#Mel being cold... or is it consideration? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lasquadranights · 2 years

Text

Making Dinner

Christmas Countdown: Melone x Reader

Content Warning: References to Polygamy

***

The house felt awfully empty no matter how many radios you turned on or how frequently you spoke to yourself. Tall, cold walls were the only things that answered your jokes.

Had you been able to, you would have gladly turned on all the lights in the house just to give its intimidating façade something. But the electricity bill and your safety could both easily be put in danger from such antics and so, you remained in the kitchen with little company aside from the music drifting.

It was easy to be nervous when you were alone so really, you weren’t sure what Melone was thinking when he snuck up behind you and grabbed your hips.

You yelped and hit him with the potato in your hand.

Melone whined as he stepped away, cradling the side of his face. “Ow…” His eyes fell on the knife in your other hand and he pursed his lips. “Bella, if I was coming to kidnap you, stabbing me would be better than the potato.”

“Mel! You should consider yourself lucky I didn’t stab you!” Honestly, in the moment, you hadn’t thought beyond just hitting the potential intruder. Stabbing hadn’t even occurred in your mind.

It was while you were thinking about that that you realised he wasn’t meant to be home and yet he stood in front of you.

You dropped both potential weapons and threw yourself into his arms. He was warm and breathing a little heavily; the scent of his motorbike clinging faintly to his hair. His hands slipped under your shirt immediately, skating across your back and sides.

“How did you manage to get back so quickly?” you asked. “Have you spoken to anybody else?”

Melone gave your hips a teasing squeeze as he pulled you flush against him. “Don’t worry yourself. Everybody’s doing just fine.” He captured your lips in a soothing kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth briefly. “And my mission just ended up being so perfectly easy that I could get home to see you early.”

You couldn’t deny how much you relaxed when he said that. It was a massive weight lifted from your shoulders. “I was busy making dinner, are you hungry?”

He pressed small kisses down your throat, humming in consideration. “I could eat.” To punctuate his words, he nipped at your neck. “What are we making?”

Slipping free of his hold, you made your way back to the chopping board. “It’s simple enough. You caught me at a good time though because I haven’t really started cooking yet; we can just double the recipe.”

“Triple it,” he said as he wrapped himself around you from behind. “I think some of the others may finish their jobs early also.”

Melone wasn’t always the best in the kitchen.

He claimed he could make anything but didn’t want to. You could believe it (the number of talents he had was honestly ridiculous). Still, regardless of his talent or not, he tended to get distracted with lavishing attention onto whoever else was cooking instead of paying attention to the food.

If you asked for something, he would grab it for you. Any help was given but the moment he was done, he attached himself to your back or side.

And it was always so much worse after a job.

“The Junior from today was far too weak,” he told you after you inquired indirectly about his increased clinginess. “But luckily, my target was an idiot and walked right into me. A little holiday prize.”

You held a cherry tomato up to him and he ate it from your fingers with a pleased hum. You continued chopping the rest of the box.

By the time you finished, you frowned down at the amount of food you’d chopped up – at this point, you’d be feeding the entire group with one meal – and sighed when you found you were finished. That meant you had to move away from the warmth of Melone’s chest.

You slipped out of his hold when Melone caught your wrist, twirling you around to sprinkle kisses across your cheeks.

“You look tired,” he whispered. “Sit down, I’ll finish up for you.”

“Not tired, just stressed,” you sighed but you took his offer anyway. You hopped up onto the counter, helping where you could by handing things over.

He hummed. “Either way.”

There wasn’t too much left to do and Melone didn’t need to glance at the recipe once. He traced his fingers along your legs every time he moved past, caressing the skin and occasionally giving small tickles of affection.

It was more difficult for the others to see when you were upset. They were assassins – a career that rarely made them empathetic.

Not Melone though. He always knew exactly what was getting to you.

“You know, you don’t have to watch the base while we’re not here,” he said. “Maybe we can speak to Risotto about which areas are controlled by capos he trusts and you can stay there when none of us are around.”

“Mel, you know that would just be a waste of money. It’s not like this happens frequently enough to warrant it.” Besides, as nervous as you felt being alone, it would be so much worse if you were too far away. “Maybe you can get me some big pillows though so the bed feels less empty.”

“I’ll see if I can find you any,” he said. “But don’t ask Sorbet or Gelato about it. They always choose those rock-like ones.”

You teasingly leaned back, arching your back a little. “I need a few for support also. Positions like the last one are awfully hard on my muscles.”

Melone’s eyes flashed in excitement and you laughed at how instantly you got his attention. “That’s not good at all. What if you decide you don’t like a position anymore just because you don’t have a pillow?”

“Exactly. It’s a dire circumstance.”

He finished off with the preparation, turning the stove down low so nothing cooked over and gave you a sweetened kiss.

“I love you,” he said. You never knew if he was being a hundred percent honest with his admissions – after all, he said it frequently and to everybody which always made you wonder. It wasn’t quite the time to ask though.

“I got dessert also,” you said. “It’s in the fridge but we’re going to have to share.”

Melone ran his tongue along your neck, making you squirm and giggle despite your best efforts. “Don’t worry bellisma. I can just have you.”

“Didn’t know you were a cannibal,” Illuso’s drawl startled you. His sudden appearance from the mirror in the hall was a welcome one even if he did look a little grumpier than usual, the teasing smirk there for show and nothing more.

Melone shrugged and tightened his hold around you. “I wouldn’t mind trying it. I’m sure it can’t be as bad as people say.”

You eyed your blond partner whose mouth was hovering awfully close to your collarbone. “Should I – Ow! Melone!”

He laughed as you swatted at him, the bite burning on your shoulder as you chased him around the kitchen.

#melone x reader #la squadra x reader #melone jjba #melone

34 notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter One

Chapter One: Living Ghosts

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of violence, enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (don’t worry, it’ll come sooner than you think).

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Here’s chapter one of my multi-chapter series for Reiner— chapter two is already ready!

A very special thank you to @present-mel , and @whats-her-quirk for encouraging me to take the plunge and create this monster (I’ve got a lot planned for this fic and I’m so excited for it) 💕

Masterlist | Next Chapter

You were having that same dream again, the one where you felt like you were dying. Your shoulder ached with the memory of bursting pain, but there were warm hands there, holding you, pressing down to keep the bleeding at bay. You could never recognize the face, never identify the voice, your ears still ringing from the sound of a piercing gunshot. It was always the same; a delirious memory warped into a nightmare. Sometimes the dream ended in the hospital, other times with you staring at the inside of a coffin, or in a shallow grave.

But this time, you were waking up, eyes flickering open to meet harsh fluorescent lights and clinking, cold handcuffs around your wrists.

A white-hot sense of dread pooled over your body.

You knew where you were. You knew how you got here. And suddenly, you wished you were dreaming again.

You could still see it all, still hear the deafening blades of the helicopter whirring above you. None of your team had expected the Marleyans to be in the warehouse; they hadn’t been on the soil of Paradis in years. They’d caught you off guard and sent your escape plan into action sooner than expected. You’d tried to follow Mikasa and Armin, but Jean was in your way. The lines of your vertical movement gear had tangled with his as you both hurriedly attempted to ascend and meet Levi in the aircraft, sending you spiraling back into the window, back into enemy territory.

Someone kicked you in the skull when you landed, you could still feel your head throbbing with the soreness. That must’ve been what did you in, what made you easy pickings to become a captive to the Marleyan government.

You sat up, taking note of your surroundings: of course, they’d put you in a cell, one void of a bed but thankfully containing a fucking bucket. How considerate. Just outside the iron bars was a table scattered with broken pieces of your gear, undoubtedly torn apart to be studied and to keep you from using it to escape.

Anger brewed inside your chest, a familiar feeling of betrayal returning that you hadn’t felt in years. There were faces here you didn’t want to see, enemies with broken facades that still haunted your thoughts at night. People you’d trusted, people you’d loved.

You knew they would show themselves soon. If you were still alive, it’s because there were questions that Zeke Yeagar wanted answers to, tendrils of doubt and duplicity that he wanted to sink into your mind.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Reiner felt sick. He’d never wanted to see you again, yet he’d been the one to carry your unconscious body through the compound, to cuff you and leave you on the frigid concrete floor. He’d stood over your figure for a while, heart pounding his chest out of fear that you’d wake up and flash that scrutinizing gaze of yours toward him again. But you’d just laid there at his feet, small, vulnerable, like a lost memory washed back upon the shores of his life.

And of course, now that you were awake, you weren’t talking, refusing to take Zeke’s bait.

He watched the older man pace around the room, glasses glinting as he wrung his hands. Truly, Reiner had been surprised that Zeke didn’t kill you on the spot, instead opting to transport you all the way across the border to their headquarters, insistent that you be treated like precious cargo. Though, it had been hard to keep Porco from poking at your body in the floorboards of the armored truck. Reiner had tried to keep his gaze away from you, eyes glued to the dark horizon outside of the rain smeared window. Maybe if he had stopped looking at you, you would have disappeared.

There was something pressing Zeke, something worrying him that he wasn’t sharing with the rest of the warriors. He thought you knew something, or perhaps that you could be valuable in some way.

Reiner knew that if you were to live, you needed to speak, needed to give them a piece of information to work with. He placed his head in his hands at the table, palms rubbing at his eyes. He shouldn’t—he didn’t—care if you took your last breath here. You were the enemy, someone who’d once held a knife to his throat when his true intentions within the ranks of The Scouts were revealed. He almost wished you’d killed him then, that you’d ended all the years of misery and regret that still clung to his mind like a poisonous leech.

“Maybe she’ll give in to someone she knows,” Zeke stopped his pacing, attention turning to Annie Leonhart who sat across from Reiner, “why don’t you give it a go?”

“Absolutely not,” she rejected, long legs crossing at the ankles upon the table.

“Bertholdt tells me that you two were quite the comrades during your reconnaissance mission.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We just found each other tolerable. Bertie was always sweet on her, though.”

Zeke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Bertholdt is kind to everyone, he’s as soft as they come.”

Bertholdt, per usual, stayed quiet in the face of Zeke’s remarks.

Porco Galliard chuckled at that statement, straightening his shoulders before he spoke.

“Which is exactly why you should’ve sent me to Paradis instead, Chief. I could give her a go. You were being too easy on her, anyways. Once you start ripping off fingernails people really start to give in, you know.”

Reiner’s gut twisted at the thought.

“You’re not allowed anywhere near her, Gailliard,” Zeke crossed his arms as a smirk settled into the lines of his beard, “she’s far too pretty, you’d break down and grovel to her before it was all over.”

Galliard huffed, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks as he shrunk down in his seat.

“Reiner—”

He had an inkling that it would come down to this. There would be no point in disputing it, he’d have to come face to face with his past, with sins he thought he left behind four years ago.

He stood before Zeke could complete his thought, heavy knuckles rapping at the wood of the table.

“Well, looks like we finally have a volunteer.”

Every inch of Reiner’s skin bristled as he marched down the corridor to the prison cells. His footsteps were jarring, heavy, like he was determined to leave prints in the floor to mark a final walk of shame. Some part of him hoped you’d be gone when he opened the door, that you would have used your wits and crawled through some air duct and run away from this, from him.

He almost didn’t turn the door handle. He felt invisible, burdensome hands pulling at his shoulders, calling at him to run. He’d always been a coward, especially when it came to you. He hated you, loathed you because he knew you pegged him as fraud from the beginning. You never threw a kind word in his direction, always looked at him like he was below you, like his pride meant nothing to you.

Reiner just wished that you had meant nothing to him. Even when the opportunity had presented itself, he couldn’t even find the strength to kill you like his orders demanded. He wondered if you remembered it at all, if your memories had finally flooded back after all this time. Something inside his heart wouldn’t let him that night, some unknown, egregious feeling that by some means overshadowed his hatred.

That feeling returned when he entered the room and found you sitting with your back to the wall, your tightly bound hands in your lap.

He took in a deep breath as he averted his gaze, teeth gritting at the sight of you awake. Zeke was right, four years had done you justice; time had only made you more beautiful than before, and he worried he might fall to his knees before you.

“Reiner.”

Sometimes, he just really wished people would stop saying his name.

━━━─── • ───━━━

A strange relief settled into your stomach at the sight of him. Reiner was as hulking as ever, broad shoulders stretching the threads of his shirt to their limits. But he was different, older…demure, in some ways. He didn’t hold his head as high anymore, didn’t immediately cross his arms across his barreled chest to appear larger. He took tired, golden eyes less intense than you last remembered. His fingers rubbed at his lips, at the facial hair that adorned more pronounced cheekbones.

You hated to admit that he appeared even more handsome than you remembered.

There was a red armband tied around his bicep, an insignia emblazoned on it that you’d never seen before.

“Do I make you nervous, Braun?”

You caught his attention then, made his eyes look at you as you leaned your head back against the stone wall.

“Tough question from the one behind bars.”

His voice had changed, too. He sounded more stoic, more serious. There used to be a hint of glee under that tongue of his.

“Why am I here?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking you things.”

You shrugged, biting at your cheek as you wiggled your toes to try to make them feel again. Your limbs were starting to ache, your head too, body feeling like it was starting to cement to the floor. You didn’t want to be Zeke Yeagar’s plaything, but you knew that if you were alive, there was something they wanted. There was some leverage you held, but you weren’t sure what it was just yet. You had hoped they would send Bertholdt in to talk to you, you always could get under his skin.

Reiner was a more difficult case for you. He always coated himself in arrogance, made it harder for you to chip away at his armor. He never let anyone in, just always grinned, acted like he had everything under control. But before you was a man with cracks, a man that time and guilt had eroded. You almost felt sorry for him, almost. A man like him deserved to bear the weight of his burdens.

