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spitpr1ncess · 3 years

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BRUISED BODIES CHAPTER 1 LEVI ACKERMAN X READER

(not my image)

“You’re too pretty for this, little girl” remarks your current company. You roll your eyes and have to hold in the audible sigh that almost escapes you. How many times you have heard the same drivel? If you were too pretty, they wouldn’t continue the silent abuse on your body, would they?

You’ve been a working girl since you barely had the ability to think for yourself. You were plucked from your poverty-stricken family with the promise of their debts being written off.

You aren’t special and your family don’t care about you, a lie you’d been telling yourself for twenty two long years. You are a slab of meat and a source of income, that’s all, and believing yourself to be more was a stupid mistake you’d learned not to make, assuming people actually cared about you had caused you more pain than any physical abuse you’d ever endured.

You’re snapped back to reality as a pair of hands paw clumsily at your breasts, you inhale and remind yourself that this is only a temporary situation, but until you figure out how, you must continue to appease the men that Jools sends your way.

Jools is like your older brother, if your older brother worked in a brothel and openly encouraged men to fuck his slightly younger sister. The two of you share an intimate relationship built on a strong foundation of sharing trauma, you know he means well.

Jools was taken around the same time you were, only, as he managed to flourish into a promising young man, he was favoured by boss, and thus, promoted. You and Jools have always seen eye to eye, his depressing background is in servicing men, just like yours and it’s how you built your relationship, why you share such a deep understanding of each other, such mutual respect. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the other girls, and as a mean result, ensures that you are on the less favourable end of their antics, often being the brunt of their absolute frustrations and jokes.

As head of appointments and bookings, alongside other things, he always tries to send you the easy ones, if Boss knew he favoured you, you’re sure Jools would be sacked, or worse, effective immediately. You’re eternally thankful that he chooses to throw you a bone, even if it doesn’t seem much to him, it means the world to you.

Your mindless wandering halts once again, as you make unfavourable eye contact with your unwelcome company, you notice he is grunting as he roughly palms his own erection with his bear-like hands, staring holes through you as he directs his dirty glare at your breasts. Without thinking you grasp his knees and push your elbows to meet, forcing your breasts to squash together in that specific way that the male gaze loves so much, accentuating their plumpness. You are the first to admit that although sex is something that is daily to you, you are a very sexual soul by nature. You love the affect you have on men, and how you can practically melt them down to nothingness in the palm of your soft hand. You’re certain it comes from the trauma that is deep rooted in your hunger for male validation

The man sat in front of you isn’t the smallest you’ve seen but he isn’t particularly well endowed either, weighing up your current circumstances, you decide to make the most of it. Standing up, you lick your lips and undo the tie to your virginal white skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground quietly. It crumples in a small pile and feverishly you step out of it, feigning nervousness. You take your willing participants bear-paw off his own erection and place is gently on the arm of his chair, straddling him, you centre yourself and gently lower down to allow your warmth to press against him. Instinctually, he grunts and pushes back, his actions clumsy and annoying yet you allow it, not wanting to anger him, the men you service are big businessmen and you know better than to piss one off. You have seen first-hand the damage they can and do cause. You let him believe he has control, you grind back and nuzzle into his neck, playing him like a game, inhaling, you pick up on cigarette smoke and some notable cologne brand, nothing out of the ordinary.

You kiss his neck, breathing over his ear, begging him to enter you, you are not stupid, the way you make men feel, like you are infatuated, like there is nothing else you need at that moment than them, always gets you tipped. And tips go straight to your pocket, and any tips that go straight to your pocket, go straight to your running-away-savings. As he clumsily lines up his erection, you lift yourself onto your elbow to assist him in his feeble attempt at entering you, you feel his tip pressed right up against you, simultaneously, you kiss him and sheath yourself entirely. It isn’t anything notable and is in fact somewhat disappointing, nevertheless, you continue to finish the job.

You inhale sharply to sell the fantasy. He grunts again, like some half dead animal, you cringe trying your hardest to not let on as you know that his tips will make the effort worth it. Like a wet dream he was having, you bounce yourself up and down, in and out, in and out, in and out. It isn’t long before you see his head fall back and he stiffens below you, he opens his mouth and grabs your ass, hard. You squeal as you feel his hot seed lacing your insides, you feign your own orgasm, making your legs shake as if you had to convince him like your life depended on it. He buys it; dirty talking you and asking various lewd and cringey questions that make you shudder, if it weren’t for you writhing on top of him, he might have picked up on it. You kiss him before finding your feet, passing him a napkin as he sheepishly cleans himself off, only now feeling shy and vulnerable. He stands and pulls his trousers up; buckling his belt quickly, he then reaches into his breast pocket, he pulls out a stack of fifties, he throws a couple on the floor by your feet. He is trying to regain his masculinity, uncomfortable about looking into your eyes, you used to let it upset you, only you are used to it, each man having the same reaction.

He leaves and you lock the door tight behind him, you tidy up, wiping the chair and cleaning away any fluid that may have made its way to places it doesn’t belong. You wander towards your bathroom; the wooden floor feels cold but welcome on your ever tired feet. You stare into the mirror; a few tears had escaped your eyes without your noticing, it was a pretty normal occurrence for you now.

You glance in the mirror and notice that she is foreign, the girl staring back. Her long brown hair pulled over one shoulder, bruises lacing her frail body, you gently trace a finger over her body and look down to see your body. It is like you are disconnected, her body has not been your body for a long time. You wipe your eyes and turn your shower on, you hop in as it is still running cold.

You inhale sharply. It hurts, and the excruciating pain is welcome, you allow your bare back to fall silently against the wall and slowly lower yourself. You protect your knees with your arms as you grasp them toward you and lay your head between the makeshift protection you have created. Loud sobs escape your lungs as if they'd been brewing for a century.

A long while passes and you don’t hear the door unlocking.

Jools lets himself in, he hears your measly sobs coming from the bathroom and heads toward them, he slides open the shower door, startled, you jump up and let out an ugly shriek, Jools looks at you, pathetic, slim, bruised and sobbing. His head falls to one side as you try to somewhat protect your modesty. Jools has seen everything you have, and you, him, yet it still feels embarrassing and intimate.

“Olive.”, his voice is cool, patient, and laced with a little sympathy, “What am I going to do with you?”, he steps into the shower, allowing his clothes to get sprayed with water, you turn to him and press your forehead to his.

“I am sorry Jools; my emotions are all over the place. I will be ready in ten minutes, just allow me to clean up”, your voice sounds tired and you let out a little sigh. Jools places a hand on your shoulder and gently turns you around. You have been each other’s comfort in such a long life of trauma and you know what is coming next, he picks up your shampoo and lathers some between his hands, he rubs his fingertips into your scalp, scrubbing the dirt of the day out of your hair.

His touch is welcome, if not a little alien. It is rare these days that a pair of hands aren’t grabbing, pulling, pinching or pushing you around, you let out a long sigh, letting go of the anxiety and slowing your heart rate, you close your eyes and allow yourself to be cared for. By the time Jools finishes showering you he is soaked, you both step out into your bedroom. You pull on your skirt and replace your corset, a “uniform” as far as Boss is concerned. You hate it, making you feel vulnerable and cheap, you would rather slip on a t-shirt and shorts, or a loose dress.

Jools discarded all his clothes sans boxers and made himself comfortable on your bed as you were stood contemplating. You stare at him, with his light brown, almost ashy blonde hair. He is handsome, you have always thought this, you just never placed you two together, with him acting the “older brother” for all intents and purposes.

Jools breaks the silence, “Your four o’clock has cancelled, it’s what I came here to tell you” he pats the bed next to him and smiles “come and sit, unless you’re going somewhere”.

You pause momentarily before undoing your skirt again, you let it fall to the ground before reaching for a pair of linen shorts sat on your vanity, pulling them on, you take a few steps before collapsing on the bed next to Jools in complete exhaustion. “I’m tired of fucking the same men Jools” you remark.

“The same men, with the same predictable sex routines, the same sized cocks, the same moves. I’m bored. I’m climbing up the walls, Jools. Throw me a bigger bone, I’m begging you.”, You feel Jools eyes on your face, you let your head fall and meet his gaze. He snorts and pulls himself closer to you. You slide your body next to his and he drapes and arm over your waist.

Your foreheads touching, you lay in comfortable silence for a while. You close your eyes miss him protectively watching over you.

“I’m not sure what I can do for you Ol, unless you want me to fuck you myself. We don’t have much new clientele and any we do have seem like the abusive type, so I deliberately don’t send them your way.” he laughs. You ponder his first sentence, unable to tell if he was joking. You try your luck and shift your weight so you’re straddling him.

“Wh.. what the fuck are you doing Ol?”, You decide that he didn’t mean it, judging by his response. You begin to tickle his sides and he goes bright red before kicking you off, you land on the wooden floor with a loud bang.

“OW. That fucking hurt you fuck.” You stand up and cross your arms like a grumpy child. Jools looks at you and sticks out his tongue, you both pause, waiting for the other to break. It is you who laughs first, shortly followed by Jools who snorts, like a little pig. You can’t stay mad at him, he is so sweet, and you started it, after all.

“I was thinking Jools. If you have some time this afternoon, maybe we could go for a walk?” Your schedule was usually so full you don’t have time to visit outside. It was the beginning of the spring too, so everything was just starting bloom, it was one of the things that gave you a little peace and hope.

“I can’t Ol, I can’t leave the others unattended, in case anything happens, you know the rules” his voice holds a little sadness and disappointment, you can tell he’d like nothing more.

“Maybe I can open up a space for you this weekend? Then we can go out together?” Jools doesn’t work weekends; part of his promotion demands of course, but you did.

“Weekend rates are higher and I rea..” Jools cuts you off.

“I will charge one of your regulars more in the week; I’ll make it up for you, pleaaase?” he draws out.

You look at his face and the little boisterous glint in his eyes. You ruffle his hair like a little boy and laugh.

“Sure thing.”, You reply.

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thatgoblin · 3 years

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Small Town Affairs

Summary: Hazel is an Omega in the small town of Tin Springs, Midwest America. She's trying to live her life after breaking up with the local sheriff, John Walker, and his mate, Brock Rumlow. New people aren't something that happens often, but when a new pack comes to town her whole life goes from a small mess to a complete disaster in the best way.

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Assault, Sexual abuse, Himbo Bucky, Misogyny, will update as story goes.

Chapter 1

It wasn’t often that people moved to Tin Springs, population 803. We barely had enough people to need a high school and a junior high school let alone more than a general store and gas station. There wasn’t even a Walmart for nearly 20 miles. You had to make a special trip to the larger town of Conway that had fast food restaurants and strip malls while the closest we had was a Dollar General and a ‘home style’ restaurant that was closed after 9. We did have a few bars and a strip joint, but those were just outside of town. Far enough that most people didn’t count them as being a part of town. It was very much a dying breed of Mayberry towns that used to thrive till people moved for better jobs and schools or to just get out of that small town headspace.

So when what looked like a whole fleet of moving trucks drove down the main road, everyone was talking. Turns out there was some guy with the last name Rogers that owned land that belonged to his pack that he was moving his new pack onto. The family had basically moved away or died off by the time I was 18. Most of the townspeople thought the houses on the land would stay empty till someone bought the land up for farming or to build new houses on. No one ever did and the moving trucks were telling us why it wouldn’t happen. Everyone and their dog would be gossiping and talking about who the new people were, where they came from, why they came back now, but I just ignored the whispers and gossip as I checked out folks at the general store.

“Hazel, would you be a dear and stock the shelves before you leave tonight?” The store owner, Peggy Carter, asked from her office. It sat just to the side of the register, making it easy to keep an eye on things. Her prim English accent was very much out of place in the small midwest town, but it wasn’t as crisp as it used to be when she first moved to Tin Springs.

“Sure. I’ve got my keys so I’ll lock up for you too,” I said, glancing back at her before the bell above the door rang. “Howdy,” I greeted the customers before going back to tidying my area. They were just a couple of women that were grabbing last minute items for dinner, which was the usual crowd so close to our closing time. I knew their faces, but couldn’t recall their names. I’d seen them around town, but I didn’t exactly interact with people outside of my job.

“Did you see the paper today? John Walker’s up for re-election again,” one woman said as they meandered towards the dairy section. While they sort of tried to stay quiet, the store was empty at that time of day and with it being so small that the voices carried easily.

“I saw that. He’s got my vote for sure,” the other woman said. “You know, he’s been such a good sheriff and I don’t think anyone’s running against him. It should be an easy win for him.”

“Hopefully. Things are just fine as they are now, why change them?” The first woman said. “Though, it is a bit odd that he’s with another Alpha and not an Omega.”

“I know, but Brock’s a good man. Both of them are. It’s just too bad things didn’t work out with them and that Omega girl.”

I should be used to it by now, hearing people talking about me and my exs. When you date the county sheriff and the only garage owner in town, things aren’t exactly secret. Even if they didn’t know your name or face, they knew your business.

“You know, John always said she was a good gal, but just had some problems. His mother and I play bridge at the church on Wednesday evenings and she told me that he was heartbroken over their split up. Him and Brock adored her, said they wanted to have kids too. I do hope she’s getting herself straightened out,” the second woman said.

I could handle the whispers and looks I’d get from the older Omegas in town, but this was a new low. They weren’t even trying to keep it quiet anymore.

“Just so ya’ll know, we’re closing soon, so if you’ve got some trash talking to do, do it outside where I don’t have to listen to it,” I called, earning small gasps from the women. They hurried to the front to check out, keeping their eyes down as I glared at them. If they were dumb enough to talk about me in front of me, I was not going to go easy on them. They didn’t say another word as they left, leaving me behind to glare at their backs.

“You should learn to ignore them. People will always talk,” Peggy said from the office.

“The least they could do was be discreet about it,” I mumbled. “Besides, it’s already been over a year and you’d think people would let it go and move on.”

“Well, with the new people moving in, you might get your wish,” she said. I could only hope.

The rest of the evening went by pleasantly fast. Peggy left me in charge to stock the shelves after closing. We closed usually at about 8:00 PM, no one showed up after 7:45 PM on a regular day. So to hear the door jostle as someone tried to open at 8:10 PM was odd. Frowning, I put down the pasta to look over the aisle to see a man trying to peer in. He had dirty blond hair styled back into a faux hawk of sorts, and dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a tight black tee. There were a few cuts on his face, a bandaid over his nose, and what looked like hearing aids hooks around his ears, the man stood out like a sore thumb compared to the locals. Seeing me, he put on a big smile and waved.

My first instinct was to ignore him, but since he didn’t look familiar I figured he was one of the new people in town. They wouldn’t know the hours of any of the stores in town. I decided to at least let him know the store was closed. If anything happened I had a bat under my register and pepper spray on my keys in my pocket. Going to the front, I unlocked the door before opening it.

“Hey, sorry, we’re closed,” I said as the muggy summer air came rushing in. “We close at 8.”

“Damn it,” the man hissed as he pulled out a cell phone. “Is there any other place to get groceries around here? My pack and I just moved to town and we don’t have any groceries. We’ve been working all day to get stuff into the house and didn’t realize the time.”

“Oh, uh not really, sorry,” I said. “Dollar General closes at the same time and you’d have to go to the next town over for Walmart and that’s 20 miles away.”

“What time do you guys open in the morning?” He asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“We open at 6:00 AM.” The way he looked when I told him was like witnessing a puppy being kicked. I could smell him, he was just an Omega. What harm could it do to let him in this once? Peggy had let a few people in here and there after hours, so what was one more? “Okay, so you can’t tell anyone or you’ll get me in trouble, but I can go ahead and let you in to shop. I’m just restocking shelves, so go ahead and get what you need.” Stepping aside, I let him in before locking the door behind him to keep anyone else out.

“Thank you so, so much. You’re a lifesaver, really,” he said as he grabbed a cart and proceeded to grab things off the shelf. I didn’t mind staying late, rent was going up and it was getting harder to pay, so a bit of extra time wouldn’t hurt. “I’m Clint by the way.”

“Hazel,” I replied as I went back to the shelves. Letting him fill his cart, I finished up my work before meeting him at the register. It was a lot of food, but then again how many moving trucks had showed up? “I really hope this isn’t just for you.”

“Naw, there’s 8 people in my pack. I’m hoping this will be good enough for at least dinner and breakfast, but there’s a few of us who can eat out a whole house,” Clint said with a chuckle as I scanned the items.

“Wow, that’s a lot. We don’t really have any packs at all around here. Maybe a handful, but it’s just three people at most,” I said.

“Oh yeah? We just moved here from New York. One of our Beta’s, Steve, used to live here. You might know him,” Clint said.

“Last name Rogers?” I asked, getting a nod. “Not personally. I know of the family and the land, but that’s about it,” I said with a shrug. “Alright, and total for today is $234.89.”

“Yup, sounds about right,” Clint said with a chuckle as he swiped a credit card. What did they do in New York that allowed them to buy that many groceries? Not to mention that was just for one night, I couldn’t imagine a full week’s worth. Maybe they should go to Walmart for groceries next time. “So is there anything fun to do around here?” He asked as I handed him the longest receipt I’d printed before.

“Eh. Depends on what you want to do. We have a restaurant that closes at 9:00 PM, a few bars around here, and a strip joint, but other than that there’s not much to be done unless you’re a fan of high school sports,” I said with a shrug.

“I’m going to have to give Steve a slap upside the head for bringing us to the most boring place in the world,” he sighed before looking at me wide eyed. “I mean, it’s just that it’s kinda slow compared to New York.”

“Don’t worry. I think it’s boring too, but like most of the folks that live here, it’s cheaper to stay than to move if you don’t have another job or family else where,” I said. “Sometimes the rodeo comes to the next town over and a lot of people go there.”

“Yeah, when he said this was a completely different place, I didn’t think he understood how all of us would find it so different,” Clint said as he started to load up the grocery cart.

“Here, let me help you take those out to your car. I’ll get the cart from you and you can head out,” I said, grabbing the keys to unlock the front door to let us out then relocked it.

“Thanks. You know, I guess small towns do have a lot of nice people willing to help out,” Clint said as he led the way to a black sports car.

“Sheesh, fancy,” I snorted as he popped the trunk.

“Yeah, it was a pain to drive it down the dirt driveway I have with my mate. I don’t want to part with her, but I also don’t want to ruin the undercarriage,” he said with a wince.

“That’s a bummer. There’s a car lot in town here, but I don’t know if they’d have anything your style,” I said, handing him a paper bag full of cereal.

“Howard, my mate, would shit his pants if I tried to go there,” Clint said with a chuckle. “He’s too posh to even think of buying anything pre-used. I’m pretty sure he’d have a heart attack.”

“Sounds like he’ll get comfortable real quick,” I said with a snort.

As we were finishing up putting the groceries in the car, there was a short honk and siren bwep before a sheriff’s car pulled into the spot next to Clint’s.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Clint frowned, unsure of what was happening, but I knew.

“Howdy friend!” A familiar voice called as a blond man with bright blue eyes and an irritating smile stepped from the patrol car. Dressed in his brown and khaki uniform, Sheriff John Walker approached us. “You must be part of the pack that just moved to town.”

“Uh, yeah. Just got in today,” Clint said, shifting his body again. “I’m Clint.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Sheriff Walker. Figured that since I saw you in town, I’d catch you real quick for an introduction,” the man said, holding out his hand for Clint to shake. Raising a brow, Clint shook the officer’s hand.

“Nice to meet you. You’ll probably be seeing the rest of my pack throughout the week,” Clint said before closing the trunk of his car.

“You’re on the Rogers property, yeah?” John asked, resting his hands on his hips.

“That’s the one,” Clint said with a nod.

“I think I went to school with one of the Rogers’ pack. Steve, I believe his name was. He was a grade above me. His family stayed in town a while before leaving. Didn’t think we’d see anyone come back to live on the property,” John said. I wanted to get away from this conversation as fast as possible. John hadn’t even addressed me, let alone acknowledge my existence. The last thing I wanted was for him to start shit with me in front of someone.

“Probably, I mean, he’ll be in town tomorrow to get all the paperwork fixed up with his mate,” Clint said. “But I should be going. We’ve been driving all day and everyone’s tired and hungry.”

“Alright, I’ll let you go,” John said with a nod, backing up to let Clint move. I kept quiet, trying to not look John in the eye as I moved the cart back to the sidewalk. “Have a nice evening, now,” he said, typing his broad brimmed hat to Clint.

“Thanks. See you around, Hazel,” Clint said to me with a tight smile and wave. I gave a short wave back before booking it back to the store.

Don’t follow me, don’t follow me, don’t follow me.

“Hazel, wait up,” John called as he jogged to catch up with me. I wanted to scream as I stopped at the front door to unlock it. “So, you’re talking to the new people now, huh?” He said as Clint pulled out and drove away.

“John, go away. It’s none of your business and this is not part of the agreement,” I hissed, getting the door open. Shoving the cart in front of me, I tried to shut the door in his face, but he’d stuck his boot in the way.

“Look, I’m just trying to keep an eye out for you, okay? Don’t get cozy with the new people. They might be interesting, but you never know what people are really like,” he said, pushing his way into the store.

“Ironic coming from you,” I snapped, glaring at him as I moved to the register. “I’m trying to close, leave.”

“Remember what I said,” John sighed. “Don’t trust those new people.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you and we both know it’s not far,” I snarled. “Now go away or I’ll short Brock this week.”

“Fine,” he said. “But just remember, I was the one that always looked after you. Even after everyone started those rumors about you, I stuck by you.”

“A lot of good it did me. Now go.”

John looked like he might say something else, but stopped himself. Instead, he shook his head before leaving the store. Quickly, I locked the door after him. Standing there, my hands shook as tears pricked my eyes. The asshole could always get under my skin. Just a damn look and I’d be nearly in tears. As much as I wanted to believe I was stronger now and could handle myself, that small interaction showed me that he still had a grip on my life.

Finished for the night, I headed home. There were no more encounters with anyone else thankfully, allowing me to relax for the night with a beer on my porch. My house wasn’t much, a one story two bedroom house that had a less than stellar paint job, but it was home. It was old, from the 20’s, but it was sturdy. I wasn’t there much but to eat, sleep, and shower anyways.

Sitting on the porch, one beer turned into two which turned into three. It was the fourth one that I finally felt like I could stop shaking completely. The last time I had seen John and talked to him was nearly a month ago. We’d been separated for almost a year and he was being his usual passive aggressive self just to push my boundaries. He’d come into the store and made a show of talking to me like I was a kid, letting everyone see he was the calm, collected Alpha that was trying to reach out with an olive branch to fix things between the unstable Omega who just needed some gentle handling to become a decent person.

I had nearly come unglued on him, but managed to keep my voice low and my eyes down. Peggy found me right after, sobbing out behind the store. No one, not even Peggy, knew what really happened between all three of us, but I wasn’t about to tell them and neither were John and Brock. We’d come to an agreement that they would leave me alone and not talk to me unless absolutely necessary and I’d stay quiet. As well as paying them off. It was nearly half of both my paychecks, but it was worth it if it meant they didn’t come into the store when I was there or tried to talk to me at all.

But John was starting to toe the line and push back. Brock kept his part of the deal, I was pretty sure he never really cared for me, but John was always obsessive. The deal was going to have to be revisited if John didn’t back off.

Done for the night, I tossed the bottles before heading to bed.

The last few days of the work week were about the same. Go to work, come home, go to work, come home. I saw Clint now and then who came in to grab a few things here and there, but that was it. He was nice and despite John wanting to tell me who I could and couldn’t see, it felt better to know that there was someone in town who didn’t know things about me without my permission.

While we weren’t best friends, we did send memes to each other when I was on break and he wasn’t busy. At one point he messaged me a picture of his shed full of cobwebs and wasp nests and asked if it was appropriate to burn it to the ground. I told him to be careful because there could be copperheads underneath or groundhogs. That led into me explaining what those were and learning that the man had lived 37 years thinking a groundhog was something made up by a city for a holiday and it was really just a beaver they were using.

It seemed that I would be teaching him, and probably his pack vicariously, what to look out for in their new homes. I still hadn’t met the rest of the pack, though I had seen one or two here and there around town.

Soon Friday rolled around. I woke up at about 4:30 AM. Friday would be busier than usual as it was a payday. I showered then dressed, sliding on jeans and a long sleeved shirt, I then made a pot of coffee before doing my makeup. Just enough to hide the bags under my eyes and a few marks on my neck that were visible above my shirt collar.

It was my regular dress for my job at the store, Peggy didn’t care too much so long as it wasn’t offensive. Which meant anything but plain clothing and no writing. After coffee, I fixed my hair so it didn’t frizz then grabbed my thermos of coffee. I locked up then headed to work.

The sun was peeking above the trees and clouds as I pulled into work around 5:15 AM. Peggy was already there when I walked in the back.

“Did you have any problems closing the other night? I forgot to ask,” She said as I stepped into the office to get my cash drawer for the day.

“It was fine. Had one of the new people stop in, Clint. The blond that comes by for snacks. He’d made it in just after we closed, but I went ahead and let him shop since they didn’t have anything at their houses,” I said, taking the drawer from the open safe.

“Houses? You mean they’re not all in one?” She asked, looking up from her book keeping.

“There’s not a big enough house for more than four people on their property. There’s like ten of them,” I said with a snort.

“Well I’m sure we’ll meet all of them at some point. We’re the only grocery store in town,” she said.

“Unless they need to buy in bulk. Clint nearly bought everything in the store,” I said, counting my drawer at the register.

“We can only hope. Next time you see them, let them know if they need more than a few things to get us a list and we’ll get them large amounts. We used to do that a lot when there were bigger packs in my hometown,” Peggy said. The woman was nearly 60 and had lived in England up until about 30 years ago, getting the general store from her uncle who had passed away. I was used to hearing the facts of ‘We used to do this in my hometown’ a lot.

“Will do.”

Finished with setting up, I unlocked the front door and turned on the rest of the lights at 6:00 AM. The usual rush of moms right after school starts as well as early rising elderly came in, making for the usual busy rush that Peggy would step in and help with at the second register. By the time 10:00 AM rolled around, things were tapering off. We’d have a lunch rush for those grabbing a quick something, then back to a nice slowness.

“I’m gonna take my break after this last person checks out,” I said to Peggy who nodded. I was starting to get hungry and I saw a bearclaw in the donut rack that had my name on it. A few cups of coffee could only hold me over for so long before I needed actual food.

Before I could clock out for a break though, two people walked into the otherwise empty store. They were part of the new pack, just the scent alone said that, and they were Alphas. Great.

“I got this if you want,” Peggy said softly as she caught the scent too. Peggy was a sweet Beta and she acted as a stand-in grandma for me, but I couldn’t just run at every Alpha that came in.

“I’m good,” I said, giving her a small wave and smile. It wasn’t long before the Alphas came to the register. One was taller, probably over 6’, with steely blue eyes and dark, earthy brown hair with a scruff on his face. He smelt of fresh rain and peaches with that Alpha musk. Dressed in an almost too tight tee with an extra sleeve and glove covering his left arm and hand, he looked out of place in the button up work shirts and plaid that was usually worn by the adult men around town.

