, I could block the voices of my loud roommates.

I’m Kim Seokjin by the way.’’ The man introduces himself after remembering that he hadn’t at the first place. ‘’I’m L/N Y/N and that grumpy looking one is Min Yoongi.’’ You tell offering your hand for Seokjin which accepts it happily. ‘’It’s pleasure to meet you.’’ Seokjin tells flashing a bright smile. His hand is much bigger than yours and you can feel the heat radiating from his grip. ‘’Y/N as much as I would like to let you flirt with airport stranger our ride is here.’’ Your gaze turns instantly towards Yoongi who has picked both of your bags while you were focused on your conversation. Yoongi is holding his phone on his hand and looking you with amused smile. ‘’Uh, it seems that I have to go.’’ You tell with slight disappointment and turn ready to leave when Seokjin stops you. ‘’Wait! Look if u ever want to talk about superheroes again here's my card.’’ He tells handing you a simple white card with his printed information. ‘’Maybe I will. See you around.’’ You tell waving for the man and following Yoongi out form the terminal. ~ You gasp when a second finger disappears into your heat. The rooms is filled with your small moans when the man between your legs works on his magic.

‘’Ji-jimin I’m close.’’ You warn and the man in question smirks. ‘’Already, you must have really missed me.’’ Jimin coos and lowers his head to suck your clit. You ignore his comment and tangle your fingers into his silver locks. The bedroom air is full of humidity from your heated and slick bodies. On the moment you have arrived home you had rushed to the one man’s arms you knew would give you relief without questioning you. Yoongi had just rolled his eyes and marched up the stairs in to his room, probably to continue sleeping. Jimin had looked you with surprise when you had launched yourself into his arms and pressed hungry kisses on the corner of his lips.

You feel the familiar throbbing between your legs and are ready to let go when Jimin pulls away from your cunt leaving you pulsing when the orgasm slips away. ‘’What do you think that you are doing?’’ You narrow your eyes feeling pissed from your denied release. ‘’You didn’t call me even single time when you were away.’’ Jimin pouts. ‘’I don't think that you deserve to come so easily. ‘’Are you fucking serious.’’ You can feel the room air turning electric from your frustration and small sparks goes through your body. ‘’You called Namjoon. ’’Jimin mumbles and you push him away only to push him down on the mattress and you move sitting top of his thighs. You can see his hard member throbbing and small streaks of precum leaking from his tip. He is as horny as you are but decides that it's time to act petty in his jealous stage of mind. ‘’My sweet boy, you know that we aren’t dating. I’m not responsible in anyway to keep in touch with you when I’m away, besides I called Joon only because I needed his help.’’ You tell and rake your nails along his chest and pinch his left nipple making him gasp. You run your vet tongue along his right nipple and suck it gently to make him squirm. Payback is a bitch. ‘’You needed Joon’s help for phone sex?’’ Jimin shutters in middle of his sentence when your hand trails down along his abs and your hand takes a hold of his erected member. ‘’So you were spying on us, tsk you are such a prat.’’ You slide lower down on Jimin’s thighs leaving behind wet path leaking from your soaked core. You open your mouth and hollow your cheeks putting Jimin’s throbbing member between your lips. ‘’I just happened to walk past his room when I heard you.’’ Jimin defends himself while sweat drips down his face. He doesn’t dare to move. Anticipation is rushing through his veins when you finally start to suck his length. Jimin’s dick feels heavy against your tongue and you can taste the slight taste of salt coming from his precum. You feel how Jimin’s thighs tenses underneath your legs when he tries to stop himself from squirming and his hands find your H/C locks. You work mercilessly, Speeding your sucking at random times to only suddenly slow down or go completely still. Your hand finds its place in the end of Jimin’s shaft where you can’t quite reach with your tongue. You trace the large vein on his dick with your tongue and slide your hand to squeeze his balls. ‘’Y/N I’m so close.’’ Jimin whines his half moon eyes tightly shut and his hands holding tightly on his bed sheets. hearing his words you still completely and pop your mouth away from his member. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his member and you swipe your mouth clean. ‘’If you want to come you need to make me come first with that dick of yours.’’ You smirk after receiving and angry glare. ‘’That is something that I can arrange.’’ Jimin changes into sitting position against the headboard and his hands finds your hips. He guides you to hover above his hard member and with one hard push makes your seated on his dick feeling how his erection pulses inside of your walls. The speed that Jimin sets is merciless and he guides you to bounce up and down his dick while his hands squeezes your hips. You feel the familiar knot tightening in your lower belly and your hand slides between your connected bodies and seek your clit. Jimin looks with hungry eyes how your fingers works on your own clit and groans loudly when your heat tightens around his member. ‘’Come for me.’’ Jimin demands and leans to seal his feverish lips against yours. Jimin bites your lower lip and the feeling is enough to make you see stars. Your walls squeeze hardly around Jimin and soon he is coming alongside you. When you come down from your high you are laying on top of Jimin’s body his dick still seated tightly inside of you. Jimin draws lazy circles on your back and when you lift your head to look at his face you can see the satisfied smile on his lips. ‘’Thanks, I really needed that.’’ You tell and roll over Jimin’s side to settle on his side while his now softened member slips out of you. ‘’Was the trip that bad, huh?’’ Jimin asks turning to cuddle you. ‘’Sadly.’’ You sigh. ‘’You should never trust people on this business.’’ ‘’Not even us?’’ Jimin asks arching his brows teasingly. ‘’I think that you know by now that you guys are only ones I trust. Otherwise I wouldn’t let you have been buried between my legs instead you would have met some shock therapy.’’ You tell raising your hand up lazily when small blue sparks dances along your fingers.

‘’You surely know how to make your return quite exciting.’’ Jimin huffs while trying to stop himself from laughing. ‘’Well we all need some excitement into our lives, don’t we?’’ You ask while a small yawn escapes your lips. ‘’Let's sleep for now.’’ You tell and close your eyes that are turning heavy.

You are feeling too satisfied and tired to care the mess on the bed sheets and the wetness between your legs. You know that you will regret not cleaning yourself up when you wake up but right now you couldn’t care less. ~ You find Namjoon in the kitchen reading a newspaper and sipping coffee from his steaming mug. He hisses lightly when the hot drink burns his mouth but continues his reading. He is so focused on his paper that he doesn’t even notice how his round glasses slips down his nose, a glasses that actually doesn’t need and uses only for the looks. ‘’Morning.’’ You greet quietly and head for the fridge. You pick a cart of orange juice and drink it down straight from the source. ‘’Morning.’’ Namjoon grunts and returns to his paper. You push the fridge shut and go sit on the bar stool next to Namjoon’s. ‘’What has gained you interest this morning?’’ You ask and learn curiously to see the article better which he is so interested in. Namjoon slides the paper closer to you without a word. There is a whole two page article about the new superheroes that are going to take over of supervising your city. Your eyes stops on the picture of the four superheroes posing in their supersuits. The first man on the right has cherry colored hair and muscular figure covered in black leather outfit with red sleeves. His mask is covering his whole face except dark and piercing eyes. ‘’Super Strength.’’ You mumble after reading the text below the figure and Namjoon hums on your side. ‘’Alias Kratos.’’* The second man had ebony hair and and the brightest smile you had ever seen. His suit was made of red latex and didn’t leave anything on imagination. Before you can read the description out loud Namjoon beats you to it. ‘’Apollo*2, a hero with ability to manipulate light and heat.’’ His mask covers only the area of his eyes. The third man was wearing a electric blue suit with a zipper in front paired with a mask of same color. He had shiny blue hair stopping on his ears and he was posing with confidence. ‘’V, also known as Victory has superhuman speed.’’ You continue before Namjoon can and he answers with amused smile. ‘’And last but not least is Siren. He has ability of enchant you with his voice and control your mind for short periods of time.’’ Siren had a black suit with bright pink stripes on his side. The hero has blonde hair and he is sending flying kisses on the picture. ‘’All members of BTS are also highly trained with hand to hand combat and some simple weapons such as throwing knives and hand guns.’’ Namjoon finishes the section and you roll your eyes. ‘’You could think that the city would get the hint and give up already.’’ You sigh tiredly. ‘’Yoongi is up.’’ Namjoon remarks suddenly and soon enough you can hear the man coming down the stairs. Namjoon had the ability of super hearing and vision. When he was tired or unable to focus he sometimes slipped into stage of using his abilities without realizing. To add on that the man was also so intelligent that sometimes you wondered did he have super brain as well. Yoongi doesn’t bother to speak for you and instead heads straight to the coffee maker. He pours a steaming cup of coffee for himself and sit on the kitchen counter. Without any ceremony Yoongi begins to speak. ‘’So one of my old contacts connected me last night. he told me that the key we are after is actually being transported here into our city.’’ he tells casually and your jaw drops. ‘’So you are saying that our trip was waste of time?’’ You rub your face. Electro City was on the top when it came to developing new technology and new inventions. You and Yoongi had taken a trip to seek out the truth about a rumor that had been spreading in the spider web. Spider web was the term that underworld had given for a network of the people in the same profession. The key that Yoongi was talking about was told to be a device that could let you through any firewall or security system in the world. Possibilities with the device like that was endless. You could make whole nations to bow underneath you. The rumor that you had followed was that someone had already stolen the device form Big Hit, a high tech company that was specialized into security in all of its aspects. Sadly the rumor has been just a rumor so you had been left empty handed and the man who was supposed to have the device with few broken bones and black eye.

‘’Yup.’’ Yoongi answers with emotionless face. You want to break something and closed thing on your reach was Namjoon’s now empty coffee cup that you mashed on the floor. Your temper has always been irregular, in one moment you could be all sunshine and rainbows and for the next second you would be blinded by rage. You didn’t know were your powers matched with your personality or was your personality matched with your powers. You were force of nature, able to call for storms and electricity for your aid. Without word Namjoon gets up from his seat and goes pick up a broom. Luckily for the people around you, you didn’t release your rage against them without a reason and instead directed it to your environment. By now your companions are used to your quick temper and they rarely flinch when you let yourself go. You come back down from your anger and blink slowly. ‘’Oh shit, I’m sorry guys.’’ You tell awkwardly and hurry to help Namjoon to pick the broken pieces of the mug. ‘’Don’t worry about it.’’ Namjoon tells flashing a dimpled smile. ‘’Usually I’m the one who breaks stuff.’’ ‘’Well yeah because you are clumsy, not because you have hot temper.’’You sigh. Yoongi continues to look you cleaning the shards in quiet and sipping his coffee. ‘’I heard last night how you released some steam with Jimin.’’ Yoongi says innocently trying to distract you. Namjoon coughs awkwardly and gets up from the floor going to throw broken pieces of the mug away. ‘’So what?’’ You ask trying to sound annoyed but small smirk rises to your lips. ‘’Did you want to join?’’ You ask and wink to Yoongi who rolls his eyes for an answer. ‘’No, I wanted to sleep but it was almost impossible.’’ Yoongi tells and jumps down the kitchen counter. He has finally finished his drink. ‘’Speaking of Jimin do you know where he is? He wasn’t in his bed when I woke up.’’ ‘’I think he went for jog.’’ Namjoon answers and pushes his black hair backwards even though it slips back down right after. ‘’I see.’’ You turn your attention back to Yoongi who is about to exit the room. ‘’Hey Yoongles.’’ Yes?’’ Yoongi stops on his track. ‘’Make sure that this time we won’t be running after gossips.’’ ‘’Aye aye boss.’’ Yoongi answers with lazy wave and disappears from the room. You look after him with amused smile and return to continue your morning humming softly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Greek god of strength and power *2 Greek god of Sun, light & poetry and more-

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sunfloweradoring · 5 years

Text

the one where they meet

Character wise, obviously you know who one direction are! But for anyone that doesn’t know, Saoirse is based on Saoirse Ronan, George on George Mackay & Alex was on no one in particular!

Hope you enjoy my first piece!

masterlist

word count: 2.7k

2011

“Please! Honestly, I will do absolutely anything if you go with me, please!” Saoirse pleaded, her bright blue eyes intensely boring into my stubborn face. My arms were crossed tightly across my chest, brows slightly raised in disbelief.

“Look Saoirse, you know these kinds of parties are not my thing. How long have you known me? Like what, 4 years?” My words came out laced with a small chuckle. A gentle whine of defeat escaped her lips as she moved closer on the sofa, her hands snatching my left arm out of its folded position.

Saoirse and I had met when we played best friends in the film Atonement back in ’07 and soon became fast friends off screen as well. Only a year later her family had moved from Ireland to London, a mere three quarters of an hour from mine, and that almost cemented our friendship. Almost every day we were in each other’s company, giggling like little girls despite the both of us being 16.

“Okay, what about this,” She began, her hands momentarily squeezing mine as if to emphasise her begging. “We go to this party, you give it an hour and a half, and if you don’t like it, we can leave, and I promise to go and see that stupid kids’ film with you; how does that sound?” My head snapped to my left as I sent her a small glare.

“Not a stupid kids’ film.” I muttered. “Gnomeo and Juliet sounds adorable.” She smiled warmly, knowing my defence was slowly lowering. “Fine,” I sighed. “But only an hour and a half.” I warned.

“Thank you! I love you!” She squealed in excitement. “When me and George are finally an item, I will forever be indebted to you.” She spoke, standing from the sofa and bowing to me in hyperbolic fashion. I let out an unattractive snort to which her response was to whack my head with one of the cushions decorating her parents’ sofa.

“Okay, sorry!” I laughed. “He seems really nice, genuinely. If he has any nice looking friends, I won’t object.” I jested, pushing myself up from the sofa as headlights appeared through the living-room window.

“That’s why I want you to come to the party, eejit! Apparently, there’s this boy called Alex that’s going, that George knows from school and from all accounts he’s not too bad.” She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at me. Before I could respond, Saoirse’s mother popped her head out of the study with a smile of her face.

“I think your folks are here, lovie.” Monica spoke in her gentle accent.

“Ah, thanks.” I nodded just before the doorbell rang.

“Right, I’ll see you on Wednesday, we’ll go to Oxford Street and get something to wear. Yeah?” Saoirse babbled as we both walked to the front door.

“What’s this about?” Monica playfully questioned.

“Oh, we’re going to this party I was invited to by George next Friday night. But we have to go to the shops before to make sure we look fab.” Her daughter explained, pulling the door open to reveal my older brother standing waiting.

“Awee, George.” Monica gently teased. “He seems like a nice boy.” She smiled, waving at my brother. “Hi Tom, you on taxi duty tonight?”