“Listen, if you don’t start talking—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?”

“We’ll torture you.”

He said the words with a weight that knocked you back a bit, stole the last breath of gusto you were holding onto. You expected as much, but hearing it said aloud made fear crawl up your spine, made the cuffs around your wrist feel even more strained against your skin.

“What do you want to know? I could tell Yeagar was prodding for something tangible to use against Paradis.”

“I just want to know what you know about us, if you know anything about what Marley has been doing in the last few years.”

“You’ve been fighting a war, that much I know.”

And he looked like he had been through battle, been through hell in trenches and gunfire. Your intelligence agents had reported that Braun had been promoted to be Vice Commander of the Warrior Unit, and the hardline of his frown told you he’d seen more horrors than you wanted to know about.

“Tell me something you don’t know from news headlines.”

Levi had trained all his scouts for this situation once upon a time ago. You could still hear his voice in your head, commanding you to give up as little as possible, learn what the enemy wanted and then give them something else to cling on to. You had a few things you knew you could feed to them, beneficial tidbits that would satiate their hunger and keep them from feasting upon your teammates. But relaying any kind of information was a death sentence within itself; give the dogs a treat and eventually they’ll want more.

And you knew that Reiner, that Zeke Yeagar, was a very greedy host.

You stood slowly, releasing the aching tension in your lower back. Reiner didn’t flinch away from his place beyond the rusting iron, instead eyeing you like you were some exotic thing in a cage.

There was a nostalgia of being in his presence, even if the atmosphere around him was contrary to what you were used to perceiving. He still made your blood boil, still made your fighting instincts come alive in the back of your mind. You still felt small in his shadow, but there was still a lingering feeling, a fleeting memory, about how being around him once made you feel safe.

Your bare feet moved toward him, toes stinging against the cold of the floor.

One of your hands wrapped around a bar to your prison, the metal of your handcuffs clinking against the barrier.

You could catch his scent from being this close, and at least that much stayed the same—he always smelled like cedarwood, earthy and sweet, like the spice of the forest floor after a fresh rain. It was almost funny how smell created memories more frequently than any other sense.

Suddenly, you felt like you were back home, like nothing had changed, as if his deceit had never been revealed. Your mind’s eye flashed images of your old training camp, of Reiner lifting Connie onto his shoulders after the small boy had successfully managed to triumph over Jean in his marksmanship practice. He’d used one of the tricks that Reiner had taught him. That once sweet memory turned sour as you remembered just why Reiner was always such a good shot.

You tilted your chin up to look at him, to come face-to-face with the imposing penumbra you thought you’d warded off. He was a living ghost brought back to haunt you once again.

“You seem pathetic, Braun, like you’ve lost all that bravado that made you so special.”

He took your words, let them bounce off his chest like you hadn’t even spoken them.

“Why did they send you in here? Did they really expect I’d crack under such pitiful pressure? You’re a deplorable, miserable—”

His fist wrapped around your hand, crushing your fingers between his might and the metal bar you’d secured yourself to.

You hissed at the pain, but…there was something you had missed in that touch of his; he felt warm, worn, like there were secrets being pressed into your skin.

“Be. Quiet.”

You expected his fingers to flex, waited for him to crack your fingers under his pressure. But he kept his strength at bay, electing to keep a steady, continuous tension against your knuckles.

“Talk, or tomorrow will be your last day. You wouldn’t want to die at the hands of a pathetic, wretched man like me, would you? No, you’re too proud for that.”

He took a step back, releasing his bruising grip before turning on his heels to leave.

A string of panic began to uncoil inside you, snapping as his arm extended towards the exit.

“Reiner,” you called, “tell me something. How much do you really know about Zeke Yeagar?”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t,” you were starting to sound worried, you could hear it, “there’s something I know that you don’t, and I’d be willing to give you information in return for you answering a question for me.”

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, every pump within your ribs like the ticking of an oppressive clock. He was silent, steady, back still turned away from you. You noticed that his fists were clenched by his side, a vein starting to appear up the exposed length of his forearm.

“I’ll consider it. Depends on what your question is.”

He still didn’t turn to look at you.

“Reiner…tell me what happened to Marco.”

The door was slamming shut before the last syllable of the dead man’s name left your lips.

Next Chapter

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #reiner x reader #snk reiner #AoT #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot reiner #aot reiner braun #snk x reader #snk reiner braun #reiner #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader

479 notes · View notes

hoodoo12 · 3 years

Text

The Ties That Bind (And How To Follow Them) 12/?

@turtlepated @mel-time @werwulfy @bunnys-beetlejuice-blog @monsterlovinghours @infptarius @sweetcat-666 @rainingpaint @strange-n-unbluusual @genderless-cryptid @fireflower1015 @go-whovian-universe

NSFW. Another proposition to test him.

Once again Rigel’s words made her pause and dither, wondering if he had a point. Maybe it would be better to wait, to try and learn more before going, but it felt so wrong to delay any longer now that she had a pretty good idea of where to find Beetlejuice. She was certain the woman of whom he spoke was right in the thick of all this and Pate didn’t like to consider what the strange, red-haired woman had in store for her demon lover. Every minute they spent talking about it felt like a minute wasted, but she also didn’t want to bite off more than she could chew.

While she stood there, frozen, pondering her options, Rigel closed the gap between them, practically pressing himself up against her. Even though her slight shock at his proximity (she’d thought he couldn’t stand her) his entreaty that she rest threw her for another loop. Was Rigel actually being considerate? He certainly looked and sounded like it, though she had the sneaking suspicion that if she did as he suggested she would wake up with a bed partner once again.

And what was that about? The first time they met he’d shown nothing but dismissal at best and contempt at worst for her. Beetlejuice loved nothing more than to simply lounge against her, siphoning her body heat like a basking reptile and he’d mentioned her warmth more than once while they held one another or made love. Could Rigel be experiencing the same thing? He was certainly cold to the touch just like his brother, maybe human body heat had a similar effect on him. Pate scoffed internally at the thought of Rigel enjoying being close to her, but then again he’d taken every opportunity he could to do so.

Was he as touch starved as Beetlejuice? As lonely? Was all this cynicism and snark just a front? They did share a mother, after all, and Beetlejuice had told her a little about the woman/demon who had birthed him. She didn’t imagine Rigel had had a very different upbringing than his elder brother, and she found herself pitying him for it.

Pate shook herself and snapped her suitcase shut, zipping it forcefully. “You might be right,” she admitted. “I am still pretty tired, and it wouldn’t hurt to try to learn more about that woman. But only if-”

She cut herself off as Dziban appeared, slinking out of the shadows behind her bathroom door.

The demon shaped vaguely like a canine made no sound on the carpet. To Rigel’s distaste, it looked even more haggard now; its skin torn in open, bloodless flaps where the points of its shoulders and some of its more prominent vertebrae were. Its tiny eyes were more sunken, almost gone within its skull, and although it was always lipless, its teeth and tongue looked especially dry. It still moved with purpose, however.

The purpose was to stalk closer to him, nosing its way with an unsettling hiss between his and Pate’s legs. Pate leapt backwards, away from the beast, breaking any minute contact or idea of contact they may have had.

Rigel stood his ground, sighing. He cupped Dziban’s jaw to lift its head uncomfortably far upright to look into its eyes.

His grip tightened on the demon’s mandible and it mewled in pain. An ugly expression--half snarl, half frown, all pointed teeth--etched itself into Rigel’s face, and he put a little more pressure into his hold, twisting it. Dziban now actively tried to struggle away, its talons digging furrows into the carpet, whining pitifully, but never attempting to actively fight the superior demon who continued to hurt it.

Only when its struggles became more desperate, to the point of its jaw creaking like it could in any moment snap off in his hand, did Rigel realize that Pate was gasping and begging him to stop.

He glanced up at her with blazing eyes. She looked distressed and horrified.

With a final, petulant twist of his fingernails into Dziban’s tight skin, Rigel released it. He barked an infernal word with too many consonants at it, and with the cowed air of a dog that only wants to please, the lesser demon slunk back into the shadows behind the door and disappeared.

Rigel straightened again and tugged the hem of his jacket to straighten it. He half answered the question he knew was on the tip of Pate’s tongue.

“Dziban found her. Your mentor. However, the fucking beast is such a waste at this point it didn’t have the strength to drag her back to us. It will do better next time.”

The last sentence was less of a promise and more of a threat to the demon that was no longer in the room with them.

⁂

Self-pleasured satisfaction complete, Morena had left him alone in the room, disappearing up the crumbling stairs to a floor overhead till he could no longer determine where she was. Beetlejuice pulled at the crotch of his trousers to relieve the pressure against his erection. It was that much worse because it wasn’t from playful frustration, like Pate would have done so their eventual coupling would be that much sweeter, but because he sensed he needed to resist going along with her. Still, blue balls weren’t pleasant no matter the reason for them.

Lost in trying to will away his arousal, he barely noticed when another person joined him in the circular room.

It was the same young man who had stood outside the circle by himself before.

Beetlejuice looked directly at him, but softened his expression to be less predatory than he’d acted towards him the first time they’d been alone. Quick thoughts and scenarios ran through his head. This was the man who seemed awed by him. The one who used words he’d obviously thought were correct. The one who took interest, but had an air of a having a little less understanding than some of the others.

All that could benefit him, if he twisted it to his needs.

Morena wanted sex, but was wary enough to decline his counter offers. Would this guy? What if he declined her advances, but suggested it to him? Would that cause a rift? Could he get a hostage, or would the man be stupid enough to scuff the chalk and break the spellwork embedded in it?

His cock was softening, but Beetlejuice dragged his fingers up his fly lightly as he looked the cloaked man up and down.

“Is this one of those sex cults I hear so much about?” he asked, using the same low voice as he had with Morena, the one that Pate liked. “Morena had nothing on under her robe. What about you, handsome?”

He jumped at being addressed directly by the demon. Partly because he hadn’t expected to be, but partly because he wasn’t technically supposed to be here. Well actually he wasn’t supposed to be here at all. Morena would be cross with him if she found out, but he simply couldn’t help himself. He had never seen a being from another world before, and even though this one looked almost human there was still something magnetic about him that drew the young man in like a moth to a flame.

A fitting metaphor, since Morena had warned them all before the entrapment that the demon would likely employ any number of tricks to try and escape his confinement. Whatever happened, he couldn’t do anything stupid like let him out, especially before the summoning of the Elder Things’ creation. It would serve as a stepping stone to the arrival of their hallowed one, the King in Yellow who would usher in a new age for all the earth.

He knew vaguely what the demon was referring to, but he wasn’t sure he liked the salacious purr in his voice as he spoke.

Averting his eyes, in case the demon was attempting some form of hypnosis, he said rather paradoxically, “I'm not supposed to talk to you.”

Instead of staying several steps away from the edge of his containment like he had when Morena had been present, Beetlejuice moved closer to the man who was so very obviously torn between being enthralled and seeming like he knew he should cut and run.

In an effort to drop anything threatening, Beetlejuice loosened his shoulders and cocked his head slightly, continuing to look the young man up and down. Letting his eyelid soften and gazing at him from under his lashes--another thing he’d learned Pate liked; she thought his amber eyes were pretty--he caught his lower lip lightly between his teeth.

“We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Beej agreed, shrugging one shoulder casually.

One tentacle made an appearance from the ether. With one hand still at his crotch, still massaging himself a little, his free hand caught the tentacle and stroked it with measured idleness. Glancing down at that same hand like he couldn’t help himself, Beetlejuice touched his tongue to his lip and let a small expulsion of air pass escape him, like a moan he just couldn’t contain.

The playacting worked; his cock was filling again, adding weight to the idea he’d like nothing more than to share a release with someone.

His head still bowed, he lifted his gaze to his audience, looking at him through his lashes.

“There’s a universal language that we don’t need words for, handsome. What do you say? Wanna truly get to know a demon?”

He swallowed thickly, unsure whether to turn and bolt back for his tent or stay put to see what the demon had in mind. Though judging by the suggestive moaning and the very unabashed way he kept touching himself through his striped and straining pants, it was pretty obvious what he was referring to.

Had Morena’s attempt failed, then? It certainly seemed so. But if he knew anything at all about his revered leader, it was that she never failed. Somehow, all this was going according to her design, including his presence here. Maybe he was meant to play a part in this after all. Maybe he would be rewarded for his faithfulness.

“I'm not sure if I should,” he admitted, stepping just a little bit closer to the warding circle that held the demon in place. “Morena might not like it.” The demon Beetlejuice was good looking, he observed, in a rough sort of way. He’d never found himself in a position like this, and while part of him screamed to get away the other part was intrigued.

He knew she had given herself to others like the demon in the past, beings of great and terrible power and that was the source of her own vast knowledge and ability. If he were to give in to this demon’s seduction, would it enhance his own power in the same way? He thought so, but he couldn’t be sure. And she had warned them not to trust anything the demon said. He thought again of those inky black tendrils that had slipped out of nothingness and coiled at the demon’s feet, afraid to think what they might do to him if they got the chance.

This may work better than he thought. The rube--his ticket out of here--looked torn, throwing glances around like he was going to be caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, but he had come closer. All he needed to do was take another step.

Beetlejuice made sure the robed man’s gaze had traveled up to his face after lingering on his groin before wetting his lower lip once more.

“I don’t know what she--Morena, isn’t it?--told you, but I promise it’ll be worth your while.” He may even let the guy keep his life, when it was all said and done. He could be generous like that. Everyone else could be fed to a goddamn Sandworm.