The other was shorter, more tailored. His light brown hair had a bit of copper to it as it was swept back from his face as that held a neatly trimmed beard. His dark eyes stayed on the phone in his hand. He too was in a tee and jeans that were fitted tighter, making them look. . . Well almost foreign. A whiff of cedar and maybe smoke or tobacco swirled into the first Alpha’s scent. Both of them mingling and making something settle deep inside my belly.

Fuck.

“Is that all for you two?” I asked, holding back with every fiber of my being any scent or sign of them making me feel like a simple, needy Omega.

“That’ll be it,” the first Alpha said. It was standard groceries of meat, cheese, dried goods, condiments, basically anything to stock up a house after moving.

“Is your pack settling in okay? Clint comes by now and then,” I said, trying to make small talk. Usually I didn’t, but something about those two had me anxious. Not a bad anxious, but. . . I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Oh, uh yeah. We’re getting there,” he said with a nod. “It’s different than what we’re used to.”

“What are ya’ll used to?” I asked, looking from one to the other.

“A lot more people and a lot less trees,” the second Alpha spoke up, his voice lilting into an accent I couldn’t place. “But it is lovely here. I quite like how peaceful it is without masses of people a hair’s breadth away.”

“Glad you like it,” I said, giving him a soft smile. “So are all of you from New York too?”

“A few of us, but not all,” the first Alpha said as he pulled out his wallet.

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t take you long to settle in. Today’s total is $87.56,” I said, tapping a few buttons on my keypad.

“Tell me, is there a nursery around? For plants that is,” the second Alpha asked, leaning onto the counter when I started to help pack up the groceries into the cart. “I am wanting to start a flower garden, but would like to see where the supplies are first.”

“A plant nursery? Um, there is one just west of the town. Just take the main road and it’s about ten minutes from town. It’s run by the Mennonites and they have a bunch of different plants to pick from. They’ve even got starter trees for fruits and some bushes for blackberries and the like,” I said.

“Thank you. I appreciate the information,” he said with a soft smile and a nod. I couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“You’re welcome, if any of your pack needs anything just ask around. We’re all pretty friendly here,” I said as I finished putting the bags in the cart.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said, moving over to the cart to hold out his hand to me. “I am Helmut. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Hazel. It’s nice to meet you both,” I said, taking his hand. It was warm and soft, different than the work roughened hands I was used to. Helmut rolled his eyes at the other, elbowing him.

“Hey,” he grumbled, shooting him a glare. “Oh, uh, I’m Bucky.” A quick wave and awkward smile was all I was given as he quickly moved to push the cart away.

“He’s house broken, I swear,” Helmut said with a wink. I couldn’t help the honest to God giggle that came out of me. “Have a good day, Hazel,” Helmut said, smiling as he shook his head at Bucky.

“You too,” I called after as they left. It didn’t even occur to me that I was staring after them till Peggy came up next to me.

“You could always ask for a photograph. It would last longer,” she said with hum.

“Oh shush,” I said, waving her off. “They were just, ya know, nice. Most Alphas around here are curt and so loud and demanding. It’s a nice change to see is all.”

“Uh huh. Even if you weren’t letting them get a scent of you, you were definitely giving them eyes. I’ve never seen you do that for anyone. Not even when you were with ‘Those-Who-Shan’t-Be-Named.’ I think it’s cute and wonderful that you had that reaction,” Peggy said as she went to the other register so I could take a break. “Besides, when’s the last time you actually touched someone on purpose?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just being nice to new people is all,” I said, locking my register computer after clocking out for a break. Quickly, I grabbed the bearclaw before leaving the dollar and change for Peggy. “It was just a handshake. Besides, you always tell me to work on my customer service skills,” I said as I walked to the back door.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” She called after me.

#john walker/oc #brock rumlow/oc #john walker/brock rumlow/oc #bucky barnes #john walker #brock rumlow #bucky barnes/helmut zemo #bucky barnes/oc #helmut zemo/oc #zemo/oc #bucky/zemo #bucky barnes/helmut zemo/oc #bucky/zemo/oc #a/b/o #marvel #fanfiction

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cakelanguage · 3 years

Text

A very self-indulgent fluffy piece for RiVer. I just want these two to have a happy ending so I’m giving it to them! I hope you like this :)

You can also read this on AO3

It wasn’t even noon when V got a ping on her Agent from River. A small smile graced her face despite being in the middle of taking out another gonk for Wakako. The gig wasn’t hard - a simple in-and-out retrieval of some intel that’d fallen into the wrong hands, but even simple jobs sometimes involved taken out a guy or two. This one was harmless, not even worth the street cred it might get her for taking him out so she simply knocked him out and stuffed him in one of the bins conveniently posted outside the room.

Really it was like they were asking for people to just dump bodies in them. Actually, that was probably exactly what they wanted to happen. Fewer cleanups for the police to have to deal with and all.

Pocketing the shard that’d been on the desk, she pulled up River’s text.

Hey babe, you busy?

She grinned and quickly sent a negative to him. She barely found time to hang out with River, what with all the Arasaka and Johnny bullshit she’d been dealing with the past few months. Now that she wasn’t in imminent death from the Relic she honestly just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend. Fuck if she wasn’t going to take advantage of River and her not being busy.

You available to call?

For you? Always. xoxo

She could almost hear Johnny groaning at her being mushy. She felt a pang of loss as she thought about the rockerboy and placed a kiss on her fist before she raised it to the sky. She hoped Johnny was out there somewhere giving the corpos hell from the deepest levels of cyberspace.

The call popped up and she quickly answered as she walked toward the drop-off point.

“Hey River,” V chirped, quickly taking in his appearance in the little window in the upper corner of her vision.

“V, hey yourself,” River said, a lop-sided grin settling easily on his face. “How’ve you been?”

She hummed noncommittally. “Can’t complain too much, definitely been missing morning cuddles though.” And perfect cups of coffee. And the polarity of temperatures between River’s cybernetic hand and the warmth of his skin. And kisses.

She felt needy, missing him so much and all the little things he did. But maybe needy wasn't so bad.

“I’ve missed them too.”

“Think we can change that then?”

“Yeah, case is closed and I’ll be back by this evening.”

If V could’ve purred with delight she would have. “Mm, I’m a lucky girl.”

River laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide her pleased grin. “As much as I’d love to just talk about how lucky we are to have each other, something tells me this isn’t strictly a pleasure call.”

Her boyfriend gave her an abashed smile. “You caught me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well go on, let’s hear it,” V teased. “What do you need? A contact? A lead? Someone, to do some super sleuthing?”

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s uh- it’s actually kind of a favor for me and Joss.”

Since she’d met River she’d steadily been getting closer and closer with Joss. It was nice to have another girlfriend, though with Judy and Panam, not to mention Misty and Rogue (if she could count Rogue), she wasn’t exactly lacking in them.

But Joss was different. She was a single mom who busted her ass to provide for her family. It reminded her starkly of her older sister back when the Bakkers were still around. And though Joss sometimes brought up painful memories for her, she loved the woman.

“I don’t mind helping you two out,” V reassured, finally dropping off the shard. She’d get the eddies within the next half hour and if need be she could split her earnings to give to the family. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”

A husky chuckle echoes over the coms. "Anything, huh?"

"I helped take down one of the leading corpos in the world with an engram of a rockstar slowly taking over my brain - I'm open to just about anything at this point."

"Fair enough." River let out a breath of air. "Joss asked me if I'd meet her this afternoon at Heywood General Hospital to pick up Randy."

V's eyes widened. "He's been cleared for release?" She hadn't thought Randy would be released for another few weeks. It'd been touch-and-go at the beginning and although he'd come a long way since the farm, he still had plenty of recovering to do.

"Yeah, I was shocked too, but I've been visiting him and he's doing a lot better than he was."

Anything would've been better than the drug-induced catatonia that he'd been in when River and V had found him in that barn. She was still haunted by the half-lidded eyes and slack jaw that had been behind that plastic mask. "That's great," her shoulders relaxed from their previous position, "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Me too, and Joss is happy she gets to bring him home."

"He gonna be in his trailer again?"

River made a noncommittal noise. "That's up to him really. We don't know how he'll feel about being alone now but we've decided to let Randy feel his way through this one."

Made the most sense to V. "Alright so you and Joss are going to pick up Randy and you want me too…?" V asked, shifting their conversation back to the favor River and Joss wanted.

"Oh uh right yeah," River scratched the back of his neck. V wanted nothing more than to ease the man's nerves about whatever he was going to ask. "Since Joss and I are going to be getting Randy, we need someone to watch Dorian and Monique." He didn't pause to let her get a word in edgewise. "Usually one of the neighbors can watch them but most of them are busy and then I might've suggested that we could ask you." He scratched at his cheek and shifted his gaze to the side. "You can say of course, but I figured-"

"Babysitting the little rugrats?" V asked with a grin, interrupting her boyfriend's spiel. "You trust me to watch 'em?"

"V," River had that tone to his voice that was part scolding and part fond, "you're their 'Auntie V,' they'll be cheering when they find out you're watching them."

"I don't know, you did joke that I was the one who needed a babysitter."

He snorted and raised a meaningful brow. "And sometimes you do, but I have total faith in you on this. As does Joss."

"Well I guess I can trust Joss' judgment," V teased. "I can be there in twenty."

River's shoulders sagged at her acceptance. "Thanks, babe."

That mushy feeling returned with vengeance and V was sure she had some stupid look on her face. “Want me to make something for dinner?”

Her boyfriend whistled. “Got myself a lady who can kick ass and offer to make dinner.”

“Riv, come on,” she rolled her eyes trying to appear stern, “Dinner a yes or no?”

“Dinner would be great, to be honest. Joss and I were planning on picking something up on the way home.”

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Uh-uh, nope, no way am I letting Randy’s first meal out of the hospital to be some fast food soy protein that’s no much better than the shit you can get with a kibble card.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat that crap before,” River argued, though he looked more amused than anything.

“Details, details,” V waved a dismissive hand, “Randy have any food restrictions or favorite foods?”

Food had been a big part of V’s life growing up with the Bakker’s. Food didn’t just mean fueling the body, but feeding the soul. Her mother had once told her that a good meal could heal the body just as well as medicine. Looking back, V knew her mother had been exaggerating but she’d taken the statement to heart because a good meal showed someone you cared for their wellbeing.

Her boyfriend pondered her question as she pinged Jackie’s bike to meet her so she could leave.

“Well, he liked my jambalaya when I snuck some in for him to try last week.”

“Hot or mild?”

“Believe it or not, spicy.” His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “Told me it was the first thing he’d been able to taste since everything went down.”

“Then it’s good he got to taste something delicious,” V said.

River’s smile lost that edge and regained the softness he only showed when he was talking about his family or V herself. “Feel free to keep stroking my ego.”

V shook her head with a snort. “Maybe later,” she offered while mentally going through the repertoire of recipes she still remembered. Something spicy, strong flavors that the whole family would like. “Think he’d eat gumbo?”

“Gumbo?”

“Yeah, learned to make it back when my family was still together...”

She remembered the crowded prep stations, her underfoot as she helped as much as she could under her mother and sister’s tutelage. She remembered her uncle sneaking bits from the cutting boards and popping them in his mouth, sending her a wink and an exaggerated shushing motion to not say anything.

River didn’t interrupt her musing, instead, he waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. He understood that if he interrupted V she wouldn’t finish talking about her past.

“Mealtime was one of the few times we all tried to be together and pause from our other duties,” V explained. “We made all kinds of stuff depending on who was in charge of dinner, but I know gumbo was my favorite and it’s similar to jambalaya.”

“A family recipe and your favorite, huh?” River commented, “I look forward to trying it.”

It didn’t matter that V hadn’t made gumbo in two years. She wanted to do something for her new family. "It’ll probably take me a little longer to get home since I’ll stop and get them on the way.” She revved the engine and patted the side of the bike. “See you, River, tell Randy we'll be waiting for him at home."

The silence stretched over the line and V had to make sure her Agent hadn't malfunctioned and dropped the call. But River was still connected, just stared at her with this shocked look. "You okay?" V asked.

Her question shook River from his stupor and he gave her a besotted look. "Yeah I'm fine," he reassured, "see you at home after Joss and I pick up Randy."

"Preem."

She snagged the veggies from an Aldaecado who sold some of their crops at the Sunset Motel and picked up some synthetic meat that didn’t look too bad and set course for the trailer park. The ride was as peaceful as ever and V cranked Jackie's bike to the max speed down the straightaways, shaving off five minutes from her ride. The Badlands were some of the best places to go full-throttle without having to worry about a bunch of traffic.

Joss stood on the porch while Monique and Dorian listened to whatever she told them, playfully jostling each other as much as they could get away with. As soon as they spotted V though, they dashed towards her with the exuberance that was only ever found in children. V knelt down with a laugh and opened her arms in invitation.

"Auntie V!" Monique cheered, reaching her first and throwing herself into V's waiting arms, scooping the little girl up into a full-body embrace.

V had quickly discovered how much the two kids liked their hugs and who was V to deny them that?

Dorian quickly followed, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Mom told us you're gonna watch us while she and Uncle River bring Randy home," Dorian said. "Which means we can play together again!"

V laughed and shifted Monique to her hip so she could ruffle Dorian's hair. "Only if you're willing to take this rookie under your wings," V said.

The two giggled and reassured her that they'd show her the ropes, both puffing up with pride.

She managed to slowly walk towards Joss with the two limpets clinging to her laughing and cheering. She saw the poorly hidden laughter that Joss was trying to cover up as just a smile. V was glad she could make the crow’s feet on the women's face crinkle instead of deepening the worry lines that were far too prominent on her friend's face.

“Hey Joss,” V greeted, shifting Monique enough so that she could pull Joss into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Hey, V,” Joss replied, pulling out of the hug. “Thank you so much for being willing to watch the kids.”

“Willing? I’m more than happy to watch them, you know that.”

V and the kids got along like a house fire and she cherished all the little games they’d play together. It gave V an excuse to check-out of adult stuff and focus on entertaining River’s niece and nephew. It had done wonders for her mental health.

Joss smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Monique’s ear. “Still, I know it’s last minute. Neither River nor I were expecting them to give Randy the okay to leave the hospital.”

“And Randy’s probably been chomping at the bit to leave that place, right?”

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “If he could’ve, I’m sure he would’ve broken out of there after the first five days.”

“A boy after my own heart.”

Despite going to a number of ripperdocs, regular hospitals, and trauma centers left her nervous and itching to leave ASAP. River practically had to drag her to the hospital just to get a full brain scan after the Relic incident.

Joss rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most. Pretty sure it’ll mostly be paperwork and finding out any home care we need to know about for Randy’s recovery.”

As usual, Joss was fairly matter-of-fact about the whole thing but she couldn’t hide her worry. V figured she’d be just as worried if her baby had gone through what Randy had. It didn’t help that her relationship with her son had been strained before and no matter how much they’d talked since the incident there was still the unknown of how their relationship would go once he was home again.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” V said, setting down the girl in her arms.

Monique tugged at Dorian’s shirt and the two were off chasing after each other.

Joss remained silent but her shoulders relaxed some. Finally, she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “If the kids get hungry-”

“Feed ‘em something that won’t give them a sugar rush,” V dutifully replied. “I know, Joss don’t worry, I can handle these two just fine.”

Joss sighed. “I know you can, but a mother can’t help but worry,” she managed to give V a sly smile. “You’ll understand when you and River have a kid.”

V made a choking noise as her face flushed. “J-Joss, we-we haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

“Hop to it, V,” Joss joked with a clap. “Need you to make an honest man out of my gonk of a brother and I want to be an aunt at some point in the near future.”

It was a nice thought, getting married and starting a family with River. It sounded terribly domestic and kind of wonderful if she was being honest.

But her and River could talk about that later.

Much later.

“Go on, get going,” V shooed, “Randy’s waiting.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about giving me nieces and nephews later,” Joss relented. ‘If you want to get takeout, I have a few menus in the kitchen with Dorian and Monique’s favorites circled.”

“Actually I was gonna make gumbo,” Seeing Joss’ surprise she continued. “It’s a family recipe and I haven’t made it in a while but River said that Randy liked his jambalaya so I figured he’d probably like gumbo too since it also has a strong flavor. But uh if they won’t like it-”

“V,” Joss interrupted with a grin.

“Hm?”

“I really hope River does marry you.”

V blushed and returned her grin. “Yeah me too.”

She’d managed to make the roux for the gumbo while Monique and Dorian were playing tag and now she just had to let the gumbo simmer which meant she was completely free to play. The two were more than ready for her to join them, bouncing around her as she quickly donned the AR set.

The blue tint to ‘Trouble in Heywood’ flooded her vision and she took in the kids’ game personas: Captain Joan McClane and Lieutenant Henry Callahan. It still made her laugh when she saw them, the two rough officers that looked like they were ex-Militech before joining the force. It didn’t help that the backstories they’d given them were so serious.

“Didn’t know if you’d come back, rookie,” Captain Joan, Monique said, her arms crossed and her face stern behind her shades. “Thought what you’d seen when we took down El Chamuco Endiablado was still clinging onto ya’.”

Lieutenant Henry Callahan, Dorian scoffed. “Nah, the two rookies we worked with for the takedown were good, and that’s coming from me,” he argued.

“Sounds like we might’ve grown on you two lone wolves, huh?” V teased, cocking her hip as she checked her gun.

“Don’t get cute with me, rookie,” Captain Joan said.

V raised her hands. “Fine, fine,” she bounced her eyes back and forth between the two. “What’s the situation today?”

“With El Chamuco Endiablado gone, we created a power vacuum and the force is flaggin’ under the pushback,” Captain Joan explained.

“Which is why they’ve called us in,” Lieutenant Henry added, “Regular force just won’t cut it, gotta call in the best of the precinct to take these goons down.”

“We called you in for backup, rookie. All you gotta do is keep up and watch our backs, we can handle the rest.”

“No doubt about that,” V said, “But y’know, I gotta make it home to my partner, promised him I’d make it back.”

“The other rookie?” Lieutenant Henry asked.

“The one and only.”

Captain Joan shook her head and cocked her gun. “Battlefield’s no place for emotion, rookie,” she advised. “We need to dedicate ourselves to taking this filth out.”

V nodded her head and squared her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” she saluted, “Are we ready to start?”

Lieutenant Henry gave her a wild grin. “Those bad guys can’t escape justice.”

They ended up playing three different rounds of ‘Trouble in Heywood,’ each round further expanding the narrative. In the last game, Lieutenant Henry had gone rogue to zero José Luis, a Valentino who’d gotten away with murder because the NCPD “didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.” According to Captain Joan, Lieutenant Henry had been harboring secret feelings for the murder victim and he was out for blood.

Honestly, V wasn’t sure where the kids pulled these plots from, but they were endlessly entertaining.

She looked up from the pot she was stirring and made sure the kids were still sitting at the table she'd sat them at with a snack. It didn't look good to her, but Monique and Dorian cheered at the sight of it so at least they liked it.

She tapped her spoon against the rim of her pot and set it to the side. "What do you two wanna do now?" V asked, taking a seat beside Dorian.

"Mom usually makes us practice our reading and math," Dorian grumbled, his eyebrows scrunching together. "We aren't even going to school yet, it's like lightyears away."

"Lightyears, huh?" V mused, propping her chin against her hand. "That's a pretty long time."

"I know!" Dorian threw his hands up. "She says she wants us to be ready and stuff but it's so boring."

"The worst," Monique agreed. "But maybe since Mom isn't here…" She trailed off and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. "Oh no-"

"Please, V?" Dorian begged.

Then it became a cacophony of pleading words and promises to work harder tomorrow. Taking them on one-at-a-time, but both of them at once? Not even worth considering arguing.

"If I let you skip this lesson time," she started, the kids already whooping beside her. "I said if. "

The two nodded seriously, “We’ll do it,” they promised readily.

V shook her head, squinting at them with a skeptical look. “I haven’t even said what you have to do if you skip your lessons.” Monique and Dorian traded confused looks before turning back to her. “The first rule of any kinda deal,” she held up one finger, “you gotta listen to the whole deal, otherwise you might be signing yourself up for something worse.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Dorian insisted.

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause you’re nice,” Monique said. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not to you guys, but I’ve conned my fair share of gonks.” Their faith in her left a warm feeling in her chest. “Alright, but back to the deal. I let you guys skip, but you guys have to help me make a welcome home sign for Randy.”

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at her, mouths agape. “We’re gonna make a billboard?” They asked.

V bit her lip and shook her head. “Not a billboard, little short on time and really out of our budget.” She rifled through her pockets and pulled out a small device. “Had this bad boy for a while now, usually I use it to pull up my schematics or tweak one of my daemons, but I’ve got an app that’ll just let us create a design we wanna display.” She fiddled with her Agent and turned the phone towards them. “I’ve got the words, but I need two experts to really make it shine, figured you two would be perfect for the job.”

“Really?” Dorian whispered.

“Really really.” She leaned back, her smile relaxed and open. “I can do some graffiti or graphic style stuff, but you guys know Randy best.”

Monique kicked her legs back and forth and stared at the screen with a frown. “Last time we saw Randy, he didn’t want to hang out with us and said we were annoying him,” she mumbled just loud enough for V to hear.

Her heart sunk at the solemn tone of the girl’s voice. That was when Randy had been in Peter Pan’s grasp when he was being gaslighted with promises of understanding and promises of help.

You can tell a kid that their sibling loves them and what they were going through, but it didn’t erase the hurt that kid felt. And they didn’t fully understand.

Even so, reassurance was better than nothing.

“When Randy last talked to you,” V stated, making both kids look at her. “He was going through some tough times.” She picked at her nail as she tried to find the right words. How much did they know about what happened to Randy? “Do you know what happened with Randy?”

Dorian hesitantly shook his head. “We knew he went missing, and Mom said that you and Uncle River found him and brought him back,” he said.

“And he’s been at the hospital because he was hurt when you guys found him,” Monique added.

V nodded her head. “That’s the gist of it,” V admitted. She hesitated before continuing. “Randy thought he had a… friend, but when he went to meet this friend, he turned out to be a bad guy.”

“Like… the bad guys in our game?” Dorian asked.

V fought a grimace. “Worse.” When her statement was met with silence she continued. “Randy was captured and was hurt real bad while he was held captive.”

She’d never get the image of those kids gassed up and comatose, hooked up to those fucking machines out of her head. No matter what she did, she still remembers the frantic way her hands shook as she checked pulses on cool bodies and tugged out crusted IVs from limp arms.

“According to your Uncle River, Randy’s doing much better,” she reassured, trying to assuage some of their unease. “But he’s gonna need you two to help him, even if he’s grumpy and being mean.” She playfully punched her palm. “Sometimes you just gotta break through their defenses and make them understand. Which is why,” V gestured to her Agent, “We’re making him a special welcome sign.”

“And… it’ll help Randy?” Dorian asked.

“Showing him you care and are happy to see him can sometimes be exactly what a person needs.”

Monique and Dorian turned to each other and nodded before turning back to V. “You can count on us!”

V clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear!”

#RiVer #river ward #female v #v x river #river x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #my fic

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 4 years

Text

The Remembrance Of A Kiss

I was feeling nostalgic for a fic which I wrote almost three years ago called Zeta-7 and The Kiss; it was written back when I first started writing Rnm fics. While, I don't write how I used to, I am fond of it. So, here's this finished wip. I think I'm running on nostalgia these days, for things are changing faster then I can keep up with. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. It's guaranteed to be fluffy :3

In this fic the reader thinks about a past momentous moment.

_____________________

The trouble and light anxiety you had felt about the occasion had been insignificant compared to his. Back then you had been searching for an answer or rather a solution to a predicament; the problem at the time being that you weren't sure how to broach the subject of a certain display of affection. It was neither a lack or an abundance of affection, and it seems silly now when you thought of it, which was often, but when and where had your inclination to kiss him first begin? It might have always been there, but that statement in itself seemed like a lie, for you didn't want to kiss him when you initially met him, but he had been influential; recognizing you from another time, another life, but that wasn't what you came here to talk about. No, you wanted to think of that fateful day.

That day he had been in his usual delightful mood, the kind that came about because he got to see you and was genuinely having a good day; although, with him, he tended to find good in every day and as expected he was deliciously cheerful and had a smile which could last for days upon his thin lips. Oh, how you had loved that smile for it followed you everywhere, even when you couldn't seem him; that haircut which had been copied from an old clothing catalog advertisement and moved about when he spoke; buck teeth which dentists could only dream to keep as trophies, and the hint of lip bite when he'd finished talking; it was part of the draw. You fought, swallowed, and bided your time as you thought of the ways in which you could show him you loved him. For you, there was a momentum, a force which couldn't have been stopped; beginning with his hellos, and would build as you continued to be so affected and had been desperate to satisfy the longing and affection which pulled and drowned your senses whenever he was near; it made you reason that it was the right thing to do; to express and ask if it was alright to move forward; it was and he agreed, but he never quite recovered from being kissed.

No, you didn't mean all the kisses which occurred after and had taken place up to the present per se, but from the first one you had given him around the start of your relationship; having made such an impression, it was as though you had branded his heart and soul; that a string was tied to one of your ribs and to one of his ventricles which kept him alive only by his sheer will to withstand the forces and madness that threatened to tear him apart daily; he could never recover. You would say that he grew a little more mature that day; in mind, spirit, but not in age. To be sure, things had been so different then; Rick had been so shy when it came to romantic sensibilities, naive to others advances or otherwise natural attraction to him, believing he was unworthy of such while you had so much to learn about the mysteries of men; neither knew what the other had been going through. You hadn't known about his otherworldly adventures yet, his loneliness, or uniqueness, and he knew almost everything except your personality quirks, but as to how he knew was a different story.

Still, that was then, back when there was so much yet to be known, and you thought him to be human. You remembered how for days, he walked as though in a daze, bumping into things and hardly able to look you in the eyes without being lovestruck and tongue-tied; you were sure to watch after him to make sure you hadn't given him a stroke and assured him that he shouldn't deny his worth. Why it seemed even now he could barely function without being a little goofy after a kiss, but it was endearing; you hadn't known then about how he had been starved for affection due to lack of family and circumstances. Yet, if you had any doubts, they certainly were lessened by his attentiveness and wanting to please.

You were sure others might've tired of this behavior long ago, and you had your days in when you thought you weren't capable of managing it all, but for every time you came crashing down, he was there to help you even when you didn't want him to; for every tear and moment of grief, there was his affection which he returns out of love, gratitude, and fear all at once. Oh, if you knew then what you knew now, you would've confessed earlier; let him know how much you had cared, and tried harder to be a better friend. Still, you were making it up to him and doubted you'd ever finish making it up to him. And because he was forever grateful and happy when you kissed him, you decided to ask him one day what it was that he found so dazzling about it and to your shock, his answer endeared him to you all the more. "It's like saying h-hello." he answered matter of factly.

"Really? In what way?"

"Gosh," he wondered, scratching the back of his neck. "it's uh - it's like touching hands, but instead of the formality of a-a handshake, you touch lips to greet and exchange not only DNA but affection. Culture or whoever happens to partake in this ritual may affect its meaning, but in such an awe-inspiring way I believe it's a reminder of trust and union; albeit more intimate."

Was that how he had felt back then? Had it been a social experiment or a daydream that had come into fruition? Perhaps neither. Maybe, he was concerned that you'd be disappointed if that so-called spark wasn't there, but the good thing was you relied more on just sparks. "So, what you mean to say is that in a sense those who kiss are bonded?"