He nodded with a grin on his face. “Unfortunately, that’s me. Should start charging rates the amount these two need ferrying around.” He joked as I stepped out and over the doorstep.

I shook my head at his joke before waving at the Ronan ladies. “Bye! See you Wednesday, thanks for the lovely tea, Monica!”

----------

My cheeks were flushed, my feet ached, and my fingers were gradually losing feeling from clutching mine and Saoirse’s bags as we went into what felt like the millionth shop.

“Promise it’s the last one, pet, honest. Just saw these really nice earrings online and they’ll go so well with that top I got.” She explained, excitement overflowing her words. Ordinarily I would have complained about being somewhat of a pack-mule, but her happiness was starting to rub off on me (although I would never admit it!).

As we walked into the warm shop, sheltering us from the February chill outside, her phone rang out in a shrill tone. Quickly retrieving it from her back pocket, Saoirse brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?... Hiya, George!... Oh yeah, Alex wasn’t it?” Instantly her eyes moved to me, a devilish grin forming on her lips at the mention of this mystery man. “Oh reallllyyyyy?” The way she dragged out the syllables filled me with nothing but dread. “Well that sounds great… I’ll let her know, yeah… Okay, see you then, bye!” In one swift movement the phone was returned to the pocket.

“What was that about?” I questioned, slowly shifting my weight from leg to leg, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under her gaze.

“Well,” She grinned. “A little birdy just told me that Alex has seen a picture of you and rumour has it that he took quite the fancy to you.” She explained, her voice calling out in a sing-song tone.

“Fantastic.” I muttered sarcastically under my breath.

----------

“Right, have a nice time girls. Are you sure that Lily’s mum is okay with picking you all up? I’m trusting George to look after you both until then.” Saoirse’s dad questioned, turning to his daughter who was sat in the front seat of the car.

“Absolutely!” Saoirse replied, unbuckling herself and shooting out of the car before any more questions could be asked. I followed suit, calling out a soft ‘thanks!’ before pushing the car door closed. “This is so exciting!” She squealed, the both of us turning around to look at the house we were about to enter. George, who was 18 now, had invited us to the party of one of his co-stars, also 18 Saoirse had said. This only really meant one thing: alcohol was probably going to be flowing. Whilst I was far from a prude, at 16 I did feel a little unsettled at the idea of being a party with loads of 18 and 19 year olds but I only had to get through an hour and a half.

“Let’s go.” I smiled, our arms linking together as we walked up to the house.

----------

I made my way with Saoirse and George to two sofas and armchairs that were nestled away in the corner of the room. We sat down, almost completely ignored by the many people bopping around us. We’d barely been there 15 minutes when I heard someone shout over the music a loud ‘oh my god, it’s them!’, but before I could turn and investigate, a figure pulled up beside the arm of George’s chair.

“Oh! This is Alex,” George smiled, pointing the neck of his bottle towards the young man next to him. Alex was tall, dark hair, wearing some dark trousers and a checked top, that, in the lowered light of the London flat, looked a mixture of reds and black. I smiled gently, reaching my hand to meet his outstretched one and shaking it.

“Hi.” I spoke quietly, introducing myself. Even though Alex was speaking to me now, I could vaguely see over his shoulder and into the rest of the room that now seemed to be buzzing about something. Before I came across as rude, an unnamed girl came up behind Alex and cut him off, her forehead shiny from sweat, I assume as a result of her dancing.

“That band that nearly won the X-Factor is here.” She announced and before we could ask any further questions, she was off to announce the news to someone else.

“The X-Factor?” Alex questioned, swinging around as the rest of us stood up, intrigued.

“What were they called? One Direction wasn’t it?” George questions, to which Saoirse and I nod in agreement. I wasn’t an avid fan of the X-Factor. Indeed, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I watched more than one episode let alone an entire series. However, I did remember seeing a group of boys around my age on it this year, but I didn’t know how far they’d gone in the competition or anything.

“Let’s see!” Saoirse said, leading myself, Alex and George back into the rest of the flat to see. What must have been at least a hundred people had congregated in the main room of the flat, all laughing and chattering loudly. From what I could see, no one would particularly extraordinary; no one looked like they ‘nearly won the X-Factor’. I vaguely recognised various actors from different shows or films but no one looked like a rock star.

“Excuse me, sorry, ‘cuse me.” An accent I’d come to know and love chimed from beside me, yet I knew it obviously wasn’t Saoirse as the tone was far deeper than her voice. I glanced to my left and saw a young lad, peroxide blonde hair, attempting to weave his way deeper into the flat – probably in an effort to locate the free bar in the kitchen.

“Sorry.” I quickly spoke, stepping to the right to allow him through. He shot me a small smile of gratitude, glancing at the plastic cup clutched in my fingers and moved another step before coming to a halt.

“Ye wouldn’t know where aye could get eh drink, would ye?” He questioned, eyes slightly squinted to look at me. “’Aven’t had anything for ‘ours.” He explained. Instead of verbalising a response I simply nodded in the direction he’d previously been heading and led him towards the kitchen.

“Here you go.” I said, stepping to the side to display the vast number of bottles, cans and jugs of liquid to the boy.

“Ah, that’s brillian’ that. Absolutely mental in there.” He grinned, walking to the counter and grabbing a plastic cup, filling it with a concoction of beverages. “’Am Niall, by the way.” He said after taking a large gulp, turning around and looking at me.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you Niall.” I smiled, finishing the rest of my drink.

“How do you know Jack then?” Niall questioned, leaning his back against the counter as he eyed me. “Look a lil’ young if you don’t mind me saying.”

I almost wanted to laugh at him; he himself didn’t look a day older than me, but I shrugged. “I don’t, he’s a friend of a friend.” I explained. “What about you?”

“He knows Louis from somewhere I think.” He replied, looking at something behind me. I turned to see what caught his attention; two more men around his age entered the kitchen.

“Look at him! Already trying to chat a poor lass up before he’s even been here a second.” One laughed. The other simply chuckled in response as they both helped themselves to a drink each.

“Louis that’s not funny. ‘Am not ‘Arry!” Niall retorted to the boy that had spoken. The second boy nodded in affirmation.

“I’d stay away from him, if I were you. Bit of a ladies’ man our Harry.” He said. I nodded, smiling perhaps a little too much due to the small amount of alcohol in my system. “Liam.” He added, holding out his hand. I took it and shook his hand before introducing myself.

----------

I spoke with three boys for a while, chatting about completely irrelevant things – probably in an attempt to avoid the mayhem outside the kitchen. Soon I came to understand they were three fifths of the band One Direction that everyone had been buzzing about outside. The remaining two members I had yet to meet, but from what I could remember, they were Zayn and the infamous Harry, the ‘ladies’ man’. Each of them seemed really sweet and genuinely, all equally as perplexed at the sudden rise to fame they’d experienced in only a matter of weeks.

“Lads!” Louis shouted from his seat atop the counter, beckoning to people outside the vicinity of the kitchen. Two more figures entered; the first was a slight boy, looking almost like a deer caught in headlights. His hair was jet black and he eyed me a little nervously before he shot me a timid smile. The second was a brunette, his wispy hair curling in what looked like every direction. His eyes seemed to light up as he smiled at the three boys I’d been conversing with.

“Hi!” He spoke cheerily.

“This is Y/N. Y/N this is Harry and Zayn.” Liam said, gesturing to me as I leaned against the fridge. Both boys acknowledged me with genuine smiles, but Harry seemed to be the more confident one as he approached me and held out his hand. When I took it, I was surprised that rather than shaking it as his friends had, he bowed his head and placed an almost non-existent kiss to the back of my hand.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N.” Harry grinned, lifting his eyes to look at me. There was something about his gaze that struck me. Whether it was the intensity at which he seemed to be staring into my soul, or the brightness of what looked to be green eyes, I didn’t know, but I felt a gentle flush rise to my cheeks.

“And you, Harry.” I giggled, unable to bring my eyes away from his.

----------

“So tell me about yourself, then, Y/N.” Harry spoke, now it just being the two of us sat on the sofas and chairs I’d been occupying with my friends earlier in the evening.

I shrugged gently. “Well, I’m an actor.” I began. “Started off with Saoirse in Atonement. I live with my aunt, my uncle and my two cousins. But they’re like my parents and my brothers so that’s what I call them.” I added, probably oversharing, but my extremely low alcohol tolerance was only screwing me over. Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving my face; it was as if he was only concentrating on me - no one else was in the room.

“That’s cool.” He smiled. “Do you have any films or stuff coming out soon?” He asked, sipping from his cup.

“Uh, yeah, actually.” I shyly responded. “It’s coming out in the summer. It’s called Crazy, Stupid, Love and Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling are in it. I’m just a minor character but it was so amazing to work with such talented people.” I gushed. Again, Harry smiled, his grin almost looking like it was going to split his face in half.

“That’s cute.” He breathed, looking at his cup as he gently swirled the content. “Hey um-” Before he could continue, Saoirse plopped down on the arm of my chair, her friend Lily (who I’d barely seen all night) standing behind her, eyes fixed on the boy sitting opposite me.

“Lily’s mum’s here.” Saoirse interrupted, almost obvious to the fact she’d cut in on an extremely enjoyable conversation. I glanced at Harry, who seemed almost upset. But perhaps that was just the trick of the light and not his smile actually faltering because he quickly stood and the smile was back, pride of place.

“I’ll be there in a sec.” I nodded towards the door. “I’ll just say goodbye.” The girls looked at me with glints in their eyes before slowly making their way to the door. Clearly there was no such thing as privacy though, because I could still feel their eyes on me as I turned back to Harry. “What were you gonna say?” I asked.

Again, I don’t know whether it was a trick of the light or not, but I swear I could see a small hum of colour take over his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “I, uh, I was gonna ask if I could take your number. I really enjoyed talking to you for,” He glanced down at the time displayed on the screen of his phone. “like 3 hours.” He laughed.

Honestly, everything he’d said after ‘could I take your number’ was not registered in my brain whatsoever. A girlish giggle left my lips as (not at all subtly) my cheeks flushed scarlet. “Me too, Harry. Yeah, here’s my number.” I reached out my hand for his phone which he obliged. The stare of his gaze bore into me as I typed my number into the device before handing it back to him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” His breath fanned over my cheek as he leaned in, placing a small kiss on my cheek before embracing me.

I could have died on the spot.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #imagine #one direction #one direction imagines #harry #ficition #fan fiction #fanfic #harry styles drabble

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ofstormsandwolves · 4 years

Text

I’ll Stand By You

Zoey x Joan

Teen. Set during Zoey’s Extraordinary Night Out. Canon divergence. Angst, emotional hurt/ comfort.

Any familiar lines are taken from the show (paraphrased if not completely correct). Basically this came from an idea of a tipsy Joan trying to get Zoey a cab after Simon and Jessica's party...

Synopsis: What if Maggie's phone call came just a few minutes later, after Zoey had left Simon and Jessica's party? And what if a certain brunette woman had followed her out to check on her?

Read on AO3

Leaving behind the burning rose wall and the bickering couple, Zoey fled back inside Simon and Jessica’s house. She’d known it was a mistake coming to the party. But drunken Joan was very difficult to argue with. Well, sober Joan was pretty difficult too.

Shaking her head, Zoey set a brisk pace through the house. She didn’t want to stay there a minute longer than necessary.

“Zoey? Zoey!” Max fell into step beside her, a concerned look on his face. “Zoey, are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” Zoey said, sniffing. She kept her head down even as she moved towards the front door.

“Woah, you’re not fine,” Max argued, grabbing her arm to bring her to a halt. He gently tilted her chin up so she would look at him. “Zoey, talk to me.”

Zoey sighed, and pulled herself from Max’s grasp. “Max, just go back to the party. I’m fine, I’m going home, I’ll call you later-”

“Zoey! You’re still here!”

Both Max and Zoey looked round in surprise to see Joan standing in the doorway to the kitchen-diner. She was grinning broadly, but the smile faded when she saw Zoey’s dejected look.

“Joan,” Zoey said, surprised to see the other woman there. “I- I was just leaving, actually.”

“Oh, ok.” Joan said, frowning. “Why are you leaving?”

Zoey shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m just not really in the mood for a party.”

“Well, come hang with me and Leif!” the brunette offered, pointing towards Leif on the sofa. “Leif has a really good idea-”

Before Joan could finish speaking, Tobin’s excited shouts filled the air as he barrelled into the kitchen.

“Guys! Guys, Zoey set fire to the rose wall-” Tobin broke off sharply as he saw Zoey stood in the foyer. “Oh, hi, Zoey.”

More than a little embarrassed, and desperate to leave, Zoey gave Tobin a tight smile and looked back to Max. “Like I said, I’ll call you later.”

“Well, how are you getting home?” Max asked, reluctantly accepting that Zoey was going to leave regardless of what he said. “The Warriors game will be getting out soon-”

“Max,” Zoey cut in, a fond smile on her face, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Stepping out onto the street, Zoey let out a shuddering breath as the embarrassment of the evening swept over her. If Tobin knew she’d set the wall on fire, did that mean he knew about Jessica thinking she and Simon were sleeping together? Zoey wasn’t sure she could bear it if everyone in the office thought she and Simon were having an affair.

“Zoey! Wait up!”

Joan’s calling voice made Zoey stop in her tracks, and she turned to see the older woman hurrying towards her. Considering the amount she’d drunk that night, Zoey was surprised that Joan was that steady on her feet.

“Hi, Joan,” Zoey greeted forlornly. “I thought you were hanging out with Leif?”

Joan snorted and waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You looked like you needed to talk to someone, and you obviously don’t want to talk to Max, so I thought I’d offer.”

That made Zoey frown. She was very aware that they were standing in the middle of the street, and that the Warriors game was getting out. People were starting to fill the street, but Zoey felt no desire to move.

“Why?” Zoey asked. “I mean, why are you offering?”

Joan shrugged. “You helped me with Charlie, and you’ve put up with me complaining about him. Plus you let me drag you to that club tonight.” There was a pause, and Joan looked almost shy. “Besides, I like spending time with you.”

Blinking, Zoey tried to figure out a response to that statement. What if it was just the alcohol talking? Would Joan even remember the conversation tomorrow? But before Zoey could come up with something to say, her phone began ringing.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said, as she fished her phone out of her bag. Frowning when she saw it was her mom’s number, she answered the call quickly. “Mom?”

As her mom spoke, Zoey felt like she was going to be sick. She must have looked pretty bad too, because Joan was looking rather quite concerned. Maybe that was what she should focus on more, Zoey wondered idly. Maybe Joan’s concern was better than hearing her mom talking about her dad being in hospital, about Paul slipping on the stairs while taking Mitch up to bed.