He made it easier by moving as close to the barrier as he could. Barely eight inches separated them. If he was going more for playful than hardcore seductive he’d make a not-entirely truthful comment about how his dick could span that gap between them. As it were, he figured humor wasn’t going to go over as well as he wanted it to--it rarely did--so Beetlejuice stuck with the whisper soft sounds of palming himself through his pants and panting ever so lightly, like his arousal was growing and only one thing could quench it.

Intent clear, he dropped the tentacle he’d been stroking and held his hand out, palm up, to his potential savior-hostage on the other side of the chalk.

His resolve was slipping. Contrary to what the demon seemed to think, their congregation wasn’t a cult of sex maniacs, but he couldn’t deny the curiosity. It might even give him some manner of control over the demon, Morena seemed to possess some degree of authority over supernatural beings that must have been granted to her through similar acts. If nothing else, if he succeeded in gathering the demon’s seed where Morena herself had failed, it would certainly raise his position within the congregation.

The trouble now was that he didn’t trust that the demon wasn’t up to something. He didn’t dare cross the chalk threshold that held him, but perhaps there was a way around it. Reaching into an interior pocket of his cloak, he withdrew a piece of chalk. They had used this very chalk to draw the circle in the first place, it was bespelled and imbued with powerful subduing magic.

“Call this a compromise,” he said, lowering himself to one knee and adding a simple sigil to the outside of the circle. The air between him and the demon shimmered like a heat mirage, and he knew that his sigil was in effect. It should make a large enough gap for them to take care of the demon’s need without allowing him the room to make an escape attempt, and if he tried anything all he had to do was scuff out the mark and the opening would reseal at once. He placed one hand almost directly on top of the chalk sigil, just in case.

From his new position, knelt before the demon, the young man looked up at the shadowed face angled down at him and the smoldering golden eyes that watched him avidly. He was trembling slightly, nerves of course, and his tongue snaked out to wet his lips as his eyes roved from the demon’s face down to his crotch.

“If -” he cut himself off, his voice perhaps a touch too high. He cleared his throat and tried again. “If you’re ready?”

For the love of hell this guy actually wanted to suck his dick?! Cultists were the definition of insane.

However, Beetlejuice wasn’t going to chicken out of this predicament he’d gotten himself into. If someone had told him he was going to whip it out so a cultist who had trapped him in a warded circle would blow him just so he had the opportunity to escape, he would have laughed so hard he’d have spit right in that person’s face.

Even if it was his own bitch of a mother, who wouldn’t have hesitated to make that absurd prediction, and would probably laugh her ass off seeing him in it now.

He had no clue what could be done that was going to allow entry without egress. Just a small chink in the barrier was needed, though; all he had to do was keep the guy distracted enough to find it with the tip of a tentacle, and like being held behind mirrors he’d tear his way out.

Gingerly, without trying to look like he had any hesitancy, Beetlejuice reached forward to the man. When he felt only a tingling of resistance and not the immediate shock of the true ward, he cupped the guy’s jaw, running his thumb over his wettened lip before easing it minutely into his mouth.

In for a penny, in for a pound. His other hand popped the button on his pants and began to pull the tab on his zipper south.

“Tell me your name so I have something to moan when I come.” He barely controlled an eyeroll at using almost the same line on this guy as Morena. Christ he needed some new material, but it was tiring trying to flirt and seduce two random people for the sole purpose of getting the fuck out of here.

While he kept his eyes locked on the man on his knees in front of him, two tentacles began to silently search the edges of this patched boundary for any indication of a crack to exploit.

tbc . . .

#writing #fanfiction #Beetlejuice #Ties That Bind

10 notes · View notes

sullina · 3 years

Note

I had. A thought about feather au. Yknow how all demons have an Indura and it’s implied that either the berserk form he took in Vaizel, AM form, or the dragon in purgatory is Mel’s? I raise you to all of those but super feathery

(Me about to write this: oh this is gonna be so self-indulgent)

To make things more clear, I'm gonna say that Berserk Mel is Mel ruled completely by his instincts, but distinct from Indura.

In combat mode, Berserk Mels feathers grow bigger and stronger at an alarming rate into an unpenetrable yet ultralight armor. Like 90% of the down feathers grow and transform into hardened feathers, making the armor-like coat possible. The feathers on his tail are also strengthened, covered in darkness, and the big ones at the end are hardened and used less for stabilizing in flight and more for batting around his opponent. The whole thing is pretty energy intensive.

When not in combat mode, like when Mel was sniffing Eli after obliterating, the down feathers relax into their soft fluffy state. If he can't sense any danger nearby, his feathers still grow until he has a thick coat, but they're unbelievably soft. Darkness is threaded through the feathers of his tail, but the feathers are not covered, though more than ready to do just that at any moment. He gets snuggly and latches onto Elizabeth or the closest person he likes the most. If there are several people he likes (the sins), he'll pull them all close to him to make sure they're safe. He'll get distressed if they try to leave, so the best way to turn him back from berserk is to snuggle him back and keep him calm and just letting him know that they're safe. Afterwards, once he's back, he's very hungry and tired.

Assault mode Mel can think clearly, and consciously raises his combat class on his own. He pulls his darkness over his feathers as a more efficient way to raise his defensive ability. His tail becomes completely black, with the darkness using the underlying feathers as a sort of mold. That makes it easier to fling it, think of it like throwing knives, or how Stormfly uses the spikes on her tail in HTTYD. Mel also stiffens the big feathers at the end of his tail to be able make more precise maneuvers and sharp turns in the air that otherwise would physically not be possible.

We never saw Indura Mel, but considering that demons sacrifice 6 of their 7 hearts in order to make a contract with the darkness inside them and gain that power, the last heart should be guarded considerably (also I'm gonna make this up as I go). Mels feathers grow until they cover almost his entire body, with all of them being armor feathers. He'll die anyway (since the literal life force is used up), no need for down feathers to keep warm, plus the movement will keep his body plenty warm. He'll grow actual wings, which are a mix of feathers and leather, and claws on his hands and feet. The feathers on his tail turn into sharp spikes, with the big feathers at the tip basically turning into swords with how hard and sharp they become. Needless to say, he becomes incredibly aggressive, and thanks to his feathered armor, you could use him as a battering ram and he would barely feel it (but he definitely wouldn't let you).

Dragon Meli isn't much different. But with how Chonk he is, he reminds me of a seal, and seals bulk up with fat to be able to withstand the extreme cold. And Dragon Meli, despite literally being a shadow of himself, also needs to protect himself against the harsh environment of purgatory. But with how much the temperatures fluctuate (?) in purgatory, feathers could be a gpod way to isolate against outer temperatures and regulate his body temperature. His actual body is a little slimmer, but there's A Ton of fluff. When Ban leans against his side after they fought for so long, he almost entirely disappears into the fluff. He can just barely save himself from drowning in feathers XD

#nnt #nnt asks #meliodas #feather au #nnt feather au

12 notes · View notes

jane-fucking-seymour · 3 years

Text

Every Tudor Rose Has Its Thorns - CH 2 now live

AO3 Link here

“So… you think they’re alive?” Jim asks, tilting his head.

“At least one of them is a ghost, I think,” she explains, walking towards the alley next to the theatre. They had gotten their tickets refunded due to “technical difficulties,” despite knowing that the real issue was far beyond that. “But the visions I had when Catherine and Anne went up for their songs… it felt really powerful. It could be more than one. Maybe all of them, just based on the pure strength of it.”

“What, so you think the ghosts of the ex-wives of Henry VIII are… haunting the performers when they go on?” Jim asks. “One ghost doing that, sure, but all of them? Seems pretty unlikely.”

Melinda frowned and looked down at the programme, flipping to the page where the actors were shown. She tilts her head. “You know, they never say what the actor’s names are in here. They just say Anne and Catherine and the rest.”

“Maybe it’s an acting thing?” Jim asks, though he clearly sounds like he’s fishing for an answer. “Some actors do that, live as though they’re the characters they are.”

Melinda nods in consideration, but goes back to the original theory: that the ghosts are involved.

“I mean, it’s not surprising that they would be earthbound if it is actually them,” Melinda says. “Not after everything they got put through.”

“Do you think they caused the technical difficulties?” Jim asks.

“I didn’t sense anyone else around, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility,” Melinda replies. “Why would they want to ruin their own show, though? It’s about their story, their lives being told-”

“No, they’re not ruining their own show.”

Jim and Melinda jump a bit as they hear a voice behind them. When they turn, they spot…

“You’re Maria, right?” Melinda asks. “You’re the drummer.”

“I am,” Maria nods. “I was hoping you’d still be around. I… I don’t know how to explain this, but I really think you should come with me.”

Melinda watches her for a moment before tilting her head. She slowly walks more towards Maria, gently taking her hand. There’s a slight jolt before Melidna is once again pulled into a vision:

She’s managed to avoid the guards, sneak into the premises, and get to her door. With a running start, she bangs through it, immediately looking down at a woman in bed. She looks deathly ill, yet oddly familiar…

Melinda can hear herself speak Spanish to the woman, crying as she holds her. She can see her arm gently push back some hair, gently speak comforting words to the woman she held, crying out her name as the former queen’s eyes start to dim and close:

“Catalina!”

Suddenly, Melinda was back to the present. Maria looks terrified.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt her, is she-”

“It’s okay, she’s okay,” Jim says, nodding. He keeps an eye on Melinda, though, just in case.

Melinda took a moment to clear her thoughts before she continued. “That was… the other side of the vision I had when Catherine of Aragon’s song came up.”

“Vision?” Maria asks, taking a step back in surprise. “Are you a witch?”

“No,” Mel is quick to dispel the theory. “But I do… have a gift. I can see the dead.”

Maria pales. Melinda narrows her eyes.

“How?” Melinda asks. Maria is quiet, so Melinda clarifies: “How are you alive and dead at the same time?”

She looks down at her hands before she looks back up at the couple. “I… I need you to come inside. To come with me to see the others.” She looks from Melinda to Jim and back to Melinda. “I promise, we’re not… we’re not bad. And we didn’t do anything to cause those issues.” She takes a deep breath. “Oh, I can’t believe Jane’s going to be right on this.”

“Right on what?” Jim asks, stepping forward.

Maria makes a face.

“She said she felt someone else on stage with us tonight. Someone cold. She’s been off ever since.”

That was enough for Melinda to follow Maria into the backdoor.

As soon as they walk in, Maria takes Jim and Mel to the dressing rooms. Melinda recognized the queens: Jane was sitting next to Anne, quietly discussing something. Catherine and Cathy were getting their things together. Anna and Katherine were on their phones.

It’s the latter that speak up first.

“I mean, I’m seeing stuff where people say their electronics went haywire due to a ghost,” Katherine says. “Even as common as we’ve been having it lately.”

“It could also be some faulty wiring, though,” Anna points out, scrolling through some searches. “Or maybe the wind that’s been picking up knocked something loose.”

“I swear, I felt a cold wind, and I…” Jane starts, but she freezes up when she spots Maria and her guests. “Who’s this?”

Maria clears her throat and steps forward. “Everyone, this is Melinda Gordon and Jim Clancy.” She looks directly at Catherine for the next part. “Melinda can speak to the dead.”

They’re all quiet for a moment before Anne speaks up.

“Oh really?” She asks, a hint of joking in her voice. Melinda grimaces at that; people usually are in disbelief, but the mocking tone some can get reminded her of the high school and college bullies. It’s not easy doing her job, after all.

“Yes,” Maria continues. “Actual ghosts.”

“How do you think she can help?” Cathy asks.

“How do we know to trust her?” Jane asks.

“I think I know the answer to both of those things.”

Before Melinda or Jim can answer, someone else has jumped to their defense: Melinda recognized her as Joan, the pianist. Right behind her was Bessie and Maggie. All three of them were in normal clothes now, bags left at the side of the door as they move towards the group and stand nearby.

“Maria,” Joan says quietly. “I saw you stumble on Catherine’s song today. You were looking right at her in the front row.” Joan looks over at Melinda, almost pitying her. “And you looked incredibly pale. I thought it might be a trick of the light, but I’m assuming you being here makes it not the case.”

Melinda nods, stepping forward. “I had a vision. I was in a bed, hurting, and someone barged into the room and held me as I died. It felt like the person wasn’t supposed to be there, but I needed her to be there.” She looks over at Maria, who is looking at Catherine. “I think it was you. You called her name as she died, didn’t you? You called for Catalina. That was who you were holding, as she died.”

Maggie frowns. “Not that I don’t believe you, but anyone who knows our histories knows that Maria held Catherine at the end. How do we know this isn’t a trick?”

“Because,” Joan says, “when that… vision… of hers happened, Maria looked completely out of sorts.” She steps towards the woman in question. “What did you feel?”

“I felt… connected,” Maria explains, moving to gently hold Catherine’s hand for support. Catherine, of course, holds it firm. “I felt like someone was connecting with me. And I… I heard Catalina’s cries. I heard what I heard when she died. Then I looked up, and it was Melinda.”

“Did you… see something… during Don’t Lose Ur Head?” Maggie asks, frowning.

Melinda shivered at the thought. “Yes. I saw someone being taken to the block. A young, red headed girl called for her mom-”

Anne stands up quickly, like a reflex, but Maggie quickly grabs her arm. It calms the woman somewhat as she sits back down. Jim stands a bit closer to Melinda as she backed up at the sudden movement, but with things calmer, she relaxes a bit more.

“Not quite how that went,” Anne says quietly, “but if Catherine and Maria believe you, I’m inclined to as well.”