"I th-think so."

And you believed him, for when it came to such matters, he was sincere. Why it must've hit him harder than it ever will with you, but you blamed being a creature of natural circumstance for that; your childhood and life had been happy and general for the most part, while his had more loops in it then the Whirly Dirly. Thinking of it now, the consequence of your affection was that he took to you so strongly, you were sure that if something happened to you, it might kill him; the thought being burdensome in its own right.

You had never thought of pairing the word passionate with him, but his sensibilities to and of the world in which he existed in as well as to interactions with the beings in it made you wonder if there was anything or anyone he could truly hate; himself perhaps for that was who he was most affected by.

"Rick," you started, pushing away the unsettling thoughts as you set down the book you had been reading. "I think that's sweet. You certainly have a knack for seeing the poetic nature behind the reality, but what are your thoughts on the people who kiss for fun?"

He ruminated for a moment. It might've occurred to him that people didn't always kiss with the intention of forming serious relationships, but he would be sure to make a note of finding out later. "Gosh, I'm sure there are some benefits t-t-to it, though I haven't done much research on the matter."

Who knew where one would begin on such a subject. There were books on both physiology and psychology, but did any of them go into the happenstance of a kiss? You hadn't thought of checking, but knowing the intelligent man that he was, perhaps he had looked into it. "Research huh? Dear," you explained, "people don't just research kisses as though they are studies or hypothesized."

"Th-they don't?"

"At least not that I know of. I mean, people simply see and do. Don't they? Is there more?"

"Y-yes and no. It depends on the species."

"Hmm, I guess it does."

Again, you wouldn't know. There must've been planets, realities, and universes whose signs of affection transcended that of action, but while it was a fascinating thought, you were glad that in your reality that wasn't the case in its entirety. Searching his face, you found that his brow was scrunched up together, wondering if there was more to it. You had thought the question innocent enough, he, on the other hand, wouldn't be satisfied until he found the truth behind your inquiry. Not being one to try to disappoint him, you turned towards him and nodded. "However, I have my own answer. If you come closer I can show you what I mean."

Removing his glasses, he scooted closer; curious to see if the answer was somehow in your pocket or hiding on his face. The trust which allowed him to focus on you with conviction as you approached him was palpable. Lightly, you brushed back his bangs and passed your fingers lightly over his frown lines. Silly man, he thought too much for his own good, but if he had been unsure earlier, then the blush which dusted his ears and cheeks said otherwise. Stretching up, you pressed a light kiss on his forehead; not unlike the ones he'd give you when he thought you were asleep. And you smiled at him from the bottom of your heart. In turn, he chuckled in happy amusement; boyish in the way his eyes glimmered as though he had gotten a new toy. "Gee, that was - that was swell, but I-I don't understand. Wh-what was that for?"

"I see you and I must kiss you. It's practically the law." you giggled before repeating the action.

"Are y-y-you sure?" he wondered, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Pulling back a little, you nodded. "I'm positive. Especially since it's what you deserve."

The light chuckle which escaped him only fed your joy as you peppered him with kisses. And before you could see it, you felt him smiling and glowing with happiness as his goofy grin returned with a vengeance.

"Gosh," he sighed with contentment, "I-I learn something new everyday."

"I bet you do, but really a kiss is nothing to think too hard about."

"I-I know."

"If anything, I think it's based on a feeling. For example," you paused to give yourself a moment to gather your thoughts together. "the reason I kiss you is the same reason I've always had and it's because I care about you. In my own way, it's like I'm saying, 'Hello, I missed you, come here, I love you. Oh, I love you so very much. Thank you, for simply existing and being here with me.' Maybe we both have the same reason as to why words sometimes aren't enough, and while a kiss is simple, it's not always so easy to execute, but nothing is wrong with that. It's all done in its own time. In its own way. I am happy you let me kiss you way back when, because I adored you so much that it hurt. I still adore you, and you'll always be precious to me."

Glancing at you in wonderment, he played with his fingers then searched your face again. In his soul, he knew you weren't lying, but since you've first known him, he always seemed to be searching, as well as fighting his self-condemning mind and heart especially having been injured so many times. As though you had a world of answers for some of his simple questions that he would've otherwise been too embarrassed to ask, he'd open his mouth just to close it again. You had assured him on multiple occasions that he could ask you anything, but his bashful nature gave allowances for this; endearing in its own right. Once he seemed satisfied, he took out his notepad and wrote down some notes; if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was writing a thesis by the way the words slanted and blended into one another as he concentrated on the details, all the while sporting that lovestruck grin. "What are you writing dear? Is it a love letter? Is it about the trees, or bees, or whatever goes about in that wonderful head of yours?"

"I'm updating my notes."

This much you knew. "But on what? Not on kissing, right? That would be something." you teased.

"N-n-no," he answered softly, "but on you."

"Is that right? Is there any particular reason?"

"Mhm," he nodded. "so I won't forget."

What a silly man he was, you thought. "It's ok to forget things, but I'm sure you won't. Besides, who forgets the first person they kiss?"

"N-not me."

"Of course not, especially with all the reminders that come after. I doubt I will, but reminders are appreciated. I wouldn't want to forget how happy you make me."

Slowing down his note-taking, he mentioned. "I like reminders too."

Of course he did. From years of journal keeping to the multiple watches and small computers that were scattered about the house, for there was so much going on in his head he needed help keeping his train of thought straight. It was just another way of saying in so many words, how much he loved you. "So do I. And trust me, I'll be sure to remind you a lot. As much as you need, and as often as I can. Hopefully," you winked at him. "I'll be reminded soon."

Giving your hand a squeeze, he softened. "I um - I don't mind reminding you. I-I really like reminders."

"I know, but do you like them more than adventures, or as far as that ship in the garage will take you?" you teased.

Replacing the notepad in his pocket, he nodded. "As far as 238,855 miles w-will take me."

Miles or kilometers were but measurements and distance, but that distance you were sure was not on Earth. "Do you mean to the moon?"

Pressing a light kiss to your temple, he answered. "Por supuesto, y-y más allá de eso. Please, don't forget"

Forget? Why would you forget? If there was a prelude, it was the flutter and happy giddiness which occurred when you caught him off guard, but to whatever came after, it was effervescent, sweet, and addictive. And while it could be said about a lot of things, he was far more complex. You see, you never recovered from being kissed, because you were enticed by his charm, and won by his goodness, but a kiss sealed the deal; for now and forever you belonged to him and you weren't going to let him forget it. Cupping his cheek, you replied. "I won't and I never will Ricky. You can bet on that," as you leaned forward, you whispered. "and seal it with a kiss."

Fin

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kenzieam · 4 years

Text

Destroyed - Chapter One (Chris X OC)

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, language, drama, angst

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@iammarylastar @captstefanbrandt @jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @everythingisoverrated @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @oliviastan17

I KNOW I’M MISSING TAGS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT IN

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What happens if Chris survived the bank robbery?

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Five Years Later

The sun beat heavy on his bare shoulders, the skin pulling slightly with the beginnings of a sunburn. Chris tightened the final bolt then straightened, ducking out from under the reach of the truck’s hood, stretching his spine with a groan as he dropped the wrench with a clatter in with its mates then pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands.

He let the sun warm his face for a moment, eyes closed and contemplated; should he get a start on figuring out what was making the Adler’s van run so rough, or go eat lunch?

That was his life now, and he was content with it.

He’d just made up his mind, lunch first, Adler’s van second, when a new sound pierced his thoughts. Dropping his head from the sun’s warmth, he turned to look over his shoulder.

A late seventies Toyota Land Cruiser wheezed towards him. Although old, it was in decent shape, either an older restoration or just plain well cared for, but right now, it needed help. Chris watched as it wound down, seemingly like a wind-up toy petering out, and gasped one last time before stalling a few dozen feet away. All clearance lights, already dimmed, died instantly and Chris, although not a betting man, not since gambling with his life five years ago, would have laid odds on what the Toyota’s problem was.

The driver’s door opened as Chris approached and he felt a sudden jolt of electricity. Not even Erin’s kiss in that bar as they’d learned their cover had affected him like this. A woman stepped out, no… scratch that, an angel appeared.

Long auburn hair, faint strands of blond catching the sun; thick and wavy and just perfect for Chris to card his hands through. Sunglasses of probably the same vintage as the Cruiser were pushed up into that glorious mane to reveal a set of cat-shaped eyes in the most unique and breath-taking shade of lilac-grey Chris had ever seen. Faint wrinkles of worry marred the smooth heart-shaped face and then she was looking right at him and Chris felt like he’d been kicked in the guts.

“Hey- , uh. Car trouble?” He stuttered, feeling his face start to flame.

The faintest of smiles. “Yeah.”

“Sounds like your alternator.” Chris scrambled for steady ground; known terrain when the earth was practically shaking beneath his feet.

“I thought so,” she murmured, sounding resigned. She met his eyes and Chris felt a fresh jolt. “Do you think it took my battery out with it?”

A lopsided grin, the majority of people he helped had no idea what an alternator even was, let alone knew how it worked.

“I’ll check that, if you got it here fast enough, it should be okay.”

She bit her lip for a moment. “How long will it take? I have to get to work.”

“Not long, I can have it done by this afternoon if I’ve got the part laying around.”

The woman flinched slightly. “I work late, I won’t be able to come back until tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. You said you had to work? I can take you-“ Chris was babbling and he knew it, forced himself to shut up. “I mean, if you’d like.”

The faint smile again, a hint of pink in her cheeks. Maybe he wasn’t the only one being thrown off his axis right now. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No, it’s fine.” Chris was inexplicably terrified of losing contact with this woman and if he’d had more time to think about it, it probably would have bothered him, this sudden attachment. “I’m just heading out to lunch; I can give you a ride. Where are you going?”

Her eyes met his, that strange lilac-grey seeming to pierce into his soul. After a heartbeat, something flickered in her gaze, something Chris would swear was fear. “No, thank you.” Her voice was firm now, insistent and Chris felt an unexpected and unexplained pang of disappointment. She reached into her purse and pulled out a flip phone.

Chris stood rooted to the spot, frozen, until the woman raised her head. “Would you like me to sign anything first?” Her voice was tentative again, as if she worried she’d angered him.

Chris swallowed hard, hating that she was slipping between his fingers and at the same time, absolutely stunned that it mattered so much to him already. What the fuck is wrong with you, King? “Yeah, follow me. I’ll make out a work order.” He turned and strode into the shop, heart hammering a frantic tattoo in his chest. Reaching the counter, he grabbed the necessary paperwork and a pen. “Uh, name?”

The woman had reached the other side of the counter and now shifted her weight, almost uneasily, as if she was leery even of giving Chris her name. “Raen.” She finally answered, pronouncing it like ‘Rain’. “R A E N Casteel.”

“And a number to reach you at?”

Another pause, as if weighing her options. Chris had studied body language and received more than enough training in the F.B.I. to read this woman’s behaviour. She had been hurt by someone in the past, badly, and was either running from it still or was just permanently marked, forever cautious around strangers, especially men. His heart ached with a sudden desire to pull her close and crush away all her bad memories, show her that not all love and all men meant pain; and track down the ratfuck that had made her this way to begin with. Finally, she offered a number, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Okay,” Chris scrawled the number, mind racing as he tried to organize his thoughts. He’d never been so thrown by someone in his life, not since her. In the space of only a few minutes, he’d gone from content and hungry, his biggest decision of the day being when and what to eat, to being absolutely swept up in a mysterious woman, ready to fight for her and kiss away her sorrow. But no.

He couldn’t.

He’d fallen hard for a woman before, and it had nearly killed him. He could not do that again.

“Alright.” He cleared his throat, forcing a casual tone. “I’ll look at it and give you a call and an estimate.”

“Thank you. If I don’t answer, please leave a message.”

“Sure.”

The woman gave him one last hesitant smile, then dropped the keys on the counter, turned and almost fled the shop, the door banging closed behind her. Chris watched her hurry away and disappear around the corner.

Jesus wept.

He wanted to help her, and not just by fixing her vehicle.

As soon as his doctors discharged him from the hospital, as soon as it wasn’t abject agony to move anymore (because Chris had gone cold-turkey on all hard drugs after), he’d left the F.B.I., taking all the compensation and bonuses offered to him for his service and sacrifice. Breaking the lease on his apartment, he’d loaded his truck (not the monster he’d driven as Undercover Chris, but his own) and pointed it east, intent on leaving L.A. and California and the west coast entirely, not stopping until the icy dread that ran rampant through his veins finally ebbed and he could draw a deep breath again.

Staying in L.A. meant memories, it meant driving past old haunts and neighborhoods, remembering his shitty past and even shittier career as a Special Agent; one that had started promisingly enough, especially for a delinquent kid who had more in common with the thugs he chased than the agents who hunted them, but had cratered hard when he’d accepted his last assignment.

Deep cover, a chance to advance and take out an asshole at the same time. Dangerous, but definitely worth it; and then he’d met her.

Erin Bell, his awakening and his ruin. His rise and his downfall. In her he’d found a partner, a fellow survivor of a hellish childhood and for a time, he’d been in love. Blinded by the light, as the song went.

He’d let himself believe he could have it all, that he and Erin could give the middle finger to Silas’ gang, to the F.B.I., Sheriff’s Office and the whole fucking world and just run off together with a shit-ton of stolen money.

How wrong he’d been. At the last moment, his conscience had finally intervened, and he remembered the fright and tears in that blonde teller’s eyes as Silas had screamed at her, the abject terror in her innocent face. As he’d watched Silas drop the duffels, spewing tell-tale purple clouds and storm back into the bank, the haze had lifted from his mind and even Erin’s horrified, pleading stare hadn’t been enough to bring it back.

No one gets a fuckin’ scratch. He’d vowed, but he’d been the naïve one then.

“F.B.I.!” His words hadn’t had the desired effect, Silas hadn’t fl0undered in shock or dropped to his knees in acquiescence; it was like he’d known and, looking back, he probably had, trading Arturo for Chris at the last moment, the psycho had at least suspected someone was a mole and Chris had been the one to break cover.

The memory of the burn from the bullets was something that still woke Chris up from a dead sleep, multiple points of agony in his torso, a line of fire on his scalp. That last bullet Silas gave him, aimed as the kill shot to his skull as he lay gasping and already dying on the grimy industrial carpet of the bank; had, depending on your viewpoint, either saved or doomed Chris, missing his brain and splitting a line on his scalp instead. Silas hadn’t noticed as he’d stalked out and Chris carried that scar to this day, visible at all times because although he hated thinking about his past, he’d kept the shorn head and facial hair.

If asked, he couldn’t explain why, but maybe it really was to remember, even though he hated to. Seeing Undercover Chris, with a buzz cut and goatee everyday in the mirror was his penance. He couldn’t, he didn’t deserve to go back to the neatly-groomed man he’d been before, hair longer and fluffy and worthy of a woman running their fingers through it; he wasn’t that man anymore, for better or worse.

He’d driven until his truck had made the choice for him, quitting in this mid-sized town in New York state, lasting long enough for him to limp it into this very mechanic’s shop. A chance comment from the owner, that he needed a new mechanic, had been the catalyst for Chris to stay, at least for awhile.

As a kid, knowing through bitter experience that his own mother was an unreliable source, Chris had kept himself alive with his hands. More specifically, using his hands to fix and tinker. A few hours working on the neighbor’s broken lawnmower earned him enough to eat for a week, the car he’d traded a day’s worth of small engine work for and spent two months of weekends working on before selling to the plumber down the street helped him make it when his mother finally OD’d and he’d needed to keep himself afloat, keep the nosy housewives on the block from calling CPS and reporting a child left alone. Not that they’d have been overly concerned for Chris’ wellbeing, his mother had supported her drug habit by spreading her legs for anyone with cash or drugs, and most if not all of these women’s husbands had partaken at one time or another, meaning Chris was practically guaranteed abandonment when the real object of their fury and indignation was gone, and only her son was left to blame.

That history had been his fuel for a time, spurring him to apply for the F.B.I., encouraging and driving his ambitions to make something of himself, to be more than the fatherless son of a crack-whore.

And, for a time, he had been. He’d been more. Chosen for the assignment, entrusted with the delicate task, but he’d fucked it up, as it was in his genes to do and it still burned sometimes to think about it.

And now, working at the shop had kept him busy, tired him out enough that sometimes he was even too exhausted for the nightmares. So, when the old man had announced his retirement two years later, Chris had offered to buy the place.

For almost three years now he’d been here, running his own business, continuing and building on the shop’s reputation in town, paying Karma back with steady and honest work.

But was Raen another Erin? Another flash fire that would only leave him staggering and burned, another paradigm shift in his already jagged and torn existence?

He’d worked so hard to rebuild his life, was he ready to risk it all again?

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #au bucky barnes #sebastian stan #destroyer #destroyed #destroyer chris #chris x raen #destroyer chris fanfic #destroyer chris fantiction #destroyer chris angst #destroyer chris drama

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glitterslag · 5 years

Text

Strip Tease.

So this was on my mind for a few days and until I cracked and did blurbs for everyone! I’m super into Warren lately, and I haven’t done anything for Ben in a while so that’s what imma do

summary: Warren the master mixologist, sad, divorced Roger and Ben on a stag-do straight out of The Inbetweeners. And you, a stripper.

warnings: strip club, divorce, cheating, alcoholism, difficult sexual themes. References to sex and some light smut at the end.

word count: hella

A/N: This came out as more of a character study than anything else. Also, I’m seeing a lot of fuckboi ben HCs on my dash lately so I needed to remedy because i can’t handle the cold truth. So I wrote 2k words of lovely conscientious ben walking you home safe x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Thanks for nearly 1k followers!! I’m celebrating by writing a ton of blurbs, headcanons and oneshots! Y’all are keeping me busy with the requests so far, but if you did want to suggest something, feel free! I hope I’ll get round to it

Warren.

The bar staff were nearly always female.

Recruit a pretty young girl to work 8 hours on her feet for minimum wage, while dancers make hundreds a night more than her wearing only a little less - you can pretty much guarantee the rest. She’ll be dancing in no time.

That was the idea, anyway. They would hire you to wait tables, but what they were really after was another stripper. A cash grab. In fact, that’s how most of them start. Turns out, customers aren’t really that bothered about the standard of the drinks they’re being served - not when they’re already drunk and distracted by everything else that’s… going on.

It does, however, mean you’re left with a high turnover rate, and a distinct lack of male bodies on the staff. It could be useful, your manager muses, to have someone there other than the bouncers, standing at the back of the room, keeping an eye on the floor. Looking after the girls a bit. Making sure nothing untoward was going on.

Plus, the boy’s a professional. He’s worked in bars before - high end ones - and he’s got a trick or two up his sleeve. It might be nice to bring a sense of class about the place, everyone agrees. Bring in a real mixologist. Maybe it would increase sales.

Warren used to be an alcoholic until he started working in bars.

It might seem contradictory, but really it makes perfect sense. It was only being around other drunkards 40 hours a week that made him realise how much he didn’t want to be one anymore.

Now he rarely drinks at all. Just mixes the cocktails. He’s really fucking good at it, too. Watching him skilfully tossing the bottles around - fingers so dexterous as he juggles with ingredients like it’s easy. It’s really sexy.

He causes a bit of a fuss when he first starts. People wonder whether he isn’t a stripper himself, wandered into the wrong club by accident. He’s certainly got the physique for it. Or is he going to be a bouncer, with that fearsome set of wings and his hard, hard expression?

Rumours swirl about him leaving his last job because he broke up with one (or, depending on who you talk to, several) of the waitresses. He was sleeping with one of your coworkers by the end of the second week.

That’s how it had started with you, too. A one night stand quickly escalated into twice, three, then four times. And then the next thing you knew it was A Thing.

They tell you not to date someone from the club when you start. If you guys fight, you’ll be bringing that into work. If you guys break up… well. The next few shifts are going to be awkward for everyone involved.It’s hard to resist each other, though, and perhaps against both of your better judgements, you fall in love.

Casual hookups with girls from the scene are Warren’s bread and butter, but getting into a relationship with one is a different thing all together. He’s crazy possessive, and the thought of being forced to watch you, having fun with other guys night in, night out - he had thought it would be torture.

Actually, it’s not like that at all. It only reinforces that this is only a job, it’s only money. You don’t like kissing the men, or letting them grope you. Some girls do it, and you have done in the past, too, but you had decided not long into the relationship that it wasn’t worth the extra tips.

Customers will often ask you if you have a boyfriend, and sometimes, if you’re feeling really cheeky, you’ll nod towards Warren behind the bar. It’s always a satisfying experience for both of you to watch a man’s eyes flicker to the back of the room, turn pale as chalk and take his hands off you quick-sharp.

He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard not to get distracted by you during a shift. Yes, he’s one of the only men in the world who are unfazed by sex workers, spending six days a week surrounded by semi naked women. But he’s only a man, and watching you up there, working the pole in nothing but a thong and six inch heels, your eyes always fixed on him at the back of the room - let’s just say he’s thankful the bar is at waist height.

An underrated perk of the relationship is working the same hours. You’ve never had that in a boyfriend before, and it’s so nice to be able to spend time with each other in the day. To leave for work and come home at the same time, sometimes even driving in together. Some couples would find it smothering, spending so much time together like that, but you two don’t much care for other people anyway. You only need each other.

Underneath the dark and edgy exterior, Warren is a big softie. He’s a vegetarian who loves animals, and is the owner of one blue eyed husky named Shadow. When not at work he can be found in the gym, or curled up on the sofa with you, his pup, and something good to watch on netflix.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Roger.

The first night he comes in and you’re all over him like a rash.

You’ve been doing this a couple of years now, and you’ve learnt to tell the different types of customer by sight. You dance near him to get a closer look - yep. Just what you suspected:

Recently divorced. Lonely. Rich.

How do you know?

No wedding ring, for a start. There’s a tan line there, though, on his fourth finger, indicating it was taken off recently. He hasn’t just shoved it in his back pocket to come here, though. He’s not unfaithful. Or at least, he isn’t being right now. He’s lonely. He’s been dumped.

There’s a five o’clock shadow on his neck that he doesn’t normally let grow. It doesn’t match the colour of his bleach blonde foils. He’s in his mid thirties, and his clothes look expensive. He orders a whiskey, neat. A sad man’s drink.

You watch him dig for his wallet, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. He slaps it onto the table. Roger isn’t a particularly tall man, but if he sat on his wallet, maybe.

You watch Katelyn swaying towards him, offering him a lap-dance which he politely declines. It could be that he’s just here to watch. That happens, sometimes, with divorcees. The younger, more excitable men are kids in a sweet shop, just wanting to touch everything they see. But men his age - men who should be home with their wives on Tuesday nights instead of nursing a whiskey in this seedy establishment, they sometimes won’t buy anything at all.

The other alternative is that he’s waiting for you.

You decide to hedge your bets.

You walk over to his table, praying no-one on the way catches your eye, and you manage to make it uninterrupted. You give him a sweeping look, pausing just a moment while he makes his decision, and sure enough he’s pulling out a twenty. He tucks it into your bra as you take a seat on his lap, and you get to work.

There’s a no contact rule here, but sometimes you let them touch you, especially if they look anything like him. You take hold of his hands and place them on your waist as you roll your hips against him in time to the song, dropping down in between his legs a moment before wiggling back up, hands gripping his thighs for support. You sink down onto his lap again and you hear him groan just a little, breath tickling your bare shoulder. You grind down onto him harder, gyrating around lazily until you feel him stuffing more bills into your knickers.

You grab them discreetly, rolling them up and tucking them into your garter instead. It’s more secure in there.

You decide to up the ante.

You get up momentarily to shimmy in front of him, before spinning around and straddling his lap again, facing him this time. You loop your arms around his neck, swaying your hips against him as you look into his eyes. Making him feel like he’s the only man in the room.

“Where’s your wife?” You lean forward and murmur into his ear in a smokey voice, playing with the fingers on his wedding hand.

“Haven’t got one.” He says in a strained tone, groaning again as you slide over his hardening bulge.

“Girlfriend?”

“No,” He forces out.

“Poor baby.”

You don’t break eye contact with him as you lift his hand up to your lips and suck his index finger into your mouth. He curses under his breath. The song finishes, and it’s probably a good job, because you wager he’s about to make a mess of his jeans.

He doesn’t pay for another one. But he does call you over again later that night and you just talk. He’s really nice, not to mention easy on the eyes, and for the first time in a while, you can honestly say you’re having a good time. You’re almost a little sad when it’s time for him to leave, and not just because the cash stops coming.

“Come back, won’t you?” You whisper into his ear, lips trailing over the skin ever so slightly. He just laughs.

He does come back, though. A little over a week later. And again, a week after that. You learn his name is Roger, he’s got two kids, and he’s been divorced a month, though his relationship broke over a year ago. He never tells you what it is he does that makes him so rich.

Most of the time, you just sit on his lap and talk. He’ll hand you pound notes every once in a while, or stuff them into your garter belt - large, warm hands running tantalisingly up your thigh.

He wants to know if you let the other men touch you like he does.

“Only you, Rog.” You whisper, and he almost seems taken in by it, just for a second, and then he laughs.

“Christ I’m an old fool.” He says, shaking his head with a sad chuckle. “I bet that’s what you say to them all.”

–

As the weeks pass, he becomes a regular face. He always politely declines the other women’s advances, preferring to wait until you’re available to come and sit on his lap, stealing a drag of his cigarette before looping your arms around his neck and gazing into his eyes to listen to him talk. Tell you about his day.

You always look forward to the nights he comes in, but you’re not sure when exactly it had stopped being about the money for you. Probably about the time you’d started letting him kiss you. You’d never let a customer do that before.

You start giving him private dances. They’re timed sessions off in a side room, where a bouncer will stand outside the door and knock at intervals to tell you how much time you have remaining. So not exactly private. But it’s still you and him, alone. Getting heated.

“We could have this in real life, you know.” You whisper to him one night, head flung back and voice breathy as he sucks at one of your nipples.

Roger laughs. He’s always doing that.

“And what would you want with an old creep like me, hm?” He murmurs, lips trailing up the valley between your breasts to land at your throat.

“I’m serious, Rog.”

The bouncer knocks on the door.

“Five minutes remaining.”

You sigh.

You feel Roger slipping more notes into your thong and for once, you halt stop his hand.

“Don’t.” You reproach, and he blinks up at you in surprise. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” He asks in disbelief. “Pay you for doing your job?”

“Remind me that this can’t be real.”

Your voice is small.

“Remind me that you don’t seem to want me. Not outside of here, anyway.”

To Roger’s utter dismay, you’re welling up. He can’t believe his eyes. He’d never once considered that any of this could be real for you, never dared to believe that you might want him the way he wants you. Longs for you. That you cared about anything more than taking his money.

His voice is soft and contrite when he reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumbing away at your tears.

“Darling, I- I had no idea-”

The bouncer knocks again and you both breathe out a shaky laugh, foreheads coming to rest together.

When he asks Roger if he wants to extend the time, needless to say there’s only one answer he can give.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Ben.

Ben’s designated driver for a stag-do.

You decide it’s a stag do, and not a “taking our friend, who just got dumped, out on the piss” do, even if it is a rather sad one.