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

As Zoey ended the call, Joan was staring at her with wide, worried eyes.

“Zoey? Is everything alright?”

Staring at her phone, Zoey took a moment to answer. “No,” she said after a long pause. “No, it’s not.” She slowly met Joan’s eyes, feeling a little disconnected. “My dad’s in hospital.”

It very quickly became clear that, with the Warriors game just letting out, getting a cab was going to be near-on impossible.

“Why did this have to happen now?” Zoey muttered, trying to ignore the burning tears in her eyes as she stalked down the street.

Every cab she saw was taken. Joan was hurrying along beside her, brow furrowed and lips pursed as she scanned the street.

“Come on,” Joan said suddenly, and grabbed hold of Zoey’s hand. She then set off down the street, pulling Zoey behind her.

As they walked, strains of music began drifting towards Zoey, and she looked up in surprise as Joan began to sing. She was even more surprised to find that Joan was singing to her. Her gaze was on Zoey, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Oh, why you look so sad?

Tears are in your eyes,

Come on and come to me now.

Don’t be ashamed to cry,

Let me see you through,

‘cause I’ve seen the dark side too.”

Zoey blinked at Joan’s singing, allowing her boss to pull her down the street from potential cab to potential cab. But every cab they came across was occupied. Joan let out a frustrated groan before resuming her singing.

“When the night falls on you,

You don’t know what to do,

Nothing you confess

Could make me love you less...”

Wide-eyed, Zoey stumbled as she processed just what Joan was singing to her. Surely she meant ‘love’ in a platonic, friendship sense, right? But the thought made Zoey feel funny, like butterflies in her stomach, and suddenly she felt like a teenager with a crush again. Did... did she have a crush on Joan?

“I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you,

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.”

Joan abruptly stopped singing, and pulled Zoey across the street.

“J-Joan?” Zoey spluttered. “Where are we going? I have to get to the hospital!”

“I know,” Joan responded, not looking round. Instead, she dragged Zoey over to a dark SUV with a man sat in the driver’s seat. “Hey! Hey, you!”

She dropped Zoey’s hand and thumped on the car window. Zoey flinched at the noise, and quickly moved to pull Joan away. The man in the car glared and wound the window down.

“Hey! What the hell?” the driver demanded, looking more than a little furious.

“Sorry,” Zoey apologised quickly. “I’m so sorry. My friend’s had a bit to drink-”

“We need your car!” Joan interrupted sharply. “We can pay you, but we need to get to the hospital. My friend’s father got taken in.”

The driver frowned, and surveyed the pair of them for several long moments, before squinting suspiciously at Joan. “How much are you offering?”

Joan grinned, flung open the back door, and bundled Zoey inside.

Halfway to the hospital, Joan turned to Zoey in the back seat.

“So, what’s the deal with your dad?” Her voice was soft, more sympathetic than Zoey had expected, and it surprised the younger woman.

“Oh, uh, he’s dying,” Zoey admitted quietly. “He has this disease, Progressive Supranuclear Palsy. It’s... It causes dementia, balance problems, speech problems...”

“Oh, Zoey.”

At Joan’s sympathetic look, Zoey swallowed. Her cheeks were damp, she realised, and the driver was giving her an odd look in the rear view mirror.

“Dad’s friend Paul was looking after him tonight, because Mom was helping Simon and Jessica. Paul was taking Dad up to bed and he slipped on the stairs...” Zoey shrugged, more tears falling as she spoke. “I mean, I don’t think Dad’s badly hurt, but...”

Suddenly Joan’s hand was on top of Zoey’s. Rubbing reassuring circles into the back of Zoey’s hand with her thumb, the older woman seemed to be considering what to say.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Joan asked after several moments.

Her voice was still quiet; they were both aware that they were in the back of a stranger’s car, and that this was quite a personal conversation.

“You told me not to bring my personal life to work,” Zoey responded, trying to wave away Joan’s concern. “And besides, it was kind of nice being able to go to work and not have people asking how I am all the time.”

“You still should have told me.”

At that, Zoey sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. As my boss, I should have informed you-”

“Well, yeah,” Joan interrupted, “but I don’t just mean as your boss.” She shook her head, tried to gather her thoughts. “So we weren’t exactly friends before the whole Charlie fiasco and my divorce, but I like to think that’s changed now. You should have told me you were going through this, Zoey, so I could help.”

Blinking, Zoey tried to process that. “Oh.” Then a small, hesitant smile tugged at her lips. “We’re friends?”

“Uh, yeah?” Joan rolled her eyes. “I don’t make a habit of taking my employees drinking, Zoey. I invited you because I like you. I mean, the rest of the team isn’t bad, but I like you best.” Her eyes went wide then as she realised what she’d said. “Don’t tell them I said that!”

The redhead gave a watery laugh at that. “Your secret’s safe with me, Joan.”

Smiling in relief, Joan sagged back into her seat. “Good.”

Zoey balked when Joan handed over $50 in payment to the impromptu taxi driver, but before she could protest, Joan was pushing her from the car.

“Come on,” Joan said, already moving towards the entrance to the Emergency Room.

Zoey hurriedly fell into step beside the older woman, glancing up at her in surprise. “Uh, thanks for that.”

Joan shrugged. “It was nothing. We’re friends. I look out for my friends.” She frowned, thought about that. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, and she was seemingly talking more to herself than to Zoey. “Well, I did when I had friends.” She shook herself and gave a hesitant smile to Zoey. “How about we head inside and find your parents?”

Stepping into the ER, Zoey tried to calm her racing heart. Her mom had sounded upset on the phone, but had assured her that it wasn’t too bad. That didn’t, however, stop Zoey’s mind from conjuring up horrible scenarios. Doctors and nurses hurried around, patients and family members were sitting around on uncomfortable-looking chairs, and the strip lighting was harsh and cold. Swallowing, Zoey moved towards the admissions desk.

“Hello? I’m looking for Mitch Clarke, I was told he’d been brought in?”

The nurse at the admissions desk directed Zoey to Mitch’s bed and turned back to her computer. Pursing her lips, Zoey set off in the direction she’d been told her dad was, and was surprised when Joan fell into step beside her. The younger woman came to a halt, looking up at Joan with a frown.

“You don’t have to stay, Joan,” she said. “I mean, you’ve already done enough-”

“Do you want me to go?” Joan asked, brow slightly furrowed.

Zoey considered the question. “N-No,” she admitted slowly.

The brunette smiled slightly. “Then I won’t.” She slipped her hand into Zoey’s, squeezing the redhead’s fingers.

Taking a breath, Zoey stepped forward into Mitch’s room.

Maggie had called David and Emily to the hospital too, and Zoey was quickly caught up talking to her family. She knew her mom had clocked the fact that she and Joan had been holding hands, but with all focus on Mitch, it looked like she might avoid answering any probing questions.

Not long after Zoey arrived, the doctor came to talk to them about Mitch’s condition. She was only half-aware of Joan slipping out to give the family some privacy, and when Zoey herself managed to escape for some air, she found Joan waiting outside the room with a coffee.

“Thought you might need this,” Joan said, holding the takeout cup out to her. “We’ve both had a lot to drink tonight.”

“Thanks,” Zoey responded, taking the coffee. She walked a little way away from her father’s room, Joan following.

“How is he?”

“He’ll be alright,” Zoey shrugged. “The doctor’s surprised this hasn’t happened sooner, though. Dad’s getting worse, and we’ve been taking him up and down stairs, and...” She trailed off, met Joan’s eyes sadly. “I know we were lucky it wasn’t worse, and he’s mostly just bruised, but it doesn’t make it any less scary.”

Joan pursed her lips for a moment, before responding. “I’m not sure situations like this are ever anything but scary. Someone you love got hurt. Of course you’re upset, and of course you’re angry.” She shook her head. “I wish I could give you some advice, but I can’t.”

Zoey gave a small, tight smile at that. “I know. But you’re here, and that’s a huge help.”

For a moment, Zoey thought Joan was going to brush off her comment, but then there were the faint strains of familiar music starting up again, and moments later Joan was singing.

“So if you’re mad, get mad.

Don’t hold it all inside,

Come on and talk to me now.

Hey, what you got to hide?

I get angry too.

Well I’m a lot like you.

When you’re standing at the crossroads,

And don’t know what path to choose,

Let me come along,

‘cause even if you’re wrong...”

“Uh...” Zoey said. Even though she was getting used to her powers, there were still times when she was a little uncomfortable with the singing.

But just like all the other times she’d tried to talk to someone during a heart song, Joan ignored her.

“I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you.

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.

Take me in, into your darkest hour,

And I’ll never desert you.

I’ll stand by you.”

And then suddenly Joan was no longer singing, but was complaining about how she’d struggled to find a working coffee machine.

“-of course, they were no help at all. I ended up going up to a ward.”

“Right,” Zoey said, even though she hadn’t heard most of the conversation. “Well, thanks. Again.”

An awkward silence descended over the two women then, neither of them quite certain what to say. Zoey sipped at the coffee and tried to gather her thoughts. It was still possible Joan was singing that song platonically, but there was an odd sense of disappointment whenever Zoey considered that, and that was something she didn’t want to examine right now.

“They’re, uh, gonna discharge my dad,” she said, startling Joan. “They’re just waiting for an ambulance to be free to run him back.”

Joan frowned at that. “How will you get back?”

Zoey shrugged. “I’ll grab a cab, or something. My brother offered to drive me back, but I told him it’s fine. His wife’s pregnant, and it’s late, and, you know...” She trailed off as Joan nodded.

“I know,” Joan assured gently. “We can split a cab.”

And before Zoey could fully process what was happening, Joan was stalking off, phone in hand, to call a cab.

For the second time that night, Zoey and Joan were sharing a ride. At least this time, it was an actual taxi. Zoey still wasn’t fully aware of how she’d gotten into this situation, particularly as Joan seemed to be coming to her parents’ house with her. But whenever she’d broached the subject of Joan heading home, the brunette simply waved off her concern.

“You really don’t have to do this, you know,” Zoey said for the third time since getting into the cab. “I mean, I’m sure you want to go home.”

But Joan shrugged. “Nah, I’m good. It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me at home. Well, my dogs...Besides, I thought I could be some help. It’s just you and your mom, and another pair of hands might be useful.”

Zoey wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Joan’s offer to help was quite touching and unexpected, but the younger woman couldn’t help but feel like she was monopolising her boss’s time.

“I don’t know,” Zoey admitted a little uneasily. “I mean, you already left Simon and Jessica’s party early for me. It really seemed like you and Leif were getting along, and you left because of me-”

“Ok, Zoey,” Joan interrupted, “first of all, don’t flatter yourself. Yes, I left that party to follow you, but I probably would have left soon anyway. Secondly, I want to help.”

The redhead sighed. “I know, I helped you and you want to repay the favour...” She trailed off at the uncomfortable look on Joan’s face.

The brunette’s bright eyes were cast down, and she looked embarrassed, much like she’d looked after Charlie had accused Zoey of meddling in their marriage during the ill-fated SPRQ Watch meeting.

“It’s not just about repaying you, Zoey,” Joan finally confessed, voice quiet. “I know I keep saying it is, but when you told me about your dad...” She trailed off, sighed. “I wasn’t much older than you when I lost my mom. She was ill for a while before she died- cancer- and I just remember how... Difficult it was, watching her fade and knowing there was nothing I could do about it.” She shook her head, as though to clear it of horrible memories. “What I’m saying is, I understand. And the one thing I kept thinking at the time was that I wished I’d had someone to help me manage, someone to use as a sounding board. So please, let me help you, Zoey.”

Joan’s eyes were damp, and Zoey was fairly confident hers were too.

“Ok,” Zoey agreed softly. “You can help.”

Joan nodded, and both women looked out their respective windows as they neared the Clarke residence. Unable to stop herself, Zoey slid her hand across the empty middle seat to find Joan’s fingers. She tangled their fingers together, refusing to look at Joan for fear she’d- well, that she’d look horrified, or angry. But instead there was no reaction. Frowning, Zoey sneaked a glance. Joan was still staring out the car window.

Then she felt it; Joan’s hand squeezing hers reassuringly. A small smile spread across Zoey’s lips as some warm feeling she refused to identify settled in her chest.

Zoey didn’t see the small smile on Joan’s face too.

Joan stood back as Mitch was settled in the sitting room.

“Have you given any thought to sleeping arrangements?” a paramedic asked Maggie pointedly.

The woman blinked, and looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Uh, n- no.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Zoey chimed in at the paramedic’s concerned look.

As the paramedic started explaining that it really wasn’t a good idea for either woman to attempt to carry him upstairs, and as the two Clarke women discussed the possibility of Mitch sleeping in his favourite armchair, Joan took the opportunity to look around.

There was clearly little space in the sitting room, or the dining room. But there was another room across the hall, a reception room that looked like it hadn’t been used for a while. Joan wasn’t sure what they used it for, perhaps as a home office, but what she was sure of was that with a little rearranging it might be a workable space for Mitch. Pursing her lips, Joan strode back across the hall.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” she said, smiling reassuringly at Zoey and her mom, “but you’ve got a room across the hall there. If you guys had a spare bed we might be able to set Mitch up down here.”

“That would be a better idea,” the paramedic agreed as Maggie’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Ok, then that’s the plan,” Zoey said, smiling gratefully at Joan before looking to her mom. “We can bring the bed down from my old room. I know it’s not the biggest bed, but it would do for now, right?��

Joan watched as Zoey looked to her father then, clearly seeking his approval, and the sight broke her heart. She wasn’t sure quite how much Mitch was able to communicate with everyone on a normal basis, but he seemed pretty subdued to Joan’s untrained eye. Perhaps the shock of the fall and the lateness of the night were making him more distant than usual, but it still hurt to see Zoey seeking approval her father didn’t seem able to voice.

“That sounds good,” Maggie admitted cautiously, “but how do we get the bed down here?”

Zoey looked to Joan then, wide-eyed and uncertain. Before she knew what she was doing, Joan found herself speaking.

“Zoey and I can do that.”

“You can?” Maggie asked in surprise, looking from Joan, to her daughter, and back. “You’ve both had a bit to drink tonight, and I don’t want either of you hurting yourselves-”

“I got us both coffee at the hospital,” Joan explained. “And neither of us were that drunk to start with. I might have to take my heels off, but we should be able to manage it.”