“Sometimes my visions aren’t exact to what happened,” Melinda replies. “Sometimes they’ve got more symbolism in them then actual events-”

Melinda stopped, though, when a sudden chill fell through the air. She felt her head reeling with no warning; she put a hand to it and tried to breathe through it. Jim was calling for her, she knew this, but the voice became less and less her husbands and more and more like someone else.

The lights suddenly turned off.

And he appeared.

What hit her first was a wave of emotions - fear, jealousy, panic.. But mostly anger. A lot of anger. She couldn’t tell who he was exactly, as the Shadows around them were so thick, but he pointed to her and spoke; it cut through her mind like glass.

“You should not be here,” he said, and Melinda winced every time he spoke. “You should not be here.”

“Who are you?” She asks, but he screamed, and the Shadows rushed her, and everything went dark…

… only for the lights to turn on a moment later.

Melinda blinked; somehow, she had ended up crouched on the floor, hands on her head as she looked around. Jim was immediately at her side, checking her over.

“Are you okay-?” He started, but someone else’s voice cut through his question. This time, it didn’t hurt Melinda at all.

“Jane?!?”

The couple looked over to find Jane Seymour collapsed to the ground, eyes unfocused and glassy, breathing rapidly as if panicked. With a nod from Mel, Jim rushed over to see if he could help.

“What’s happened, why is that happening again?” Katherine asks, clearly panicked.

Melinda picked up the clue. “Again? When did it happen before?”

“It happened yesterday, too,” Bessie says, stepping forward. “She’s been having these type of spells for a while now.”

“Anna had some to start with as well, Cathy too,” Joan points out. “But Jane’s been hit the hardest with them.”

Melinda nods, looking over at Jane just in time to see her gasp for air. She coughed, being helped to sit up by Jim.

“Are you alright?” Jim asks, looking the woman over.

“Jane?” Joan is right beside her queen in an instant; now Melinda knew what she meant by they took care of their queens; Joan was Jane’s Lady in Waiting in their previous life, after all.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Jane mumbles, a hand to her head as she collects her thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s the damned ghost, that’s what’s come over you,” Katherine says, clearly angry. “What does it want and why does it keep on messing with our productions?”

Anne looked over at Melinda before stepping towards her. “Alright, I don’t quite believe you, but… what did you see? Before, in the dark?” Melinda seemed to be confused, so Anne continued. “If you’re having those vision things, I’d assume you’d have one when things go bad.”

“That’s not how it works all the time,” Melinda says, “but I did see the ghost. He was…” she swallowed thickly at the next few words, looking over at Jim. “He was surrounded by Shadows.”

Jim’s jaw set with anger for a moment, before he corrected his expression. Melinda continued.

“He said I shouldn’t be here. He was tall, that’s all I got from it.”

The lights flickered again and Melinda once again felt a wave of nausea. She blinked, squeezing her eyes shut. Catherine frowned when Anna did the same.

“We should leave,” Melinda said through shaky breaths. “Whoever it is, they’re going to try again.”

Anna is unsteady, but she powers through it to get to the alley. As soon as they’re out of the theatre, Melinda feels her head clear up considerably. She breathes a sigh of relief as she looks at Anna; she seems far better, too.

Maria steps forward. “Do you mind if we go somewhere a bit more private?” she asks, looking at the couple. “Our flat’s nearby. Might be the best place to discuss this more.”

“Sure,” Melinda says. “We’ll follow you.”

Maggie leads the group as they walk down the street, Jim and Melinda in the middle of the pack. Maria and Bessie hang at the back. They’re silent, before Maria speaks:

“You’re on the fence for this, aren’t you, Bessie?”

She sighs. “I don’t know what to think,” she replies. “But if you think she’s the answer to what’s been happening lately I think it’s worth a shot.” She shrugs. “Not like we had any success with anything else, so…”

Maria looks back at the couple, who are quietly walking, Melinda’s arm in his. “Yeah. I really think they are.”

As they walk, Jim looks Melinda over some more. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” Jim asks quietly.

Melinda glanced over then shook her head. “A little woozy,” she admits. “The visions are strong, and I think it’s because of who they are.” she gives him a small smile. “I’ll be ok. I’ve got you here.”

Jim tries to smile back, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. Melinda understands this, but her focus right now is moreso on Jane.

“She looks about as good as I feel,” Mel mumbles.

Jane looked as pale as a ghost, stumbling occasionally as they moved towards the queen’s flat. Joan was right next to her, watching her closely as they moved.

“Yeah, and Anna doesn’t look too well either,” Jim observed. Anna was at the front of the pack with Katherine, answering her questions and smiling with her, but Jim’s EMT training allowed him to see the occasional stumble and wince in pain. “It took a lot out of them, too, I think.”

“When we get to the flat,” Catherine says, having heard their conversation, “We can all take a breather there.”

Cathy watches the couple very closely for a moment before she just continues on with Catherine in tow. Catherine narrows her eyes at Cathy for a moment before moving on.

The sound of a child’s laughter rings through the area; it makes Melinda smile as she and Jim are let into the flat. From there, everyone comes together in the living room.

“The weird stuff hasn’t followed us home before,” Cathy says. “So we should be safe here.”

Melinda breathes a sigh of relief; her head already feels like it’s clearing, and some of her energy’s returned. “This place feels a lot better than the theatre.”

“Please, sit down,” Anna says, offering them two spots on the couch. Melinda and Jim sit down next to each other while the others settle down on chairs around them.

Catherine, with a small smile, starts the conversation:

“If you don’t mind, Melinda, I think it’d be best if we just get into it, okay?”

Melinda nodded, and Catherine continued.

“Maria seems to be convinced that you’ve got special powers,” Catherine replies. “And you definitely saw something at the theatre multiple times.”

Melinda nods. “It’s more powerful than what I usually deal with, to be honest,” Melinda says. “I just feel… a lot of energy, coming from all of you.” She looks around the room. “It’s not bad. It’s better than when you were at the theatre. From personal experience, that means the Shadows aren’t able to affect you here.”

“Shadows?” Cathy asks.

“They’re dark energy,” Melinda continues. “Powerful, dark, negative energy. It’s sometimes leftover energy from bad souls, other times those souls are… converted, into the Shadows.” She shivers at the thought, remembering when they took her over, remembering when they made her think and almost do terrible things…

“What’s the Shadows have to do with us?” Jane asks quietly, looking down at her hands. “Why are we being tormented?”

“And some of us more than others,” Anne replies. “It seems to be tormenting Catherine, Anna, and Jane more-”

“Is it, though?” Katherine asks. “You almost died on stage. Again.”

Melinda sat up at that. “You said that it happened before at the theatre, too. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

They all look at each other, uncertain. Jim speaks up then.

“We want to help,” he tries. “But we need all the information we can.”

“You have to at least believe that there’s truth to what I’m saying, don’t you?” Melinda asks. “You wouldn’t have invited me into your homes if you didn’t.”

Katherine narrows her eyes. “You said you got a vision every time you touched one of us, right?” When Melinda nods, Katherine stands up in front of her and offers a hand. “Well, prove it.”

Melinda looks at Jim and, with a nod his way, looks back at the hand. With some hesitation, she takes it, and-

-she’s suddenly not in the room.

She’s on stage, the exact one Melinda had been watching only an hour before. She’s singing something, on her knees, breathing heavily as she talks about being touched and enough being enough and people supposed to be different. Just as she finishes it, she hastily blows a kiss at the audience as she gasps for air and looks up, a single pink spotlight on her.

The crowd is silent for a moment, and it seems to save her life - she can hear something above her crack.

Her eyes go wide as the spotlight momentarily is blocked by something. Realizing what’s about to happen, she instantly backs up, straight back as a bar suddenly slams right where she just was.

She gasps, catching her breath, wincing as she feels something hit her hand as the bar makes impact with the ground. She ignores the pain as someone grabs her and rushes her off stage, the audience being evacuated…

… and Melinda gasps as she is brought back to the present.

“Holy crap,” Katherine says, eyes wide. “I… Maria was right.”

“What did you see?” Bessie asks.

Melinda catches her breath for a second. “She was singing, then she looked up at the spotlight, and a bar fell and hurt her hand,” Melinda says, pointing to the mark on Katherine’s hand.

“That’s what happened Thursday,” Katherine says. “That’s what happened when I was injured. And I never told anyone who I knew about it.” Katherine looks back at Catherine. “She’s legit, swear it.”

Catherine nods at the girl and then looks at Melinda. “I think it’s enough evidence to continue,” Catherine says quietly. “Now… what would this shadow want with us?”

“The Shadows work best through people,” Melinda says. “That’s how they became a threat to us back in Grandview, they influenced people to make their move.” She shivers at the thought, but doesn’t get too into detail; they’ve only just started to trust her, she didn’t want them to be scared.

Not yet, anyways.

Catherine nods. “So you think it’s possible whoever is doing this is trying to influence us?”

Melinda leans back on the couch. “Katherine was almost killed that time, and Anne was today… did anything else happen?”

“Yeah,” Anna says. “Catherine was almost electrocuted the other day.”

Catherine winces at the memory. “I was on stage and about to sit on the throne during No Way, and suddenly the damn thing broke apart. One of the legs splintered off and cut a nearby wire. If it wasn’t for Maria, I would have been shocked.”

Melinda nods. “Anything else?”

“There was that time Katherine tripped and knocked herself unconscious last week,” Anne points out.

“And the slip and fall Catherine had,” Cathy points out.

“And Anne’s phone literally blew up in her hand the week before on stage,” Maggie added.

Jim had been keeping count. “So it’s really only been physical ‘accidents’ for Anne, Katherine, and Catherine?” He asks, nodding towards the correct C/Katherines to clarify who he was talking about.

Cathy nods. “The rest of us… when those things happen, we start to feel weird.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively. “It’s like something’s there. Something cold. Something not pleasant.”

“You feel an anger, right?” Melinda asks, looking directly at Cathy. “You feel like you’re helpless, and you feel cold and angry and not yourself, right? And you can’t let that feeling go because it’s taking you over?”

Jane nods, but looks wary. “They seem scary the more you talk about them.”

“They are, to be honest,” Melinda says, looking down. “But it’s beatable. It is.” She looks up again, a gentle smile on her face. “With some support from others, we can beat it here.”

Cathy seems hesitant to say something, but after a moment (and a deep breath) she steps forward. “The ghosts that you can see… can you see anyone else?”

Melinda tilts her head, confused. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you see any other ghosts,” Cathy repeats. “Can you see any other ghosts around us?”

Melinda frowns. “Who would I be looking for?”

“A young girl, probably,” Cathy says. “Or, uhm… maybe two women, or maybe a teenaged boy.”

Melinda considers Cathy for a moment before she nods quickly, looking around the room. She’s been at this long enough that she can filter out the queen’s and ladies in waiting’s presence well enough to find other people when she needs to, but right now…

“... there’s no one else here,” Melinda says, looking back at the woman. “I’m sorry, is it someone you know?”

Cathy sighs. “It’s nothing.” She gets up and leaves.

Catherine steps in. “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Melinda says. “I just… who was she looking for?”

Catherine isn’t sure she should answer.

Anne cuts in.

“Well,” she says, getting up. “We should probably start preparing dinner.” She smiles to try to diffuse the tension in the room; it’s kind of working.

Melinda nods and goes to stand up with Jim when Katherine gives them a look.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kat asks, raising an eyebrow.

Melinda blinks. “Uh… didn’t you say you were preparing dinner?” she asks. “We were headed to the door.”

“But then you’d miss dinner,” Katherine replies.

“Sorry, uh, we weren’t aware we were invited,” Jim replies.

“We’ve still got a bit to talk about, if you’re interested in hanging around,” Maria says. “It’s likely this’ll happen at the show tomorrow, too. It’s been like this for a while now. And if you’re our chance of stopping it… well, I think we can all agree we’d want to give you all the time in the world to figure it out.”

“Besides,” Maggie says, smiling widely. “We need an extra hand in the kitchen. Anne’s not allowed in there since the Knife Incident.”

Melinda looked alarmed. “The accidents have been happening here, too?”

“No,” Maggie replies. “We just can’t trust Anne, Katherine, and Cathy to be on their own with a bunch of knives and a dart board anymore.”

Jim looks concerned and Melinda’s very confused.

“Which K/Catherine-” Mel starts, but the queens laugh.

Catherine motions towards the kitchen. “Come on, Melinda, you can chop up some vegetables and we can keep on chatting.”

Melinda nods, then looks over at Jim. “Are you ok with this?”

“Free dinner? Yeah, sure,” he replies, smiling back at her. “I’ll get to work on some research while you guys are talking.”

“I’d like to help with that,” Anna says. “If you don’t mind.”

Mel nods appreciatively. “The more the merrier.”

Jim gives Melinda’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Melinda nods in his direction. It’s an unspoken conversation between them - if Mel needed anything, she can go to Jim, and Jim’ll be there. On the flip side, if he found anything out, he could come into the kitchen to let her know. All that exchanged in two movements and no words.

Honestly, Catherine thought as she led Melinda into the kitchen, it was rather adorable how the two interacted. A happy, healthy couple who had each other’s backs. She wouldn’t know what that felt like - not really - but she’s glad at least someone seemed to have a love story out of a storybook. It was a nice change of pace from the usual.

Anna was thinking something very similar as she replaced Melinda on the couch. “You two are something special, aren’t you?”

Jim chuckled. “We’ve been at this for years,” he said, unlocking his phone. “I’m not usually this involved in it, but I’m glad to be when she asks me to.”

“You guys are really adorable,” Bessie replies with a grin.

Jim’s about to reply when Anna sharply inhales some air, frowning as she looks down at her phone. Jim springs into action.

“Can I see?” Jim asks, offering Anna his hand. With some consideration, Anna puts her wrist in Jim’s hand, watching as he looks it over. “Bessie, do you guys have a first aid kit?”