It’s the first weekend back after New Year, and you’ve been expecting the turnout to be dismally poor, and to be fair, it is. Other than the fat old man on his own in the corner who’s here most nights, they’re almost the only ones here. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, and you’re not sure if originally there had been more of them, but by the time they walk in, the party has dwindled down to about five.

Girls are getting sent home left and right because the place is so dead, and you’re gutted to be one of the few left on the floor. In fact you’d nearly taken the night off, knowing nobody ever has money to spend in January, never mind throw around on strippers.

You sigh and wait for them to hand over their phones and get their drinks from the bar.

Ben looks uncomfortable. He’s never been to a strip club before, it’s written all over his face. Probably doesn’t agree with the principle. Just begrudgingly here to do lifts, and make sure nobody chokes on their own vomit, or anything.

He’s attractive, too. You’re quite tempted to make a bee-line for him, watch his fair cheeks flush red under the fluoro lights as you make him an offer he can’t refuse. Given the choice between a group of lairy stags and their visibly uncomfortable, decidedly more attractive sober driver, you’d rather have the latter. Honestly, you can get a really good conversation out of the sober ones sometimes, especially when it’s quiet. Plus, you love the nervous ones.

But you’re also painfully aware of how slow it’s been, so you sigh and mark out the pathetic one and go and sell a lap dance to him instead, taking his money while you watch your co-worker smirk and shimmy over to Ben out of the corner of your eye. And you don’t know why, but it gives you a very small but very there sense of satisfaction when you see that he’s not into it.

Some girls will let any handsome face become a distraction, and it’s exactly what you’ve been told not to do but he’s gorgeous; so very out of his depth, politely clapping and nodding his head along with the music while he nervously sips his diet coke. And it’s not like he’s the only sober driver ever to walk in, neither is he the first person who’s been uncomfortable. But it’s so obviously his first time and there’s just something so reassuring about that. Working there can make you lose a little faith in humanity if you aren’t careful.

It’s not as if all customers are rude, but the reality is a lot of them are. You get asked out multiple times a shift, see married men every day who insist that they love their wives one minute and are taking off their wedding rings and begging you for a private dance the next. It’s refreshing to see someone like Ben in here every once in a while.

Your manager says you can go home at some point before the close up, so you go through the back to get changed and wait for your lift. It’s always a bit warm in there after you’ve put your sweater and leggings back on, so you go and wait in the bus shelter outside. It’s a well-lit street, and when you’re back in your trackies you feel relatively safe to wait there.

After a while, your brother hasn’t come to get you (yes, your family know what you do and no, they haven’t disowned you) so you ring him. He doesn’t answer.

You see Ben and co drive past and you smile to yourself, wondering if they’d even recognise you now, with your makeup off and your clothes on. He sees you standing there, sheltering from the drizzle in the plastic bus stop, and he reverses the car back past you and rolls the window down.

“You got a lift, love?” He enquires politely.

You can hear his drunken mates heckling from inside the car.

“Yes, thanks.”

“Want me to call you a taxi?” He presses.

“No thanks.” You say. “They should be along soon.”

He looks at you hard.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

Just then, one of them has to get out of the car to be sick all over the pavement and you recoil, taking it as your chance to escape. You walk 50 or so metres down the road until you’re out of earshot of the retching, but you can still hear the rest of them hooting and hollering and slapping him on the back, egging him on.

Ben isn’t pushy, though.

“Look,” he says. ”I’m going to drop these idiots off and then I’ll loop back afterwards just to check you’ve been picked up, ok?”

“Look you really don’t have to-”

“It’s for my own peace of mind,” he cuts in. “And if you’re still here, then I'm.more than happy to see you into a taxi.”

You want to protest again, but his friends are shouting “Give it up, Ben”, mocking him. His neck is turning red and you’ve been annoyed with them all night and so you say yes. Ok. You thank him and then he drives off into the night, the car full of drunks cheering and yelling as they recede.

You don’t like getting in taxis at this hour, or getting on the tube. It’s late and it’s London, plus you don’t want a lift driver seeing you near to the club and figuring out what you do and thinking they can just…

Anyway.

Your brother still isn’t answering. He works late shifts as a hospital porter, and this sometimes happens. You sometimes get a lift with one of the other girls, but with there being hardly anyone in tonight, you’re rather stuck. You go back inside and try to scrounge a lift. It’s annoying, the couple who are still on shift live far out of your way or get public transport. Your manager says he’s happy to give you a lift, but only after he cashes up and closes up. It could take ages, but you’re content to wait inside while you wait for your brother to answer. You stand by the window, interested to see if Ben really will come back.

And he does.

You wander outside to speak to him, more out of boredom than anything else.

“Want me to wait with you until your boyfriend arrives?” He asks, and you’re a little touched at how considerate he’s being, so you tell him ok.

You don’t bother to correct him about the boyfriend – perhaps if he thinks you’re taken it’ll make you safer. You’ve got this deep feeling that he isn’t dangerous, but it would be insanity to get into a car with him nevertheless – he’s a complete stranger. Still, you’re bored and you want to chat to the nice man, because it might be the first charming, intelligent conversation you’ve had all week. Was that so bad?

So you make him switch the engine off and take the keys out and put the keys where you can see them, and then you get in the car but keep the car doors firmly open so you can escape if he tries anything. He’s a little bemused, but he understands your justifiable caution.

You chat and he’s really kind, and doesn’t ask you the normal dumb stripper questions (“aren’t your family ashamed of you?” “Are you doing this to fund a crack habit?” “How do you not get turned on on the job?”). He’s genuinely interested in you. Like, outside of work you. And yes, naturally he is a little curious about the job, but it’s quite cute watching him struggle to phrase the questions in a way that isn’t rude, and you do your best to answer truthfully. He seems satisfied with the answers, if a little thoughtful.

After about 20 minutes you get a call from your brother, apologising that he has to stay later at work. He tells you he’s happy to put you into a taxi. You roll your eyes and tell him no thanks.

“Ok,” Ben says as you get off the phone. “What’s the plan? How do we get you home safe?”

You think about it for a little while and then ask him if he’d mind accompanying you home. You could take the tube halfway and then it was a 20 minute walk to yours. You feel rude asking for all that but he just says sure, of course, no problem. I’ll just come back for my car later.

The more you’re with him the safer you feel. He carries your heavy bag all the way home and he doesn’t flirt. And you really, really appreciate that. And even though you wouldn’t even mind if he did - in fact, you kind of really wish he would - he doesn’t.

“Aren’t you tired?” You wonder when you’re getting near the house. “No.”

You get home and you both stand awkwardly on the doorstep, and when it becomes clear he’s not going to invite himself inside you give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him and shut the door. You stand with your back up against it for a while, heart pounding, until you just bite the bullet and fling it open again, charging back out. You run after him and grab his wrist and he spins around in shock, shoulders softening when he sees it’s just you.

“Are you ok-” He starts at the same time as you ask him whether he wants to come inside. He tries to hide the fact that he can’t quite believe his luck.

You take him in and sit him down and ask if he wants a drink.

“I could do with a shot, if I’m honest.” He says, a little shakily.

You search the cupboards and pour him out some tequila, and a beer from the fridge as well. You watch how quickly he slams the liquor, and realise he’s nervous.

You explain that you need to have your tea.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.”

You reheat some rice and come and perch on the arm of the sofa with your feet on him as you chat. The TV is on in the background, and because it’s three in the morning, American sport is on. He seems to get quite into it, so you excuse yourself to get ready for bed and leave him there.

You have a shower and brush your teeth, the hot water a tonic for your sore muscles as you scrub the sweat and grime of the club off your skin. You pass the kitchen on the way back to your room, and peep in. Ben’s texting frantically, and you have to stifle a giggle, imagining what he’s telling his friends. You wonder whether they’ll even believe him.

You materialise in the kitchen doorway a minute later, hanging around the edge of the door with a little smirk on your face.

Wet hair and pink Primark pajamas. it’s a stark contrast to the way you looked in your heels.

Ben turns the off the TV. He sits back to look at you. It’s silent.

“Why didn’t you give me a lapdance?” He asks suddenly. “Before?”

Barefoot, you pad across the wooden kitchen floor until you’re standing between his legs. He’s leaning back against the sofa to look up at you, half finished bottle of beer still in one hand.

“Do you want one now?” You whisper. Your voice is hoarse.

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

“Just kiss me.” He whispers.

Not two hours ago he was looking at you nearly naked, watching you twirl and gyrate on strange men for money. You don’t know why it’s now that you’re suddenly nervous.

You plop down gently in his lap. His hand grabs for your waist automatically. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean in minisculely until his lips are grazing yours.

You grab the beer bottle out of his hand and set it down on the floor without breaking the kiss, and then, grabbing the material of his shirt in your fists, you push him backwards onto the sofa until he’s horizontal.

–

“Ben.” You manage as he pushes into you for the first time, your voice coming out as no more than a breathy moan.

You’ve migrated from the sofa to your bedroom, and he’s got you lying on your tummy underneath him, one foot hooked around the back of his calf, encouraging him to go deeper. Harder.

Perhaps the best thing about sleeping with men who know you’re a stripper is how hard they always try to please you. It’s as if they think your job is synonymous with getting tons of action, that they’re competing with the orgies they imagine you attend every night and honestly, you’re not complaining.

Ben’s already made you come twice at this point - once with his mouth, once with his fingers, and by the time he enters you there’s little you can do but moan and whimper into the pillow.

“I don’t have a condom.” He’d warned as you took his hand and led him towards your bedroom, switching all the lights off on the way, the house getting darker and darker each time.

“That’s alright.” You’d said as you’d laced your fingers through his, turning to face him on the threshold of your bedroom doorway. “I’ve got plenty.”

He’d laughed.

Now, after he’s nudged your legs apart with his knees in order to slam into you deeper, you’re approaching your third orgasm of the night. He’s getting close too, hips starting to stutter against you as his breaths grow heavy and ragged.

His arms pack in at some point, shaking on either side of you as he seems not to be able to hold himself above you any longer. His elbows tremble and collapse under him, and he lays out on top of you instead, doing his best not to squash you into the mattress.

“Sorry.”

He murmurs a breathy giggle into your ear. You shivered.

“Are you close?” You reply, no more than a whisper in the dark. You turn your head to rest in the crook of your elbow so you can look at him. You find his face close to yours.

“Y-Yeah.” He says with some effort. He sounds it.

The feeling of his body weight on top of you, being covered by him - your high is coming now whether you want it too or not.

“M’gonna..” You trail off at the same time as he says, “Me too-” and you feel the throb of him inside you.

Ben lets out a long groan, resting his sweaty forehead against the back of your neck as he comes, and you reach around to to cradle the back of his head.

You don’t even make a sound as you hit your peak - you’re already cried out. Only able to silently clench your teeth and your fists and your toes as you convulse around him.

“Stay.” You tell him, after.

“What?”

“Stay.”

It’s four in the morning, and you’ve suddenly remembered his car is still parked outside of the club. And plus, you’re not quite ready to let go of him yet.

“Okay.” He says quietly, tentatively reaching out to stroke your bare arm in the dark.

—

You woke late the following morning, and since neither of you had work the next day, (obviously), you decided to go to the gym together as a date. You had asked Ben if he wanted to go to a restaurant, but he can’t right now because he’s in heavy training for a shoot next week.

Skip to a few months later and you two are happily dating, and his favourite game to play is to come in to the club on random nights and surprise you, blending in with the other customers while he patiently waits until you’re free for a lap dance. It’s amazing, but by the time the song ends he’s got you aching to finish up and come home.

He still picks you up from work (another great perk of having a boyfriend without a 9-5), and by now he’s a familiar face among the rest of the staff. Needless to say they’re all in love with him. Sometimes, he’ll come down a bit early and come in for a drink while he waits for you to get finished up. It’s not uncommon to come out of the changing rooms to find him sat on the bar stool, but you can rest assured he’s never watching the naked girls – he’s usually chatting football with the bar tender.

#ben hardy #roger taylor #Warren Worthington III #ben hardy x reader #roger taylor x reader #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy!roger x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor headcanons #queen band #queen imagines #Queen #BoRhap #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #borhap imagines

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years

Text

“The First Word I Can Never Say (Not to You Anyway)”

Summary: Griffin and Valtor have always preferred actions over words and what they did with each other when they met did not left them willing to share their feelings. Twenty years later there are still unspoken things between them that do not need to be said to be understood but will still poison them anyway. Part 1 of “The Poison of a Gift”.

I am totally obsessed with the Three Dark Crowns series and it kept me up for 2 hours last night as I was trying to assign roles to all the Winx characters if they were living in that world. Here is a glimpse of it that barely shows for my work but I may actually decide to write more once I piece the whole thing together. This is just the Valtor and Griffin storyline that started all of it. I absolutely had to write this when I realized how well Griffin would land herself to a poisoner.

Notes on the setting in case there is something unclear.

There's a bit of a mystery here that I've hinted at slightly in case I decide to expand this but it is just a one shot for now. You can try to guess what the thing is, though, but it's totally okay if you can't since I didn't try to make it very discoverable.

Infinity by Jaymes Young is giving me the same vibes as this fic so you can check it out if you want.

She was special. She had always been.

She'd been his first taste of the Island. Of its magic. Of its poison. All very seductive to a mainlander like him with a strong heart, strong stomach and even stronger ambition.

He'd first seen her at a party but he could have never suspected how strong the effects of the little vial she'd been emptying into her glass of wine would be.

"Not strong enough for you?" he'd asked, thinking he knew what he was getting himself into. Alcohol was something that he had an expertise in so it had been a good assumption. But assumptions didn't cut it at the Island when it was a place that demanded blood to live. He'd almost asked for his own death without knowing it. Sometimes he thought he had. For he could never join her, yet he'd done so anyway.

"I do not care for untainted food and drinks," she'd said only, her eyes on his, expectant. He'd been supposed to know how to continue the conversation and not bring it to a halt. She had made him a fish out of water like no other woman could have ever dreamed of doing. But he'd never stood before a woman of the Island before. She'd been the first.

"Untainted?" he'd asked, watching the look in her golden eyes change to recognition. In them he was the mainlander now, all out of place, and while he'd always been the outsider even on the Main Land and he'd had an excuse for it at least at the present situation, it had still felt dreadful. To know he didn't fit in her world like he'd never had anywhere but he'd learned to hide it. Yet, she'd exposed his secret in a matter of seconds, her eyes seeing through him like she'd just burned the outer layers out of the way to get to his core.

"Unpoisoned," she'd explained, stashing the small vial back under her belt where she must have been hiding it. A good place to hide a treasure or a weapon and he'd supposed the glass container could count as either depending on the situation. And on whether she was telling the truth or not.

He'd watched her lift the glass to her lips slowly as if to counter the frantic beating of his heart as his mind had raced in uncertainty like it'd never done before in the company of a lady.

He'd heard the tales of the Island and the gifts spread through its people – elementals and naturalists, war-gifted and poisoners. It all sounded like myths or horror stories to the people on the Main Land, especially when it came to the triplet queens sharing a cradle that bound them to murdering each other. He'd known it to be true–all of it–yet, he still hadn't been able to take his eyes off her lips dipping into the poisoned wine even if he'd known she'd only been so brave since she'd known it couldn't hurt her. She'd been born with it and the gift was hers to flaunt in other people's faces. Giftless people. Like him.

"You don't believe me?" she'd asked when he'd kept staring at her as if he'd never seen a woman before. He hadn't. Not like her. She'd been the first. "Here," she'd handed him the glass, "hold it for me," she'd said before he could have spilled the protests his panic bore to life but her smugness had let him know she'd already soaked them all up and it'd been satisfying enough for her to show him some mercy.

He'd taken the glass, free of his fear but burdened by the knowledge it'd been there. He was not like her and for the first time the story of his life had looked more like a tragedy of self-pity instead of the fueling spite for his ambition.

She'd taken off her brooch, the one that he hadn't noticed had actually been a scorpion that had been still somewhat alive with legs writhing helplessly as it'd been pinned to the shoulder strap of her dress, and had broken off the tail. She'd popped it into her mouth and chewed it with pleasure like it'd been a delicacy and not a small dose of death. Well, to her it certainly had been.

He'd watched entranced when the spectacle had been so intoxicating. He'd had to have been disgusted by it–especially when she'd been holding the rest of the dead scorpion's body in her hand still–but he hadn't been able to find it in himself to look away from the strength of her gift, how it kept her alive when she'd just taken a bite of death. He'd never seen anything like it and the magic of the Island had gotten to his head making him wish he'd had it as well. Especially when the embodiment of it had been so enchanting – all luscious purple hair going on for days and pale skin contrasting with the red of her dress like snow soaked with blood.

"I don't normally consume my accessories but a demonstration is always worth a ruined outfit," she'd said as she'd taken her glass back from him to wash down any remaining pieces from the wrapper of her treat by adding some nectar to it that'd almost turned him green. Green with envy that he wasn't like her so that he could have tasted the lack of mortality dripping from her lips.

All he had were the shadows of his dreams. Always three, always burning into his mind with their soullessness that scorched harder than the holes of molten lava that could never pass for eyes. He'd chalk them up to illusions of his ambition-poisoned mind although that made no sense considering their separate existence. He'd always been a one-track being so why have three beacons of his aspiration? It had been a mystery he'd demeaned on purpose when he hadn't been familiar with the depths of magic. But she'd been right there with her taste for poison to guide him in the core of it and his own being.

"Perhaps it can be saved." He'd taken out the circle shaped box out of his inner pocket to present her with the brooch inside. "Not so suited to your tastes perhaps but will make for a good accent."

She'd taken the golden dragon with eyes of crystal that could as well have been ice, her dead scorpion tossed away where it would scare the servants when everything was over and they'd have to make the remains of the party disappear to leave the hall inviting for another one. "You'll have to find me when the party is over if you want this back," she'd said as she'd put the piece of jewelry on and it had sat on her dress like it'd been made to adorn it.

It'd been supposed to be a gift but it'd worked better as an offering to her gift anyway. He could have had another trinket made for his purposes at any time but the exquisite piece of art had found its rightful place on her body completing her outfit after she'd been so generous to sacrifice a piece of it to give him the most memorable moment of his life.

"Of course, I'll find you," he'd said as he'd pocketed his empty box. He'd need it to store his precious jewelry once she returned it to him with as many traces of her on it left as he could hope for.

She'd smiled at him like she'd just caught her prey and had disappeared from the niche where they'd been hidden from prying eyes only for him to not see her until the end of the party.

"Here's your dragon, Valtor," she'd left it in his hand, her fingers slithering over his skin so fast they hadn't been able to distract him from the fact she'd found his name on her own. It was rather impressive when he was an unknown phantom of the Main Land among the islanders.

"Thank you for taking care of it," he'd said as he'd put it on his lapel, the box seeming too harsh a confinement for it after it'd been weighing on her body. "And I have something for you, too, Griffin."

She hadn't looked impressed and there'd been no reason for her to have been, really.

Everyone knew Griffin Sylvane, head of the Sylvane family and the Black Council despite the fact that Queen Luna that the Sylvanes had been fostering had died to her sister. Queen Marion had retaliated for being forced to kill her sister and had chosen to continue the reign of the poisoners even with an elemental queen on the throne. A bold move but she'd had nothing to be afraid of when they couldn't dispose of her before she'd given birth to the next set of triplets and after that she'd be old news anyway so she'd had nothing to lose except for the support of the family that had raised her only to have her betray them but that had hardly mattered when she was the Queen Crowned.

Valtor had presented Griffin with the small vial of deadly nightshade tincture that had earned her graces like his research hadn't when it had been nothing more than asking the first servant he'd seen who she was and immediately getting the answer.

"Belladonna." She'd smiled as she'd taken it from him and had seemed too enamored with the gift to notice his momentary pause as he'd never heard that name of the plant but she was the poisoner so he could trust her with that. "Unfortunately, there's nothing left to consume it with," she'd said, the sparks in her eyes certainly suggestive and burning away any regret there might have appeared to be.

"I have whiskey I bought from the Island in my hotel," Valtor had offered, readily inviting danger into his bed even though he'd just given her her greatest weapon. He'd be a fool to think she wouldn't use it but who they were had been enough to provide comfort and security to the idea when she had a gift and he didn't.

"I can't be seen joining you in your quarters," Griffin had said. A challenge and not rejection. A challenge that he would have been up to any day of the week for any woman. He certainly hadn't thought it'd be for someone special.

She'd been the first. Of course, he hadn't tried to fool himself that he would keep to his vows like a good husband would but he'd thought he'd be faithful to his bride more than barely a few months. And he would have been. If he hadn't met Griffin. He would have resisted another woman but her he'd needed to have even when she'd been poison personified.

That had been proven even more true if he hadn't been convinced already as he'd watched her add the whole tincture to her whiskey and then drink it slowly, savoring the taste of death entering her veins only to stay there like it was home. She'd looked so powerful as she'd finished all of it and had drank some water before kissing him to wash the threat to his life away. She'd looked invincible. And he'd hated the disillusion that he'd entered along with her embrace.

She hadn't been special. She'd trembled just like every other woman he'd bedded, had trembled like his heart in its outraged state of waking up from her spell. And it had only shook more when he'd realized he couldn't get out of it all the way. Because she was special. Special to him.

She'd been the first. The first to pull him away from his wife. The first to show him the magic of the Island. The first to help him understand himself.

His shadows were the parental figures he'd modeled himself after. He'd had to take example from somewhere when he hadn't had his own parents to teach him the intricacies of life and he'd borrowed from the entities in his head letting them live through him in exchange. He had the temperament of a storm to push him through life with the strength of his anger of which he had plenty to spare on everyone and everything. He was a master of manipulations and illusions, a social chameleon instead of the street rat he'd been pegged for, and his skillful deceptions had gotten him from the gutter to the top of the food chain and to the cursed Island that had been supposed to be the peak of his efforts and not a poisonous dish with the potential to bring him down. He'd made his heart harbor the cold of the heartless monsters in his visions and that was the only thing that could stop the toxins from spreading until he could make his escape.

Griffin had been asleep and so easy to kill when her guard had been down that he'd almost wanted to do it to get his revenge against her for leading him to believe she was the most powerful woman he'd ever met. He could have done it and that had been why he hadn't. There hadn't been any challenge in it. Only ruin to come after the deed.

He'd barely managed to pick his pants up when his progress had been stopped by the golden of her eyes burning in the night.

"Where are you going?" she'd asked, her voice calm instead of alerted but not drowsy even if he'd known she'd been asleep. That had been a fact but her vulnerability had started to seem more of an illusion and he'd had to hate her for tightening her spell around him once again. But he hadn't been able to when she'd been dragging the image of a challenge out of his mind to merge with.

"I'll have to hunt down another present for my wife," he'd said as he'd moved to get dressed as if his fascination with her hadn't been growing when she'd met the blow with resolve of stone and hadn't let it move her even a tad as if she was resistant to the lightning bolt of his words as well as to the belladonna's poison. "I can't risk giving her something that Griffin Sylvane was seen wearing by half of the Island's high society, now can I?"

He'd given a smile–one that would have worked on a mainlander girl but here on the Island held no more power than a giftless person struggling against the poison claiming every inch of their body–while he'd hoped that she'd ask him for the dragon brooch as much as he'd hoped that she wouldn't when he would've gladly given it to her but he'd wanted to keep it, too. Stashed away in the depths of a forgotten box in the attic like the memories of her skin on his would be buried in the very back of his mind where they'd be safe from the world and he'd be safe from them.

"I'll bid you good luck with that right after you get me out of here," Griffin had said and the cold of her gaze had been flaming with so much power she could have burned her way out of the hotel with no one having the slightest chance to notice her face through the smoke filling the space around to the brim. She could have gotten out of there on her own and they'd both been well aware of that. But she was hard as ice. She was just like him despite the softness she'd displayed earlier.

He watched her rummage through the bar no less than twenty years after that first night when he'd first had a taste of her. She'd become like a drug – less satisfying every time he had a dose and leaving him wanting more and more. He'd only needed a look to become addicted and he'd found himself unable to leave. Not the way he'd had to in order to live peacefully. But where was the challenge in that?

"Need help to choose?" he asked as if he were home. Not that Greavesdrake Manor was unfamiliar to him after the years he'd spent coming and going since the first time he'd visited, though that was a bittersweet memory.

Griffin had been seriously ill and had been confined to her bed for months upon months. It'd made the people talk, cursing Queen Marion for leaving the Council in the hands of the poisoners when the Goddess clearly disagreed. Some had even been scared that Griffin had been just the first one struck by a plague that would ruin the whole Island if the Goddess refused to send the next triplets and let it die without the blood of the Queens to feed it.

Griffin had recovered eventually and had met him in the manor strong and healthy as always when the illness had finally drained out of her system. She'd been sipping poison again and Queen Marion had given birth to her triplets less than three years later before departing for the Main Land with her king-consort – Oritel.

Valtor had never gotten the chance to meet them even if they lived on his territory now but he'd seen Queen Stella grow through the years under Griffin's care. From the shadows, of course, as no one was to know about their ties if they wanted their alliance to give results and his son, who'd come just a year before the triplets, to be Queen Stella's king-consort once she disposed of her sisters.

"There hasn't been order or quality alcohol in this bar since Ediltrude left," Griffin murmured even tough the shelves were only graced by the finest drinks the Island had to offer.

Valtor hadn't met Ediltrude–or her twin – Zarathustra–either since she'd departed on a task Griffin had given them right before he'd first arrived at Greavesdrake Manor. Griffin wouldn't tell him where she'd sent the twins even though she'd mention them quite often. And she kept her cool, too, and avoided any questions with the finesse of a snake striking its prey.

It made her current state disconcerting. The Ascension Year when one queen would rise and the other two would fall was just a few months away and she was restless like he'd never seen her. Not even after she'd battled for her own life. But things were different when Queen Stella was concerned. Griffin was as serious and fierce as if it were her own daughter and it almost made him regret that she'd never had a child of her own. Even if that meant that she might have gotten married. It wasn't like that was of any significance when it came to their relations.

"I'd offer a distraction from your ill-stocked bar but we can't lose our heads now," he said, drawing all of her attention on him the way he liked it. Even at the moments when he could hear her wondering just what poison would be best to do him in.

"That might be a danger to you but do not impose it on me as well just because you don't want to be alone in your weakness," Griffin said without turning to him as she finally picked a bottle and left it on top of the bar as she reached for a glass, too, her movements calm and unhurried.

The composure was coming out now that she was on a battlefield she knew how to navigate. There was no risk of losing against him as she'd proven that first night and she could relax and stop despising her alcohol for containing poison that could get her problems solved just as well as it could kill Queen Stella when her poisoner gift hadn't developed yet and what resistance she'd gained had been earned slowly and painstakingly through poisonings year after year until her organism had started tolerating the substances enough to live through them. Not enough to make her a poisoner queen, though.

"My apologies," Valtor said as he drank from the flask he was carrying with him only to keep up appearances. It wasn't that he didn't trust Griffin not to poison him. It was that he didn't want her to know he trusted her with his life when she was known for her ability to kill. It said a bit too much than either of them needed to hear. "Losing our hearts then?" he offered another blow knowing that the pain would distract her from what was truly sore. And she would recover anyway since she knew how to heal as well, not just to kill.