Maggie considered that for a moment, looking to her husband. Then, she looked back to Joan. “Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, the paramedic had left and Joan and Zoey had moved all the furniture in the other room to the edges so they could fit the bed in. They had moved upstairs to Zoey’s childhood bedroom and were busy trying to figure out just how to get the bed downstairs.

“Thanks for this,” Zoey said quietly as they hauled the mattress off the bed frame. “I know Mom’s already thanked you, but I wanted to say it too.”

“It’s fine,” Joan shrugged, smiling at the younger woman, before surveying the bed frame and frowning. “Although I have no idea how we’re actually going to move this bed. I usually just pay people to do this sort of stuff.” She paused, thought. “Do you think we could pay Tobin and Leif to-”

“I’m not letting Tobin and Leif into my childhood bedroom,” Zoey cut in dryly. “Besides, it’s late. They’re probably even drunker than we are.”

“We’re not drunk,” Joan responded haughtily, though there was a tinge of teasing in her voice. “We’re tipsy.”

Zoey surveyed her old bed frame and sighed. “Well, whatever we are, we still can’t get this bed downstairs. Should we take it apart?”

Joan gave her an incredulous look. “With what? And how will we put it back together? Zoey, I’m a programmer, not a carpenter. I don’t know how to put a bed together!”

Frustrated, Zoey ran her hands through her hair. “Then what do we do? Dad can’t get upstairs, and we can’t get the bed downstairs!”

“Ok,” Joan said, hands up as she tried to calm Zoey. “Ok. Let’s take a breath, and think about this.”

“I’m too drunk for this, Joan,” Zoey protested.

“Not drunk,” Joan repeated, almost reflexively, “tipsy.” She let out a breath. “Ok. We can’t exactly take the bed apart, because we probably can’t get it back together, and your dad kind of needs an assembled bed... But the staircase is quite wide. Are we sure we can’t just, you know, lift it?”

At the suggestion, Zoey frowned. “And you want us to just carry it downstairs? Backwards?”

The older woman shrugged. “Do you have a better suggestion?”

Pouting, the redhead responded quietly. “No.”

“Ok then,” Joan responded. “Grab an end and lift!”

It took more than a little manoeuvring, and one worrying moment where Joan very nearly slipped backwards down the stairs, but eventually the women got the bed frame down into the second reception room under Maggie’s watchful eye. With the frame in place, Zoey disappeared back upstairs to get the mattress, and Joan suddenly found herself alone with her friend’s parents.

“Thank you for this,” Maggie said, giving the other woman a small smile.

Joan shrugged awkwardly, trying to brush the thanks off. “It’s nothing,” she said with a small smile. “I uh, I know what this situation can be like.”

Maggie tilted her head at that as she realised just why Joan would sympathise. “I’m sorry. Who did you-?”

“My mom,” Joan admitted quietly. “I, well, I was probably about Zoey’s age. It was quite a while ago.” She gave a tight laugh then.

“Well,” Maggie said, “I’m sorry for your loss, but I must say I’m glad Zoey has someone like you to talk to. This sort of situation... It can scare people off. They don’t really know how to react, or what to say. And it can be lonely.”

A sad smile was on Joan’s face. “It can.”

There was a noise then from the stairs, and Joan went to see what was happening. Zoey was halfway down the stairs with the mattress, having laid it flat on the stairs to push it down.

“Need help?” Joan asked, somewhat amused at Zoey’s approach.

Rather than answering, Zoey simply arched an eyebrow at her boss. Suppressing a smile, Joan moved forward to start pulling the mattress down the stairs. Within minutes, they’d dragged it through and had it settled on the bed frame.

“There,” Zoey said, once they were done, turning to her mom with a relieved look on her face. “How’s that?”

Maggie surveyed the bed for a long moment, before giving her daughter a hesitant smile. “It’s... It’s good.”

Once Mitch was settled, Joan decided it was best for her to leave. She got the sense that Zoey needed some time with her family, and honestly she couldn’t blame her. Catching Zoey’s eye, she nodded towards the door. With a small smile, Zoey got up from where she’d been sat with her parents on the bed and stepped out into the foyer.

“Hey, I’m going to get going,” Joan said quietly, giving the younger woman a warm smile.

“Ok,” Zoey nodded. “Thanks for tonight, Joan.”

Joan looked about to wave off Zoey’s words, but before she could, she found the redhead was hugging her tight.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me,” Zoey murmured.

Hesitantly, Joan’s arms came up around Zoey and she hugged the smaller woman back. But she wasn’t quite as relaxed as the redhead, and it felt like she was being a little cautious. Pulling back quickly, Zoey gave Joan an uncomfortable smile.

“So, uh, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Joan agreed, a soft expression on her face as she stared down at Zoey.

Her expression made a shudder run through the young coder.

“I- I’d better go,” Joan continued, holding her phone up. “My ride should be here soon.”

Zoey saw her out the door then, watching as the other woman walked away from the house. As she watched, a familiar swell of music started up and Joan came to a stop under a street lamp, turning to look back at Zoey.

“I’ll stand by you,

Take me in, into your darkest hour

And I’ll never desert you

I’ll stand by you,

I’ll stand by you.

Won’t let nobody hurt you,

I’ll stand by you.”

And as the warm feeling started back up in Zoey’s stomach she finally realised just what was going on. It really was quite possible she had a crush on Joan. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh, fu-”

#zoeys extraordinary playlist #zoey x joan #zep fic #zoey clarke #joan bennett #my fic

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cannebady · 4 years

Text

Prompt: Aziraphale and Crowley reading reviews for the bookshop

Thank you for the prompt @captainclickycat!

In hindsight, Crowley isn't sure why he set the blasted thing up to begin with. It was, more than likely (read: most definitely), the result of quite an extraordinary amount of alcohol, because all of his best (read: worst) ideas have always started that way and why would this one be any different?

This one, evidently, was him setting up an official Yelp account for A.Z. Fell & Co., Antiquarian and Unusual Books located singularly in one London, Soho. He's sure that it'd seemed like it'd be a laugh riot at the time, though he's not entirely sure why, and he's sure that his sloshed self had been perfectly positive that Aziraphale would never even find the page so honestly what did it matter?

What his sozzled brain hadn't counted on was that, for all of his long and storied existence, he'd been the architect of his own irritations and, like the best of cosmic jokes, it seems that he would continue to be for the rest of bloody eternity.

First of all, he'd truly never thought that Aziraphale would acquire, much less actually use, a mobile phone. But, here in the after of the world that shouldn't have been, it seems that stranger things have truly happened. Of course it didn't help that he'd kept suggesting that Aziraphale get one and then, had gone so far as to actually present the angel with one, fully loaded. He just hadn't counted on the angel taking the blasted thing with his bright, shiny, sea-foam eyes, to which Crowley had no functional defenses, and then take to using it like a fish to water.

The second thing, that came on the tails of learning to use his mobile, was that Aziraphale discovered that he could look up restaurants wherever they were and didn't have to count on Crowley to do so. Additionally, there were reviews he could look at that were just, "So helpful Crowley! Look at these humans, inventing something so useful. They always have been wonderfully creative." Each word was imbued with absolutely heinous amounts of love and good will and Crowley was really just the worst demon there ever was, because he was so damn charmed by Aziraphale being charmed that he didn't put two-and-two together before it stuck him upside the head like a two-by-four.

---

"Crowley", Aziraphale whispered intently while Crowley was quite comfortably napping on the back room sofa.

Crowley tried to ignore it, he really did. He was so wonderfully comfortable and it really would be a shame to wake up. However, it's been established that he has fuck-all in terms of ability to deny Aziraphale anything, so of course he took the bait.

"Yes angel?", he replied, trying to infuse demonic levels of annoyance of nonchalance (read: sleepy, part-yawn, part-soft demon noises) into his tone.

"There are reviews, for the bookshop, on the Yelp!"

It takes Crowley a minute to catch up, because he's still not used to Aziraphale having internet access or knowing what something like Yelp is. He's about to wonder aloud what customer would actually be satisfied enough with Aziraphale's customer service skills to go so far as to write a review about it, before he realizes that he's the one who set up the account in the first place and promptly forgot.

"Wha, erm, what're they saying angel?" he asks, just a bit concerned that this might all be traced back to him.

Aziraphale scrolls down to the first review and Crowley comes up to read over his shoulder.

Marci S.

Soho, London, United Kingdom

2 Stars - 25/1/2020

"I've lived in Soho for years and finally decided to go in. The shop is in complete disarray, but the selection is great. I was satisfied until I actually tried to buy a book. The shopkeeper was icy, difficult, and downright combative. I left empty-handed. Not worth it."

Crowley cringes for a second, before Aziraphale huffs.

"Well, honestly, what did she expect? Hefting a first edition Austen around like that. Am I supposed to sell that to just anyone?" And Crowley wishes he wasn't so fucking impressed by Aziraphale's lack of propriety in these situations, but here he is, smiling like a loon.

"Oh, well of course. Why would she think she could buy a book in a book shop?" He gives a patented shit-eating grin which Aziraphale returns with an eye roll so well rehearsed it'd put Liz Lemon to shame.

"What else, angel?" Crowley asks because he's a glutton for punishment and he just loves that he still gets to rile Aziraphale up. That there's still a world where he can.

"Well, ah, here's another one." Aziraphale scrolls and lands on the next review which is, somehow worse.

Peter W.

Covent Garden, London, United Kingdom

1 Star - 22/12/2019

"Ponce of a shop owner wouldn't let me look at any of the rarer books. Been looking for a first edition Wilde for my son but the pansy wouldn't even let me near, real bastard he was."

Crowley can't help himself. Aziraphale is radiating righteous anger and looking more indignant by the second and it's just too good. Crowley's practical jokes never work out this well and he didn't even need to manufacture the reviews! A.Z. Fell & Co. has a 1.7 rating overall and he knows, he just knows, that every single one of those reviews are 100% honest.

Horribly, once he starts laughing, he can't quite stop. It takes the angel a second to realize that Crowley's breathy sounds aren't commiserating sounds of support but are rather poorly held back guffaws and he pulls out his best thin lipped glare and that's it, that's the end of Crowley's self control. He starts laughing in earnest, nearly bent over at the waist and feeling tears line his eyes, when he hears a truly irritated squawk leave Aziraphale's mouth.

He tries to speak through his bouts of laughter, "Oh, hah, angel, you-," he breaks off again, "you really are a bastard though." To which he receives a thunderous look, laced with millennia of angelic righteousness, a scathing, “Do shut up”, and a fussy turn that would've been a hair flip had Aziraphale had the hair to do so.

Aziraphale is manically scrolling before he stops and the air changes. If Crowley had been less filled with mirth, or had been less self-confident, he would've felt the change in tension. He would've realized that the specific change meant that Aziraphale had found exactly what he needed and that he was about to hand Crowley's arse to him for the 99 millionth time in their very long lives. But, as it was, Crowley was feeling far too chuffed for anything so fleeting as self-awareness.

When he finally looks back to the angel, planning a bit more gloating, he sees a carefully serene, calm smile reaching back, and his blood runs ice cold. This can't possibly be good.

"Well, how about this one, then?", he says and gestures for Crowley to read what's on the screen.

Naya L.

Lambeth, London, United Kingdom

4 Stars - 13/10/2019

"Mr. Fell is actually quite nice, if a bit fussy once you get to know him. He really knows his stuff. He let me use some of his original texts for my thesis. A bit odd, though, every time I went to do a bit more work or look at a new text, there was a man completely asleep, snoring, on the sofa. Weird look about him, sunglasses while indoors (even while sleeping?) and lots of black leather, definitely dyes his hair red. Looked a bit like a washed up rock star. Maybe a friend of Mr. Fell's? Either way, the selection is fantastic even if it smells a bit odd and seems a bit dingy."

Crowley's not laughing now. It takes a moment for him to register that the "indignant squawk" he heard was actually from his own mouth rather than the angel's.

"How dare she-, a washed up-, these are Valentino!" He yells gesturing wildly towards his own face and the sunglasses that aren’t actually there at the moment, creating more of a chaotic flapping than any recognizable gesture. And now it's the angel's turn to stifle a giggle behind a well-manicured hand. "And I do not dye my hair! It's just like this! I'm a demon, remember?"

At this, Aziraphale starts making a sound that Crowley will respectfully refer to as cackling. Of course, this was going just too well. And he clearly needed to stop kipping on the sofa as often as he did or it'd do awful things to his carefully crafted reputation.

"Oh, my dear, that's just divine” the angel says wiping an ancient handkerchief primly under his eyes. Crowley wants to be annoyed, and he is to some extent (he'll find bloody Naya L. and give her a piece of his mind, he will), but Aziraphale is just so happy and he's a true sucker for that laugh and that smile.

"M'not washed up, m'just retired." Through the haze of exasperation, he realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he really is. Retired, a retired demon. That’s what he is. Aziraphale seems to realize it too, because his smile morphs from snide and down right bastardly to warm so quickly it gives Crowley emotional whiplash.

"Yes, I suppose we are, dear." The angel puts down the phone and herds Crowley toward the sofa where they can get comfortable; Aziraphale seated on the far end and Crowley's head comfortably pillowed in his lap, angelic fingers carding through his (definitely, absolutely not, dyed) hair.

Were either of them to look at Aziraphale's phone screen, they'd see the review just below Naya L., which read simply:

Damian R.

Soho, London, United Kingdom

5 Stars - 10/10/2019

"Can’t remember why I went in there in the first place but there was a huge snake. Just a real big snake, all black and red and gigantic. Just sitting in the bookshop, not sure why. Nice lookin snake overall tho. Would probably go back."

#captainclickycat #good omens fic #good omens prompt #ficlet #drabble #good omens ficlet #good omens drabble #my fic #prompt fill #I loved this prompt so much

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undergroundkid · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1: Dazzling welcome

- Y/N, hey! I thought you were free today?

You hanged your coat and ruffled hands through your hair to get rid of remaining snowflakes from the storm outside. Seriously, winter sucks. No snow for Christmas, but of course February is a perfect time for Mother Nature to bury whole humankind in white disaster.

- New chick needed day off, so I offered. Is that a problem? - Not at all! – your manager smiled sweetly in your direction and started to gather papers for your shift.

Of course it wasn’t like somebody cared about your eighth day in the row here. Or ninth.

Your parents thought it was normal for you to spent all your time working, because what else could you do? Job held you in place and organised your time properly, at least. Without it you would loose yourself, or became some kind of antisocial freak. Too easily to drop into a shameless life of God knows what – parties, alcohol and drugs, surely. Like the daughter of the neighbours, did you see her coming back home at 3 AM with another stranger? Our Y/N isn’t like that, she works hard and behave properly.