“In the closet,” Bessie nods.

“Does it have an ace bandage?”

“Yeah.”

“Bring it over, please, and some ice in a bag from the freezer if you have any,” he says, and Bessie rushes to grab the requested materials. When she’s not in earshot, Jim speaks to Anna quietly so no one else can hear: “You know, if it was hurting this much, you shouldn’t have let Katherine grab it so often on the way here…”

Anna huffs.

“How’d you know?” Anna asks, tilting her head.

“When we were walking here,” Jim said, “I noticed that you were wincing, but it wasn’t in time with the walk. Then I saw Katherine take your arm and that’s when you winced.”

Anna is impressed. “All that from looking at me?”

“I’m an EMT back at home,” he explains, taking the first aid kit and pulling out the ace bandage. He wraps it and puts the ice on top.

“Amongst other things, I take it.” Anna replies. “More like us than them, right?”

Jim looks up at her, and Anna smirks a little bit. Jim tilts his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anna smiles a bit wider and goes back to researching, leaving Jim confused.

Meanwhile, Melinda had been helping prep for dinner, watching as the other queens and ladies were preparing things as well.

“Are you sure it’s ok if we join you guys for dinner?” Melinda asks, cutting the vegetables as requested.

Catherine smiles. “It’s no problem at all. It’s been a while since we were able to cook for people, anyways.”

Melinda smiles politely back before looking around - she can hear some of the others talking in the other room, she can hear a child laughing again somewhere in the building, and she can already smell the dinner cooking. It seemed… peaceful.

“How many people know about you all?” Melinda asks, going back to preparing vegetables. “The truth, I mean.”

Catherine hums. “Not many. A handful.” She nods towards Cathy, who is putting something in the oven. “Cathy is the one to keep track of that.”

“It’s mainly need to know,” Cathy says. “We don’t exactly want everyone to know, it would scare quite a bit of people.”

“So do you have fake names for the board at the front of the lobby?” Melinda asks, genuinely curious.

Cathy nods. “Just there. It’s not in the programmes or anything. Just didn’t feel right.”

Melinda nods, wincing in pain for a moment before getting her bearings together.

Catherine tilts her head. “Are you ok? Here, eat something,” she says, putting an apple in front of the woman.

Mel shakes her head. “Not really that hungry, sorry,” she mumbles, a hand to her head. She sighs. “I was running a fever back in Grandview, too, when this all happened there.”

“What else happened while you were fighting these… Shadow, things?” Katherine asks, tilting her head curiously.

Melinda swallowed. “I… was consumed by it.”

Cathy tilts her head. “Consumed?”

Mel nods. “It wore me down. I couldn’t differentiate ghosts and visions from people and real life.” Her arms involuntarily cross as she remembers. “It was scary. I didn’t think I’d find my way back. I thought I was lost.”

“What got you back?” Catherine asks.

At that, Melinda smiles. “My son. And the memories of my family, my loved ones - it helped me break through.” She frowns. “We don’t have Aiden around this time, though. He was the reason why I could break through in the first place. He gave the opening. And he’s not here.” She frowns. “So… the big question is, what are we going to do if they try to take one of you?”

No one had an answer for that.

Meanwhile, Jim and Anna were sitting in the living room, looking through papers and websites to find leads. They had sat in relative silence for a while - a comfortable one, but silence nonetheless.

It’s broken when Jim makes a small noise of annoyance and puts down a piece of paper.

Anna raises an eyebrow and looks at him. “You alright, Jim?”

He looks over, a bit surprised by the question, but sighs and answers. “Look, Anna, the last time Melinda dealt with the Shadows… she almost didn’t make it out. It’s practically a miracle that she survived.” He sighs. “I know this is important, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping her from doing her work, but-”

“You don’t want her hurt in the process.” Anna finishes, a knowing nod.

Jim leans back a bit, slightly more relaxed. “Yeah.”

Anna thinks about it for a moment before she stands up and walks over to him. “Listen, Jim… I know we’ve only just met. But from what I can tell, you two have gone through much, much worse.” She points to his hair. “Your reflection is blonde, but you definitely aren’t. So, basically… this isn’t your first body, is it?” She looks him over. “It looks good, by the way, though I think I see what Melinda saw in your reflection, which I’m assuming is your second form? So I can see who you were but in reflections I see the body you’re in now?” She shrugs. “That’s what I’ve come to the conclusion to, anyways.”

Jim sits back, absolutely floored. “I’m extremely impressed that you figure this out so quickly - I couldn’t even figure it out for a while.”

“It was more of theory than fact, but I’m glad I was right,” she says. “Maybe souls can see souls. And maybe you’re not so different from me and my family, and maybe you’ve been through something similar. I get supporting your wife and all, but you take it to an inhuman level.”

“I’m not…” He runs a hand through his hair; guess it’s time to come clean, he supposed. “This body was someone else’s before it was mine. He crossed over, and I took his place as soon as he did.” He looks her over. “Originally, Melinda was thinking you guys did something similar to the bodies you have now.”

“We didn’t,” she assures. “I know you can’t completely trust me, but we didn’t. We showed up in these bodies.”

“Have you tried sending off DNA or fingerprints or death records?” He suggests. “We’ve seen weird stuff, Anna, maybe you all happened to die at the same time and you jumped in after that. I didn’t remember doing that at first, either-”

“We didn’t.”

The two look over to find Katherine. She’s standing in the doorway, two plates in her hands, Melinda right behind her.

“Kat-” Anna starts, but Katherine moves into the room, offering Anna and Jim plates. They both take them. Jim moves over so Melinda can sit next to him as Katherine continues.

“We showed up with them,” she says firmly, looking over at Melinda.

Mel nods. “These bodies… they’re here, but they’re not,” she explains. She frowns as she looks at Katherine’s hand. “I get visions any time I touch them, and their energies are so strong… it’s like the Shadows, but not threatening. Not dangerous.”

“That’s… not something we’ve seen before,” Jim says. “Payne might know something about that. He said to call him if anything gets wild, didn’t he?”

“I left a message for him already,” Melinda explains. She sees Jim’s worried look next to her and gently squeezes his hand, letting him know she’s okay. “We’ll have an answer tomorrow.” She looks at the group. “He’s a professor of the occult. Used to work in Grandview, now he’s researching off in the Himalayas.”

“And you think he’ll be able to help us?” Anne asks.

“I think so,” Mel confirmed.

“That’s all we can do for now, right?” Jane asks, looking around. “Just wait until Professor Payne gives us some more information?”

“I think so,” Catherine replies with a nod. She looks at the couple with a soft smile. “You two should get some rest. Call time is fairly early.”

Melinda blinks. “Call time?”

“Well,” Anne says, smiling. “You want this solved as much as we do, right? Might as well give you the best access we can.”

“So you’ll be our VIP guests for as long as you need to be,” Jane continues. “Behind the scenes access before, during, and after the show.”

“We figured it would help with the investigation,” Anna replies. “Maybe help you catch whoever’s behind it, since we’re all in agreement it’s supernaturally aligned.”

“And besides,” Jane says with a teasing grin. “If someone gets injured again, Jim won’t have an excuse for being slow to help.”

Jim chuckles at that and looks over at Melinda. “Well, I guess we’ll reschedule the ghost tour of the Tower of London.”

“Why would you pay for that?” Anne jokes, waving her hand dismissively. “You’ve already met them.”

#ghost whisperer #gw #gw fanfic #gw fanfiction #gw ff #ghost whisperer fanfiction #ghost whisperer fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical ff #six fanfic #six ff #six fanfiction

17 notes · View notes

traumadumpling · 3 years

Text

I was tagged by the ever lovely @tardistimelordyeahh for...

TWENTY QUESTIONS

○ What do you prefer to be called name-wise?

Melanie, Mel... And whatever nickname I end up being given

○ When is your birthday?

July 28th

○ Where do you live?

Canada

○ Three things I am doing right now

Answering these questions, chatting to a friend, charging my phone

○ Four fandoms that have piqued your interest

I'm honestly not heavyyyy into fandoms anymore but I'm always gonna love star wars. And I used to heavily fuck with Harry Potter, Glee, and Grey's Anatomy

○ How has the pandemic been treating you?

Ehhhh as well as a pandemic can, I guess? I've been off on medical leave since March for unrelated health problems and they still haven't figured anything out so that's great. I miss my best friends and being able to hug them. I miss feeling like a person. But hey, I'm alive.

○ A song I can’t stop listening to

Sweet Melody - Little Mix

○ Recommend a movie

Clueless

○ How old are you?

○ School, university, occupation, etc.

Graduated high school in 2009, went to college in 2012 and dropped out in 2014 😬😬 now when my health isn't shit I work in retail.

○ Do you prefer heat or cold?

Cold. You can always add layers but with heat you can only take so many off.

○ Name one fact others may not know about you.

I've only been stung by a bee once and it was because I stepped on it.

○ Are you shy?

Yesssssss. Incredibly so.

○ Preferred pronouns

She/her

○ Biggest pet peeve

People who have no consideration for others. Like not wearing a mask during this pandemic.

○ What is your favorite dere type?

What the fuck is that?

○ Rate your life 1-10

Idk maybe 6?

○ What’s your main blog?

This one

○ List all your side blogs and what they are for?

Nope no thanks

○ Is there anything people should know before becoming friends with you?

I'm an awkward bitch that cares too much about people.

Alright I tagggg... @abheith-sasta @batmatt0072 @getthefuckoutofmyface @petty-davis @mad-again and @drbippy

4 notes · View notes

thoughtfulpaperback · 4 years

Text

Charmed 2x12 Review SPOILERS!!!!!!

Okay let's do this. Sorry I skipped one but times are hectic. For entertainment I give it an 8/10. Same format. Dislikes, likes and highlights

Dislikes

1. Macy Kneeling to Abby.

Let's just get this one out the way. I can see where they might have been going with this.

They maybe are trying to move away from the ambiguous route with abby (trying to make her sympathetic with her whole patriarchy thing and her dead mom) I mean she is progressively becoming more predatory with Harry so with that in mind, this was possibly one of the "abby is really a bad person not a feminist as she is only out for her own gain and not the empowerment of all women". And I can get that maybe they were also trying to show "look Macy is willing to do the most degrading thing possible just for the chance at rebuilding that power of three/charmed bond with her sisters for the protection of the magical community".

But listen.....

We all know Abigael isnt a star feminist. We already know (although we dont exactly know) that she has some sort of plan up her sleeve to be weary of.

There has been too much attempted ambiguity and the main characters letting her get away with terrible things that the message isnt coming across.

Plus Maybe yes showing Macy being willing to do something that really probably hurt all of us (epecially those of us who are minorities) to watch, may have been to drive home the differences between her and Macy and play up Macy's love for her sisters

But like we know Macy and Abby arent similar (as much as you writers tried to play that up at first). And you know just adding more sister bonding moment and just the fact that Macy was willing to go to abby after all the previous stuff was enough to show she was desperate? Maybe just add more sister bonding moments so we can see how dedicated they are to each other?

Maybe? Just saying.

If the writers are finally going to commit to Abby being a full on villian then I guess the seen was worth cementing that she is horrible (sort of).

Here's my question though as I consider whether the scene was worth it. Who is this show for and what is it trying to show? I mean if it is for minorities and women then i can see how showing these historical and current issues (conflict of power and consideration among women where race is concerned) then I guess showing it and having that controversy makes sense. But like we live it.

As minorities we already know. I know I struggle between wanting my experience shown and also wanting to watch something where for once the minority characters arent subjected to that experience. Charmed did better at addressing controversy and women's issues in season 1. I dont care if it was "obvious" or "heavy handed" because when it is not you basically get the kneeling scene where you dont know what the point was, if it was necessary, and are left feeling hurt or bitter about it.

2. Hacy Kiss.

Listen Brenda/on, this is on my like and dislike list. I will mention what I dislike about it.

The first thing is that it was a fantasy. I mean yes I like that we get full on confirmation that Macy has romantic feelings for Harry and not just considering that she might have them, but I honestly hate the fact that they would tease us like that. Especially when Macy is at a low moment. Which I will get into.

They are kinda ruining Macy for me. Listen, at this point they havent given us enough insight into Macys feelings or thoughts to understand why she isnt pursuing Harry. We can speculate and infer based on previous seasons and some of what the writers or showrunners say on twitter, but this season itself hasnt done much in showing Macy's thought process and so it falls flat. It isnt her reluctance to let people in or not wanting to get involved with someone after Galvin since she does pursue Julian and gets serious relatively quickly. She, at least now we it is confirmed, has those feelings for Harry, but is still choosing to be with someone else inspite of those feelings. I hate that. Harry is obviously tempted by abby and is being naive with her, but he isnt pursuing her and has blocked her advances (except the kiss) so far which may change who knows, but the point is if Macy was just casually dating and enjoying Julian's company I would be like okay, still hate that she would lead someone on when she has feeling for someone else, but if its casual there is less of a chance of the other person being hurt.

I cant get behind Julian x Macy, not because of Julian (who so far is perfect and probably going to be a villian or some how connected to the villians because it is a common trope) but because of Macy. Julian x Macy isnt Healthy because Macy knows she has feelings for someone else. She is using him. That isnt to say she doesnt genuinely like or care about him, but at the end of the day she is using him. Which is crappy because Julian so far seems like a great guy and doesnt deserve being the "distraction". I mentioned this all the time but my least favorite love triangles are the ones where one person is using the other.

Healthy would be Macy and Julian being friends while she works through her feelings and then decides who she wants to be with. Not being with someone while having feelings for someone else.