He'd never met anyone else who knew plants–all kinds and not just the poisonous ones–quite the way she did. It was like a whole another kind of magic that she'd accomplished herself but he tended not to dwell on that too much lest she turned out to be right about what dangers were out for his head and lurking.

"When have our hearts ever played a part in our partnership?" she asked as she poured herself a drink, the smooth liquid the perfect accompaniment for her voice. Especially once the poison glided down her throat and reminded her that she was tough to kill and that could be enough to save Queen Stella if they all played their cards right. Their partnership could give them all exactly what they wanted if he could keep out of the temptation to poke at her until she spilled her venom over him but he had too much faith in their loyalties to be worried about that.

"You don't expect me to fall for that, do you?" he asked as he let his eyes slide over her figure slowly and meticulously so that she could feel his gaze on her, could feel him drinking in every part of the absolute testament of strength that she was even when her heart was shaking like there was an earthquake Queen Bloom had summoned to bury all the Sylvane poisoners and her sister even if it was a few months too early for that.

"You don't expect me to fall for you, do you?" Griffin asked as she turned around and held his gaze like her hand held her glass steadily while she lifted the heavy poison to ingest it like it was the sweetest syrup, her eyes ablaze. She was flaming again like that first night and he waited for her to lower her glass before he'd lift his own as it seemed somewhat inappropriate for them to drink together when they had different tastes and the stakes in case of failure were very different for the two of them. Good thing she was infallible.

"I don't want you to fall, Griffin."

It was curious how a lie could be the truth, too. He wanted her falling, wanted her tumbling down an endless chasm with no bottom for her to crash in when he couldn't catch her but he couldn't stand the thought of her steady on her feet in his presence either, even when she had to be. She couldn't fall from grace like her mother had when Queen Luna had died. No one would let Queen Marion's act of rebellion happen again and the poisoners would lose the Black Council which would land in the lap of the elementals or the naturalists respectively and whether or not the Sylvane's family status would suffer would be of no consequence when Griffin would lose her mind over Queen Stella's death. She was still mourning Queen Luna who'd been like a little sister. She could not lose the one she'd raised as her child, too.

"I don't think lies will strengthen our alliance, Valtor," Griffin said, a smirk playing on her face when she knew she'd read into him and she was once again the woman he'd met. Confident and secure in her position as a half goddess who could not be killed by the deadliest of substances. Nor by a wound in the heart were he to deliver one.

"I can say the same to you, Griffin," he said as he held her gaze when that at least he could allow himself. There was no harm done in being enchanted by gold like so many others were. Even if his infatuation had nothing to do with wealth. That was what he had his wife for.

"Don't make this more than it is," Griffin said, a sharpness to her voice now that was much like the sting of a scorpion when it was desperately trying to protect itself from being eaten. It looked like she believed he was capable of doing that to her even when she knew he couldn't survive all that poison in her system. He would've swallowed her whole long ago if he could.

"Or perhaps you're afraid it is less than you're making it out to be?" he asked, the words resisting like he was trying to push them out into a pool of acid but it was the gold of her eyes that would churn them to crisp. "Perhaps you're afraid I might be in love with my wife?" he said, his whole body protesting and trying to keep him still–no talking and no breathing–to keep her from striking but it was far too late for that. She was ready to pounce and he was ready to be mesmerized.

Griffin chuckled. "Because marriage is all about love," she said. "Especially yours," she added quickly, her glass in her hand and far away from her lips where it could drown the words. She wanted him to hear them well and feel them reaching through his skin and muscles to inject their venom right into his heart.

He'd never wanted to be a trophy husband but it had been the only thing that could have saved him from the hole his life had been so love had taken a backseat to necessity. And then love had become necessity when it had been the thing that could chase away the monsters in his head. Not far enough away to make him fall apart when he was made of their parts but it still kept them away to thaw his heart enough to touch it and let him feel it. He'd claimed to hate it in the beginning but he'd barely needed any of his brain capacity to tell he'd been lying and there was no way Griffin didn't know all of that even if her focus had been on raising her Queen.

"Is that why you never married?" he asked and somehow his mind was equating his marriage to the reason she hadn't married like he was the only man in the world. It was enough to be the only man in her world.

"I never married because I had a Queen to raise," she snapped, the sound startling him when he realized he'd cracked the ice of her heart. It hadn't even been supposed to be there and he should have noticed he'd forced her into her armor long before he'd managed to break it. "I had a child to take care of," she said as she left her glass on the bar behind her. It was serious if she was abandoning her poison. "Something you know nothing about," she let her words slam into him the way she'd most certainly wanted to slam her glass in the surface of the bar but that would've left her outburst on display when a servant would have had to clean it up. No one would see if he bled when he was just a shadow in her life that would die if it couldn't remain hidden.

She was angry at him and he couldn't tell why. She'd made it perfectly clear that she despised the way he treated his son and his excuse that Riven was better off with his mother looking after him and minimal involvement from him hadn't worked even when it was the truth. She despised his refusal to get over himself and learn how to be a father when she'd done it even when her child had been threatened from the start and even if they lost, Riven would be safe and sound, nothing but Valtor's ambitions getting trampled to death. But there was something else hidden in the outrage bursting from her eyes that he couldn't name. Too bad that words were enemies they had to manipulate carefully and he couldn't just ask openly.

"So you are afraid of distraction?" he asked instead, pushing more.

Perhaps he could get her to erupt and tell him what it was that he'd done. Even if she'd made it clear that she'd prefer to explode into small pieces before baring her heart to him. Maybe she wouldn't have had such an aversion to the thought if he hadn't tried to leave her behind that first night, if he'd been honest with her from the start. But it was too late to fix what he'd broken now. He could only break her into more pieces until the dust he crushed her into wrote out what she wouldn't tell him or he cut himself and bled to death.

"Lest you end up like dear old mom? Without even a body to bury when it is thrown in the Breccia Domain?" he asked as if he wanted her to throw him in there. But it was reserved just for the dead queens so he was safe from that even if she could still kill him. He knew she wouldn't. Just like he knew that she would.

"How dare you?" Griffin said, her voice barely a whisper when she knew that would hurt him more as she hid herself behind the fragile sound. It did not conceal any of her outrage but was enough to erase him when the light couldn't find her to let her cast a shadow he could shelter himself in.

Because of his heart. He dared because of his heart that had once been cold and had been melting ever since he'd met her but only when she was around. What was left after the ice could hardly be enough for either of them, though.

"I cannot wait for the day when I don't have to rely on you for anything," Griffin hissed at him like she was a snake when he knew that wasn't true. She could be a poison but she wasn't a snake. She was a flower that he would destroy if he kept forcing her to freeze herself but he couldn't be more cautious when he couldn't imagine her dying. She couldn't be a temporary presence when the feelings she awoke in him hadn't let up even for a moment after he'd met her.

"Good luck living through infinity, Griffin," he said as he rose from his chair and stood in front of her, towering over her but that didn't matter when he knew he wouldn't make it long enough to stop needing her. Not when she'd shown him exactly who he was and had left him in a position where he needed to be everything else but himself if he wanted to have her. "Because time is a poison even you're not immune to." And so was he.

He was her poison just like she was his and while he'd never had a chance of surviving that encounter, she was dying from the very thing she loved to consume in copious amounts.

It turned out that she wasn't invincible, after all. And somehow, instead of appalling him, that only drew him closer to her. As close as he needed to be for a kiss. Even if she refused to give it to him after the words he'd spat in her face.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #winx stella #winx marion #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #three dark crowns fusion #tdc fusion #the poison of a gift

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love-killed-the-superstar · 4 years

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day 5 was fun!!!! we could all do with some happy cass!!!

CASSANDRA APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 5 - HAPPINESS

Happiness can be so many things, depending on who you ask. For Cassandra, it has changed over time.

It started with watching the sparks fly in Xavier's forge, it was crouching with her ear pressed against the door listening to her father talk about guard formation, it was sitting cross-legged on her bed drawing map after map of the castle, perfecting her cartography and wondering about what would come next. It was learning how to ride a horse, getting an extra toffee apple from Uncle Monty “just for being such a loyal customer”, it was the rare times she was invited to drink tea with the queen who watched her fondly, like maybe she would her own daughter some day.

Then as she grew older it was admiring her father's second-in-command, a tall butch nearing retirement, scribbling her feelings in letters that would never be sent, asking for the woman to help Cass with her form while she sparred. It was wishing she was grown up already so she could be as cool, as confident, as trusted. It was mastering weaponry, polishing the armour of the guard with her dad on rainy afternoon when training was cancelled, listening to his stories and wondering if she'd ever have some of her own one day, where she could be the hero and someone else would be listening with bated breath.

Happiness turned into something new entirely when she met Rapunzel.

Happiness was watching her kick ass. It was blackberry buns and friendship bracelets and learning to swim. It was long days at the lagoon, early mornings treading water, afternoons on the shores drying in the sun, late evenings sneaking in a quick sparring practice before picking their way back to the castle in time for Rapunzel's supper with her parents. It was opening herself up to someone who liked her for all the things she was told to conceal. It was warm eyes and soft hair and almost-kissable lips, begging her not to go.

Then... there wasn't really a whole lot. Did happiness come from the moonstone? Perhaps Cass found some misguided happiness from being taken seriously for once in her life. Maybe it did feel good just to let all her feelings fly, but between the continuous heartbreaks, the betrayals, and all the destruction left in her wake? Not so much.

Well. No use thinking about that now.

On her way back to Corona for the first time since she left for her journey, Cass stops by the lagoon. It feels a little weird, visiting without Rapunzel, almost like she shouldn't be here at all. It's never been hers alone – and so to be here alone is a surreal experience in itself. Well, if she can even call it a lone journey considering that Fidella and Owl have joined her.

Fidella is happy to stand in the shallows to keep cool while Owl stretches his wings, circling the skies above. Cass sits for a while, just basking in the sun. There's an almost dry heat, unusual for May, that bakes the lagoon slowly. Rolling waves of heat shimmer just above the water's surface, watches how the light dances with each rolling wave. She doesn't have much time to kill before heading off if she wants to make it back to the kingdom in time, but... there's something missing. Something she feels she can't return without.

See, happiness is Rapunzel, in a strange sort of way. For all of the grief they've shared, the anger they've hurled at each other, Cass loves her. So much. Likewise, Rapunzel loves her. Seeing her for the first time since her journey began will be... well, it'll be nerve-wracking to say the least. The letters they've exchanged while on the road have been tentative, neither one of them quite sure how to express their feelings through the coldness of pen and paper. Sure, they're more than friends now, and they and all their friends know that, but for what its worth they haven't actually really spent time together yet. Cass wants to do something; something strong, something meaningful, to make up for the distance.

So she goes swimming for stones.

The water is cool, a shock to her system after travelling in such warm, dry weather. Fidella watches her in amusement as she dives to the bottom, reaching for stones, bringing them to the surface in handfuls to examine the ones that will look just right for her gift. Happiness is moments like these, where nothing and no one in the world is keeping her from pursuing her goal. Happiness is what comes after too, floating on the surface in a starfish formation with the rocks piled safely on the sure, warmth beating down on her. She knows she can't stay here forever; along with the countdown until her expected return there's the risk of sunburn, and wouldn't that be an unsightly way to greet Raps after all this time? But still – just for a little while, with the sun on her face, warming her through and through, this is happiness.

…

Sometimes happiness takes a village – or in this case, a kingdom. Case in point, the whole of Corona is buzzing with anticipation for Rapunzel's birthday banquet tonight.

Cass has kept the plan of her return a secret to Rapunzel these last few weeks, at the request of Eugene – something that surprised her initially. She supposes at this point, after all the three of them have been through, it shouldn't be surprising that he wants her to be equally present in Rapunzel's life. Still, the gesture was oddly touching to her. What would that feeling be? Could happiness be acknowledgement, too?

Once he smuggles her into the throne room, grin wide as he poked fun at her new smattering of facial scars from life on the road, Cass is soon put to work. First comes the arrangement of the purple and gold balloons, the hanging of the banner, organisation of the gift piles. Then the entertainment is set up – a small, bare bones string quartet hold a short rehearsal that further invigorates the staff and guests. Cass then has her ear talked off by Kiera and Catalina, both enamoured by her new collection of battle scars, while they assist with the flower arrangements. Finally, after every table has been laid and the majority of staff have cleared out to take a brief rest before the celebration commences, a paper lantern is pressed into Cassandra's hands.

She looks up, and to her surprise, it is Queen Arianna handing her the lantern, with a warm smile she most often reserves for her own daughter.

“My Queen,” Cass says hurriedly, bowing her head in greeting.

“Cassandra,” she says, in a saccharine-sweet tone. “It's wonderful to have you back. Eugene did let me know of your secret arrangement, so I was hoping to say hello before the festivities begin.”

“It's good to be back. And I wouldn't miss Rapunzel's birthday for anything. Even after... all that I did, I hope it's all right that I came back.”

“The King still has some reservations,” Arianna muses, taking her own lantern in her hands. She takes a prepared letter from her robe pocket and rolls it up, securing it with a rich purple ribbon before slipping it inside the lantern. “But he isn't the most... adept to change. He will come around. And both Rapunzel and I see no problem with you returning. Corona will be your home for as long as you see it that way, and I can't think of a worse thing to do than turn you away from your home.”

Warmth blooms in Cassandra's chest, and she nods quickly, looking away. It's not easy, letting herself talk normally to the people around her who still remember the rampage she lead this time last year. But she isn't that person anymore. And to say that is more than just donning new scars and wearing new clothes. She doesn't spit fire at the drop of a hat anymore. She doesn't push people away. Everything is a conscious effort, of course, but just by doing so she knows she's moved past being the broken soul she was before.

“I can't wait to see her,” sighs Cass. “We've been in touch, but she's so much more in person.”

Arianna cracks a smile. “She'll be over the moon to see you too. Although Rapunzel tries not to show it, I can tell she's been sorely disappointed at the very notion that she might spend her birthday without you here to celebrate it with her.”

Cass blushes to her roots, but tries her best to keep her face unreadable. Still, it must be fairly obvious. Sometimes happiness is just knowing that Rapunzel misses her, thinks about her, wishes for her to appear.

“I had... hoped to visit for her birthday, but it's Eugene who actually reached out to me and convinced me to return.”

“Well, he wants what's best for Rapunzel,” Arianna says sagely, “and I can't imagine anyone she would want at her side more than the two of you.”

Now Cass knows her blush is unmistakable.

“Has Rapunzel... talked to you about how we left things?” she dares to ask, already feeling a little dizzy from the high stakes of this conversation.

“She has. And... it was me who told her that only she could decide what kind of queen she would one day become, and it's something I stand by. The company she keeps, and the nature of the relationships, are things that the three of you will have to talk about more publicly some day. For now, however, I'll just offer my congratulations, and my blessing.” Her eyes twinkle, and in this moment Cass feels seen, in a way she's just not used to.

“Thank you,” she whispers, mouth dry.

“From what I've seen, I think the three of you bring out the best in each other, and that's a remarkable quality for a relationship to have. A kingdom needs strong foundations to run smoothly, after all.”

“I, um... I want to do right by her,” Cass says quietly, hugging her lantern to her chest. “I wasn't in a good place before, but finding my own way in the world has changed me for the better, and it's something I don't think I could have done without Rapunzel. So, I want to be there for her too.”

“As long as you're happy, Cassandra,” Arianna says simply, a beaming smile on her face. After a pause, she adds, “And are you? Happy, I mean?”

Cass, with a grin of her own, nods.

“I – yes. I am.”

“Well then,” Arianna continues, sunny as ever, “I am overjoyed for you, my dear. I only hope you channel some of that happiness into your lantern message.”

She is soon called away to give her opinion on the royal table's flower arrangement, and Cass stares at her blank lantern, unsure of where to start. She's never been great at decorating, so it won't be pretty. As a kid she used to write some incomprehensible nonsense about how it was her dream to rescue the lost princess herself, but... well, that dream hadn't quite panned out like she'd pictured growing up.

In the end, she just writes from her heart.

I love you, Raps. And for as long as the sun shines, I will never stop.

It's short, it's just sappy enough without being overkill, and it's all hers.

Cassandra sets it to one side, and then Varian bursts into the room, shouting, “Everyone get down and dim the lights, she'll be here any minute!”

Eugene waves her over to join him and Lance, who are waiting right by the heavy doors with grins a mile wide, and Cass heads over with a spring in her step. She sticks a hand in her pocket, feeling her present inside – two bracelets, threaded with great difficulty on her part, to replace the one that had been destroyed all those years ago.

“You ready?” Eugene asks, all smiles as she crouches down at his side.

Happiness is knowing that any moment, she will walk through that door.

#cassandra appreciation week #cassandra week #tangled the series #tts #tts cassandra #tts arianna

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tanadrin · 4 years

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Reordberend

(part 20 of ?; first; previous; next)

The entire process of breaking down the shattered machine took three days. Katherine was impressed with the methodical approach the salvagers took. Under Andrac’s direction, everything was sorted: useful metal here, pieces too big to transport for now over there, tools in another pile, parts of tools in another. Using rope they had brought, and cables from the salvage, they began lashing together sleds from some of the spars, which they would have to drag over the rough slopes of the mountain pass, until they came to flat ground--it meant a lot of labor in the short term, but once they were back on the ice, it would mean they could bring back far more salvage than merely what could be carried on their backs. Though they would load up their packs and bags, too. The return journey would be considerably slower, but the reward for all this work, Eadwig said, was a bounty that would last them for many years. The most precious thing they found were the solar panels and some self-contained energy cells that still had considerable charge. The nuclear power plant was too heavy and too dangerous to remove--apparently some salvagers had tried that once, on a different beast, and poisoned their whole village. But the energy cells could be safely distributed among the different valleys, to power essential things like forges and the underground moss farms. At least for a little while, life in the Valleys would be somewhat easier, the threat of some sudden disaster a little more distant.

Katherine supposed that this was, in a way, what all human life had been like until not too long ago--you were one bad growing season, one bad drought or some other natural disaster away from ruin. To say nothing of more human disasters: war or tyrants or some plague brought by traders from a distant land. It was hard for her to believe that the ancestors of the People had really understood what they were signing up for. Who would intentionally condemn their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to a life of difficult labor and privation, even in the name of lofty ideals? But if any of the Dry Valleys People resented their ancestors’ choice, or thought it had been unwise, they didn’t show it. This was simply, for them, the Way Things Were, and there was a safety in that. The eternal, conservative urge of the human heart--and of societies schooled by scarcity--that says, we’ve got a tolerable thing going here. Let’s not upset the apple cart. It was a sentiment Katherine hardly shared, though she could appreciate the place it came from.

When they had finished with the first dragon, Andrac, Katherine, and a few others went to inspect the second. It was deeply buried; only part of its flank stuck out from beneath the ice and rubble that covered it, though the part that they could see didn’t look to be too badly damaged. A furious debate between Andrac and the others ensued, about whether they should attempt to salvage anything from this one, too. The party seemed to be of two minds: it would be dangerous, if the ground proved unstable or the repair and defense systems were still active. On the other hand, the reward was potentially greater. Even in the dry Antarctic air, which preserved much, wind and weather had rendered some of the most sensitive tools on the other platform useless. If this one had been buried not too long after it had ceased to function, it was possible it would yield even more valuable salvage.

“What do you think, Outlander?” Beonna asked.

Katherine was startled by the question. “Does it matter what I think?” she said.

“Sure it does. You’re in this same as us.”

Katherine shrugged. “I don’t know if it would be worth it or not, but even if it is, I don’t think we’re getting in to this one anytime soon. None of the hatches are exposed. There’s no interface for me to try like there was on the other one. You might be able to cut through the side there--but I don’t know how far you’d get.”

“It’s true,” Andrac said. “We can always mark the spot--come back later, with more men and tools.”

Beonna seemed to agree, and the decision was made. The haul they had was enough for the time being. The others went back to help load the sleds, but Katherine lingered for a little while, exploring the back of the great beast.

Dragon, dragon, she thought. From the Latin word, if she remembered correctly. When she was a kid she had been fascinated by old words, the way they reached out of the past and seemed to carry immense secrets within them. She had thought, when she was a teenager, that maybe languages or history would have been the thing to study--but there was nothing in that anymore, her teachers had told her. You had cybernetics and modules now. You didn’t have to spend years of your life in school, and years more of immersion in a foreign country to learn to communicate with people. The old grief of Babel had been reversed, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing depended on who you asked, but it meant that the study of languages was as dead as the Romans. With it, too, had gone the study of ancient languages. Oh, sure, there might be modules out there for Latin or Greek, the really popular ones. But the world was no longer very much interested in the minutiae of its own history. It contended itself with the outlines. And it surely had no space for scholars to sit in dim offices in the corner of some university humanities department, poring over the work of long-dead philologists. Go into the sciences. Learn something useful! her teachers had told her. Well, maybe she hadn’t done exactly that. But she was still a scientist of a kind.

Something caught Katherine’s eye--a hatch or a compartment, a small one, just by her feet. She squatted down, and carefully pried the outer cover off, then popped off the access panel. Inside was a mess of electronic components. She poked around for a little bit, but she couldn’t make heads or tails, and there was no terminal or anything here. Something was still functioning inside this thing--there were a couple of indicator lights slowly blinking--but none of these seemed to be critical components. She poked around a bit more, then found something of interest.

It was a little black cylinder, about the size of her palm, with big block letters on it that said BACKUP DATA RECORDER - DO NOT REMOVE. Naturally, she removed it. She held it up; on the other side, it said PROPERTY OF ANTECO MINING INC - IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN - REWARD OFFERED. Some kind of retrievable storage? The equivalent of an airplane’s black box, maybe. It was a curious object, anyway, and Katherine liked curious. She slipped it into a pocket.

Underneath, in the spot where it had been seated, there was something that shined beautifully. Katherine reached in and pulled, and it came free--what looked to all the world like a dazzling, clear gemstone, set in silver. It was clearly some kind of electronic component, but despite its mundane nature, it looked like something out of a fairy tale. Perhaps she would find someone back in the Valleys who would enjoy something like this. That, too, she stuck in her pocket.

“Hey, Outlander!” someone called out. She stood and turned around; it was Andrac. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“Coming!” Katherine shouted back. She stumbled her way back down the side of the platform, and jogged over to help the others finish packing.

* * *

The first day of the return journey was brutal--a lot of pulling sleds up steep slopes, a lot of almost losing her footing and sprawling onto the stony ground, and a lot of cussing (on her part) and shouting (on others’). Mostly words of encouragement, but also some words Leofe definitely had not taught her. It took the whole expedition to get the heaviest sleds up the top of the ridge, and they could only be brought down the mountainside a couple at a time. If they lost control of one, it was likely to go careening down a slope or over a boulder--crash, bang, a god-awful mess, and, in the darkness, probably no way to recover the lost cargo. So they went slowly and carefully. But once they were on the ice again, they moved much more quickly. They all took turns helping to pull the sleds, even Katherine, though she didn’t feel like she was contributing much. Her time in Antarctica had definitely toughened her up a bit--she had muscles now in places she didn’t know you could have them before--but she still felt a little like the expedition mascot.

They didn’t head back to Leofe’s village--High Settlement, the one Katherine thought of as her home base--since that was pretty far up the Middle Valley. Instead, they made for one of the smaller outlying villages, which was barely more than a few cottages, less than half a kilometer from the edge of the glacier. They left the sleds below and staggered up the hill to the nearest house; despite the fact that nearly twenty exhausted, hungry people had just showed up, the villagers seemed happy enough to see them. They were even happier when they learned they had just come back from a salvage expedition. They began talking with the salvagers excitedly, then a few of them rushed off to their own houses.

“What’s that all about?” Katherine asked Andrac.

“They’re going to get ready.”

“Get ready for what?”

“To send word to the other villages. To bring more here. To help distribute the salvage. What, you didn’t think we were going to go around to every village ourselves, did you?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to.”

Andrac laughed. “No, people will come here to get the things they need.”

“Who decides how everything is distributed?”

Andrac looked confused. “People will take what they need.”

“What if more than one person needs the same thing?”

“They’ll figure something out. Or they’ll share. Do they not having sharing where you come from?”

“Is there some kind of system of barter? Or trade? Money?”

“Money? Why would we need money?”

“Uhh--” Katherine didn’t know the word for ‘economics’ in the Dry Valleys tongue. “Your system, your system of, ah, distributing scarce resources. Some societies use money. Some exchange favors and gifts. Some rely on, er, relationships of kindred and friendship. I am curious about your people. What they use.”

Andrac raised an eyebrow. “We talk to each other. We make sure everybody has the things they need.”

Katherine suspected he was being deliberately unhelpful, but she didn’t press the question. Instead she thanked the villager who handed her a bowl of something hot and meaty, and settled herself down by the fire to rest. Every muscle in her body ached; she hoped they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Within six hours, the first people from other villages began to arrive. Katherine watched as they did; everyone went up to Andrac and Eadwig first, greeting them by name, complimenting them on the success of their expedition. There was a little ritual to it, even if it wasn’t a formal one. Only then did they go down to inspect the haul, looking over it all very carefully, talking to the salvagers about what they’d found. When they came back, they made pleasant small talk about the journey, the weather, how each other’s relatives were doing--but they did not discuss the salvage itself, and this surprised Katherine a little. When one of the men sat down near her, she spoke to him.

“I have a question,” she said.

“You’re the outlander, aren’t you?”

“My name is Katherine.”

“Mine is Gar.”

“So what do you want from the salvage, Gar?”

Gar shifted in his seat uneasily.

“This and that,” he said. “Some of it could be very useful.”

“Like what?”

Gar looked uncomfortable, and Katherine wondered why. Andrac, noticing from across the room, came over and cut in.

“Now’s not the time to discuss that sort of thing,” he said. “We’ll all talk about it once everyone is here.”

Ah, thought Katherine. Maybe they want to give everybody a look first. No dibs, no deals worked out beforehand.

Over the next two days, as more people arrived, her suspicions were confirmed. The same pattern held; and only when there were men and women from just about every village in the Dry Valleys present, did they all gather in the largest house in the village; and then a great discussion began. It was like the longest, most agonizing committee meeting of any bureaucracy anywhere. First, every single item salvaged, from the smallest piece of metal to the most sophisticated laser cutter, was enumerated. Then, starting all over again, they went through every piece in order, and talked about who had a use for what. Then the competing claims had to be worked out.

There seemed to be a rough logic to this part. First, anybody who had claimed too much was pressured to pick only the things he or she really needed. Oh, Eadgifu, you don’t need the wrench, and the three loops of cable, and the plastic sheeting, do you? That’s quite a lot, don’t you think? All Thorgar here needs is a little of the plastic, surely you can give that up? And where there was really steep competition, for things like the laser drills, the expedition leaders got called in to mediate. Here, Andrac, what do you think? Eadwig, weren’t you saying the other day that our village really needs one of those? And whenever the bargaining got a little too heated--what do you mean, you need all that metal? Hasn’t your village taken more than enough already?--someone would step in, always a scrupulously neutral party, and say, wait, I’ve got something I need, shut up for a second and we’ll come back to you.

It was tedious in the extreme, but there was a ballet to it: nobody’s feelings were hurt, everybody’s opinion was taken into consideration, and everybody was set to go home with something. A few of the really big ticket items--the power cells were one--were divided up according to preexisting rules. Nobody got to claim those. But anything else, anyone in the room was entitled to make a claim on. And a particular phrase was repeated more than once--everything’s up for grabs. Nothing is to be held back.