Of course she behaves, because she has nothing else to do. You work almost everyday, sell smiles to hotel guests and offer all the help you can, even if their wishes are absurd sometimes.

Being raised the way you are, you work hard, often making sacrifices of barely existing free time. Your hobbies also started to disappear, since every time you get some moment for yourself, all you could think about was jumping into bed and how to minimaze chances of getting out of comfy sheets. Work, sleep, occasional Netflix – pretty much sums up your life.

No wonder your boyfriend dumped you for some random chick.

- Okay Y/N, all the documents must be ready for morning – thankfully or not, your manager didn’t hear your inner discussion:- Good night!

When he told you he wanted to break up, you were a little surprised and confused – what, why he all of a sudden ..? – but above all, you were unaffected. Few seconds of shock passed and.. your heart still beat all the same. Today, you started to understand his decision – your life was a constant work or dozing off after ten minutes of a tv show. Hella boring for people your age – especially when you compare your life to his present one. His instagram feed was rich with parties and various, attractive girls.

Well, maybe your heart wasn’t all „whatever”. It still stinged a little. Why he didn’t tell you that wasn’t what he wanted? Wait, he was the one who insisted you got a job - so you got one. A tough one, but you managed and you’re known for high job ethic here.

Why do I keep making it sound like it’s the job of my dream? It’s only freaking hotel reception. I’m not even getting paid enough for dealing with such a mess. I’m just stuck here because I’m good enough for management and I probably won’t get any better work than this.

- Good evening, madam.

You moved the documents away along with your moody musings and shifted to smile in the direction of a voice.

Usual greetings died on your tongue though.

You’re used to seeing random guests here, some more modest, some less. Ladies in extra jewelery, quiet men with perfectly tailored suits, fashionable couples clinging to each other – seriously, you saw it all.

But the man standing before you was extraordinary; tall, in slim, striped suit. He was very elegant, even if he was fairly young – maybe your age. He had long, beautiful face and his smile was probably breathtaking because of his plump lips. Sadly, he didn’t smile; big, dark eyes didn’t spoil any secrets.

Maybe he was a model? But hey, you’re sure you would remember him..

- Do you have free rooms? – he asked, not affected by your staring. Probably used to it everyday.

- Ah, y-yes, of course – you stuttered, still a little dizzy from his beauty:- Do you wish to make a reservation, sir?

- Very much so – he sighed, leaning on his elbows; it was when you saw he was holding an umbrella. Dry one. How is that possible in snowstorm outside?

- Alright, just for one or double? – you easily slipped into your work mode, trying to composure yourself.

He shook his head.

- Not exactly. You have apartments here?

- Yes, of course. On the top floor.

- How many?

- Seven doubles, we can move in extra beds if there’s a need.

- No, it’s perfect – he decided without hesitation:- I take all of them. Please arrange it for single guests.

- Oh, all right – you tapped a few commands into computer:- Until when do you wish to make this reservation?

He sighed again, looking at the ceiling in contemplation. His swan like neck made him look even more aristocratic.

- Make it a month for now.

You quickly wrote the date in system; damn. Your manager will go crazy. That amount of money will easily fulfill this month’s budget.

- Alright, we will need advance payment for this one – you informed the mysterious man:- Also the personal data of other guests. And your ID, of course.

- Yes, here it is – he took white envelope out of his jacket and slide it onto the reception’s countertop:- Here’s all the payment. As for the other guests..

You carefully took the envelope, which was heavier than you first thought. Quick look inside suggested it was even more than necessary for his request. You started to question the situation – is he from mafia? Who carry around that amount of cash? Maybe you should check if it’s not counterfeit. What if you just booked whole floor for some damn cartel?

- I’m not quite sure who will arrive or even when, but let them check in by my name – he handed you black card with golden writing. No address, no phone number, just name and minimal drawing of a clock.

- Well, look like it’s time for me to leave – enigmatic gentleman looked at his wristwatch. You barely caught different clock faces on its surface before he straightened his tie and turned around to the exit.

- B-but sir! We need your docu..

- Goodnight, miss Y/L/N – young man gave you last look, already holding the door knob and bowed his head slightly in your direction:- We will meet soon, hopefully.

He didn’t wait for you explanation about how it’s not the way you book rooms here; he disappeared behind the doors. What were you supposed to do? His actions were rather shady. All your thoughts were rational and you can’t deny, whole situation spread suspicious vibes.

But were you intrigued ..?

- Who was it? New guest? – suddenly there was Yoonho next to your desk, dressed in his neatly cleaned uniform:- He looked very young.. Y/N?

You looked at the card in your hand; Chae Hyungwon.

.. Damn right you were.

thank you for reading

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#My writing #shangri-la fc #monsta x fanfic #monsta x reader #monsta x imagines #kpop fanfic

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Captive Chapter 1 : Blue Death.

Gifs not mine

_Dean x Reader_

Summary :

Dean Winchester is an enemy.

Every man of letters and hunters are enemies.

During the Great Purge in Europe, when every european Men of Letters allied to eradicate monsters once and for all, using hunters as their cold-blooded hounds, long before the BMOL took an interest in USA, they killed my mother, and made me go through hell. I killed so many of them I lost count, and lived a life on the run. Until one day I heard about American Men of Letters extinction, and decided to try and find peace there.

That was without counting on the exile of some BMOL, and the existence of the two best hunters of the world.The fisrt time I saw Sam Winchester, I almost killed him, and Dean has me now…

He is going to kill me, right ?

____________________________

Future warnings : Violence and captivity, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Chapter Warnings : Violence, blood, pain. This is pretty dark actually. Character death. Swearing. Dean being the bad guy. Reader being the villain... Everyone being quite bad.

***CAPTIVE MASTERLIST***

___________________________

1. Blue Death

The knife enters the hunter’s flesh in one flowing movement and the tall man looks so surprised for a second. His large hand comes to my shoulder and he looks at me in the eye. Aware of how dangerous he is, even wounded ; I take a step back, taking the blade with me.

“Sam !” says the British men of letters and I turn toward him with snake’s speed.

He shoots on my direction and I avoid the bullet at the very last moment, but it lodges itself inside the tall hunter’s stomach.

Looking at my attacker -skeptical because he just risked his partner’s life without a hint of hesitation- I wrap my arms around his neck from behind.

“Ketch…” says the bleeding hunter, falling on the ground like a dying wild beast.

I send his gun flying far from us and climb on his back. The men of letters nails dig into my skin while I choke him with all my strength, screaming my lungs out to focus my energy on him. He tries to bang me on the wall behind us but I’m used to pain and I resist, coiled like a constrictor, even with the muffled sound of my rib breaking.

The lack of oxygen finally makes him weak and he falls on his knees. I scream even louder, compressing his throat more. His hands let go off my arms and he starts shaking.

The injured hunter tries to get up but fails, groaning and pressing a hand on the open wound I made on his side. The man under me passes out and I let go off him, knowing he’s not dead. My head is spinning from pain and shock. I look at his lifeless form and take my head in my hands.

“Raaah ! FUCK !” I yell, looking around to think.

I kick the unconscious man’s body and hear something break inside him, a bone maybe. My ribs hurt so much I could faint, my heart is racing with rage and fear.

How did they fucking found me ? I was so careful. Shit ! I’m going to run again, start from scratch once more.

“Fuck you hunters !” I shout, half panicking.

I take a deep breath and the long hair man seems surprised again. I spit blood and whine, holding my aching chest. Bending painfully I pick my knife and lift it above the man of letters. When he sees me hesitate, the hurt hunter speaks :

“You don’t have to kill us” he says weekly.

“Of course I do…”

“Still… you don’t seem to want it.”

“Shut up ! Fuck you !” I say before putting my knife away.

I take a big bag and untidily put a few things inside it. The hunter starts to shake, his hands in his own blood, his shirt drenched in thick vital fluid. A knife-deep cut in his side and a bullet a few inches from it.

When I’m about to go through the door, I hear him try to crawl to God knows where, like he needed to do something, anything, even if he’s already doomed. This man is a survivor and I can’t help but admire his will to fight. He crawls toward his gun and I could just leave before he reaches it, but I go to him and take it before he can touch the cold metal.

I take the bullets out and throw them far from him, giving him the gun back, and he takes it, like that was all he remembers at the doors of death : how to hold a gun. Given his height and weight -I’d say 210 or 220 pounds- and the speed of the blood loss… I say he will be dead in half an hour. There is absolutely no chance anyone finds him here.

I look at him and he stares at me, like a formidable noble lion looking in the hunter’s eyes. He struggles to breathe, his large and strong body fighting against exhaustion.

But he gives up suddenly, letting his head fall on the wooden ground. One menacing enemy gone, this should be a good thing… I sigh, and take a bottle of medical alcohol I have in my closet.

I kneel beside him and he looks at me with a great confusion behind the agony in his pupils. I press on the wound and he winces, I pour a large amount of alcohol on the cut then on the gun wound and he almost faints.

“If I slow the bleeding and prevent infection, someone may find you before it’s too late” I mutter, hating myself for taking so much risk. “You can’t go after me.”

Before I can find a bandage, he passes out and the door bursts violently.

Another hunter, also tall and strong, is aiming me with his gun, an extraordinary rage burning in his dark green eyes. An old but robust man with a machete and a blond woman in a cop outfit, also aiming a gun at me, follows him.

This is it. This is the end. I lower my hands and stay on my knees, closing my eyes to wait the sound of the bullet that will end me forever.

Finally.

Dean’s Pov

The doctor says Sammy is in a coma, he lost too much blood and even if he wasn’t stabbed on any vital organ, nor shot in his lungs, this is not good. His body started to shut down for good.

But that is when Cas said he couldn’t do anything that I truly panicked. He put his hands on Sam’s wounds and nothing happened. No bright light or miraculous waking.

So here I am, sitting next to my brother, a heavy pain on my stomach, despair on my throat. He seems so little, covered in hoses and machines, strangled by tubes on his nose and on his mouth, needles stinging his pale skin everywhere.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, that was a simple case, that was a simple stab, a simple bullet. Sam Winchester can’t be gone like this. Ketch said we’d be back by Monday…

“Dean, we got the girl” Donna says entering the room, and something hits me. “We don’t know what she is, so we used every protections and spells we know.”

“What if this is why…” I say getting up, thinking hard. “What if Cas inability to heal him is linked to what this bitch is ?”

I enter the dungeon, clenching my fists. Here she is, tied up to a chair in the middle of the large pentacle, her head down, hair falling on each side of it. Sam’s blood is still covering her and I have to swallow hard not to put a bullet between her eyes right now.

“What are you ?” I growl.

She doesn’t answer, keeping her glare on the floor.

“Oh so you’re not going to answer…”

I lift my arm and punch her face with full force, surprised by the lack of resistance her body opposes me. It’s like she doesn’t have any of that supernatural strength evil creatures usually have.

She spits blood and clenches her fists. For a second, her weakness surprises me enough to make me waver. But then I see her dark eyes turn blue, an unnatural light blue that remembers me of the monster she is ; so I punch her again, this time in her stomach and she almost faints, coughing and spitting a lot of blood.

When Ketch talked to us about the return of The Blue Death, I never imagined it had the form of a girl, nor I asked why “Blue” was in her nickname. And I know now. A fucking urban Legend among hunters, the death sentence itself, the monster that only tracks down hunters.

We tracked her for four months, following a trail of bodies, hunter bodies. Now I wonder how she could have killed so many of them without super strength, because she killed all of them hand-to-hand, with knifes mostly, or just strangling them like she did with Ketch, before shooting and stabbing my brother.

When Ketch woke up, he explained us that she shot Sammy before stabbing him, like a coward, and that she straggled him. They are lucky to be alive. She never left survivors before.

When he came to us for help to get rid of The Blue Death for good, he said she was hunter greater danger, and I remember smiling, thinking it was probably exaggerated. I believe him now…

French, German and Italian Men of Letters tried to stop her years ago but she slaughtered most of them, now she’s here to decimate American hunters. I should have listened to him more carefully, Sam and I were reckless and I’m paying the heaviest price for it.

I’m not doing the same mistake twice, I won’t underestimate her.

I’m going to break her.

Reader Pov

The pain is unbearable but I’ve known worse, worse than unbearable. If my body wasn’t able to heal a little better and faster than human’s one do, I would have died a hundred times already.

I think my jaw just cracked, every inch of my face is hurting like crazy, and my broken ribs are now displaced. I can’t breathe properly.

I should have ran, let this tall long-hair hunter die, run for my life as always… left the country.

I thought America would be a fresh start, since Men of Letters disappeared here, but it is always the same : BMOL convinces or pays hunters to track me down and my life became Hell again after only six months of my exile.

I’m used to run, I’m used to loneliness and anonymity. They sentenced me to eternal misery when I was still a child. When they killed my mother, my human mother, to take me. When they tested me, trained me like a slave soldier, when they made me kill so-called monsters.

The monsters are not always the one you think, and most hunters are dumb, ruthless, fanatical, alcoholic, violent morons. The one beating me right now is no exception, I can smell the booze on him and I can tell by the way he hits me that he is used to violence…

I just wish he would kill me already.

The dark is relaxing and I try to concentrate on my broken ribs to fasten their healing, but one of the countless warnings around me seems to have an effect on me, unexpectedly. I’m exhausted and at some point I think I pass out.

When my eyes open they meet incredibly green ones, highlighted by the red around them. The hunter is squatting in front of me with a stern face.

“What are you ?” he asks again.

Even if I knew, I probably wouldn’t tell him.

I stare back at him and study his face : This motherfucker is beautiful, probably full of himself too, conceited, convinced to be some kind of hero. His jaw is clenched by hate and I wonder what bullshit BMOL brainwashed into this empty suggestible charming head.

“You think you can keep silent, huh ?” he says with a dangerous smile. “You’re messing with the wrong guy, honey.”

With that he stabs my thigh, making me cry out in pain.

“So you have a voice…” he says.

“Fuck you hunter” I whisper as loud as my aching lungs allow, an unintentional smile on my lips.

“You are going to tell me what you are…”

“Or what ? You kill me ?” I laugh sarcastically, coughing blood.

“You don’t fear death” he says. “But you run for months… I say you fear captivity” he rubs his neck. “I won’t kill you, I’ll let you rot in here forever if I have to.”

“I need to pee” I just say, hoping he will finally hit me too much, maybe kill me by accident, put me out of my misery.

He takes my face in his big hand, hurting my already broken face, squeezing so hard my heart races almost to the point of heart attack.