Macy was shown in season 1 to be rational and could be rational to the point of compartmentalizing and coming off as cold. So maybe that is where they are drawing from, but again little effort has been made on the part of the writers to show what's going on in her brain other than that fantasy kiss. And again I am still like....okay so what does that mean in the long run you butts!!!

3. Helen's suicude

I am so iffy about how shows portray people completing suicide. Like on one hand I get that them showing her exercising free will, but suicide portrayed as a positive rather than a tragedy is just....ugh for me. I still am not sure how I feel overall about it.

Lore wise I hate that they use it to explain why Harry and jimmy couldnt kill each other, because in an interview rupert claimed Harry was immortal now because of the elder thing and the show said it in that first episode. So like are both true? So if harry tries to stab himself like Helen will he just end up back in the coffin and alive since she is immortal?

I mean we are 12 episodes in and have about 10 to go so we really should be working towards a cohesive lore and storyline not adding confusing or not well explained layers. The world building they did in the first half was a lot better which makes me wonder what they heck is going on in the writing room.

Likes

1. Parkerita

Let me explain. While I fancy Jordan x Maggie together. I'd prefer that be a slow burn and steady friendship first. Parker seems to be Maggie's first love. It makes sense that she is still grieving and holding on. While I kind of wanted to be done with Parkerita in fairness to all the season 1 romances that where tossed out, I like the nod to Phole. I felt the OG Phole relationship was not healthy, but I liked the tradgedy of it. I think if new Charmed wants to wrestle with that and do it better (although my faith in the writers is low right now) then I wouldnt be against it. I love a good tradgedy and I sat through Phole so I'll sit through this one.

2.Hacy kiss

I love that the writers finally did something to show us what is going on in Macys brain. I need more (not necessarily Harry fantasies but I wont complain if we get more of those). I do hope a real Hacy kiss is a bit different because one one hand the fact Macy wanted to kiss harry when she was feeling down says something to me about how she feels about him and that she still trusts him (but it could, If I wanted to be cynical, just be more evidence that Macy skews towards using people when she is repressing or feeling down although she didnt actually kiss him, if she had I think I would have not liked it in that particular moment given it would have felt more like using him that expressing feelings)

Highlights

1. Abby really thinks no means maybe 😒 . . .

2. Mel is a lesbian magnet and I'd be fine with her just casually dating while all this other crap is going on as long as she is happy

2. Helen

3. These horror movie vibes though!!

#the cw charmed #charmed reboot #charmed cw #charmed #charmed 2018 #charmed 2018 spoilers #charmed spoilers #hacy #macy x harry #harry x macy #harry greenwood #macy vaughn #mel vera #maggie vera

19 notes · View notes

jnlnyaface · 4 years

Text

Those Magic Changes

This is the first of 4 connected fics. They are in the same universe and here are the rules: Macy, Mel and Maggie all have the same father and they grew up together They don't find out about their powers until after the first part Pretty much, it's an AU that follows closer to the original series as far as timeline is concerned *** This is for @charmedsecretsanta My person was: @xoheatherkw This is for the Hacy AU Meet Cute

You can also find it here *** Merry Christmas! I hope you like it!

Summery: All Macy Vera-Vaughn wanted for Christmas was to not think about how this was she and her sisters first one without their mother and father. Ice skating should take their minds off that. Right? If that doesn't, meeting a cute new guy just might.

Winter was always Macy Vera-Vaughn’s favorite time of year. She loved the cold and the snow and the fact that it got dark earlier in the day. She knew she was weird but, at 29 years old, it was too late to fix now. What she loved most, though, was the time she got to spend with her family. As corny as she knew it sounded, it was the truth. When her father died 3 years ago she and her sisters, Maggie and Mel drifted apart for a while. It took some time but they’re mother brought them together by reminding them that their sisterhood was their strength. She showed them that, the best way to get through the hurt was by leaning on each other. Now, 10 months after their mother died, they are trying to remember that lesson so they don’t lose each other again.

At this point, as they approached their first Christmas without her, it mostly meant everyone taking turns coming up with activities for them to do together to keep them distracted from the reality of their situation. Maggie had them decorate the whole house. Inside and out. Mel had them make hot chocolate and watch classic Christmas movies all night. Today it was Macy’s turn. Her main goal was to get everyone out of the house. But she didn’t know what to do.

She tried to think back to Christmases of years past. She tried to think about the things that brought her the most joy. Most of her Christmas memories included her parents doing everything they could to make sure everything was perfect. She wanted to do that for her sisters but she was at a loss. It wasn’t until she was walking up the path towards the house after work and she almost slipped on a patch of ice that she got an idea.

Their local ice rink was the scene for so many of her favorite childhood memories. Macy remembered all the times they would go as a family and all the fun they would have together. That’s how she and her sisters found their way there this afternoon.

“It’s been way too long since I’ve been on any type of skates,” Mel said as the three sisters sat on one of the benches that lined the rink lacing up their rental skates. Macy forgot how hopeless Mel was on skates but there was no turning back now. “I’m not even sure I know how to anymore.”

“It’s just like riding a bike Mel,” Maggie chirped standing up ready to go.

“Yeah if a bike had one inch wide metal wheels and you only rode it on cold hard ice.” Mel wobbled as she stood and began to limp toward Maggie.

“You can always get one of those walker things,” Macy attempted kindly. “I’m sure they have adult ones too.” Macy knew Mel’s pride wouldn’t let her get the ice walker but she wouldn’t be her if she didn’t at least try.

“No thank you. I refuse to look like an idiot out there with a walker like I’m some toddler on the ice for the first time or worse an old lady.” Mel stubbornly made her way to the rink’s opening. Knowing her insistence would do no good against her hard-headed sister; Macy shook her head and followed behind her. If she couldn’t get Mel to get the walker, she could at least stay by her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself.

***

Being back on the ice was like being a kid again. Macy forgot how much she loved the feeling of gliding. The cold breeze against her face. The slightly numb feeling in the tips of her fingers. When she was younger she wanted to be a figure skater. In the basement she would watch the Olympics and pretend like the floor was competition ice. She would mimic the skaters’ routines down to the hand movements and facial expressions. No one could’ve told her she wasn’t going to be a gold medalist. Her dad paid for lessons when she was 6. But after a year she realized skating wasn’t something she was ready to commit to full time. In other words, she turned 7 and found something new to be obsessed with.

As she and her sisters started on their first lap around the rink silence settled heavily around them. There was an unspoken agreement among them that they wouldn’t speak about their mother or their father or what this holiday season meant for them. That they were orphans all alone in the world, but for each other. The problem was: they running out of things to do and say. In tiptoeing around the subject they were drifting dangerously close to an epic emotional breakdown. Macy wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that yet.

“Remember, that one year we came here, and dad broke his arm trying to impress mom?” This may have not been the best way to break the tension but it was her idea to come here so she had to try something. “He tried to do that backflip?” “We were in the ER for 6 hours on Christmas Eve!” Mel laughed.

“She made him take us to iHop for pancakes once they finally let him out,” Maggie cackled. Macy was surprised Maggie remembered that, she was only 5 at the time. “She let us get whatever we wanted and when we got home she took a nap and made him take care of us by himself.”

“…with one arm!” Mel finished, laughing so hard she almost loses her balance.

“It was a little cruel of her to hop us up on sugar and leave him alone with us,” Macy lamented.

“He deserved it,” Mel proclaimed. “He knew he shouldn’t have been doing flips, let alone on ice.”

“At least she kept us out of the house the rest of the day to let him rest. She was always so considerate. Even when she was mad.” Maggie’s face fell as she added the thought. It was the exact face Macy was trying to avoid. The three sisters slipped back into silence. More melancholy than the one before. Macy took a breath, something upbeat to shift the mood back to lightheartedness dies on her tongue as Maggie speaks again, “I think I’m going to get a hot chocolate.” Maggie was halfway across the ice before either of her sisters could say anything.

Macy and Mel looked at one another then after their sister shaking their heads in tandem. They started their path around the rink again enjoying the ice in silence. Well, Macy enjoyed the ice, Mel focused on not falling.

“I have a meeting with the new women’s studies chair on Friday.” Macy welcomed Mel’s effort to make conversation. “I already registered for next semester. Now I just have to prove to him that I’m ready to teach again,” Mel groused. “Have I mentioned how much I hate the idea of a cis white male taking over mom’s position?”

“Yes, Mel, you have,” about a billion times Macy kept the last part to herself. After their mother died, Mel had what can only be classified as a slight mental breakdown. She became a woman obsessed. She was convinced someone killed her. After 2 months in a downward spiral she decided to take the rest of the semester off, the summer and fall semester too. Now she was going back for spring semester. Macy wasn’t sure Mel was actually ready or if she knew the right things to say. She figured though maybe if her sister faked being happy long enough she would accidently become happy. Macy would continue to keep a close eye on her regardless.

“Well it’s insane and I am not here for it!” Mel exclaimed. “I’m going to meet with this guy and as soon as he clears me to teach again I’m going to give him a peace of my mind.”

“Please don’t.” Mel was always quick to jump headfirst into a conflict. Macy was always the voice of reason trying to hold her back. It was not an easy job.

***

“Can we take a break? I’m starting to get tired.” They made it to the opposite end on the rink and Mel started to slow down and grabbed hold of the wall to keep herself upright. “You can keep going. I’m just going to hang out here for a minute.”

“N…no I…I can’t leave you,” Macy stammered. “I would never forgive myself if I left you behind and you got hurt.”

“You can be more dramatic than Maggie sometimes, I swear.” Mel rolled her eyes and attempted to push Macy away from the wall while simultaneously gripping it for dear life. “I will stay right here.”

“No, I’ll wait. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.” Macy was trying to be more assertive. She was the eldest sister but Mel was always the one who took the lead. She was fearless and headstrong and defiant. Macy envied that about her. Macy had always been told that as the oldest she was supposed to protect her sisters. But that directly conflicted with her shy and reserved nature. In fact, if it wasn’t for Mel protecting her, people would walk all over her. It had been that way for as long as Macy could remember. Now that their mother was gone Macy was technically the matriarch of the family. Hers were big shoes to fill. Mel was the natural choice for leader. Her overconfidence would often get her and Macy into and out of all kinds of trouble as children. But Macy wanted to take care and help ease some of the burden. Especially considering recent circumstances. Maybe they could do it together. Maybe there didn’t have to be one leader. Maybe the three of them could just take care of each other.

“Macy I know how much you love ice skating,” Mel started knowingly. “I insist you take a lap or two or three. I’ll just stand here and chill. Get it chill?”

Macy stared straight faced at Mel not cracking even the slightest hint of a smile at her joke. Mel always tried to make them laugh with puns and it never worked. Well it kind of worked but Macy didn’t want Mel to get a big head so she never gave anything away.

Just as Macy went to reply a young girl zipped past them. She had a look of peace on her face as she enjoyed the ice. Macy couldn’t hide the look of longing that passed across her features. She wished she could skate faster. But she couldn’t leave Mel when she was one stiff wind away from cracking her tailbone on the smooth ice below. Macy tried to quickly school her features but her ever perceptive sister saw before she could.

“I’m serious Mace, Go,” Mel insisted.

“You know what? I think I will.” It wouldn’t hurt. She figured a lap would help clear her head. She hoped it would make her numb to the feelings that were trying to break free from her heart. “I’ll do one lap and be right back.”

“Take you time and enjoy yourself,” Mel gave a faux serious look.

“No wonder why people think you’re the oldest. You’re so bossy.” Macy took off with one last backwards glance in Mel’s direction, just to make sure she was steady.

***

Gliding around the rink was just as wonderful and freeing as Macy remembered. While on the ice it was like all the world’s problems didn’t exist. Only her and the blistering cold. Which, wasn’t all that blistering despite what the weather reports and thermometer would have you believe.

As she made it to the far end of the rink she looked up to see Mel waving at her from her spot on the wall. Maybe one more lap wouldn’t hurt. Mel will be fine. She was the one to suggest Macy take a couple of laps in the first place. Maybe she’ll even do a couple spins in the middle of the rink while she’s at it. Then she’ll be right back at Mel’s side, helping her struggle back to the exit.

Once in the middle of the rink she looked over to quickly check on Mel. What she expected to see was her sister holding the wall for dear life. What she saw was a man in a red coat with his arms wrapped around her. What she also saw was a furious Mel swatting at the arm around her waist.

Macy took off like a shot towards her sister and the stranger who may or may not have been manhandling her. As she got closer she could hear more and more of the lecture she knew Mel was in the process of giving.

“…didn’t ask for your help, first of all!” Macy could hear the righteous fury in Mel’s voice. “You shouldn’t be touching women you don’t know. Second of all…”

“Get away from her!” Macy screamed as she slid to a stop behind the pair. “Get your hands off of her right now!”

“I got this Macy,” Mel assured she blindly waved her hand over her shoulder in Macy’s general direction to reinforce her point. “Get your hands off of me.”

“I am so sorry!” The red coated stranger, with a surprising British accent, started as he turned to face Macy, Mel still in his arms. “I was just skating by and I saw her losing her balance and…” the stranger’s voice trailed off as he and Macy locked eyes. She’s instantly struck by how beautiful his are.

Macy was frozen in her spot and it wasn’t because of the cold. This man was handsome and Macy would be the first to admit that she was not the best when it came to speaking to handsome men. Maggie still won’t let her live down the ‘Galvin Incident’ from 2 years ago. That was when Macy first move back home, she just finished her doctoral program at Oxford and got a sweet position at Hilltowne University’s lab. Galvin worked in the lab with her; she met him on her first day. She was so awkward and uncomfortable around him she scared him off. He ran right into the arms of Summer and never left. Macy, Galvin and Summer were actually the best of friends now. She was even set to be a bridesmaid in their wedding next Spring, but that was beside the point. The point was she wasn’t good with hot guys so in this moment she wasn’t sure what to say. Words might be a good place to start.