Only as this process was winding up did Katherine think of the two little objects she held in her pocket; she had been fingering them absentmindedly, turning them over out of sight, when she realized one might very well consider them part of the salvage, too. And might consider that at least one of them might have non-trivial value. She began to worry more, as she saw the intense discussion over the last few items, which very nearly broke out into an actual argument more than once.

“Hey, hey. Enough!” Andrac finally said. “We’ll all sleep on it, okay? No use in getting mad, there’s enough to go around. Here, shake his hand, Alfstan.” He pushed one surly-looking man toward another. They shook, and the room relaxed a little; after that people began filing out, heading over to the other houses or to tents they’d brought along. “Back here in the morning!” Andrac called out. “Eadwig and I are heading home after breakfast. So let’s get the last of the business done early!”

Katherine had been watching this from the back of the room; she slipped through the thick knot of people over to Andrac, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

“Sure, outlander.”

She took him around the side of the house to a quiet spot.

“I have a question about the salvage.”

“Go ahead.”

“If someone held something back from the salvage, what would happen? How would people react?”

“I don’t know. Nobody would do that.”

“Nobody?”

“It would be… strange. Selfish. Really wrong. I’ve never heard of it happening.”

“Is there a law against it?”

“There doesn’t need to be. It just wouldn’t happen. Why? You’re not accusing somebody of something, are you?”

“No, not at all. I was just curious. You know me. Nosy outlander.”

“Hm.” Andrac didn’t seem convinced by this. “You sure everything is all right?”

Katherine winced. “I’m sorry. It was me.”

“What?”

“I took something. Just before we left. I didn’t think about it until just now. It didn’t seem important. But I think I violated one of your customs by accident. I didn’t mean to cause offense.”

She took the data module and the jewel out of her pocket, and held them out to Andrac.

“You should take them. Tell the others--I don’t know, tell them you found them in one of the sleds or something. Or tell them I didn’t know your rules, and I didn’t mean to steal.”

Andrac took the objects from her, and turned them over in his hand.

“They say a thief brings a great curse down on themselves when they steal,” he said. He tapped the data module with one finger. Then he handed both objects back to Katherine. “But you’re right. You didn’t know. You’re not a thief, just a stranger to our ways.”

“You should still take them.”

“We don’t buy and sell among ourselves--but we’re familiar with the concept. Consider these your payment for your help. Honestly, I don’t think anybody here has a use for these trinkets. If for some reason someone does give you trouble about them, just tell them to speak to me.”

“You think it’s really okay?”

Andrac nodded seriously. “Yes. It would be different if you had not spoken to me--but you have shown understanding and sympathy to our customs. I respect that.”

“Thanks.”

“Now go get some rest, Katherine. We’re heading home early tomorrow.”

#tanadrin's fiction

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sxance · 4 years

Text

You’re lying on your bed scrolling idly through social media on your phone when you hear a knock on your door.

“Yeah,” you call.

“It’s Vanya,” says a voice on the other side.

What on earth could Vanya want with you? “Dave’s not here.”

“I know,” she says. After a brief pause, she continues, “Can I come in?”

You hesitate for a moment, and then sigh. “Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

The door opens in your periphery and your sister steps in and closes it behind her. She walks over to the foot of your bed and sits down. You move your legs to let her sit, but you don’t look up from your phone. It’s unsettling to look at Vanya now, with all the color sapped out of her, leaving her too white, uncannily white. If you looked into her eyes, you’re sure all you’d see was white, surrounding two dark pupils, deeper than black holes.

Maybe you’re being overdramatic. Whatever, you still don’t look at her.

“So, what do you want?” you ask.

“I just wanted to talk,” she says, throwing you for a loop, because that’s the last thing you’d expect her of all people to say to you of all people. “We’ve barely said a word to each other in years.”

“I thought that was by design.”

“Yeah, I know, you’ve been avoiding me.” You imagine her rolling her eyes, and her exasperated tone leads you to believe you’re right.

“And here I thought you were the one avoiding me.” You stop your scrolling for a moment to repost something and then continue.

“Why would I be avoiding you?” she asks.

“I was under the assumption you wanted nothing to do with me, considering I did get you shot.” If you were her, you’d want nothing to do with your brother if he impersonated your father to give your other brother an opening to shoot you. But maybe that’s just you.

Vanya sighs. “Yeah, okay, I guess I was mad at you. But that doesn’t mean I hate you,” she adds. “Though you have every reason to hate me.”

“What, because you tried to kill us all? That pissed me off for a minute, not gonna lie.” You loudly exhale and rub your face with your left hand. “Wasn’t too thrilled about all the shit you wrote about me, either.” She’s silent, so you continue. “But no, I don’t hate you. I can’t hate any of you weirdos, as much as I’d like to.” Insert some heartfelt comment about family bonds here, because you’re not doing it.

“Excuse me, who’s the weirdo, Mr. I See Dead People?” She continues, “I didn’t know you read Extra Ordinary. I didn’t think you read at all, actually.”

You shove her with your foot for that comment, and she pushes your leg away. You shove her again. “God, stop, your feet are cold as hell! It’s like being touched by a corpse!”

“How do you know what a corpse feels like.” Finally, you bite the bullet and put down your phone to look at Vanya. It’s not as uncomfortable as you’d thought it would be, but it’s still weird as hell to think that the sister you grew up with now looks like some shitty B horror movie ghost. “I heard the striking reviews from the others, so I decided to give it a read for myself. Did you really have to tell the world that I’m the most broken out of all of us and also the universe’s biggest asshole? That stung.”

She looks down at her hands, pulling at the hem of her shirt. “I wrote a lot of things I probably shouldn’t have,” she admits. “But I was just so... angry isn’t the right word.”

“Bitter?” you suggest.

Her head jerks up, startled by her comment, but then she sighs and nods. “Yeah, bitter.”

“Makes sense.” You pull yourself upright until you’re leaning against the headboard. “Considering the six of us ‘thought we were better than you in every way.’“

“Okay, I get it!” she groans. “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s bitter?”

“I said that I didn’t hate you, not that I’m not bitter. And honestly? I thought you thought you were better than us,” you add.

“What?” You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look more confused.

“Because you were ‘normal.’“ Or so you all thought. “You got to get out of missions and help Dad train the rest of us freaks while you looked down on us, Little Miss Perfect Normal Vanya.”

“You know that’s not true,” she says, looking and sounding hurt. “You know he was just as horrible to me as he was to you.”

“Yeah, I know that now, but when we were kids? I didn’t know shit.” You pause for a moment. “I wanted to be normal, too,” you eventually admit, quieter. It’s something you’d never say to your other siblings, who’re proud of their powers, who aren’t tortured by them day in and day out. But you think Vanya out of anyone would get it. After all, she wanted to be like you.

“Oh,” she whispers, eyes widening, because she does get it.

Neither of you say anything for a while after that.

The silence is awkward. Vanya’s gaze wanders around the room, looking for something to stare at that isn’t you. You pick at your nails. The polish is starting to chip, you need to get them redone.

“So,” Vanya starts after what feels like ages. You glance up at her as she continues. “How’s, uh. How’s therapy going?”

“Fine,” you say.

“Does it help?” she asks. “Having someone to talk to about what you’re going through?”

“It does, yeah. He’s been teaching me some coping mechanisms, too. Ones that don’t involve drugs.” Now it’s your turn to look away again. Nobody else ever asks you about therapy, you hadn’t expected Vanya to, either. Today is just full of surprises.

“That’s good,” she says. “Do those help?”

“I don’t know, probably.” You shrug, and then add, “I haven’t actually tried them yet.”

“Klaaauuuuus,” Vanya says, exasperated. “You need to actually do the things you learn in therapy for it to work.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you retort. “I just keep forgetting when shit happens. Maybe I need to write a list of them on my arm or something.”

“Yes, do that!” she says, shoving your legs for emphasis. “Or I’ll do it for you in your sleep.”

“I don’t sleep,” you deadpan.

She blinks at you, and then, surprisingly, bursts into laughter.

“What? I don’t,” you repeat, and she just keeps laughing.

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” she breathes out between laughs. “The way you said it was so funny.”

“You always said my jokes weren’t funny. Even though that wasn’t a joke.”

“Death jokes aren’t funny.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s still grinning.

“And insomnia is? Geez, get your priorities straight.” And she says your sense of humor is bad.

“Fine, I’m sorry I laughed,” she says, and then sighs contentedly. “You know, I missed hanging out with you,” she continues. “We really haven’t since we were kids, before you and Ben became practically inseparable.” You try not to wince at the mention of your dead brother. She looks like she notices, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, you’re right. We haven’t. Not since the old man caught us after hours that night. You remember, right?” you ask.

“Of course I remember. You snuck into my room so we could paint each other’s nails.” A nostalgic smile makes its way onto her face.

“And then Dad realized I wasn’t in my room. I hid under your bed, but he found me anyway.” You’d pressed yourself against the bottom of her bed for dear life, hoping he wouldn’t see you down there, but of course Dad knew everything.

“And then you kicked him in the shin, and we booked it to Griddy’s,” she breathes out a laugh. “We ate like kings that night.” You’d scrounged up your pocket money and the two of you gorged yourselves on donuts like you were prisoners on Death Row and it was your last meal. Which might as well have been the case, after Abhijat found you. Was that really twenty years ago?

“God, Dad was so pissed. Worth it, though,” you add.

“That’s when he started locking our rooms at night,” Vanya continues, the smile sliding off her face. “Goodbye, overnight adventures.”

“What, you never took the window?” You’d started going out the window practically all the time after he locked your door. Of course, he always found out anyway.

“No, it was too high up! How did you use the window?” You float above your bed as an answer, and she puts her face in her hand. “Right, of course. Lucky you,” she adds.

“I still got caught, though.” You lower yourself back onto the bed, crossing your legs. “Until he eventually locked the window. But by then I could pick locks, so it was kind of a moot point.” You were such an asshole when it came to locks. You made a point to leave your door and window wide open when you left to let him know he couldn’t keep you anywhere you didn’t want to be. And then eventually you pissed him off one too many times, and he kicked you out himself.

“Again, lucky you.” Vanya brushes her bangs out of her face. “I’d’ve given anything to be able to do that.”

“I thought we already established that,” you reply.

“...Do you still want to be normal?” she asks.

“Depends on the day,” you answer. “Are you glad you’re not normal?”

She hesitates. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s still so confusing,” she adds, and then sighs. “But I also hurt people with the same powers I wanted for so long. So maybe I was better off without them.”

“Yeah, you tried to do the same thing Dad trained the rest of us our whole lives to stop. Good job,” you say with a sarcastic clap. The look Vanya gives you is not a kind one. “But then you wanted to stop it,” you add, “so kudos, I guess. Not as bad as you could’ve been.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” she asks.

“Sure,” you say. “When I die.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

The two of you continue to talk for some time, until Vanya finally bids you goodbye and leaves you alone again, leaving you... conflicted.

You can’t say you’re not glad to finally talk to your sister again, but you can’t help but still be wary around her.

You’ll... you’ll figure it out. Probably.

Yeah, probably.

#exposition #longpost #god LONG post #4 fucking pages long have fun #can u tell i've wanted to write this exchange for a while #death ment #child abuse ment #ask to tag

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timetoresurface · 5 years

Text

AU PAIR (1) / PJM

au pair a young foreign person, typically a woman, who helps with housework or childcare in exchange for food, a room, and some pocket money.

Word: This is my first try and therefore my best try yet. This was supposed to be a oneshot but got waaaay to excited so thought of making it a 3 chapter kind of thing. Also cursive is real life English and all other dialogue happens in Korean (just so you get the complete picture)

Pairing: reader x Jimin Genre: fluff, romance, meet cute (x3) Warnings: none Word count: 1868 words

Summary: You working as an au pair in Seoul where you entertain and teach English to a cute Korean girl who happens to be a huge BTS fan. Well, the rest I’m sure you can kind of figure out.

Anybody could see you were uncomfortable. Screaming girls with their arms bared with gifts crammed in a thin line to get to the front of the room. At the front there were 7 boys at a table signing anything these people could find. Well, to be honest, you weren’t uneasy because of the people or the weird hats and attributes they carried. When you were younger you also had dragged you parents to wherever to get a glimpse of whoever you were obsessed with back then. You definitely understood that part. You just couldn’t accept them pushing and pulling to get in line before you and Young Mi. Young Mi, or Mimi as you liked to call her, being the ballsy 11 year old you au paired. She wasn’t afraid and she definitely wasn’t going to let them slip before her, she had worked for this spot. She had begged like her life depended on it and you only agreed because, well, you couldn’t say no.

So here you were, standing in line somewhere in Seoul because you could’t say no to an eleven year old girl. You undeniably had a soft spot for her after spending the past month together. Her parents both work full time in the hotel sector ( think rival CEOs ) so they often have to travel to luxurious places where they can’t always take her with them. Which they often deeply regret. They are good parents you know, but sometimes they are just not at home so they kind of took you in as an au pair. You had your own small apartment in their duplex (think extravagant penthouse). The only thing you needed to do in exchange was take care of their kid when they weren’t there and teach her some English while you were at it.

“Y/N, do you think he will like my gift?” Mimi asked you while holding a little mushroom hat she had carefully picked out for her favorite member.

‘Of course he will! He isn’t even wearing a hat at the moment. He will most likely put it on and take a photo while pouting cutely.” Your comforting words worked instantly as a small smile found its way back to her face. “You aren’t nervous, are you? I mean, if you are scared we can always go back and eat some ice cream, you know.” She shook her head with terror in her eyes.

“No! Am not nervous.” Her English had remarkably improved since you started tutoring her. “Y/N is nervous.” And she couldn’t be more right, you were nervous. Even though you weren’t the biggest BTS fan, you were still a fan. KPOP being the main reason you started to learn Korean when your parents wanted you to take French courses.

“Yes, Y/N is nervous because these people are almost pushing you to the ground and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Some people behind you heard your conversation and stopped pushing. You thankfully bowed.

“Your Korean is good for a foreigner.” A girl your age remarked. Typically Korean to give you a compliment while still making you feel like it wasn’t meant as a one.

“I only got better because of this little one.” You said while gesturing to Mimi. “She is a better teacher than I am, to be honest. She is more strict you see.” You got a little laugh out of the new girl and an almost scolding look from Young Mi. She quickly turned her attention when the line started moving again.

“These tiny ones are quite a hand full.” It was her turn to gesture toward a small girl. The little one seemed a bit younger then Young Mi but she had the same determination in her eyes.

“You’ve got to applaud their enthusiasm and dedication for these 7 boys. If only I could temper it a little bit so I could watch some tv instead of doing BTS dance routines 24/7.” Another laugh escaped and it felt like I a was making my first real friend, not counting Mimi, while being in Seoul.

“Y/N it is our turn! Hurry.” Mimi yelled while pulling my arm to try and make me go faster. Apologetically I smiled toward the stranger and made my way onto stage with Mimi.

It is the first time that I’m seeing the members of boyband BTS in real life. And so far I am not disappointed. They are promoting their new album and all were styled with different hair colors. The first boy who was instantly charmed by Young Mi is Kim Taehyung. He stood out the most and if you were completely honest, the reason you didn’t really mind dancing along with Mimi to their music videos.

“And who are you?” His boxy smile appeared bigger than ever and you couldn’t be more proud of your little prodigy.

“Young Mi, eleven years.” She shook his large hand while a blush spread on her face. “This is Y/N.” Now it was your turn to blush as you had previously agreed you were only here to support her. You didn’t feel the need to be introduced or banter with the members as this was Mimi’s moment to shine.

“Do you speak Korean?” Were his first words toward you and you couldn’t help but to fall in love with the effort he made to communicate with you.

“Yes, this little devil has been teaching me so you don’t need to speak English. Please speak in your native language.” You got a little laugh out of Taehyung and an eye roll from Mimi.

They spoke while you awkwardly looked around the room. Jungkook also engaged in their conversation and was also immediately charmed by Young Mi. They were holding her hands and asking her questions as she was growing more confident to speak her mind. After a couple of minutes we got told to move on to the next member but I still managed to get a picture of Mimi and some of the boys.

You were looking at the pictures you just took on your phone and couldn’t help but smile. Young Mi’s face was as red a tomato but she wore the color proudly and with the biggest grin you had ever seen on her face. She was talking to Kim Seokjin, her favorite member, and as she was exchanging gifts you felt eyes burning on your face. You glanced and were met with a perfect pair of brown eyes. The kind of eyes you read about in books because the color is so hard to describe, because of the warm feeling you get while gazing in them and the kind of eyes to make you blush like you had never before.

“Hi! I don’t think I was introduced to you by Young Mi. I’m Jimin. You were busy taking pictures of her from every possible angle. I thought it was best to let the professional do its job.” He joked and his enthusiasm spread through you like wildfire.

“I don’t speak Korean.” Were the first words that popped in your head and you saw panic cross all over his face. If you were being completely honest, it was the cutest thing you had seen all day. His face was red, his eyes were in shock and his mouth tried to come up with something to say.

“Sorry, I- o- …” he tried and you started laughing. It might have been a bit cruel of you but his now confused expression was so worth it.

“No, I am sorry. I do speak Korean but I occasionally like to joke around. I do am really sorry.” You bowed during the last sorry and his smile was found again on his face. His gorgeous face, if you might add. His features looked like they were sculpted by Gods and it was your gift to have a glimpse of such perfection. Your thoughts were interrupted by Mimi who asked if you could take a picture of her and Seokjin. While taking out your phone, you smiled at Jimin as to say your goodbye. He was having none of it.

“No, let me take the picture please.” He came over to where you were standing. Young Mi was as speechless as you were but she had Jin putting his arm around her to comfort her while you had your phone taken out of your hands by Jimin.

He took a couple of pictures and instructed what they needed to do such as doing the peace sign and cute pouting. After he was finished he changed the direction of the camera and started to take selfies with you. He sensed you being uncomfortable and put his arm around you while making funny faces. You couldn’t help but laugh at his cuteness. He gave back your phone and returned to his seat all the while his eyes never left you. As if his eyes were made to be watching you.

“Thank you so much, Jimin.” Mimi cried happily as she took your phone to look at the pictures. She ran off stage while you remained staring silently at Jimin.

“You just made her day so now I’m even more sorry because of that little stupid joke. I will show my regret by choosing you as my official favorite member of BTS. It is not much but it is what I can give you on such a short notice.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this honor.” He proudly bowed as he played along. “There is only one thing I need more.”

“Please favorite member Jimin, what more do you need?”

“Your name.” Was the only thing he stated and you were dumbfounded for a moment. Jimin, a member of the most famous boyband in the world, wanted to know your name. It probably didn’t mean much as he was out here asking everyones name as soon as they approached his side of the table. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of him favoring you a bit more, of him choosing you as the person he would remember from this day.

You were taken out of your trance by Mimi yelling from the other side of the stage “Y/N, please act cute so I can take a nice picture of you and Jimin.” Jimin quickly stood up and made a cute face next to yours as you stuck out your tongue.

“Well, thank you for coming today Y/N. Hope to see you again soon.” He blushed while you bowed and said your farewell.

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megbox · 4 years

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2019 Year in Review

Previous Posts: (2018) (2017) (2016) (2015) (2014) (2013) (2012) (2011)

It’s actually kind of interesting how... less interesting these year-in-reviews get as I get older. Depending on how you look at it, 2019 was somewhat of an unremarkable year. I spent much of it tragically broke, I didn’t get the opportunity to do much traveling. But at the same time, not having these flashy, colourful experiences to write about all the time makes me value the easy, simple things more. It forces me to be a bit more reflective about how the day-to-day life I am carving out for myself teaches me things and about the person I am becoming.

Far and away, the most positive thing to come out of 2019 has been that I am real deals social worker now. I have the best job in the entire world. I have “RSW” in my email signature and on my business cards. I do work that is meaningful to me every single day. There is so much to learn but I’m in the right place to be learning it. And I am really proud of myself for getting here ❤️

January

Unlike the last few years, 2019 began on a high note. The millisecond that student loan hit my direct deposit, I took a little trip to Jasper to visit my friend Oliver who was teaching snowboarding at Marmot Basin for the season. I braved some very treacherous roads to make it to Jasper. It took me nearly eight hours. Highway 93 was closed so I had to take the long route and basically white-knuckled it the whole way. But it was so worth it. I found myself later that evening in a dorm room full of young Scandinavian people, downing American Vintage iced teas and feeling like I was at a frat party. We went to this club called Four Peaks and they played Rasputin by Boney M and everyone went crazy. I hooked up with this gorgeous Danish ski instructor named Rasmus. He was so beautiful. I am proud of that one, honestly. Oliver and I went skiing and hiking and we went to Earl’s and he tried a Caeser. By the end of the weekend, I think we maybe ran out of things to talk about. But it was really cool to see him and to hear about the last few years of his life and how excited he was to move to New Zealand to be with his girlfriend (whom he met on the same trip where he and I met, in Hawaii!)

On January 14, I started my second practicum. It was a sad transition. My time at CommunityWise had been so great that anything new was going to pale in comparison but my new placement was especially bad. It was so slow there. My computer hadn’t been updated in years and I didn’t have access to anything for weeks. My supervisor was barely around (not her fault, though. She was finishing her MSW, had two young children, was the team lead for both family centres in the city and had two practicum students to supervise. Girl was busy). I remember one morning while I was helping one of the caseworkers with some menial task like organizing the food pantry, and I was just so frustrated, I kind of asked her point-blank, “Is this practicum meant to be more self-directed?” and I just started crying as I asked it. I kind of… whimpered it. It was awkward but from that point on, they made way more of an effort to give me tasks and engage me in the work that was being done there. Lesson learned: you get what you ask for.

February The first weekend of February is what we would call a “power weekend.” Looking back on these actions now, I cringe. However, at the time, I was pretty stoked. I slept with a friend from podcast club after a house party. For ease, I will refer to him as W. W had asked me out twice prior to this happening. I actually said yes, and we had plans to get drinks, but his best friend ended up going through a breakup the night before and he cancelled last minute. So then we slept together. Drunkenly. And it wasn’t… good. I chalked it up to the drunkenness. We went out on a real date, I made sure to have like one glass of wine maximum. He was lovely and great company and he taught me how to play crib but… you know that feeling when you’re like god, I wish I was enjoying this but I am just not enjoying this. It was like that all night. And it felt heavy. If I am being completely honest, there was also this strange moment that night where I had the thought, “he kind of looks like my grandfather if he were younger” and there is truly no recovering from that kind of realization.

February was also a terrible month because I had no days off. I will go to my grave angry about being required to work for free in my practicums. I was doing 32+ unpaid hours at this boring practicum and then working evenings and weekends at Famoso whenever I could. And Famoso was dead, so I wasn’t even making good money. This was also where I began to start witnessing things in my practicum that started to fuck with me. At first, I thought I was just having trouble sleeping. But over time in seminar and debriefs with my social work friends who were going through the same thing I realized that it was the oh-so-pleasant combination of vicarious trauma and compassion fatigue.

Over the reading week, I went to Fernie with Maddy and her friends for a ski/party weekend and that was truly awesome. One of those weekends where your ribs ache for days once you’re back because you laughed so hard. Some highlights:

It snowed 60cm the night before we skied. It was powder up to your waist.

• Maddy’s friend Melissa liked our bartender at the hostel. She took his phone and texted herself from it so he would have her number and vice versa. Then she got so drunk that later the same evening, she was looking at the text and forgot that she had sent it to herself so she texted back, “Who is this?” Also LOL #Bryna.

• I took nudes of Maddy in the hostel shower to send to the guy she was seeing at the time. LOL. What are friends for?

• Maddy and I met this set of twins who are the definition of gym bros. Identical twins. We ended up hooking up with them. At the same time. In our bunk bed at the hostel. We high fived. I later fell off the top bunk. We gave them a beer for the road when they left. All year long, we send one another their Instagram posts and stories whenever it’s them flexing in the gym mirror and just laugh about, “we really slept with those guys.”

March

In March, I got the flu. It was very annoying. I had to miss practicum (meaning I’d have to make up the hours somehow later). I stated binge watching Grey’s Anatomy.

I ended things with W. It was kind of harsh but it needed to be done. I need to stop breaking up with people in the weeks prior to my birthday because we had a total Dave-Simard-2.0 situation where W told me he had purchased a birthday present for me and he still wanted to give it to me.

I also ran the St. Patrick’s Day Road Race again!!! Good times as always.

Practicum got much better in March. I had many things to do. I got to design the curriculum for and facilitate a six-week girl’s group. I assisted with the planning and running of a series of community tax clinics which was cool. Except the guy from the agency whose project it was is a creep. He kept telling me all of these stories that were incredibly inappropriate given the fact that we knew each other only in a professional sense. He made many comments about women’s bodies and appearances that were gross. And I got left in some pretty unsafe situations all by myself. AND he made me pay out of pocket for snacks for one of the tax clinics and never reimbursed me for that. I kind of forgot about that until just now. Wow.

April

April was a big month!

I went to Portland for my birthday weekend with Matt and Connor. When I think back to this trip, it was lovely, but mostly what I remember is a lot of beer, a lot of rain, and being hungover. Portland is a really cool city. I wasn’t totally expecting to be confronted with as much homelessness and substance use as I was but, that’s my privilege talking. Some highlights from the trip include:

• The “Flower in the Kettle” IPA I had.

• The mascarpone, corn and lobster agnolotti I had for my birthday dinner at A Cena. Recommended to me by a trusted friend I worked with at Famoso. So rich. SO FUCKING GOOD.

• Meeting this really drunk real estate agent at a dive bar and convincing her that Matt and Connor were both my boyfriends. I still have her business card in my wallet. I am unsure why.

• The Weezer concert was honestly awesome.

• Matt actually trying out the guyliner.

• Meeting some random guy when I went to get gum at a corner store. His name was Dan. He was old. His girlfriend had kicked him out and he was just walking around. He’d been in prison for a lot of his life. We had a good chat. I got his phone number and now we have each other on Facebook.

• In the airport on the way home, Matt and I were so overtired that absolutely everything was hilarious. The gif game (the gif of Kevin from The Office dropping the bucket of chili. “Me in Thailand”), and the beginning of when I got let in to the “KEVIN!!!!” joke. I had tears in my eyes.

• Connor yelled at me in a pizza restauraunt LOL (sorry Connor. I know you Ctrl+F your name. But this was memorable to me.)

In the middle of April, I FINISHED MY PRACTICUM HOURS AND EFFECTIVELY GOT MY DEGREE. I cannot describe to you how good it felt to be driving home from one of those tax clinics after my third twelve-hour day (making up practicum hours is fun) knowing I never had to go back. Knowing that soon enough, I’d get to work on all the same cool projects but actually get paid for my time.

We visited Saskatoon for Easter, which would turn out to be the last time I got to see my Baba. She was very ill, and both of us knew that it would likely be the last time, so I did get to say my goodbyes. It was very difficult and I sobbed for a lot of the ride home. It’s a weird feeling, when someone you love has been so ill for so long, and you begin to see their condition really deteriorate. When the idea of life without that person starts to become a reality. There was almost an… acceptance? It sounds so callous to say and it’s way more complex than this but also somewhat of a relief in the finality of it. I don’t know. It was a lot.