“You still think this is funny, bitch.”

Dean’s Pov

It’s been three days and she barely flinched.

Exorcism didn’t work, iron and silver neither. Salt just burned one of her wound, like it would have on any human. She opened her mouth to drink holy water, and no spell worked.

I arranged the dungeon into a cell, to be sure she understands she’s here for good, I need her to break. An iron collar keeps her on a chain-leach, she can reach a chamber pot and lay on the ground, that’s all.

When I enter the room, she’s sitting on a corner, shaking and holding her ribs ; she hasn’t seen me this time. I stare silently at her : she almost looks like a normal girl, dealing with the most extreme pain and despair. She winces lightly, trying to cover the cut on her leg with a piece of fabric, obviously coming from her shirt. She’s different when she knows I’m here, : no cocky expression on her face now, only exhaustion and a hint of sadness.

“What are you ?” I ask, like everyday, making her jump this time.

“Hungry” she says with that smirk that makes me punch her.

“What do you think this is ? A luxury hotel ?”

“Well if you want to keep me alive, food is not optional” she smiles despite the cuts on her lips.

I throw her a piece of bread and she looks at it, then at me.

“Not hungry” she says with scorn.

Rage makes me clench my fists. She’s manipulating me, confirming I don’t want her dead, that I need her alive, showing me how strong and determined she is by not eating what I brought her after three days of fast.

I crouch down and take her hair in my fist, making her look at me.

“Listen to me, whatever you did to my brother, I’m gonna undo it, and you’re gonna die…” I start but a poorly hidden surprised expression on her face forces a pause.

“The tall guy is your brother ?” she asks.

“You already know that” I spit. “You aimed at us directly.”

“No” she simply says.

I search her eyes and something makes me wonder, something about her eyes.

“Yes you did.”

“I don’t even know who you are” she says.

She’s manipulating me again. I bash her head on the wall forgetting to restrain as the image of my dying little brother hits me in the guts, and I yell :

“YOU TRACKED MY BROTHER !”

She lifts her hand on her head and looks at her fingers, they’re soaked with blood. When she sighs, I wonder. That woman is so different from what I thought The Blue Death would be.

“Are you the Winchesters ?” she asks like it just hit her.

“You already know that…”

“Shit… Obviously” she says with a sour smile.

“What does that mean ?” I say, confused by her reaction.

“That I’m so fucking unlucky… Listen, I’m sorry for your brother” she says and I get up to hold back my fists because I know I could kill her right now.

I hate hearing her talking about him.

“He needs my blood” she whispers.

“What ?”

“Give him a few drops of my blood, it usually helps…” she murmurs, her head falling slowly against the wall as exhaustion hits her, her eyes slightly rolling inside her skull.

“Is it a trap ?” I ask with something childish in my hoarse voice.

“No…” she grumbles, letting her whole body coil on itself on the floor.

Her head doesn’t stop bleeding. I’m afraid that punch was one too many. But I don’t have time to worry about her. I take a needle and jab her arm. Maybe she lied, I can’t take the risk to poison my brother. So I touch her bleeding forehead and carefully lift my finger to my lips, letting my tongue taste the metallic taste of her blood.

It’s the first time I touch her for anything else than hitting her, she flinches slightly and passes out. She’s actually pretty and I wonder what kind of monster can look so vulnerable when she stops acting so tough.

Her blood tastes so much like human blood, except something warm suddenly roams my body : Like a hug from a friend or a shot of the best whiskey. I suddenly feel like I had slept better last night and I’m less hungry and tense. My wounds don’t really heal, they just hurt a little less.

I look at her now unconscious form in disbelief. Who is she ?

Reader’s Pov

I’m so cold my skin hurts, and I’m so thirsty my lips bleed.

Fever.

I knew this would happen, my wounds are infected and this is really bad. I haven’t ate for four days. I know I can survive a little longer than other people can.

Eight days without food and water, according to The Men of Letters. Fifteen days with only water, 140 degrees for a whole day, -31 for a whole night. Six days without sleeping, twice more volts than a human… I remember all their measurements. How could I forget ?

But this is too much, and one of those warnings is still holding my body down. I shiver and try to get up to see if I can stand. I can’t. I fall heavily on the floor and swear under my breath, on the verge of tears. This is fucking unfair. Sometimes I just wish I would meet my father, know who he is, why he did that to my mother, to me…

I lost track of time, but what I know is Dean Winchester never left me so long. Maybe he is never coming back. My blood must have helped his brother and now he’ll let me here to rot.

I start to panic, breathing quickly, I feel pure, painful fear hit my guts. I don’t even know where I am and I’m going to die slowly and alone in the middle of nowhere : my own worst nightmare, just because I couldn’t bear Sam Winchester to go through it. Shit.

Please please please, come back. Hit me all you want, torture me, kill me. Just don’t forsake me like everyone did.

The bread is rotting on the floor and I watch it with held back tears in my eyes. Cramps are tearing my muscles up, but I stopped reacting to them because there is no strength left to this kind of thing, I’m focused on breathing.

The door opens suddenly. A young boy enters, a phone on his hand.

“She’s alive, Dean” he says looking at you with a sudden deeply pained expression.

“Good” says the voice in the phone. “Give her a glass of water, and something to eat. Don’t let her reach you, you hear me Jack ? Never.”

“Dean, something’s wrong, she’s shaking and sweating… I think she’s ill.”

“What ?”

“Dean… Are you sure she’s a monster ? She looks… I think she’s dying.”

“I’m coming back. Don’t get near her, Jack. You hear me ? Stay away, she’s dangerous. I’ll be there before noon.”

The young man hangs up and sits on the floor. I can’t move, I can’t lift my head or talk to him.

“You shouldn’t have hurt Sam” he says.

I sigh.

“Are you ill ? How do you feel ?”

“Fever” I just whisper.

“What are you ?” he asks with an innocent voice.

And, in my fever disarray, I finally answer.

“I don’t know.”

When I open my eyes, the light hurts me bad. A hand is on my head.

“She’s dying of infection, Dean” a familiar voice says.

“A bullet between her eyes and we put her out of her misery. End of the story” I hear the almost comforting voice of Dean answer.

Honestly I don’t have enough energy to care what they decide.

“She didn’t finish me off Dean, she even tried to heal me…”

“What ? Are you crazy ? Sam ! I just spent a week watching you slowly die after she stabbed and shot you ! Now what ? You want me to feel sorry for that thing ?”

“She didn’t shoot me…” Sam says pushing my hair to see the wound on my forehead.

“YES SHE DID !” Dean yells.

“Ketch shot me… How could you be so cruel Dean !” he changes subject. “Look at her ! This is torture and pure cruelty, we are not this kind of person Dean !”

“What ! I can’t…” his brother answers with so much anger in his voice I almost can see his pissed face in my head.

Then there is only flashes.

Water in my mouth.

Water on my wounds.

The smell of alcohol.

Jack’s voice asking Sam if I’m a monster.

Sam answering he’s not so sure about that.

The cold easing.

The pain easing.

Dark then light.

Then dark.

Sam’s voice trying to catch my attention.

Dean yelling.

The smell of soup.

And Dean yelling again.

Dean’s Pov

Sam is still barely talking to me and I just can’t get over how pissed I am.

With Sam taking care of the monster that almost killed him for good, Jack asking how she’s doing, Cas too, Donna calling Sam to talk about her… It’s like I was the monster. And If Bobby wasn’t there to suggest cutting her throat for good, I would feel like I was the one loosing my damn mind.

My phone rings and I sigh, putting my glass on the table. I look at the name on the screen : Ketch.

Until now, I never answered his calls, because I was too busy trying to save my brother, but now I have questions to ask him.

“Ketch”

“Dean. I was starting to think she got you too. How is Sam ?”

“Better. He’ll need time to fully heal, but he woke up” I say looking at my glass.

“Oh… I see. And the girl ? Did you burn the body already ? I’m going to need a proof of her death” he says with a hint of badly hidden anxiety.

“She’s not dead. Sam insists in keeping…”

“WHAT !” he cuts me, making me jump and widen my eyes. “Dean you have to kill her right now. Listen carefully : You’re in danger, your brother is in danger…”

“I don’t know Ketch, maybe I have more questions to ask her, like did she really shoot Sam ? Because he says you did…” I grunt.

“Don’t be a fool. This creature is the most clever, dangerous thing I’ve seen. She’s messing with your heads. You have to kill her before she makes you lay into each other.”

I lower my eyes, thinking. At this moment Sam comes out of the donjon and looks in my direction. He has a tray in his hands and I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right” I say. “I’ll have to convince Sam.”

“Screw convincing, you have to defend your family” he states.

I frown. Ketch doesn’t care about family at all, or about us for that matters. Why is he so impatient to see her dead. I mean, he lost a lot of colleagues from her hands but…

I just can’t think straight lately.

A muffled sound catches my attention. Sitting on my bed, I listen carefully. What if she escaped ? Another sound. The clock says 4am.

I get up and take the gun under my pillow, walking silently toward the dungeon. The door’s not perfectly closed, I push it with precaution and prepare to shoot her.

She’s lying on the floor, bloody.

Ketch is sitting on her, beating her with full force. Her dirty clothes are ripped open, he carved something, an enochian symbol, on her chest. For a second I can’t move.

Her head turns toward me and she sees me but doesn’t react, obediently waiting for death. Her eyes trigger something in me, and it’s like time was in slow motion. I lift my gun and her hands open on the side of her body as Ketch hits her again. He lifts his knife above her heart and mutters “I win. We win, Y/n.”

I shoot him in the back. Twice. Thrice.

His body falls on hers, shaking an instant and freezing completely. She closes her eyes, a tear rolling on her bruised face.

Sam comes running, alerted by gunshots, followed by Jack. I just don’t move, not knowing what to do.

My brother runs to her, kneels, and pushes Ketch’s corps aside. Looking at him I squeeze my gun and hear his voice saying she’ll rise us up against one another. Then I look at her bloody bruised form in Sam’s arm and I wonder how a girl so pretty and cute can attract so much violent hate.

Sam takes his t-shirt off to cover her naked chest and the fabric becomes bloody. He looks at me.

“What happened ?” he asks, holding her.

“He was about to kill her” I just say muddled, looking at her pained face.

She clings to Sam, crying silently and, all of a sudden, that leash I tied around her neck seems so tight, I can almost feel it harm my own flesh.

***FEEDBACK IS EVERYTHING <3***

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx

(Tags are open)

#SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean x reader #dean x y/n #fluff #angst #smut

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sourgrapelaffytaffy · 5 years

Text

Good Omens Sentence Starters

Starter sentences from Amazon’s Good Omens. Most of them are Zira & Crowley lines. Feel free to change any pronouns or context you need.

In the Beginning

“I play an ineffable game of my own devising.”

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

“They said ‘get up there and make some trouble.’“

“I gave it away.”

“You WHAT!?”

“A demon could get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.”

“It’d be funny if we got it wrong. If I did the good thing and you did the bad one.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I brought down every London area mobile phone network.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Why me!?!”

“Any idea how long we’ve got?”

“We have to work together.”

“You can’t say no!”

“Alcohol! Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol!”

“[Name], I’ve told you, I’m not helping you.”

“Get thee behind me foul fiend!”

“My point is -- my point is ... dolphins. That’s my point.”

“It’d be too bad if someone made sure I failed.”

“Remember as you grow to have love and reverence for all living things.”

“There’s more to evil than just killing people.”

“We will be most understanding when you fail.”

“There must be some way of stopping it.”

“I’m saying you could kill him.”

“Oh, no, no! Don’t do your magic act!”

“Please, please, I’m actually begging you. You don’t know how demeaning that is.”

“Would I lie to you?”

The Book

“I don’t trust you, [name].”

“I just hung around the wrong people.”

“You know what you’ve done.”

“Say goodbye to your friend.”

“He just. couldn’t. cut it.”

“GROW BETTER!!”

“Well, there is really no need for that kind of language.”

“WE’VE lost him.”

“A child has been lost!!!”

“WATCH OUT FOR THAT PEDESTRIAN!!”

“She’s on the street! She knows the risk she’s taking.”

“[Name], you can’t do 90 miles per hour in Central London!”

“You’ll get us killed!”

“Oh ... bebop.”

“There aren’t 39 different flavors of ice cream.”

“It’s not stupid, stupid!”

“It makes sense that witches would have their own newspaper.”

“Evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction.”

“It feels ... loved.”

“I mean the opposite of when you say ‘I don’t like this place, it feels spooky.’“

“I’ve always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice person.��

“SHUT IT! I’m a demon/[___] I’m not nice! I’m never nice!”

“Angels aren’t occult we’re/they’re ethereal.”

“You hit someone.”

“Someone hit me.”

“Oooh Looord, heal this biiike.”

“I got carried away.”

“Tip top! Absolutely tickety-boo!”

Hard Times

“Not the kids, you can’t kill kids!”

“THAT UNICORN’S GONNA MAKE A RUN FOR IT!”

“Oh, I’ve changed it. My name.”

“What was it he said to get everyone so upset?”

“What kind of stupid question is that? Still a demon/[___]? What else am I going to be, an aardvark?!”

“I’ve never eaten an oyster.”

“What the hell are you playing at?”

“Oh, he’s not my friend.”

“I got peckish.”

“I have standards!”

“I need a favor.”

“Trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do, that’s how they hear other ducks.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual! Obviously.”

“You can’t kill me! There’ll be paperwork.”

“Oh! It’s like being at the beach in bare feet!”

“I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed.”

“Oh, the books! Oh, I forgot all about the books!”

“Lift home?”

“I hear you’re setting up a ... caper.”

“I can’t have you risking your life.”

“Perhaps one day we could, I don’t know ... go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.”

“...You go too fast for me, [Name].”

“Are you okay? Can I help?”

“Unforgivable. That’s what I am.”

“I am not killing anybody!”

“You can’t leave, [Name]!”

“We can go off together.”

“Friends? We’re not friends! We have nothing in common whatsoever. I don’t even like you!”

“We’re on our side.”

Saturday Morning Funtime

“Make it happen. Make it real.”

“This is a laser blaster! Prepare to die rebel swine!”

“Exterminate!!”

“Armageddon is coming and I’m fairly certain it starts today!”

“Look, will you please stop for a minute? Please?”

“Lose the gut?”

“I’m uh ... I’m soft.”

“I’m telling you you can’t trust him.”

“I only ever asked questions.”

“Do you kids want some candy?”

“Nobody said it would be easy.”