“Uh…hi…hey…hello…hi…” Macy stammered her cheeks heating up with a flush. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the stranger responded a smile growing on his awestruck face. They stayed gazing at each other for way longer than appropriate. The stranger extended his hand toward Macy letting go of Mel while he did. “Hi…”

As Macy’s hand met his and she mentally prepared herself to stumble through another unintelligible sentence the trance is broken by a thump, a loud groan and Mel’s voice coming from the ground, “Uh…some help here guys…?” She must’ve lost her balance again when the stranger let her go to shake Macy’s hand.

“Oh my God Mel!” Macy and the stranger dived to help her sister back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“I am so sorry once again,” He said wiping the ice off her coat. Mel once again swatted his hands away but clung to Macy to stay upright. “Maybe you should get one of those walker things.” The glare Mel threw his way could melt steel. He made the wise choice and raised his hands in defeat before the fight even started. It was like he knew he would never be able to win. “Or maybe I’ll just go…”

“No!” Macy startled herself with how loud she was. She and the hazel eyed stranger locked eyes once again. And once again she fell into their beauty. Scanning his face she landed on the small smile on his lips and moved to the light stubble on his chin. His whole face was beautiful. Faintly she could hear Mel getting revved up for another lecture. Macy cut her off. “What I mean is, you don’t have to go, we will.” She gestured to herself and Mel. “I should probably get her back on solid ground anyway.”

“No way!” Maggie seemed to materialize at Mel’s other side. “I will take Senorita Stubborn Ass to get a walker while you two take a couple laps around the rink.”

Before Macy could even process Maggie’s words she had Mel’s arm around her shoulder and they were halfway to the entrance leaving her alone with the stranger.

“Well…that wasn’t awkward at all.” Of all the things to say. Seriously? Macy was more than a little mortified.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want…” His voice trailed off obviously meaning the give her an out. After some more intense staring Macy’s brain finally came back to life with an answer.

“I would like to…would you?” She figured skating with a handsome stranger was the best distraction she could ask for.

“Yes!” He enthusiastically replied before he cleared his throat and more calmly stated, “Yes I would love to.” He extended his elbow toward her and Macy took it locking their arms together. She didn’t have to wonder if she imagined the spark she felt. She could see in his eyes that he felt it too.

“I’m Macy, by the way…” She realized that while they had been speaking for the last 20 minutes she didn’t know his name.

“Nice to meet you Macy,” He smiled softly at her. “I’m Harry.”

***

I hope you guys enjoyed it. Like I said this is the first part of 4 connected fics. I haven't finished parts 2-4 yet but I plan to have them finished soon. I wanted to get this out during the posting period. If there are any errors I apologize in advance. Thank you so much for reading Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

@charmedsecretsanta @xoheatherkw

#charmedsecretsanta #charmed secret santa #cw charmed #charmed cw #charmed 2018 #macy vaughn #harry greenwood #hacy #hacy au #mel vera #maggie vera

6 notes · View notes

bravebones-archived · 4 years

Text

TASK 003.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Amelia Susan Bones.

Nickname(s): Am, Amy, Mel, Lia.

Age: 20.

Date of Birth: 12 April 1958.

Hometown: London, England.

Current Location: London, England.

Gender: Female.

Blood Status: Half-Blood.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Orientation: Bisexual.

Religion: Agnostic.

Affiliation(s): Order of the Phoenix.

Occupation: Auror Trainee, Ministry of Magic.

Living Arrangements: Shares a two-story with other aurors-to-be, as is required of all trainees. Once her training is completed, she’ll be moving back in with Edgar until she settles into a flat of her own (although he is currently unaware of these plans).

Language(s) Spoken: English, French (semi-fluent).

Accent: British/Cockney.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Zoey Deutch.

Hair Colour: Brunette, with auburn highlights.

Eye Colour: Hazel.

Height: 5′4″.

Weight: 49 kg.

Build: Petite, with slight muscular tone in her arms and legs.

Tattoos: A butterfly on her right wrist, and a bumblebee on her left one. She also has a tattoo that reads ‘Veritas Aequitas’ (Truth and Justice), which spreads across her lower ribcage.

Piercings: None. She’s just never been particular inclined to piercings, particularly now that she’s about to be an Auror.

Clothing Style: Amelia has always preferred comfort over couture. The contents of her wardrobe consist of oversized shirts, an abundance of jeans and pant suits, for the rare occasion that more formal attire is required.

Usual Expression: Having always believed that a day without laughter is a day wasted, Amelia is found with a beaming smile on her face, more often than not. Animated and authentic in her expressions, her facial features are reflective of whatever emotions are brewing just beneath the surface.

Distinguishing Characteristics: While there is much about Amelia that distinguishes herself from others of her likeness, the most common is the colour of her hair. The latter is something that she changes with considerable regularity, whereas there is little than can be done to change the former, apart from wearing high heels (and she’d sooner be caught dead than wear those).

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: N/A.

Neurological Conditions: N/A.

Allergies: Dust, pollen, and anything that comes with the changing of the seasons. She also is allergic to dairy, although it only really bothers her if she consumes products where it is highly concentrated.

Sleeping Habits: It is all or nothing, when it comes to Amelia’s sleep patterns. She will go for days sleeping for maybe 5 hours a night, and then crashes for an upwards of 12 hours (usually on the weekends or after a night of pub-crawling with Edgar). She is also known to fall asleep just about anywhere, and does so quite frequently.

Eating Habits: Having to maintain some degree of mindfulness about her diet because of her job, she tries to fuel her body the way it needs to be. She’s also got a massive sweet tooth and a killer metabolism, both of which don’t particularly lend themselves to making the most nutritious of choices.

Exercise Habits: Since she was a small child, Amelia has never been able to stay in the same place for very long. It is rare and entirely uncommon for Amelia to go a day without exercising, whether that is through her training drills with Alastor or early-morning races with Edgar. Part of her consistent fitness routine is due to professional obligation, but a bigger part of it has to do with the fact that she truly enjoys being active.

Emotional Stability: 8/10. While not without her struggles in this area (particularly in light of the challenges of adulthood and the growing war), Amelia has always been adaptable and well-adjusted, and her emotional well-being is reflective of that.

Sociability: Coming from a relatively big family and an equally large social circle, Amelia can count on her right hand the number she has actually been alone, and she much prefers it that way. The very definition,

Body Temperature: Cold, cold, cold. Definitely sleeps with three comforters in the middle of August.

Addictions: Caffeine. She has also started to develop a slight dependency on calming draughts, although her need is far cry from an addiction.

Drug Use: Pot, and nothing more. Her usage is strictly recreational, and the instances where she does light up are few and far between.

Alcohol Use: Amelia drinks with some regularly (about 2-3 nights a week), although her indulging is mostly a social matter. She has acquired a taste for hard liquor since her training started and has a relatively generous stock of whiskey and bourbon at the flat.

PERSONALITY

Label: The Audacious, The Recruit, The Truth-Seeker

Positive Traits: Audacious | Strong-Willed | Virtuous

Negative Traits: Competitive | Impatient | Stubborn

Goals/Desires: A free-spirit to her core, she is too preoccupied with what is in front of her to consider what will be in front of her one, two or five years down the road. But if she had to name one, it would be to play a part in helping win the war, and to secure a future worth living for her friends and family.

Fears: Being alone, dark and confined spaces, spiders and thunderstorms.

Hobbies: Quidditch, Exploding Snap, weekly visits to the pub and spending time doors (especially running, swimming and playing football).

Habits: Cursing, hitting people when she gets excited, tapping her right foot and smoothing her hair, in the odd event its not in some form of an updo.

FAVOURITES

Season: Summer.

Colour: Purple.

Music: Queen, or ABBA when she and Edgar go out for karaoke.

Movies: The Aristocats. Edgar and Amelia still bond over this film regularly.

Quidditch Team: Puddlemere United, despite Edgar’s constant attempts to persuade her that the Chudley Cannons are the far superior team.

Beverage: A woman of varied tastes, it all depends on her mood. Sometimes she fancies a shot of Dragon Barrel Brandy, whereas others she prefers a glass of elderflower wine.

Food: Literally anything from Mum’s kitchen. On any given day, the leftovers from her weekly visits home comprise about 90% of the contents of her fridge.

Person: Edgar Bones.

FAMILY

Father: Jacob Bones, 60. The apple of his eye, There is just something about the relationship between a father and his daughter, particularly when she is the only one of his children who is female.

Mother: Amira Bones (nee Proudmore), 59. While they are the spitting image of one another, there isn’t much else they have in common. Their relationship was a bit tumultuous during Amelia’s teenage years, but their dynamic has since

Sibling(s):

Nicholas Bones, 24. They have never gotten on - not as kids, and definitely not now. Out of all the Bones siblings, their relationship is the most contemptuous, and she can’t stand the sight of him.

Jeremiah Bones, 23. Their relationship is indifferent at best. She doesn’t dislike him, but she’s not going out of her way to spend time with him, either. For whatever reason, they just never seemed to click.

Edgar Bones, 22. Best friend, closest confidante and favourite sibling, all rolled into one. Amelia could never contemplate the idea of an existence without Edgar, and their relationship is the most important one in her life.

Children: None.

Pet(s):

Othello, an Eagle Owl. A gift from her father when she turned 11.

Toulouse, a Munchkin cat. Warm and affectionate, he really lives up to the name of his breed.

Family’s Financial Status: Her family is more financially set than most, but Amelia has always been conservatively modest when it comes to the matter of money. She could rely on their financial support with no issue, but instead chooses to support herself on her own income/resources.

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: Brave | Independent | Impulsive

MBTI: ENTP (The Debater).

Enneagram: The Opportunist (7, W8).

Temperament: Sanguine.

Camp Half-blood: Themis Cabin (34).

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Primary Vice: Pride.

Primary Virtue: Diligence.

Element: Fire.

#about #praedontask #only took me five days but here it is!!!!!

1 note · View note

southerneldritch · 5 years

Text

It begins (Chapter 1)

The sun was not burning hot so much as painfully reminding him how important it was. High in the southern sky the heat pushed the humidity around enough to make the small shaded porch feel more like a sauna that a place for reprieve. However, now a good 3 feet down and still digging into the grave or one Mr. Lewis Rothburg, it left him wondering if the shade would prove more comfortable than it had once provided.

Stopping a moment to wipe his brow he looked around the long abandoned cemetery. Each stone edifice, once a proud reminder of capable men and women who in their lives had done great things...and horrible things, now standing derelict deep in the woods surrounded by an ever encroaching nature. A slight smirk crossed his lips, "The seem lucky." he thought to himself aloud. "They have no issue with what horrors are coming...they really needn't worry." He laughed as his shovel struck something hard and the sound of hollow wood thunked through the air. "Shit." He muttered.

There were two distinct things that immediately ran through his mind. Either the cemetery back in the day was notably unconcerned with health and safety, thusly the coffins were buried much shallower than they should be or, more worryingly, the man who sold the information about the location of Mr. Rothburg also warned that the graveyard had been used by criminals for hiding all sorts of things. Typically speaking the actions of the criminal world seldom would have bothered him but the fear that Mr. Rothburg was no longer where he was supposed to be greatly shifted the situation from simple to complicated.

With little to no options left for him he began to dig and free whatever thing he had just struck with his shovel. The sun glaring at the actions below as with some considered effort the lid of a coffin was uncovered. The sound of cicadas filling the air he took a deep breath and jammed a crowbar around the edge of the lid. With a groan and firmly planted feet the casket lurched open. "Well fuck." He let the words lose themselves in the summer heat as he looked down in disbelief.

The tires of the old truck did not grip well on what could best be called a trail, perhaps a path, either way he didn't care. With a foot down hard the engine putted and pushed all it had as the vehicle flew through the thick of the woods back towards a motel on the outskirts of town. Skidding onto the actual road the cargo stowed in the back of the truck slid and banged hard against the side causing the skid of the tires to feel far more dramatic than how sharp a turn he actually made. Despite the weight the very coffin sized and shaped container, it didn't break.

With a grinding of gears and feet hard down on the brake the vehicle came to a stop in most of one parking space outside the Quiet Glenn motel. He slammed the door not so much from panic as much as the sweat that had covered him had caused it to slip quickly from his grasp. The setting sun still fighting the cold of the darkness that was now trying to cool the area. He threw the motel door open and as abruptly as it had made such a calamitous entry the cheap door was resting back in its sill with him sliding the lock into place. His heart was racing but he wasn't tired, turning around and smudging cemetery dirt across his shirt he looked up at a surprised woman sitting at the small table near the back of the room. Normally her thick raven curls of hair would have been accenting each side of her face but instead were now tightly pinned up, slightly damp with a glob of something smeared across a part of the her hair. She chuckled while setting down a slice of pizza back into the box on the table. "So it went well?" The question was sincere but purposely teasing in tone.

"Well!?" He exclaimed walking towards the table. "No I think we can categorically label it as poorly." His voice laid out a frustration that was punctuated with his glare at the tv which was currently displaying some sort of reality show, before flopping over onto the bed. "How well do you know Virgil?" His words muffled by the pillow he spoke into.

“Most of my life.” She cocked her head to the side and grasped the pizza box before standing and asking, “Did he give us bad info?”

“No, if anything the info was very correct.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“Several things, most of all, how well do you trust Virgil?” He pulled his face from the bed and sat up on the end of the stiff excuse for bedding provided by the motel. “Also, what the hell is in your hair?”