April was also when I started interviewing for social work jobs. I had two interviews. The first one was at CCASA, essentially for what I thought was my dream job. I have never psyched myself out so hard for anything in my life. I thought about that interview and that interview alone for weeks. I studied harder than I have for any test ever. When the time came for the interview, I was so nervous. I became this meek and mild version of myself. It was honestly devastating. But of course, had I gotten that job, I would never have interviewed at the University of Calgary. My boss-to-be called me for a pre-interview while I was on shift at Famoso. It was busy, too. But I just said fuck it and ducked into the back and talked to her on the phone for twenty minutes. She invited me for an interview a week later where I had to give a five-minute presentation on managing stress as a student. Rock on.

May

On May 1, I got offered THE JOB AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALGARY! It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life. There is nothing more satisfying and exciting than actually attaining something you’ve been dreaming of for so long. It was for a one year contract on a maternity leave coverage, facilitating community trainings around suicide prevention, helping skills, all that good stuff. I was going to be on salary. I was going to have benefits. I WAS GOING TO BE ABLE TO WALK TO WORK AND HAVE A REAL CAREER THAT I WOULD BE PROUD OF AND EXCITED ABOUT.

I hung up the phone after accepting the job, texted all the requisite people about the good news, and then immediately drove to Famoso to quit. My boss at Famoso was angry with me because I did not give two weeks notice. I said I would work out the rest of my scheduled shifts. He was a jerk, he yelled at me in frustration saying, “You work here for five fucking years, we accommodate every trip, every vacation, every practicum and you don’t even have the courtesy to give me two weeks notice?!” It wasn’t a big deal though. He was just being an asshole. And hey, Steve, you’re still an asshole!

So my last day serving tables at Famoso Westhills was May 3, 2019. I’m usually not good with goodbyes but it was the easiest thing in the world to just walk out of there at the end of the night knowing I would never be back. I had ten days until I started my actual job at the University (a bit of an oversight on my part because I had ~no money~ so what the fuck was I going to do with ten days).

My grandmother passed away on May 19, 2019. Back to Saskatoon on May 28 for the funeral. It was really fucking sad and really fucking weird to see all of my cousins crying. My grandma also had a big Catholic funeral and none of us are particularly religious and as the direct relatives of the deceased we were at the front of the church and it was really obvious none of us had any idea when to kneel vs. stand and didn’t know any of the words or tunes to the songs.

On a happier note, my brother was accepted into medical school in May. Not that I ever doubted my brother would be a successful person, but this just really solidified it. Dr. MacKay.

June

June was rather uneventful. I was honestly so cripplingly broke at this point, and it was so long before I actually saw a full salaried paycheck. I had to borrow money from my parents just to like, function. And pay my bills. It was embarrassing. But I was working full time and learning so many cool things about the job that it made it alright.

I walked the stage on the first week of June and accepted my BSW degree. I didn’t want to go but it was actually a pretty awesome and happy occasion.

The other big thing that happened in June is that Maddy moved to Australia. It sucks that I only met Maddy in the summer of 2018. She is so awesome and we became so close so quickly. I genuinely love her so much and spending time with her is so easy and fun, it was really sad when she left knowing that it was highly possible she may never return or at least not for several YEARS.

July

By July, my new job was in full swing. I was facilitating trainings every other day (so much public speaking experience!), I was sitting on a committee, every day was new and challenging and exciting.

My dad had a giant party for his 60th birthday, with some friends even coming from Saskatoon. They rented a limousine that took us to the Black Diamond hotel because apparently my parents have some kind of significance there. I did a shot with my grandfather? We played pool and Big Buck hunter? None of my friends came but all of my brother’s friends came and I honestly think that it turned the tables in terms of who my parents’ favourites are in terms of friends.

I also had an awesome weekend at Folk Festival mostly with Kendal and Lachlan but also featuring guest appearances from Chad and Gillian. Podcast club pals. There is just nothing better than folk festival, honestly. Food trucks and music in the sun and drinking sangria from a flask and admiring everyone’s cool outfits and getting a tan and listening to concerts all day. I had a nap in the middle of the afternoon on Sunday and it was like the most glorious 45 minutes of my entire year.

August

Oh, no. August. I was still cripplingly broke (it takes a long time to catch up to a point where your entire paycheck is not just going to paying back things you’ve borrowed) and I made the utterly stupid decision to go to a music festival.

Big Valley Jamboree, baby. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the best weekend that I am never ever doing again. Some highlights:

• Mere minutes after arriving, I watched a man vomit.

• The “Tony Keith” joke really took off. Lucas and I were so #inone on the Friday night we kept yelling and trying to start chants (“old man graphics!” is my personal favourite in response to Toby Keith’s random, pro-military Americana concert graphics).

• I gave my phone to somebody and then wandered off in search of this stupid boy’s campsite. I got very, very lost. The BVJ campground is a large place. I had no idea where I was going and was literally just stumbling through the dark and the mud. I ended up in the middle of some middle-aged Newfoundlanders’ campsite. They welcomed me. They offered me and sandwich and several beers. We chatted for like an hour. It was the best. I walked for SO LONG and finally found my own campsite. But we’re talking literally hours of walking around blind and disoriented. There were a few moments when I genuinely thought I was going to have to wait until the sun came up.

• A few less-than-classy moments in porta potties.

• The HANGOVERS. Jesus lord. I couldn’t survive.

• Airwaves guy was great and I also had a really good buffalo chicken poutine thing that I remember fondly.

In happier and much more professional news, I facilitated my first Community Helpers training in August. I was very nervous. Like, stay up all night the night before nervous. And we had some technical difficulties with setting up. But my coworker / work BFF Jeannie was there and she was a great support to me. She ran and got me a coffee and a banana bread because I hadn’t eaten and was so so stressed. And she encouraged me through the whole thing. It went really really well. I almost choked up at the end while thanking the participants for coming and explaining how it was my first training and they were such a great group to do it with.

The squad was all super broke so we turned to free activities. It was very wholesome. We spent many afternoons and evenings reading in Prince’s Island Park with snacks. We went to Shakespeare in the park. We went hiking.

A lot of my friends moved away in August. Such is life when your friends are all academics or have bright futures that are not confined to the Calgary city limits. Sydney moved to Victoria to start her PhD and we had a nice day at Elbow Falls eating berries and then having dinner with my family. Adam and Kendal both moved to Ottawa to start a fancy new government job and an MSW degree, respectively. I am really really proud of all of my friends but I miss them, too. Calgary is not the same without these people.

On the flip side – a new roommate moved in! Maddie left to move to Red Deer to be with Joel and so our new roommate was a French exchange student named Aurore. She arrived and was shocked to see that none of the advertised furniture was in her room except for one limp mattress. Karla and I hadn’t even known she was coming because my landlord sucks, but we helped her get her things together and then ordered her some Skip the Dishes. She was exhausted. And sweet. And was starting a block week MBA class the next day in her second language. I felt for her.

September

In September, the inklings of me moving into a different role at the university were planted. My boss called me in to her office one afternoon and shut the door. I was terrified but she said to me, “you’re not in trouble. Actually, just the opposite.” She brought up the recent vacancies in the job I now hold (lol: spoilers) and said, “Just think about it. I just want you to know that there would be no hard feelings if you chose to apply for the role.” I was flattered but also caught off guard. I did not think I was qualified for the job. I had virtually no client experience in either of my practicums. I wasn’t even registered with the ACSW at this point. And I loved my old job and my health promotion coworkers so so much. But also… I was on a twelve month contract. And the person away on leave was definitely coming back. I was “strongly encouraged” to get registered with the college.

It was honestly such a mess. They gently nudged me towards applying for the role, I was torn. Then they told me it probably wouldn’t work because I wasn’t yet registered with the ACSW, and even if I did register would still only be provisional. I felt an odd sense of relief at that, and had totally psyched myself out of being able to do the job at that point. At the last minute, I was told “just submit an application to keep our options open.” I did so. I got an interview. I interviewed (and it was SO fucking stressful…. Interviewing with people you already work with is 10x worse than interviewing with strangers. I tell ya.). And… I got the job!!! Not only did I get the job, I got a full-time, permanent contract (there were two positions, one full-time and one on a longer contract. I was told from the beginning I would just be applying for the longer contract but I ended up getting the FULL TIME ONE.) It was a HUGE boost to my confidence and again, one of the happiest days of the year.

September was also just absolutely insane for work. So many orientation presentations, students reaching out wanting to get involved, starting all of the volunteer programs, planning. I was so, so, so SO FREAKING TIRED. But we did lots of fun things. Like we took Aurore and her friend Cecile to Banff, had them try Caesers and Beaver Tails and all kinds of Canadian things.

October

On my last day in my old role, my coworkers decorated my desk with a homemade banner and got me desserts. We went to McDonald’s for a feast and sat in the Hub and made jokes. It felt really special and I was really touched.

On October 7, I started my new-but-also-kind-of-the-same job. I was very nervous and there was a lot to learn right from the get go. And it was so… strange. I HAD MY OWN OFFICE. WITH MY NAME ON THE DOOR AND EVERYTHING. The imposter syndrome hit me like a tsunami. I was extremely stressed, extremely overwhelmed. But my teammates and my boss are great. They understand I’m new not just to the role but to the field. They were (and are) so kind and patient with me and answer all of my questions.

For Thanksgiving, we went to Banff. We had beers and did a little bowling at High Rollers and then went to the Rimrock for dinner. It was very nice. A few weeks later, I hosted my own friendsgiving dinner and roasted a turkey! And spent all day decorating my parents’ house and the table to look fancy. Everything turned out really really well. I was super stoked. Note to self: throw more dinner parties.

November:

What I recall from November is just… stress. The case management / social worker life came at me real hard, real fast. I had to call CFS for the first time. My client did not want me to. It was hard. I did not cope well. My coping strategy was to fuck off to Lake Louise (?) for a weekend in a hostel and drink two bottles of wine with some random sorority girls from Chicago. And tears.

The cooking phase was in full swing at this point. Eggs benedict, soft pretzels, curry, French onion soup, gnocchi, prosciutto apple blue cheese chicken, apple and chai galettes.

The third week of November was also when I decided to start training for the half marathon. I found a plan online and set out to follow it and honestly, it’s been great. I usually don’t stick to exercise routines for longer than a month because I tend to go too hard, too fast and I overdo it and I let one hungover day derail me. But this plan wasn’t focused on distance but rather time spent running. So rather than, “I have to run 5km” today it’s, “I have to run for 45 minutes today.” I thought I’d hate that but I actually really like it. It encourages me to go a little slower and just run out the clock, at whatever pace. And the speed is building gradually, and naturally.

December:

Aaaand December!

December has been so much marathon training. Today, I am entering my seventh week of consistent running and exercise. That is a badass accomplishment for me. I am very pleased. I even managed to do my runs in Saskatoon on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Aurore left back to Paris. She had a birthday party at the house with all of her international friends and we went for sushi and looked at Christmas lights in the rich people neighborhoods before she returned home. She ended up being so wonderful. I will miss her.

I went to Radium for a weekend with Kennedy, Matt, Amanda, and their friend Katie. The takeaways from this experience are: I am excited to get to spend more time with Kennedy and Amanda and to become better friends with them, I think I like smoking weed now, and skiing is the best.

2020:

To be completely honest, my life is pretty good. I sometimes wish I had somebody to share it with, and that’s something I hope to be a little better about in 2020 is putting myself out there in more of a meaningful way.

I also am super excited to continue down this path with my career and to develop personally and professionally as a social worker. There is truly so much to learn and I’m really motivated and excited right now to do well at this which is an awesome feeling. I do need to work on not taking my work home with me so much, about separating the social work life from the personal life. Setting boundaries and all that good stuff.

I’m hopefully going to run my first half marathon in 2020. May 31. The countdown is on. Excited to cross that item off the bucket list and experience the rush of crossing the finish line! That endorphin high is going to be insane.

And I want to keep developing my cooking skills. Though they may be small, they are mighty. I want to try and learn how to make fresh pasta dough. LOL. Simple goals.

Anyways... thank you 2019 for all you have brought me and taught me. I am grateful for the life I get to the live and the experiences I get to have. And I’m super stoked to see where 2020 takes me.

#megbox #personal #year in review #2019

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keelywolfe · 5 years

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FIC: Between a Rock and a Hard Place (baon)

Summary: Stretch isn't much of a climber, but then, it sort of depends on what he's climbing.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff,

Notes: Eventually I will get to what I am supposed to be writing. In the meantime, please enjoy some fluff.

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was fairly lightweight for all of his height. His bones were slim, not having years of fighting and LV to increase their density. It made it easy to lift and carry him whenever the opportunity arose, and Edge indulged himself whenever possible. Having Stretch in his arms was always a pleasure.

It did not mean that having that weight flung on him unexpectedly wasn’t a shock and he’d learned to brace himself whenever he heard familiar footsteps rapidly approaching.

Like today. A bare minute after he walked through the door, Edge staggered forward a step as Stretch attached himself to his back like a burr, arms slung around his neck and all that slight weight suddenly his to support.

“babe!” Gleefully, and loudly, in his audial canal. Edge automatically reached back to brace him while Stretch made a fair attempt at climbing him like a particularly bony tree. He caught Stretch’s legs behind the knee, boosting him up until he was draped over Edge in a gangly sort of piggyback.

“You’re going to send us both to the ground one of these days doing this,” Edge said warningly.

“pfft, whatever, you love it.” The heat of his breath against Edge’s cervical vertebrae, followed by slim fingertips tracing the curves made him shiver, and Edge tightened his grip in a fruitless attempt to keep Stretch still. “besides, whatever goes up, must come down, and you like it when i go down. okay, so, what do you have going on tonight?”

The non-sequitur took him a moment to catch. Trying to follow Stretch’s train of thought was often more like a roller coaster than a subway. He considered the question as he kicked the door shut behind him, carrying Stretch through the living room. Tonight he’d been planning on catching up on paperwork, finishing a couple outstanding projects, and outlining his schedule for the next week. He could do that.

Edge shifted Stretch’s weight until he could lean his own head back enough to give him a strained kiss. “What did you have in mind?”

“ooh, i found something for you, babe. this place just opened and I think it'd fit you right up your alley.”

"It would fit my what?" Edge asked, bemused.

“up your alley, down your gloves, whatever, it would fit. we got this flyer today, check it out!” Stretch squirmed his delightful way down as quickly as he’d climbed up, despite Edge’s attempts to keep hold of him, and pulled a wrinkled piece of paper out of his hoodie pocket. It was an advertisement for the grand opening of an indoor rock-climbing facility.

While he read the flyer, Stretch waited impatiently, bouncing on his toes with an excited grin firmly in place.

It was a relief to see. He was looking much better today than he had he night before. Perhaps he’d managed to sleep in this morning after Edge went into work. They’d met for lunch that afternoon and Stretch had been very much his normal self; the shadows beneath his sockets were softer and he chatted with his normal bright enthusiasm. Whatever experiment he’d done with San and Alphys seemed to have put him in a good mood and Edge would happily sacrifice his evening to keep him that way.

“I’m interested,” Edge said at last. “But this doesn’t seem to be your kind of event.”

Stretch only rolled his eye lights. “oh, yeah, because watching your bad ass scaling the mighty walls is gonna be soooo rough. tragic, really, dunno how i’ll survive. you wanna go?”

“All right,” Edge said thoughtfully. “Why not?” It would be good for him to go anyway, and judge how Monster-friendly the facility was. “Let me change, you brat, and we’ll head out."

“can i watch that, too?” Stretch leered, his slender fingers already trying to sneak beneath Edge’s suit coat.

“Only if you want to put this off until tomorrow night.”

“okay, yeah, good point,” Stretch sprawled out on the sofa instead. “hurry up, baby love, let’s get this show on the road.”

It was Edge’s turn to roll his eye lights, but he did as he was told and went upstairs. If this turned out well, he could justify it as testing out the facilities for the Embassy and besides, Stretch was excited to go.

That was more than worth his time.

~~*~~

Stretch tended to be a good judge of business and people. Since they’d come to the surface, he’d sniffed out many of the places on the Embassy list of Monster-friendly businesses and his skills did not fail him today.

Despite the building being packed with eager new climbers, the employees were flawlessly welcoming, almost excited when they came in.

Edge paid the required entrance fees for them both, adding on a starter package for himself that included training on the basics. Both of them accepted their wrist bands and Edge began to herd Stretch through the turnstile, only for him to resist, suddenly straining to look behind them.

“oooooh, gonna win me a medal, babe?” Stretch pointed at a rack behind the counter where dozens of little medals hung. The ribbons ran a kaleidoscope of colors and each medal declared its bearer’s level of skill, from novice to expert.

“I believe I can live without a trinket,” Edge said dryly, ignoring Stretch’s pouting disappointment. “If you want one, you can earn it.”

“Hey, there!” Came from behind them and Edge turned to see a smiling Human coming up to them. He was almost as tall as Edge and wearing a Staff t-shirt. “I’m the owner here, Maxwell Fleming.”

“Hello,” Edge said warily. Some of his concerns faded as the Human held out a hand to shake and Edge did, keeping his grip gentle. It could be difficult to gauge at times how much pressure was comfortable for Humans. “My name is Edge and this is Stretch.”

“hiya,” Stretch grinned, waggling his fingers in greeting.

“Really nice to meet you.” The Human jerked his head a little for them to follow and Edge did, Stretch trailing at his heels. “Look, I’ll be honest, you two are my first Monster guests, and we really want our facility to be welcoming to everyone. Would you mind if I handled your training?”

“Of course not,” Edge said, a bit surprised but not displeased. If this Human were being honest with him and the rest of the evening went well, he’d put in a quick-track for background checks through security and get them an official door sticker.

Stretch made a face and stuck his hands in his pockets, backing away. “yeaaaaaah, you two have fun. i’m gonna go find my sittin’ place. nice to meet you, max.” Stretch shuffled down to the small cafeteria in one corner. It had a good view of the walls and therefore, gave Edge a good view of him when he sat.

“Exertion isn’t exactly his preference," Edge said, dryly. "I believe he’d abandon walking if the universe would agree to come to him.”

Maxwell laughed easily, “Hey, no problem. Let’s get you kitted out to start, okay?”

~~*~~

As much as Edge enjoyed his morning run, he admitted he wouldn’t mind exchanging it for this rock climbing from time to time.

Max spent plenty of time with him and whether that was normal, or whether dollar signs dancing in his head at the thought of other Monsters getting interested in his facility, Edge did not know, but either way, it was well appreciated.

Rock climbing turned out to be excellent exercise and Edge quickly worked his way up through the difficulty levels. There were plenty of Humans here as well, but other than a few double takes, no one paid him any mind.

It’s was exactly what he wanted for the Monster community. To be so commonplace, they were barely noticed.

An hour in and he was pleasantly exhausted, waiting for a last turn at one of the expert levels. He kept a half an eye on Stretch, who was content to entertain himself with the vending machines and his cell phone, frequently snapping pictures whenever Edge was climbing. That he kept looking at his phone and giggling was a fair sign that Edge should avoid social media for the next couple of days.

Max caught him looking once, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Think your—" Edge waited in amusement as Max visibly chose and discarded several assumptions before settling on “—friend would like to give it a go? One time, on the house.”

“If you can get my husband to try this, I’ll have the Embassy give you a public endorsement,” Edge told him dryly. He waited on a reaction to that information, distrustful of the supposed ‘morals’ that some Humans claimed as an excuse for being cruel.

Max only nodded thoughtfully, and surely the dollar signs waltzing in his head were changing over to the tango. “Let me give it a shot.”

He strode over with determination, Edge trailing behind in a jangle of carabiners and gear.

“Hey, buddy!” Max said cheerily.

Stretch was in the process of unwrapping a sucker from his pile of vending machine contraband. He froze as Max loomed over him, offering a slow, "um, hi?"

“Saw you watching your husband over there. He’s pretty good, right?”

“in many ways,” Stretch said warily. Years of dealing with his brother left Stretch prepared for traps of any sort and caution when one loomed on the horizon was almost second nature to him.

“Well, I was thinking,“ Max said, “I know this isn’t really your thing, so, what do you normally do for fun?”

Stretch only shrugged. “i’m real big on napping.”

“Ha, yeah,” Max laughed, perhaps a little too heartily. “No one tells you that when you get older, napping becomes a hobby, am I right?”

“yes, they do.” Stretch popped the sucker into his mouth and said around the stick. “because i just told you that’s what i do.”

Edge only stood there, watching his own personal pain in the ass in action with no little amusement. He thought he could hear Max’s teeth grinding from here.

“Uh huh,” Max rubbed a hand on the back of his head. “Well, listen, like I said, I know this isn’t your thing, but why not give it a try?”

“because i would literally rather sell a limb on ebay?”

Max seemed to realize failure was in sight and tried a different tact. “Okay, so napping is your hobby, what do you and your husband do together.”

“sex,” Stretch told him blandly.

If Stretch was hoping a little Human prudishness would put Max off, he was underestimating the drive of a salesman in his stride. “Sex is a hobby for most married couples. What else do you two do?”

Stretch raised a brow bone. “you want a list?”

“Nope. What I want is you on a wall,” Max said, abandoning subtly for bluntness.

Stretch leaned far back in his chair, wobbling on two legs as he gave Edge a dark, suspicious look. “he put you up to this?”

“I did not,” Edge called. There was no point in trying for an innocent expression, Edge had never had the knack.

“He did not,” Max agreed. “But he didn’t say no, either, and I think he’d like it if you tried. I bet he’d get a thrill out of seeing you do this with him. We get a lot of couples who do climbing together. Probably make him happy to have something to share with you.”

That struck a vulnerable chord and perhaps no one else would be able to tell that Stretch was wavering. He let his chair drop back to the floor with a clatter, his eye lights flicking to the climbing walls and back.

"You can try an easy one,” Max coaxed. “It's good exercise, and it's perfectly safe."

Stretch turned those wide, imploring sockets to Edge, who only raised a brow bone at him in a silent warning that no rescue would be forthcoming. Not that he liked the idea of Stretch doing anything that might get him hurt, but there were plenty of safety precautions. If he wanted to try, he could try.

If.

The amount of grudging Stretch was giving off as he stood was almost a physical aura. “i guess maybe—“

“Great!” Max said heartily. Perhaps he’d had some training in Monster protocols because he didn’t attempt to touch Stretch, instead waving his hands to guide him as if he were bringing a particularly reluctant plane in for landing. “Come on, you’re gonna love it!”

~~*~~

A half hour later and love did not seem to be the word Stretch was feeling for his current activity and if he said the ones that were more accurate, Edge would be scolding him for using that language in front of children.

He normally wasn't one for taking many pictures; that was firmly Stretch's domain. But the sight of his husband's lanky form trussed up in the safety harness, staring out sullenly from beneath a bright green helmet, was one he wanted to treasure for years to come.

Max led them to one of the beginner walls, extending some twenty feet up and covered with brightly colored handholds. Stretch gave the wall next to it, one meant for children ten and under, a longing glance before stared up the designated one dubiously. "you want me to crawl up that?”

"Don't worry, this is a nice, easy wall,” Max said reassuringly. “And I'm gonna spot you. See this?" He gave the harness Stretch was wearing a firm tug and from his expression, it was a little tight in the pelvic region. "You get stuck or start to fall? I've got you."

If his speech was meant to inspire confidence, it fell well short of topping off Stretch's mental cup. He stayed where he was, staring up, even as Max took his place with the belay rope.

Stretch turned that dubious expression in Edge’s direction. "you really think i should try this?"

“At least once,” Edge told him, amused, “it was your idea to come here.”

“i was here to check out the scenery, not to join the cast,” Stretch muttered. He squared his shoulders and nodded firmly. “okay, then.”

"Really?" Edge would have guessed Stretch would beg off by now. Certainly he had no trouble making his desires known, often with great volume.

"yeah, sure,” Stretch shrugged. “why not, live free or die young, let's carpe some fucking diem or whatever that shit is. max?”

“Yeah, I’m ready for you, buddy!” Max called to him, rope firmly in hand.

Stretch still didn’t move, shuffling his shoes, his laces very recently and firmly tied by Edge. "so, let me see if i got this straight. the goal is to get to the top of the wall, right?"

"Right,” Max agreed. He pointed upward. “There's a bell you can ring at the top.”

"and if i get to the top of the wall, will you two let me sit and watch the rest of the time?"

Edge would have been content to allow him to do that even if he didn't, just for being willing to try. "Of course--" the moment the words left his mouth he realized his mistake. "Wait!"

Too late. Edge sighed in exasperation as Max yelped and scrambled back from the suddenly empty platform.

"hiiiiii!" Stretch peered over the ledge, grinning smugly down from the top. He sat down with his legs dangling, waggling his fingers at them.

"That's cheating!" Edge called up. Other Humans were staring now with wide eyes and Edge groaned inwardly. Not exactly one of the more unobtrusive ways introduce Monsters to Humans.

"you said i had to get to the top of the wall," Stretch called down gleefully. He reached out and tapped a finger against the bell, the hollow ting of it ringing down to them. "i'm up!"

"You didn't climb anything!"

"climbing was not specified. only 'top' and 'wall' and in both those areas, i am a completest." He teleported back down, grinning cheekily at his own cleverness. "i did it, do i get a medal?"

Edge supposed it was good for their marriage that it was entirely too difficult to stay irritated with him in the face of such glee, even as smug as it was.

Max seemed to agree. He recovered admirably from his shock of seeing his newest client vanish and now simply looked amused. "Sure, I’ll get you a medal.”

He went behind the counter, bypassing the medals and ribbons hanging on the wall behind him. Instead, he rummaged through a box until he finally pulled something out triumphantly.

"Here you go!" He held it up, carrying it to Stretch and presenting it with mock ceremony. It was gaudy, gold-tinted piece of plastic on a cheap red, white, and blue ribbon and Stretch laughed delightedly as he looked at inscription. One side had a cartoonish hand giving a thumbs up and the other said 'participant.'

"i really think this emphasizes the deeper meaning behind my climb," Stretch said. He settled it over his head with solemnly. "babe, take a picture, i need to immortalize my contribution for participants everywhere.”

He did, while Stretch posed majestically, still wearing his harness, and the Humans around them all laughed and clapped. In no time he was chatting with many of them, several of whom seemed to know him from Twitter.

Picture taken, Edge only stood back and watched as yet another group of Humans fell beneath his husband’s charm. Honestly, Edge couldn't say if it would be the greatest or worst of ideas for Stretch to work for the Embassy. It was probably best that he wasn't interested. Max came to stand next to him, watching in bemusement.

“I’ll speak to our PR department tomorrow,” Edge told him quietly, “but if he is talking about you on his Twitter, I expect you’ll see an increase in business.”

“Nice. He’s a funny guy, isn’t he,” Max grinned and yes, Edge would be happy to push for speedy background checks. “I’ll get you some free passes, too. From now on, he doesn’t need an extra entrance fee, if he promises to stay in the café.”

“I’m sure that’s a bargain he’d agree with.”

Edge managed one last climb before dragging Stretch away from his audience. It was later than he’d expected to stay, the sun already going down, and from the way Stretch was dragging a bit, almost swaying on his feet, it was well past time to go home. One morning of sleeping in wouldn’t be enough if he was running on a sleep deficit.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Edge asked. Not that he didn’t know the answer. Stretch was still wearing his medal and he fingered it absently.