“If they’re so clever why are they in the sea all day? Just swimming and eating things and singing and -- oh my God, I want to be a whale.”

“And a million sushi dinners cry out in vengeance!”

“He’s hurt. C’mon we should do something.”

“I was scared he wouldn’t let us go just then.”

“I’m [name], I really am a witch.”

“[Name], that’s crazy. He’s such a sweet kid.”

“What’s going to be left when we grow up?”

“Angel! I’m sorry! Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it!”

“Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.”

“But we can run away together!”

“You’re so clever! How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!”

“...I forgive you.”

“I’m going home, Angel! I’m getting my stuff and I’m leaving! And when I’m off in the stars I won’t even think about you!”

“I’ve been there. You’re better off without him.”

“Do you feel lucky?”

“There’s something very important you need to know before you disgrace yourself!”

“SO LONG, SUCKER!!”

“Speaking as a mother of unborn generations, I’m against it.”

“The world’s about to end and I’ve - I’ve never robbed a bank. I’ve never got a parking ticket. I’ve never eaten Thai food. I’ve never been abroad. I’ve never learned to play a musical instrument.”

“Oh ... fuck!”

The Doomsday Option

“[Name]! [Name], where in heaven are you, you idiot?! I can’t find you!”

“For somebody’s sake, where are you!?”

“Somebody killed my best friend!”

“BASARDS! ALL OF YOU!”

“Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend.”

“Look! Souvenir!”

“Very good weather for a seance.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Can I hear a ‘wahoo’?”

“You know the thing I like best about time? Is that everyday it takes us further away from the 14th century.”

“If you’ve got to go, go with style!”

“We aren’t your friends anymore. We don’t like you!”

“That’s a reason to fix it, not destroy it!”

“Off we go then!”

“I think you’re getting yourself a little overexcited.”

“I’m getting myself quite calmly worried.”

“Nice dress, suits you.”

The Very Last Day of the Rest of Our Lives

“Do something!”

“I AM HAVING A MOMENT HERE!”

“I am the nice one. You can’t expect me to do the dirty work.”

“You can’t just shoot children!”

“Shoot him, [name]!”

“Everytime I try to make them work, they beak.”

“They’re not actually real. They’re like nightmares.”

“My mom says war is just masculine imperialism executed on a global stage.”

“I do not endorse everyday sexism!”

“I believe in peace, bitch.”

“Well done. Have a gold star.”

“You can’t just refuse to be who you are.”

“No, no, no, no, no!”

“It was nice knowing you.”

“We can’t give up now.”

“Come up with something or -- or I’ll never talk to you again!”

“You’re not my dad. Dads don’t want until you’re [age] to show up and then tell you off.”

“Just imagine how awful it might have been if we were at all competent.”

“You can stay at my place, if you like.”

“I can see the carpet.”

“That’s meant to be bad luck.”

“STOP! STOP THEM!”

“Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine.”

“Well, lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already.”

“Tartan is stylish.”

“Let me tempt you to a spot of lunch?”

“Temptation accomplished.”

“I like to think that none of this would have worked out if you weren’t, at heart, a just little bit a good person.”

“And if you weren’t, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

“To the world?”

“To the world.”

#rp memes #rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #sentence starters #rp starters #roleplay stuff #{ this is completely self indulgent }

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a-deadly-serenade · 5 years

Text

The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 4: Light After Dark [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724856?view_full_work=true

~ Click here for the masterlist.

tag list: @pastelteabubbles, @heartwards, @2-many-fandoms-2-count, @top-notch-shitposting, @theotakufairy, @illiniana

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True to her word, as soon as things were cleaned up in the kitchen, Lisa was leading you up to the library that had all of the medical textbooks. You went up several winding staircases and through at least a dozen hallways, and you realized, to your dismay, that you were going to have to have Lisa lead you here for quite awhile before you felt brave enough to walk here on your own.

When the both of you finally made it to an arched doorway, she pushed it open and all of the candles simultaneously came alight.

You noticed that this library was a lot smaller than the one you had been in last night, but that did not mean it was any less magnificent. The ceiling was a large glass dome that stretched up high above your heads. Small circular windows lined the north and south panes, each filled with beautiful, intricate, stained glass designs of stars and planets.

Twisted shelves covered every flat surface, filled and piled high with thick books, ancient books, books whose titles even you could not decipher. There were multiple desks that stood in front of the massive towers of books, made of rich, dark oak that shimmered almost black in the sunlight.

Parchments had been slapped on any free surface, all of them filled from top to bottom with diagrams of the human body, certain organs, or even classifications of plants and minerals. One of the most cluttered desks had piles upon piles of parchment, all of them scribbled with extensive notes. There was a large stack of quills, coated in ink, some of them looking as though the top half had snapped off. Beakers lined one corner, obviously having been scrubbed clean, as the water droplets that clung to the glass glistened like morning dew.

“I see that you’ve found my work station,” Lisa admits sheepishly. “It’s not the most organized, but its my space and where I have found to be the most productive for me.

“I was not judging you, Lisa,” you teased. “My mother certainly did not get her tidiness from my grandmother, let me tell you.”

Lisa chuckled, and walked you over to a nearby desk that had been placed nearly adjacent to hers. “This is where you will be seated whenever you need to come here and do some independent study, but when you must sit next to me, there will be a chair but beside my desk. You can also use that if you ever had any questions!”

You gave an elated smile, and ran your fingers across the smooth surface. “So,” you said. “What is the first lesson on the agenda?”

The two of you spent the rest of the morning, as well as most of the afternoon, in the library. Lisa had took the time to go over the very basics of human anatomy as a refresher, as you only had a very vague concept of the body. She wanted you to familiarize yourself with each part, and she made it much easier to remember by breaking up the body into what she called, “systems”.

There were 12 of these systems that ran throughout the human body. There was one to help you breathe, (respiratory!) one that dealt with your nerves (nervous!), and even one that contained solely your blood vessels (circulatory!). It was quite extraordinary.

She stressed that it was important for you to know all of this so that you could adequately pinpoint where the problem was and then be able to do the necessary tests to make a diagnosis.

Even when you countered that you could easily heal simple coughs or fevers with your magic, she wanted you to understand where they came from, and not just rely on your skills to be a good physician.

Luckily, when she started to touch on the treatment options available, you were much more familiar with these terms, as they were all plants! If there was one thing you knew you were capable of, it was making a good potion or tonic.

Even Lisa was impressed by your mastery of herbology, and you went so far as to offer her some tips after she gave you several samples of a brew she had been in the process of perfecting. It had been for the treatment of a respiratory infection, and after seeing the astonishing amount of ingredients Lisa had at her disposal, you offered that she add more starburrs and aloe, picking up that her potion lacked the clearing effects of getting rid of mucus, and the soothing effect patients needed for their chest tightness.

You believed that it had been an incredibly eventful day, your arms filled with an array of books and several rolls of parchment as you sat back down in front of your desk. You had chosen texts that were all about liver, not really knowing all that much about it, except, like your grandmother had stressed so many times, it takes care of all the alcohol.

Not like you had ever been too big of a fan of drinking to begin with.

You dipped your quill into some ink, and started to take some notes, your eyes widening when you read that it was capable of regenerating itself.

You had no idea how long you spent in the library, your yellow sleeves getting dotted with stray ink, with some ending up on your nose after pushing your hair out of your eyes. You had moved on from the liver, having conquered other important organs such as the big and small intestine, the appendix, and the kidneys.

Your intense focus was suddenly broken by a tapping on your shoulder, which caused you to nearly leap out of your skin.

“Whoa!” Lisa exclaimed, her hands up in surrender. “It’s only me!”

You froze, pink dusting your cheeks in embarrassment. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” you blurted out. “I just… get really caught up in my work…” She gave you a pat on the shoulder. “It’s alright, I know what that’s like. I just wanted to see if you would like to join us for dinner?”

At the mention of food, your stomach let out a loud growl that caused you to flush while Lisa laughed.

“I guess that answers that,” she said, and while you thought you were heading to the kitchen, she instead lead you to an amazing dining hall.

A beautiful, long table was the main center of attention, its legs being dark claws that clung greedily to the plush red carpet underneath. The top was a glistening marble that glowed under the candles that hung above in an extravagant chandelier, topped by a soft red runner. Silver candelabras hung from the walls, large Renaissance paintings of food, feasts, and parties adding just the right amount of color and pop to the black and gold wallpaper.

Once again, a decadent feast adorned the tabletop and your mouth watered at the sight. There was a large rotisserie chicken topped with an array of herbs and surrounded by vegetables like potato, zucchini, onion, carrot, and squash. There were fancy cheeses, golden loaves of bread, expensive wine, and a pot of steaming homemade soup.

Lisa had made herself comfortable beside Vlad, who was sitting across his son.

Adrian already had his plate filled with his pickings, and he gave you a smile from across the room as he took a sip from his goblet, presumably of some of the red wine.

“So, Hippocrates decides to join us.” Vlad teased, biting down on the piece of chicken at the end of his fork.

Adrian burst out laughing, having to grab his napkin to cover his mouth as he entered a coughing fit.

You huffed, annoyed that Adrian found this so funny, arms folded across your chest as you sat down beside him. “I don’t see what’s so amusing,” you repeated, “He just compared me to the father of medicine. I would say that’s quite the compliment.” you stated matter-of-factly, cutting yourself a piece of chicken and pouring yourself some soup.

“She’s well-versed in the history as well,” Vlad said, a smile on his face. “Impressive.”

You grinned, shooting Adrian another glare as he continued to chuckle. The dinner was delicious, and it surprised you how quickly you had grown comfortable around Lisa’s family. It had only been a day, but you could not have felt more at home.

As you helped Adrian collect the dirty dishes, Lisa poured a coffee for herself and her husband, who gave her a kiss on the cheek as she leaned down to fill his cup.

Your eyes glazed over in happiness, filled with a small bundle of peace after witnessing such pure affection. As you turned on your heel to head in the direction of the kitchen, Vlad calling out for you stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, little one, I almost forgot: meet me in my study before you head back to the library. There is something that I would like to discuss.”

Your voice trembled slightly as you replied, “O...oh, alright.” your arms shaking a bit as dread starting to poison that previous sensation of contentment. You snuck a glance at Lisa before you exited the room, and although you felt some relief for how calm and normal she looked, the thought of being alone in a small room with one of the most powerful vampires still made you incredibly nervous.

Even though the dishes were being taken care of in an efficient manner, you almost wished that it had taken longer so that you could stall this conversation. You tried to assure yourself that it was not over anything bad, you knew that Lisa would never willingly let you be placed in a dangerous situation. Perhaps… perhaps he just wanted to discuss something?

You nibbled on your thumbnail as you followed after Lisa, who had come over to fetch you and direct you to Vlad’s study.

It’s fine… you think to yourself. You just need to relax. I’m sure it’s nothing.

Lisa stopped in front of a doorway, and you could hear the distinct sound of a fire cracking. She gave you the indication to step inside and you took head of her invitation.

The room was smaller than others you had been in, with a large pointed chair in the middle of an ornate red carpet with intricate golden details. A portrait of Lisa holding a bouquet of white lilies hung on the wall in a beautiful frame, a large bookshelf sitting beside it, neatly filled with hundreds of books. A marble fireplace held the fire that occasionally popped and hissed as embers danced along the iron gate blocking them from singeing the rug.

Above the fireplace was another portrait, this one hung in a more oval frame, and you realized it was of Lisa, Vlad, and Adrian when he was only a baby. Your lips curled into a smile at seeing Adrian, so small and adorable, with tuffs of golden hair on his round head, held in the arms of a beaming Lisa. Vlad looked rather dashing in his suit, and he glowed with a sense of pride, one of his hands resting gently upon his son’s small shoulders.

“I’m glad that you could join me,” Vlad’s voice suddenly called out to you.

You jumped from surprise and whirled around to find him standing beside a tall mirror. You could have sworn that he had not been here a moment earlier…

He unclasped his cloak from around his neck and draped it across the top of the chair before you. His boots tapped softly against the rug, the tall vampire pouring himself a cup of tea once he situated himself.

He took a sip, a content sigh falling from his lips. “Sit,” he stated, and gestured to the small chair in front of him, a small table standing in between the both of you with an additional tea cup and a large tea kettle.

You nervously took your seat, and you fidgeted a bit, fingers twirling around a stray thread from your shirt.

Vlad poured you some tea as well, and you accepted the drink with a quiet thank you.

After several moments of silence of the both of you sipping your tea, the fire crackling behind you, he finally made to speak.

“I wanted to preface this by saying that I am in no way upset with you, if you were worried about that.”

You let out a breath you did not know you had been holding, tension releasing itself from your shoulders as he said this. “Was it that obvious?” you laughed, and he gave you a smile.

“The fact that you even came to join me let’s me know that you trust not only me, but my wife as well. I know how… well, scary, I can seem,” he chuckled. “Even if you are a witch, you are not a fool.”

You gave a sigh of relief, before you let out a quiet laugh at his statement. “I appreciate it.”

Vlad’s smile broke a little, and you saw his eyes cloud over a bit, from what, you could not tell. “You won’t appreciate what I am about to ask you. I ask you to forgive me but…” he was silent, before he leaned forward. “I need you to tell me what happened to your coven.”

Had you not been so comfortably seated in your chair, you might have just collapsed at what Vlad just asked you to do. The world seemed to crumble around you, lip trembling as you swallowed back tears. Instinctively, you shoved your hands into your pockets and pulled out a charm bag, dumping out its contents to grab a necklace that had been created around a piece of amber infused with black obsidian and flecks of rose quartz.

It had been the last birthday gift that you received from your mother, a powerful amulet of protection. You carefully put it around your neck, and allowed the stone to rest near the dip between your breasts, pressing it against your hammering heart.

You were grateful that Vlad had remained quiet during all of this, worried that you would not have been able to handle someone immediately berating you with questions.

“Take your time,” he said softly.

You gave him a nod, and after a couple deep breaths, you opened your eyes. “Thank you… for letting me collect myself. I… needed a minute…” you whispered, voice a little hoarse.

“Not at all,” his tone was calm, soothing. “If ever you need to stop, let me know. I want you to take as long as needed, you’re in no rush.”

“Thank you…” after taking one last calming breath, you started to retell your story, the story of how you lost your entire family.

“It had been at night,” you recall. “My grandmother had mumbled something about a bad feeling, as though she could sense the anger in the atmosphere. It was a dark night… pitch black, and the ocean….she churned, she was so… so violent. I had never seen the ocean look like that before. My mother simply said that a storm was coming, it was nothing more. But, I believed my grandmother.”