“I didn't have anything else to do so I’m bleaching some bit of my hair. It looked fun. Anyways, I know him pretty well, he’s known me and my family for a long time.” Her eyes grew concerned as she looked down at him sitting on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

Drawing in a long breath he looked up at her and the box of pizza and reached out to take a slice. “We’ll at the very least I suppose we can feel satisfied that Mr. Rothburg was where Virgil said he would be.” Pausing to take a bite of the room temperature slice while again finding reason to glare at the TV. “Sadly he also mentioned that such a place tends to attract the more unsavory of folk.”

A smile crossed her lips as she plopped down heavily beside him. “Aren’t we the unsavory types? Somewhat doom and gloom, all manors of suspicious actions, illegal activity and occult hoobie dooby?”

“Not that sort of unsavory, more of the ‘we kill to accomplish our goals’ sorts of unsavory.” He said with a grimace while now looking at the slice of room temperature pizza in his hand. “We have never sought to injure, Mel.” he added with an impressively serious tone.

Placing the box on the bed just behind them both Mel asked, “So are you going to explain what has you in a such a mood or do I have to keep playing 20 questions?”

“I wish it we simple but it feels like it's worse.” he muttered

“Let's start simple.” She hated it when he acted like this, always a man with a plan and if things shift up, big ol grump for a hot minute. “Was Rothburg there?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's him.”

“Good. So first problem?”

“The coffin was roughly three feet down.��

“Only three feet?”

“Yup, first issue.” He stated after taking a bite of the pizza. “Do we have beer?” he added.

“Sure do, but so what if he was buried in a shallow grave. It wasn't like the townsfolk were gonna respect him"

“True. However, there is more to this mood than just interesting burial habits.” He stood and walked over to the small whirring mini fridge and plucked a beer out. “I don't think this is the first time Mr. Rothburg has been dug up.”

“What, why would anyone other than us want to dig him up!?” She was beginning to understand his mood. “What possible reason would they dig him up and then put him back!?”

“Like I said.” he began walking towards the door gesturing for her to follow. “How well do you trust Virgil?”

She got up and followed, both stepped outside into the hot twilight. The sun still determined to broil the area before being slowly beaten back by the encroaching night sky. They walked over to the back of the truck and swung open the tailgate door. He hopped into the back and grabbed an edge of the coffin lid and looked up at her, “Come here I don't want anyone to see.”

She stepped in beside the door and looked down at the coffin lid his fingers were gripping. “Well enough build up, lets see it!”

With a sudden jerk and a loud crackling of metal hinges set in wood the lid lifted open. Light from the now buzzing parking lot fluorescents poorly lit what was laying in the coffin. First and foremost was the body of Mr. Lewis Rothburg, clearly it was his twisted form as the shin bones had been separated from his legs and placed under his chin. Though a considerable amount of decay had occurred it was also still plain to see that the jaw of Mr. Rothburg had been wired shut with crude metal studs and copper wire, ensuring even in death that he would no longer speak damnable words.

No, the condition of Mr. Rothburg was not the reason for shock or even a turned stomach full of pizza delivery, the reason that both of them looking into the coffin had slack jaws and bewilderment across their faces was because nestled around Rothburg’s remains were countless stacks of cash, gold, intricate medallions with arcane symbols and some weapons of peculiar design.

“What the hell is all of that!?” she exclaimed before realizing there were too few tenants in this particular southern motel outskirts of town to justify shouting without drawing attention. In a more collected tone while he began to shut the coffin. “Why is Rothburg swimming in cash?”

“I'm sorry, but did anything about my entry and line of questions sound like I have more ideas than you do now.” Hopping out the truck he closed and locked the doors, he suddenly felt very watched and disliked the notion. “Let’s get back inside and figure out our next move.” A cool breeze of night air brushed passed them both, typically a wonderful feeling now oddly ominous. They both went back inside the motel room before turning to locked the door behind them he added, “And wash your goddamn hair.”

#paranornal #supernatural #writing #mine #J #southern eldritch #eldritch #faceless postmaster #horror #terror #cosmic horror

14 notes · View notes

lostinmysticfalls · 5 years

Text

And All At Once, You’re All I Want (Harry x Maggie One-Shot)

Been going back and forth on this the past couple days. So, in celebration of today’s renewal news, here’s a little fic of Harry teaching Maggie how to dance because CAN YOU IMAGINE... No smut (I even surprised myself with this one tbh), just Harry being a sweetheart and Maggie trying to understand her feelings.

Maggie leaned against the doorframe that led to the family room. Harry was finishing up a conversation with Macy and she didn’t really want to interrupt but her patience was running thin and if she were being perfectly honest, what they were talking about didn’t seem as time-sensitive as her situation.

She sighed loudly, drawing both of their attention.

“Maggie.” Macy said. “Thought you had rehearsals today.”

“All done.”

She furrowed her brow, a little annoyed that her life had been reduced to textbooks, musical performances and now plays—even on weekends. But Harry had said to do something fun and life affirming with her time. Which meant, if she was now stuck in this predicament because of his advice, he had to help her out. Right?

“Did I interrupt something?” She questioned, strolling into the room anyway.

Harry smiled at her, still appearing a bit weak but not nearly as bad as he’d looked the past week. “Macy just finished making a very compelling case for why Galvin’s memory shouldn’t be wiped as soon as I feel up to the task.”

“Oh. What’s the verdict?” She quipped.

“Undecided. What do you make of it?”

Maggie pursed her lips, afraid that anything she said would come across as her taking sides. She didn’t like being at odds with Macy—giving her the cold shoulder after she dropped the dad bomb on her and Mel had felt kind of awful and isolating.

“I’d rather not get involved.” She twisted her mouth, hoping her answer wouldn’t disappoint Harry. Then, going against her better judgement, she added. “But after what happened with Mel and Niko. And the thing with Parker… I’m starting to think witches might not have the best luck with relationships.”

If she really thought about it, she was still hurt over Parker’s lies but the wound didn't feel nearly as fresh and delicate anymore. Maybe Harry was right, maybe doing something positive and fulfilling with her life was helping her heal faster. Could it also be that that’s why his recovery was being hindered? She wondered.

Harry looked away and Maggie didn’t say it but she almost took his reaction as confirmation that maybe their love lives really were cursed. The only clear loyalty and bond existed between her and her sisters—a privilege that extended to Harry as well—and they took precedence over anyone else. Macy tried to hide her frown but it was obvious that she felt uncomfortable with her assessment.

She popped up from the sofa, sensing Maggie wanted to speak with Harry alone. “Anyway, I have to go meet Galvin. I promised I would help him find out more about his family history.”

Maggie waited until she was out of sight and then tiptoed in a playful manner on the floor, coming to stand in front of Harry. He looked up from the sofa, a tiny smile on his lips as he reached for his tea. He could see right through her mischievous simper and that dewy-eyed look on her face. But he couldn’t deny that no matter the reason behind her coyness, he was glad to see her acting more like herself every day.

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you smile, Maggie.” He sipped from his cup, his green eyes expressing content.

She placed both hands under her chin, as if his sweet compliment had made her blush. “Hey. It’s nice to see you smile too. It’s been tough seeing you down in the dumps, it’s even made me miss your dorky outfits and dry British humor.”

“You think my outfits are dorky?” He put a hand over his heart jokingly as he set the cup down on the center table.

Maggie scrunched her nose, the melodic sound of her laughter was infectious.

He stammered. “But that’s not what you came here to tell me, is it?”

She shook her head, tucking a strand of her hair behind one ear. “Although it’s true that I miss the old you… very much… I came to ask for a little favor.”

“Not sure how much help I can be to you in my condition.” He mused, coming to his feet. “My abilities are still a little wonky at the moment.”

Her eyes trailed over him from head to toe. “Well, you can move around just fine. And all your body parts seem to be in place.” That had come out wrong, she was unsure of why she’d even said it.

Harry gaped at her awkwardly, looking down at himself with a bewildered expression on his face. “Yeah, everything is where it’s supposed to be.” He paused, feeling the air around them suddenly become dense. “What did you come to ask me, again?”

Her eyes widened. “How are your ballroom dancing skills?” She added hastily.

If she knew that asking a question about dancing would make him light up like a Christmas tree, she would’ve thought of a reason to bring it up sooner. Seeing him so cheery would’ve been worth a thousand lies.

“I haven’t done it in a while but I’d like to think I do a swell job at leading a waltz.” He beamed.

Maggie was enthralled by his reaction. She put a hand on his arm. “Seriously Harry, I did not think it would make you this happy.”

“Well, ballroom dancing is kind of a lost art nowadays.” He replied, leaning in as he spoke. “Don’t you think?”

She agreed. “The rehearsals for our new theater production were a disaster today because of me. I kept stepping on my partner’s feet.”

Harry chuckled, and then eagerly asked. “When do we start?”

* * *

Maggie scrolled through her phone, searching for the song that had been used in rehearsal earlier that day.

“Here it is.” She played it for him. She could tell Harry’s mood had considerably improved just in the past few minutes of them chatting.

“Okay.” He said, taking his place in front of her right in the middle of the Vera’s study. It was a room they rarely used in the house but it was perfect for what they were doing.

Maggie took his hand and placed the other one on his shoulder. Harry looked at her for a long moment, his lips quivering ever so slightly but not saying a word. It was as if he was asking for permission before touching her. Maggie gave him a reassuring look as he curved his fingers around her waist.

She didn't have an explanation for what happened next but she felt her breathing inadvertently hitch at his touch, a bodily response that floored her. She wondered if it was because it was one of the few times she’d really witnessed Harry doing anything remotely unrelated to his Whitelighter duties. It was a part of him he rarely let them see.

It could’ve also been the fact that he was undeniably handsome and she’d always been very careful not to allow her thoughts to wander into risky territory.

“Just a little bit…” He said in a low voice, pulling her in closer. “There.”

She tilted her head back slightly, making eye contact as he continued to explain the steps and guide her along. There was only a small gap between them, one that was constantly lost with every sway of their fluid movements. Maggie could feel the heat radiating off of him, only adding to her confusion and the whirlwind of sensations coursing through her body.

Maybe this had been a bad idea, maybe her deep-rooted longing for an intimate connection had thrown her senses into disarray.

“Now, if your partner in that play isn’t doing it this way.” He spoke softly. “Then he’s doing it wrong.”

Maggie smiled, a tingle running down her neck and back. It was a gratifying feeling she was shamelessly enjoying but she couldn’t quite figure out its cause. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to stop.

His words resonated in her ears, beautifully threaded with the music that filled the atmosphere around them. Their bodies continued to move but his eyes never lost focus of her as he lead her in the rise and fall, gliding all over the floor of the private room.

When her breathing felt stable enough for her to speak she asked. “You sweep a lot of ladies off their feet with these moves, Har?” Her entire body buzzing as if she’d said something unconscionable.

Harry smiled but he didn’t answer, an action that she took as proof that she was right. He then surprised her with a turn. The room spun around her, everything becoming a blur. For those few seconds, she felt like she was floating, a gentle breeze sweeping through her hair, infused with the pleasant smell of him.

He pulled her back in. Maggie came in a little too fast and a little too hard, her chest crashing into him and one foot landing on the toes of his right foot.

“I’m so sorry.” She looked at him with worry. “Are you okay?”

Harry laughed. “I’m fine.” Still keeping a close hold on her. “You’re not too bad at this, Maggie. I think we can get this routine down by tonight.”

And then she felt it again, that involuntary pause in her breathing that came as a result of his closeness, but this time it was accompanied by something else, something she didn’t think could ever be a possibility with him. She didn’t try to fight it, instead she gave in to it slowly. That perplexing and debilitating feeling making her spiral straight into the depths of uncertainty.

* * *

Maggie would’ve been lying to herself if she said that by the end of the night, her dancing lesson had felt like any other normal task on her check list. Her only intention when she’d first approached Harry had been to ask for his help, mainly as a form of payback for pushing her to look for an outlet to her melancholy. But during those hours of one-on-one time with him—something that seemed like a rarity between them—she’d discovered how much she truly enjoyed his company. More so without any scrutiny, interruptions, and divided attention.

Harry looked up at the clock. “You think you had enough dancing for one night?”

It was pretty late and she figured it was his nice way of saying he was tired. So she nodded, letting him get some much needed rest.

“Thank you.” Her hand traveled down his arm, eyes flicking to his face in an effort to try to read what he was thinking but unfortunately, nothing came of it.

He had a glimmer of realization in his eyes that told her she’d been found out but he made no such claim. Whatever his reasoning, she was just grateful he hadn’t embarrassed her by asking.

“Have a goodnight, Maggie.” His intense gaze piercing into her and somehow managing to jolt a part of her that she believed was immune to him. She felt her legs tremble and her core spasm involuntarily as a result.

“Goodnight.” She started making her way out of the room, a livelier cadence to her walk as she retreated.

“Hey, Harry.” She stopped at the door, turning to look at him.

“Yes?”

“You think we can do this again tomorrow?” Her hopeful eyes held his gaze.

Harry smiled. “Of course, Maggie. I’d be delighted.”

She simpered, sensing her racing heart lose control. “Good! Because I’m still not feeling very satisfied with my progress and there’s one more song I still have to learn.”

There was only one truth to that statement. Maggie didn’t feel satisfied yet.

He happily gave in to her request, knowing that distracting himself with something he loved to do would also be good for him.

In turn, Maggie left the room with a big smile on her face, knowing very well that she had the dance routine memorized, and that there was no other song for her to rehearse.

#maggie vera #harry greenwood #harry x maggie #maggie x harry #just gonna tag this #haggie

17 notes · View notes