“yeah, but i think i’ll stick to climbing you, babe. you’re about as high as i like to get.”

“Yes, you have a difficult enough time keeping your feet on the ground.” Whatever flirtatious jibe Stretch came up with dissolved beneath a jaw-cracking yawn. Stretch shifted to lean his head against Edge’s shoulder, snuggling against him as well as the seat belt allowed. It made driving more difficult, but not much.

He was asleep in record time, leaning more heavily against Edge and when they got home, Edge fully expected to have to carry him into the house. Through their front doors and up the stairs to settle him into their bed and truth be told, Edge was looking forward to it.

He would gladly take any excuse to hold Stretch in his arms.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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quinzelade · 5 years

Text

Making One’s Bones (chpt 6)

Chapter List

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

History Lessons

The night in the Primate House was a long and uncomfortable one. Gage shifted in his spot on the floor, slowly became aware of a damp spreading through the seat of his pants, and made a noise of disgust. He'd been trying to put off his next wash for a few more months, and didn't want ape shit speeding up the process, but what could he do—sleep standing up? The whole place was covered in muck. Still, it was worth a shot, and so Gage got to his feet, testing the ground for a less soggy place to sit. Bossanova watched him silently from her own corner. Perhaps she'd noticed his pants sticking to the back of his legs.

The ghoulrillas were snoring all around him, Cito snoring loudest of all. He exclaimed loudly when he'd realised his little nest had been disturbed, but thankfully decided it must have been 'one of the monsters' sneaking in and disrupting his things without trying to eat any of his family in the process. Gage was happy to let him think that. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of Cito's piece of pipe.

As the combined rumblings of the sleeping idiots filled the air, Gage considered their new enemies. The gatorclaws were no laughing matter. He'd fought one or two deathclaws in his time, each battle a close call. But a park full of them? Not to mention the gatorclaws seemed even more vicious than their horned cousins.

Gage shifted around a little, noting with some relief his pants had dried off a bit. Not only that, but this spot near Bossanova seemed a little less damp than where he'd been before. Gage dropped down with a soft flump and watched a ghoulrilla scratch its ass in its sleep. The boss had been playing on his mind all night. Not the way she'd held a knife to his throat—he'd deserved that, he knew it—no, what bothered him more was their first gatorclaw fight, when she'd saved his life by pushing him out of the way.

Raiders, he understood. Kill or be killed. Loyalty only carried you as far as where the next meal came from, and if shit got bad, you took care of yourself first. Gage knew this. The only certainty about a raider was the fact they would turn on you.

Gage stared down the enclosure, watching Bossanova. He could see the glint of her eyes in the darkness, could just make out her hand resting on her sword, which she'd finally stopped trying to straighten out.

The stupid woman hadn't even hesitated.

"Boss…?"

"Yeah?"

Several seconds passed before he realised he'd spoken. Bossanova was sitting up straighter now, her head turned to him. He looked away from her, his heart quickening. When the gatorclaw grabbed her, he could have turned tail. Left Nuka World forever. He wanted the park working more than anything, but the situation was fucked long before Bossanova arrived. It wasn't worth his life. If Cito hadn't caved the thing's head in, he'd have died there and then. It shouldn't have got to that point. Gage knew when to cut and run.

So why hadn't he?

"Gage?" Bossanova tilted her head to the side. "Is everything okay?"

"Why the fuck do you care?" Gage snapped. He regretted it instantly. He sounded like a kid. He quickly changed tack. "Just...about Colter," he lied, finally looking up again. "You mentioned him back in the Welcome Center. It's...I can tell it's gonna be a sore spot."

"Maybe. Depends if there'll be a repeat performance." She gave him a wry smile just visible in the dim light. "Feeling guilty?"

"No, ain't no guilt over that call. Colter was a piece of shit. I've been real clear with you."

She glanced up at the ceiling, now concealed by darkness, and then dug into her pocket, producing a small candle and a packet of matches. She lit one of the matches, the surrounding ghoulrillas stirring in their sleep, and cleared a circle in the grime and straw, setting down the candle. She put the match to the wick, and the room filled with warm, flickering light.

Bossanova blew out the match. Then she drew her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them, and said. "How do you know I'm better?"

"I don't," Gage said, frowning at her. "But I ain't got a choice. After Colter, I'm livin' on borrowed time."

"Smart man like you, you should have seen him for what he was."

"Hey, I don't know what it was like in your time," Gage snapped, sitting up straight and glaring at her, "but out here, Colter had the qualities that mattered." She'd hit a nerve, and goddamn if he didn't know it. "He was big, strong, and didn't take no shit. So I talked him into being overboss, thinkin' he'd listen to me, let me help him. I thought...I thought I'd be able to keep him in line. But..."

Bossanova's expression shifted into something painful. Her voice sounded strained as she said, "It went to his head?"

Gage tried to reply, but the words caught in his throat. He settled for a single nod. She knew. She knew.

Bossanova gazed past him, her expression distant. "People like Colter... you trust to do as you ask, as they're expected." Her tone grew harder with every syllable. "But greed, power, drugs—it twists them, strips them of the person you knew, until all you're left with is a shell. A shell you have to put down yourself…" She breathed heavily through her nose cavity. "Because you created them."

Ringing silence followed. Gage was at a loss for words. Eventually, he managed a weak, "Shit, boss."

Bossanova shook her head, still not looking at him. "I know how gangs work. I know how they end. And I know why you're making me the target instead." Their eyes met. "I'm fine with that."

Gage wanted to know more, but something in her stricken expression told him it was a bad idea. She hadn't meant to say it. He swallowed, dragging the subject back into familiar grounds. "You ain't like Colter. That's what I'm getting at. You ain't like the other raiders I've run with. This place is about to go off like a goddamn grenade, but so long as you don't pull another stupid stunt like you did with Mags, we could make this work." Gage hesitated, aware he was getting a bit too sentimental. But the fact they were even in Safari Adventure at all spoke volumes. He swallowed his pride and charged on. "You've got the smarts and the drive to make a pretty damn good overboss."

Bossanova snorted with laughter. "I've barely done anything yet."

"More than Colter."

"God, he's made your expectations low."

It was Gage's turn to laugh. "I'm just saying, I'm...I'm starting to be glad we teamed up, is all."

The odd thing was, despite their earlier fight, he wasn't lying. Gage sat in stunned silence, his brain blank. Where the hell had that come from?

Bossanova didn't seem to notice his sudden apprehension, because she smiled broadly and settled back in her corner. After a moment, Gage did the same. As soon as her eyes shut, he scowled. Yeah, he was impressed with the way she'd taken charge, and she clearly knew what she was doing. But he couldn't quite wrap his head around what was bothering him.

It kept coming back to the fight. How Bossanova pushed him aside, took the blow instead. And how he, Gage, then followed her example.

She's no raider.

The realisation hit him like a gut punch. Bossanova didn't do things the raider way. She didn't just slit his throat when he overstepped his bounds, or abandon him in a sticky situation to save her own neck. She kept him for his usefulness, yes, but seemed to enjoy his company as well. Why else would she be making fucking breakfast in the morning for him?

But whatever she was doing, it was working. He'd never thrown himself at a deathclaw—Gatorclaw, Bossanova's voice corrected inside his head—for anyone before. Gage's scowl deepened as he remembered the talk she'd given him about trust the previous night, a strange anger bubbling away in the pit of his stomach.

She's no raider, Gage thought bitterly. But then he paused, his agitation calming down to a simmer. Was that really a bad thing?

For the first time in years, his thoughts drifted back to Connor.

Connor, who relied on him for advice. Connor, who said he trusted him—that he, Gage, was an important part of the gang. Connor, who took what he needed and then tried to kill him.

A raider through and through, and Gage had learned the lesson well. Never trust, never linger if shit hit the fan. And if Bossanova didn't play by the raider rules, both she and Gage were in for a world of trouble.

Maybe she was more raider than he realised; trying to lull him into a false sense of security, make him weak and complacent. Just like a slaver, before they snapped the collar on. Well, she was in for a nasty surprise if that was the case.

But...why risk her life just to trick me?

Gage massaged his forehead with his knuckles and decided to shelve the worries for now. There was nothing he could do about it here, surrounded by gatorclaws and ghoulrillas and the idiot Cito. Get the job done, go back to Nuka World, reassess. He'd used up all his chances with the other gang leaders—there was no way he could bring in another overboss now. But maybe he could still leave, before Bossanova ran him or the entire operation into the ground.

Sighing, he shut his eyes, hoping the morning brought a better day.

It did not.

Gage spat out a mouthful of blood as he staggered to his feet. A tremendous roar echoed from the dizzying heights of the Angry Anaconda track above, and he glanced up in time to see the snapping jaws of the gatorclaw miss Bossanova's heels by inches.

She lost her footing, and for one heartstopping moment Gage thought she would fall. But Bossanova clung on, scrabbling up again and ducking to avoid the beast's claws. He wondered whether he could shoot it without hitting her, but as Gage stepped forward, his head spun and he struggled to stay standing. The sixth gatorclaw fight was taking its toll.

Bossanova climbed higher and higher, every slip of her hands and feet sending a jolt of panic through him. She reached the peak, a wide chasm of collapsed track, and edged back, her arms flailing. The overgrown lizard pulled itself up, causing the whole structure and Bossanova to wobble dangerously.

The gatorclaw stared at her as it struggled to stay on the narrow rails, its huge, clawed feet sliding around, rattling everything further. Gage could hear its low, guttural growls all the way from the ground, and held his breath as he watched the teetering standoff.

The gatorclaw lunged.

Bossanova dropped through a gap in the track, catching hold of a bar at the last second. The gatorclaw barrelled on, throwing itself into open air and plummeting, while Bossanova held on with one hand. It seemed to take an age to fall, its muscular limbs flailing as a long, shrieking howl escaped its terrible jaws, before hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Bossanova dangled precariously over the drop by one hand, swiping up to the rails fruitlessly with the other.

Gage swore, setting off at an unsteady run. Would he be able to reach her in time?

Two figures streaked past him before he'd taken more than two steps; Cito and Chris the ghoulrilla leapt onto the metal structure, climbing with fluid ease. By the time Gage put his foot on the first rung, the ghoulrilla scooped Bossanova under one arm and swung casually back down. As Cito followed, Bossanova was dumped unceremoniously at Gage's feet.

"You alright, boss?" he said, ignoring both his racing heart and her two idiotic saviours.

"Fine," wheezed Bossanova, massaging her chest and standing up. She looked paler than usual, a slight tremble to her hands. But then she shot him a mischievous grin. "Still looking out for me?"

Gage scowled and turned away, his cheeks hot. Fuck her then. He stomped off, making sure she knew his displeasure, before stopping at the gatorclaw. It was impaled on some old pieces of track sticking out of the ground, its yellow eyes blank and unseeing.

He kicked the dead beast fiercely with his foot. How many more of these things would they have to fight?

Gage forced his attention to the Angry Anaconda. Somewhere in this mess of metal and dead greenery was the password for the Welcome Center—their only chance of dragging this hellhole under raider control.

He paused, wondering what would have happened if Cito and his 'family' hadn't been with them. Gage shivered, thinking of Nisha's well-used knives. He stole a glance at Bossanova when he was certain she wasn't looking, and then at Cito and the ghoulrilla. He would have killed them to make sure the park was clear for the gang. Bossanova talked them round instead.

Maybe Old World tricks had their place after all.

"Boss," Gage said, suddenly reminded of their first meet with the Blacks. "What was that shit you were talking about with Mags?" Bossanova paused, looking up from the decaying roller coaster cart she'd been sifting through. Gage took this as a sign to continue. "You said 'Cozy Nose...Tra.' And then 'mafia.' The first bit I don't get, but the second—"

He broke off as she erupted into a fit of giggles.

"What?" he snarled, nettled.

Bossanova shook her head, still laughing. "Cosa Nostra was an Old World Italian phrase adopted by the American Mafia. It roughly translates to, 'our thing.'"

She might as well have been speaking another language for all the sense this made to Gage. Or maybe she was? He stared at her, and she smiled.

"You want a history lesson?"

"Well…" Gage frowned at a dirty old skeleton on the floor. He was interested, despite himself. "Fuck it. Sure. It'll pass the time."

Bossanova nudged an upturned trash can with her foot as she unsheathed her sword, fussing over the bend in the blade again. Cito and the ghoulrilla licked each others wounds, apparently disinterested in the conversation. After a moment, Gage kicked aside an old skull and picking his way through the skeleton, deciding he might as well keep looking for the stupid passcode while she talked.

"What do you know about the Mafia?" she asked, not looking up from her sword.

"As far as I know, they were some pre-war gang who rolled in caps and did whatever the fuck they wanted." Gage stared off into the distance, lost in visions of wealth, luxury, and power. The raiders talked about them like the religious talked about Atom. He was brought back to earth by a loud sniffing in his ear. Cito was picking bugs out of Gage's hair and eating them. "Fuck off, Loincloth!"

Bossanova looked up as Gage waved Cito away with a hiss, and laughed again.

"You're right," Bossanova said, returning to her weapon, "for the most part. They had wealth and power, but they still had to navigate around the law, like I said. And they were mired with toxic tradition—only allowing Italian men into their ranks for most of their existence. By the time I joined, they realised they needed change to survive. In the end, if you could prove you had Italian heritage, it was irrelevant what was between your legs."

Gage frowned. Why would that matter to begin with? So long as you were good at killing, raiders didn't give a shit.

Bossanova gave a knowing smile at Gage's confusion, which must have shown on his face, and went on. "But non-Italians were still taboo. My attempts to bring the Irish Mob under mafia control were disastrous, and as a result I...retired. Organised crime floundered in the years after my departure. Only had a resurgence when the bombs fell."

Gage frowned. "You make it sound like you were old."

"I was old. Had my pension when the world ended, much to the annoyance of the cops. Being a ghoul does wonders for creaky joints."

Gage wasn't sure what 'cops' or a 'pension' were, nevermind whether he believed her claims or not. He decided it didn't matter.

"The Mafia was weak after I left. Turns out letting the Irish Mob butcher your leaders doesn't do much for keeping your hold on the city," she said bitterly. "Eddie Winters carved his way to the top of the Mob and put a puppet in my place. I changed my name and moved to the suburbs. Made friends. Kept my sword collection sharpened, just in case. By the time Raymond Patriarca got things back under control, the bombs dropped."

Bossanova shivered, her black eyes staring off into the distance, and for a moment it looked like her mind had been transported far away, swallowed by the horrors of her past. "I'll...I'll never forget it. The sky choked with dust and debris and radiation. I was miles from the epicentre, but I still felt my skin bubble and peel away. My neighbours melted in front of me. And the pain…"

She went quiet, gripping tightly at her sword. "Buildings were crumbling at random, people trapped beneath the rubble. Craters in the sidewalks. Bodies everywhere. The city reeked of the dead, and the living…" Bossanova motioned to her own face. "Most looked like me before they passed. Rotting from the inside out. I took refuge in a burnt out building. Too hurt to do much else, really."

Gage paused, his hand half in the pocket of the ragged remains of the clothes still clinging to the skeleton, listening intently. He'd never been one for the past. It was old and dead, and no use to anyone except scavenging. But this was...different.

"Old Ray became a ghoul, along with a good chunk of the family and the Irish Mob. Winters was nowhere to be seen, so the family took back its city." Bossanova smiled, holding the sword loose by her side. "They brought order to the apocalypse."

"Wait, what?"

Bossanova nodded. "Ray kept the chems out, and set to work on food, water, and the injured. People flocked for miles when they heard, all bending the knee to the wasteland's first godfather. Even the remnants of the police fell into line when it became obvious the military wasn't coming back."

"And where were you?"

"Kept out the way so I wouldn't waste their precious resources. Every day, lying in a burnt out building, waiting for the pain to just kill me, or the ceiling to collapse on me in my sleep. Every day I waited, and every day it never came." Bossanova bowed her head. When she looked up again, her gaze was sharp. "I got over myself quickly. Stopped being so pathetic—"

Glad we agree, Gage thought.

"—and went to see what I could do. If there was a price on my head, I'd make them remember who I was, and what happened to those who crossed me. I was reborn. But..."

Gage snorted. Always with the 'but.' "Lemmie guess—the guys with the guns weren't scared of a sword?"

Bossanova tilted her head and gave a strange smile. "You'd be surprised how many people hesitate when you run at them screaming and swinging a sharp bit of metal around. But no. By the time I'd pulled myself together, everything had fallen apart."

"Even by raider standards, that's impressive."

"Well, not everyone in the city was a ghoul. And those lucky enough not to be a walking corpse began to…grow suspicious of us. Didn't help that the first cases of ferals were cropping up. Ray was assassinated. Any ghouls not quick on the uptake followed him. The lucky ones went into hiding near the foundations of Goodneighbor. Today they are the Triggermen."

"No shit?" Gage mulled this information over in his head. He'd never really thought about where the Triggermen had come from before. He knew they were separate to the other ghouls in Goodneighbor, but…

He was snapped out of his thoughts as Bossanova went on with her tale.

"Frank Salemme was the one who whacked Ray," she said darkly, her expression sour. "He was nasty, even by Mafia standards. A pain to deal with in my day—making everything bloody, messy—bringing down the heat through his carelessness. He took over after he murdered Ray, and that's when things really went south.

"Frank decided the old ways weren't good enough anymore. If you wanted to be a made man, you played by his rules."

"What's a made—?"

"Mafioso. One of the family." Bossanova glanced over at Cito and the ghoulrilla, the former of which was stuck from the waist upwards inside a park trashcan. "Used to be you just took someone—almost anyone—out. Simple. Effective. Stopped the cops sneaking in, like Donnie Brasco near did. But this wasn't good enough for Salemme, oh no. Making one's bones was pointless in the new world. Anyone who wanted in had to kill a ghoul, and they had to bring proof. And if you weren't in Selemme's gang, you didn't get food or water or nothing."

"Smart," replied Gage without thinking. He shot Bossanova a sharp look, wondering how she would react, but she nodded thoughtfully instead.

"Yeah, it was smart. Made me prey for a while, though. Or so they thought. I hunted them down instead—slit some throats, skewered the rest, depending on who they were." Bossanova grinned. "Kept me on my toes and got me back into shape. In the end, Salemme was running on borrowed time anyway."

"Killed by a ghoul?"

"Killed by one of his own." Bossanova's grin widened. "Radiation gets everyone eventually. He rotted, and when his skin peeled away and his eyes blackened and his fingernails fell out—when he stood there, rasping like the rest of the ghouls—someone put a bullet in his head."

Gage snorted. "I'm sure that went down well."

"Naturally," Bossanova said with a mirthless laugh. "They'd had the power to keep things in order and they messed it up. Soon as they killed Ray, the city was doomed." She stretched her arms, and then turned her sword over in her hands. "Once Salemme got what was coming to him, the in-fighting began.

"New leaders declared every other day, food becoming scarce, and the water so irradiated people were dropping dead or turning to ghouls left, right, and centre. Finally, it all collapsed. The survivors splintered off into factions and began attacking anyone who crossed their paths." Bossanova paused, her gaze boring into Gage. "They were the first raiders."

Gage stared back, lost for words. Eventually he managed, "Raiders?" Bossanova nodded, and he hesitated before saying, "Raiders came from the Mafia?"

She nodded again.

"Well shit."

Bossanova burst out laughing. "Profound as ever, I see."

Gage grinned and shrugged. "What you want me to say? Ain't never expected raiders to have grand beginnings. I thought people were just good at being shitty to each other."

Bossanova shook her head. "That's all the Mafia has ever been." There was a moment's silence, then she strolled away.

Gage remained where he was, thinking. He watched Bossanova approach a rusting trailer and begin rattling the locked door. Gage had never thought about the origins of raiders before, and in all honesty, he'd never really cared. History wouldn't keep him alive. But when Bossanova spoke, he'd found himself enthralled. There was something about her that compelled him to listen.

Picking through the clothes again, he contemplated the power of her charisma when she'd had a nose.

A bang made Gage look up. Bossanova had apparently kicked the trailer, judging by the large dent in the door, and a bag had fallen off the roof. The contents were scattered all over the ground. She crouched down, picking through the debris, and then held up a small, silver something.

Gage got to his feet and drew closer. It was a key. Bossanova turned back to the trailer and tried the lock—the door swung open with a horrible, drawn out metallic scrape that set Gage's teeth on edge. Apparently unperturbed, Bossanova went inside leaving Gage to follow her. Amongst the debris was a skeleton in a lab coat and an orange toolbox on the side. Bossanova began patting down the skeleton, rooting through all the pockets—meanwhile, Gage was drawn to the toolbox. He flipped open the latch and threw back the lid while Bossanova continued her search, and spotted a holotape sat neatly on top of the tools inside the box. He picked it up, looked at the label, and smiled. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

Gage held up the tape and tapped the peeling label so she could see the spidery, looping handwriting. "It's the Welcome Center passcode."

Bossanova stared from Gage to the tape and back again, her mouth slightly open. She blinked several times, as if hardly daring to believe what she could see. Then she said in an awed whisper, "You can read?"

"Yes, I can fucking read!"

"But...you can read cursive?"

"Oh fuck off."

They returned to the Welcome Center with no more interruptions. Gage watched as Bossanova tapped her way through the console outside the sealed door. She propped the scrap of paper she'd scrawled the passcode on against the screen and copied out the digits carefully, glancing around as she did. The terminal beeped and the door slid open.

The darkness beyond waited like an open maw. Gage shivered, staring into the heavy, compressing blackness. Bossanova hesitated, her sword at the ready, and held out a hand to keep Gage and the two idiots in their place. She stepped forward, each slow step barely making a sound, her weapon raised.

The source of the monsters were in here. For all they knew, they were walking into a teeming nest. If that was the case, Gage doubted they'd be able to clear them out alone.

Bossanova continued through the door, glancing from side to side. The darkness swallowed her whole.

Gage shifted on the spot, gripping his gun tight. A terrible, heavy silence was smothering him, raking at his nerves. She'd given clear instructions—stay here, keep watch while she scouted ahead. He'd argued Cito could do the honours, but Bossanova had cut him off with a, "Do you trust him to be our scout?"

No. No, he did not.

But the few seconds of silence were torturous. He wondered if the gatorclaws had caught her with no time to scream, or even—

"Gage," Bossanova's voice whispered, and he sighed with relief.

"Yeah?"

"There's a gatorclaw ahead. You ready?"

Gage aimed his rifle down the tunnel. "Nope."

The only positive of the battle was its shortness.

Gage contemplated how quickly it would take for a gatorclaw to shit him out, before the thing's tail hit him in the chest and sent him flying through a set of double doors.

He stared up at the ceiling, dazed, when he felt the crushing grip of the gatorclaw at his ankle, and yelled in pain as the back of his head scraped along the ground. Then Gage was dangling in the air, the beady yellow eyes piercing him as the thing opened its mouth.

Gage grabbed a grenade from his belt, primed it, and tossed it down the gatorclaw's throat.

The eyes widened, and it made a choking noise before dropping him. Gage anticipated the fall just in time, crashing painfully onto his shoulder instead of his head, and quickly scrambled away. The blast flung him off his feet again, and he felt something hot and wet splatter all down his back.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, peeling himself off the ground and gingerly sitting up.

Bossanova ran over sporting a bloody lip and a tense expression. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Gage muttered, batting away her helpful hands. "I'm fine. Jus' gimme a minute, damn." She crouched down next to him, worry etched into every line of her features, and he felt his anger simmer. "I appreciate the concern, boss, but I'm okay."

He stared at his stinging hands, which were raw and grazed, and then waved her away irritably, and she stood up, wandering over to the terminals in the back of the room. Cito and the ghoulrilla—both unscathed—were sitting near the entrance of this dingy, underground atrium, eating the glowing plants in the dilapidated flower bed. Gage was surprised they weren't poisonous.

Bossanova disappeared through the set of double doors he'd been thrown through, and came out a few minutes later clutching Gage's gun and a couple of holotapes. She thrust the gun into his hands and walked over to the terminal, inserting one of the tapes into the machine.

Seconds later a voice filtered out of the sputtering speakers. Gage barely paid attention, checking his gun wasn't damaged instead. It was the same guy who had created the gatorclaws—McDermot or whatever his name was—and he liked to talk. But then something caught Gage's attention.

"...continuing to modify the Nuka-Gen Replicator to provide a source of food."

"Gage," Bossanova said from across the room, her face lighting up with delight, "do you know what this means?"

"Mm?"

"Weren't you listening?"

"Nope," Gage lied. He took a strange delight in annoying her.

"This could mean food for Nuka World forever," Bossanova snapped, glaring at him. "The amount of trade we could generate with this alone—"

"—as long as the Nuka-Gen Replicator continues to function, I'll have an endless supply of food for—"

"An endless supply of food so long as the power supplies hold out," Gage interrupted lazily, earning himself an irritated scowl.

"So you were listening!"

"Don't matter whether I was or I wasn't, if we can't control what this thing makes, and if it ain't got no power."

"—Dr. Hein would be proud of my accomplishment. It's sad—"

Bossanova opened her mouth to argue, when she froze. Her entire body stiffened, her hand gripping her sword once again.

—it's been so long, I've almost forgotten what he looked like. My God—it's been decades now, maybe even a century or more, hasn't it? Has it been so long? I...I'll...I'll continue recording later."

Bossanova slowly looked down to stare at the terminal, as if lost in another world. Gage gave her a good ten seconds out of bewilderment at her sudden silence, and then said, "Boss?"

She turned to him, blinking as if surprised to see him there, and then slowly shook her head. "I've never thought about it before," she said weakly, gazing at a distant point over Gage's shoulder, "but I don't remember what...I don't...I never had photos after the bombs…"

"Nicky?" Gage asked, startling himself that he'd remembered. Bossanova looked equally taken aback, but she nodded.

"Yes. Nicky." Her face became blank, and she shook her head. "Hurry up with your weapon checks. This place won't clear itself out." She strode off, her gnarled hands clutching tight around the hilt of her sword.

Gage sighed. He was almost getting used to her mood swings now. But he decided to sit and glower a bit longer to emphasise his displeasure.

After a few minutes of being sufficiently grumpy, he got to his feet, wincing. Everything ached and stung, and they still had plenty to do. Not for the first time, he suspected they wouldn't be finishing this job in one go. But at least if they figured out where the gatorclaws were coming from the rest could fall into place later.

He poked around the atrium a little, using a console to unlock an old cold storage room. All the fridges inside were empty, but he noticed an open vent near the top of the room, its grate hanging on by one rusted bolt.

All in all, not much loot to be had.

Disappointed, he made his way back down the stairs and towards Bossanova, who was reading through something on one of the other terminals. She didn't say what it was, and Gage didn't trouble himself to ask. Instead, he whistled through his teeth at Cito and the ghoulrilla, Chris. They loped over, alert and ready, and Gage begrudgingly admired their tenacity. Bossanova straightened up, glancing towards the doors leading to the next room, and caught his eye. She gave a slight nod, an unspoken agreement passing between them as they hung back and let Cito move ahead. Best to keep the meat shields up front.

Just in case.

#nuka world #porter gage #fallout 4 #fallout #mob #Making One's Bones

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