You took a sip of tea, lips pursed, before you continued. “She and a couple other witches, older wise women that had been in my grandmother’s original coven, were all saying the same thing, that there was an omen on the horizon, and although quite a few other witches were keen to believe them, we just thought they were saying all this because the ocean was in a fit and we could not feel the moon’s presence on us. If only… if only we had listened.

I had been asleep, before being woken up by screams… so many screams. My mother was frantically running around, I could hear her. She was yelling something at my grandmother, and then she was in my room, pulling me up and ushering me out the front door. I was so confused… I had no idea what was going on. Outside was pure chaos. There were fires as far as my eye could see, the flames licking at my face and the trees in the nearby forest. I could pick up on witches crying out spells, and we’d occasionally see the glow of protective runes being activated.

My mother had her wand in her hand… an ancient thing, made of elm… her hand was clasped tightly around mine, and as we ran, we found other families that had been calling out for any familiar faces. We eventually ended up as a group of maybe six or seven children, and five adult witches. We were nearly at the edge of the forest, where we could hide and be protected, before… before we ran into them…”

You stomach churned with disgust and your eyes welled up with tears as your pictured the men that had blocked your path to freedom. “It was a group of priests in red robes… they had these smiles on their faces…the cruelest expression that you could possibly imagine, as though they were starving cats that had happened upon a pack of terrified rats.

We tried to fight them off, but they were just too many of them… it’s as if they were hydras. Absolute beasts... and I remember…. I remember the things they did to my sisters… the horrible, filthy things they did… the tools that they had…”

Your whole body was trembling with rage, angry tears trailing down your cheeks as your gripped the edge of your seat for dear life. “My mother….” your voice faltered. “My mother…! She… she sacrificed herself! To save me!” you exclaimed, more tears leaking from your eyes.

“She and I had been one of the few who had not been captured, and… and she told me to run, to find the secret paths of the forest nymphs. We had been in good standing with them for centuries, as my coven protected both the sea and the woods that bordered our small community. So… I… I ran, I ran into those woods like she said, but…”

You gritted your teeth, voice coming out in a sob. “She didn’t follow me… a barrier materialized right before my eyes, shimmering like gold. It had been a barrier of protection… the last act of selflessness that my mother performed before being captured. I… I wanted to go back, to try and save her, but…. I ran. I ran… and ran until I could not breathe and collapsed under a tree… dirty, tired, and… so…. helplessly... alone.”

Your vision blurred as tears cascaded down your face, a strangled gasp leaving your throat as your began to cry. “They took everything from me…everything.” you heaved, a disdainful look in your eyes as you sat back in your chair. “Pray tell, what kind of God would let his servants kill innocent women and children?”

Vlad’s dark red eyes shone dangerously in the firelight, hands clasped together as he formed a steeple with his fingers. “I have discovered throughout my hundreds of years on this planet, that mankind is nothing more than a miserable little pile of secrets. Scared little things that would rather destroy and chalk up phenomena they do not understand to the metaphysical.”

He leaned forward and placed a strong grip on your shoulder. “I am terribly sorry for all of the loss that you have suffered at the hands of ignorant, scared little men. Your mother was a brave woman, a strong woman. I’m sure you are very proud of her and the rest of your coven.”

You nodded your head. “Yes… I often find myself filled with such rage that I can barely think… but I lived with the nymphs for some time, and they helped me channel these feelings of resentment into something constructive. It was through their teachings that I became so well-versed in the knowledge of herbology.”

“You are very wise not letting this hate consume you. Too many times have I seen good, honorable men fall under the spell of this deadly obsession,” Vlad said, as he released your shoulder and poured more tea into your cup.

Thanking him, you take a large gulp, only now just realizing how dry your throat had become. “If it would not be too presumptuous of me to ask,” you began. “Do… would it be alright if I headed to the library? I need to clear my head.” you confessed, a strained smile on your visage.

Vlad nodded, his large hand going to ruffle the hair on the top of your head. “You did very well, little one. My only wish is that you do not stay up all night working, for I know how easy it is to lose track of time when immersed in your studies.”

“I will make sure to head to bed at a… reasonable hour,” you said, thanking Vlad for his kindness once more, before you headed back to the library.

Your mind was so abuzz with thought that it was difficult for you to concentrate. It was almost as if you were in a thick fog, uncertain of where to go. As you sat down in front of your desk, you were thankful that Lisa kept a stash of scented candles around to dull the smell of stale old books.

With the flick of your finger you had lit the wick of a candle that had reminded you of fresh rain, pulling out books on the brain and known diseases, topics you knew would be complicated enough to keep you stimulated and wash away the unwanted memories.

The moon hung high in the sky, her bright white rays resting upon your shoulders as you scribbled down notes on a spare bit of parchment. You could sense her as she moved across the sky, an obvious indication of how long you had already been at work.

As she continued her slow trek across the night, you could feel your eyelids grow heavy, but you tried pushing through the exhaustion.

Just let me finish this last sentence…!

Your body won over this battle against your brain, your eyes slipping shut and head resting against your arms as sleep fell upon you.

Something… something was tugging on your hair.

Was it morning already? Had you really slept the entire night at your desk? Well, that’s embarrassing--

“Excuse me?”

That didn’t sound like Lisa.

You groaned, body cracking and muscles aching as you rose from your sleeping position. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand, before you went to massage your sore neck. To your surprise, there was no one around you. So, who had said that--?

“Excuse me!”

You felt another tug, and you whirled around to find… a fairy.

“A fairy?” you exclaimed.

“How rude!” she snapped, hands on her hips. “The name is Aria, thank you very much!”

She could not have been any bigger than a children’s doll, and one could have almost mistaken her for one, with her porcelain white skin and big blue eyes. She had long blond hair that shone like strands of gold in the low candlelight, and she sported a blue dress with a slit down the middle fluttered that around her legs, which were covered by tiny white boots. Sprinkles of fairy dust trailed from out of her wings, beautiful little things that looked almost like a dragonflies.

“Aria, huh?” you said. “What brings you here? I would think that someone such as yourself would rather be outside in the woods than in some dark castle?”

“I live here!” she shouted.

“Really?” you drawled, surprised at her answer.

“Do not speak to me as though I am a child, witch.” she hissed. “My master wanted to come in here to study, and what do I find? You, asleep at a desk!”

“Master?” you repeated.

“She means me.”

Adrian makes himself known from a nearby corner in the room, lounging lazily against an empty desk.

Aria flew over to where he stood, and then pointed at you. “I was making sure that you would have a nice, quiet place to practice, and I find her in here!” she shouted.

“Guess I can venture a guess and say that she’s not a fan of me?” you ask, getting up out of your seat and stretching out your sore muscles.

“She means well,” Adrian said, and walked over to join you where you stood, a tome tucked under his right arm.

Aria plopped herself onto his shoulder, her tiny hands grasping at his long locks of hair, humming quietly as she busied herself by braiding several strands.

“She certainly has an attitude,” you snap, and give her a smirk as she sticks her tongue out at you. “What’s this I hear about you coming in here to “practice”? You do know that this is the library dedicated to medical science?”

“Of course. I came up here to practice my healing magic.” Adrian responded, and opened the book he had with him. It was a magical tome, one that was written specifically about healing spells.

Your eyes widened at the sight and you made to grab it to look through it yourself, but Adrian quickly snatched it away before you could do so.

“Don’t be childish,” you grumbled. “I just want to flip through it. I will give it right back. If anyone knows a thing about healing spells, it’s me.”

“You’re not the only one who knows magic in this castle.” he challenged.

“Oh really?” you snapped back. “Well, if you’re so confident, why don’t you show me some of this magic?”

You noticed that his eyes widened slightly at the test, but he gave you a confident stare as he put down his book and ordered Aria to take a seat on your shoulder-- much to her dismay.

“So, what have you got for us?” you questioned.

“I’ve recently mastered the skill of transmutation.”

A whistle rang out from your lips. “Now that is some impressive magic. Only witches vying for the title of supreme have been able to pull that off.”

Adrian smirked. “Well then, all the more impressive that I can do this.” he said, and closed his eyes.

For a moment, he stood there, completely still, before he flitted out of view, as though you were trying to focus your vision. In a second, he reappeared on the opposite side of the room, a triumphant grin on his face as Aria started cheering and doing loops in the air.

“See?” he cried, clearly proud of himself. “What did I tell you?”

He disappeared again, only to reappear in front of you. “Seems as though I am magically gifted as well.” He vanished before you could say anything, but you knew that this cockiness would do nothing but bite him in the ass.

Karma came much quicker than you expected, for the third time he tried to transmutate, he ran straight into one of the bookshelves, causing a pile to tumble on top of him as he collapsed onto the ground.

Try as hard as you might, but you could not suppress the laughter that bounded out of you after seeing this. Your voice rang throughout the library, arms clutching at your sides as you absolutely lost it.

You could hear Aria yelling how rude you were before she raced off to try and help Adrian, but you couldn’t care less. A tear managed to slide down your cheek, and you wiped it off, finding it ironic that you were crying out of happiness, when a mere few hours ago, it had been tears of utter sadness.

Aria was trying her best to get the books off of him, but they were much too heavy for her. She nearly dropped one onto his foot, before you caught it within your grasp.

“Let me help you with that,” you said, offering Adrian your hand.

He looked up at you and accepted your assistance, his chilled skin causing goosebumps to run across your arm.

You hoisted him back up on his feet, a slight flush on your cheeks when you realized how close the both of you were. You immediately relinquished your grip and took several steps back, laughing nervously.

“Transmutation, huh? I mean, even I can’t do that! So, that was pretty impressive! Well, before… you know…” you trailed off awkwardly, shying under his intense gaze.

He suddenly burst into a fit of laughter, the sound causing your heart to skip a beat and butterflies to flutter in your stomach. It was strange, seeing this stoic, composed man act so… so human.

“I’m glad that you appreciated the show,” he said, running his fingers through his hair to settle himself down. “Even if it ended in utter disaster.”

“That’s alright,” you replied. “It took me quite a while to master my pyrokinesis. Whenever I would practice, I usually ended up setting something on fire. Oh, there was this one time, I accidentally lit my mother’s ceremonial robes on fire,” you cringed at the memory, but gave a smile small as Adrian laughed. “It just takes practice.”

“Practice…” he hummed. “As much as Aria can try and argue against this, my original intentions for coming up here were to ask if you could help me in the practice of magic.”

“What?!” Aria shrieked. “Master Alucard, surely there is no need for you to--” she was silenced by Adrian putting a finger against her mouth, the fairy glaring at him before she stomped her foot and landed on his head in a huff.

“Surely you must have gotten some practice at your mother’s clinic,” you said, as you recalled Vlad and Lisa’s conversation on Adrian once working there.

He grimaced at the mention. “Yes… well, I did want to earn some experience helping her there, but after a particularly nasty incident, mother thought it best if I remain at home in pursuit of my studies.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“It’s not an embarrassing memory,” he said. “It’s merely that… well, I had been helping mother for two weeks or so, and things had been going fine. It was not until this woman walked in, that things started to take a sour turn.”

Your eyebrows raise in piqued interest. “Woman?”

“She came in with an infected leg, a nasty thing, one look at it would tell you as much. I asked her what had happened, and she told me that she had received a cut while working one day, and instead of cleaning and wrapping the wound… she had tried cutting out the small infected tissue, which of course, only made it worse.”

“What?” you gasp, completely boggled.

“Exactly!” Adrian exclaimed. “I was completely dumbfounded after she told me this, and I asked her why she would do such a thing. She said that’s what her neighbors had told her to do, and that she had merely come to me for some sort of tonic to dull the pain until it healed.”

“At that point, it would have made the most sense to cut it off.” you commented.

“I was thinking the same thing, but she just kept insisting that it was not serious and it was going to go away on its own--!” he let out a frustrated growl as he told the story. “One thing led to another and, well, we got into a rather heated argument. I was this close to losing it before mother stepped in and took care of the situation.”

You looked up at Adrian, a small smirk on your face. “When you say “heated argument”, does that mean you said something to her? I don’t think Lisa would essentially kick you out for debating with a belligerent patient.”

Adrian went quiet, his gaze darting away from you as he cheeks flushed a very faint pink. “I… may or may not have called her an “insolent fool”, one who’s lucky she’s alive believing that kind of codswallop.”

You nodded, as giggles threatened to erupt from your mouth. “That’ll do it.”

Adrian looked back down at you, and that was game over, the two of you bursting into a fit of raucous laughter.

“Oh, please don’t tell me that those are the kinds of people I’ll be dealing with,” you said, as the both of you began the walk to your bedrooms.

“Thankfully those are the outliers. Most of the villagers that come in are very nice,” he said. “They were very grateful that my mother was there, for every other person they had come across claiming to be a physician was nothing more than a crazy old woman who promised that drinking a brew of leaves and acorns would cure their rhumatismes.”

“Lisa is such a wonderful and smart woman… I’m so grateful that she’s accepted me into your home.” you said, and gave him a bright smile. “I’ve only been here a day, but I feel so at home here… as though I’ve finally found my place.”

He returned your smile, and stopped as you find yourselves in front of your bedroom door. “You never answered my question.”

Your eyes flitted up to look at him, and they twinkled with mischief as you rocked back and forth on the soles of your feet. “You really want to learn more about magic?”

He nodded. “My father is a powerful sorcerer, and I think your teaching, combined with his advice, will be able to help me perform at my full potential.”

“Alright,” you replied, without missing a beat. “I will help you, but! You better make sure to dial that arrogance down a couple levels when we’re together. If you’re not willing to listen, you will learn nothing.”

“Understood,” he said and took a hold of your hand, lifting it to his lips so he could place a kiss along your knuckles. “Rest well, then. I will see you in the morning.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, hand hanging limply at your side as he disappeared down the dark hallway with Aria trailing silently behind him. You felt light on your feet as you danced over to your bed, feeling excited at the prospect of teaching the son of darkness all of your magical secrets.

Yeah, you thought. I’m definitely home.

author’s note: hehehehe SURPRISE!!! >:3 i got TWO chapters written today!! i hit such a good stride, that i thought: why not write two chapters? so that's what i did!! you get some more backstory in this one, and some cute moments with adrian. afterall, this IS an adrian/reader fic. oh! and shoutout to my friend morgan!! she's the one who came up with aria's name, who's based off of the fairy familiar in symphony of the night!! give her a follow @princessmorgan. she's super talented!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter lovelies!! i promise the next update won't come in 4 months ;w;

see you later!!

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