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my-watch-begins · 1 year

Text

A match for love. Part V

Pairing: Harwin Strong x Female!OC.

Words: 5.3 k

Warnings: cursing, things get hot up in there, smut. 18+. Minors DNI!, not proof-read.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10.

Ayla danced her fingers around the table, waiting for her father to finish with his business before addressing her.

Just yesterday they had received word from Jessamine, who said that her concerned state hadn't gone past Lady Jeyne and she had taken matters with Lord Mooton directly with the Lord Groover Tully. Lord Mooton was expected to be sanctioned for the disrespect to the whole of House Redfort.

Now, Ayla had come to her father about Gwayne. Lord Edder didn't seem to think that the business with his daughter was as serious as Ayla was presenting it.

"What seems to be the matter Ayla?" Her father asked, the sound of Ayla's nails on the desk must've gotten to him quickly.

"I want to talk about Gwayne, are you going to speak with his father?"

"I will not" his eyes were still trained in the scrolls on front of him, he was more than likely reviewing reports of the latest regiment of soldiers he was sent to train.

"Why not?" She pushed.

"Well, do you have any updates on your end that would prompt me writing Gwayne's father about the betrothal? Something like a marriage proposal"

"I do not" she replied through gritted teeth.

"Then there's nothing to talk about"

Ayla stood up and sighed in frustration. She has grown accustomed to be given everything, the few times when things didn't go her way often left her in a sour mood.

She knew that Harwin was going to spend the morning with her brothers, who apparently hadn't had enough fighting in the showcase.

Ayla decided then to join Harwin's sisters in the library upstairs, she knew that's where they spent their times in the Redfort. Grayce was an avid reader and enjoyed learning about events in the Vale. Jaena just accompanied her, often letting Grayce read her the words as she worked on embroidery. When Ayla joined, the three girls quickly dropped their chores and got to talking.

Hours passed until Harwin also made his way up, his eyes roaming the library as he looked for the girls, who were sitting outside sharing food and tea, throwing their heads back as they laughed. Harwin found that Ayla shared traits with both of his sisters. She had the kind and often reserved template of Grayce and Jaena's quick wittedness and often explosive temper.

Once his sisters saw him, they beckoned him to come out to the balcony.

"Harwin look!" Grayce pointed to the horizon excitedly. Harwin walked around their table and stared out, finding the imponent towers of Harrenhal in the distance. The Redfort rose on the top of a mountain, the view it had from the Vale and the nearest road leading to the Riverlands was a great vantage point. The castle of Harrenhal stood unmistakably in the distance, their towers fading in between the low clouds.

"So you've had your eyes on me this entire time" he teased, leaning off the ledge and turning to the table.

"I don't know how I could've, you haven't been in Harrenhal in give or take five years"

"Have I now?" He sat adjacent to Ayla and pulled a clean cup from the center. Ayla was quick to grab the seaming pot and pour some tea to Harwin.

"Yes, you left Harrenhal when your father was appointed Master of Laws"

"Mmm, and how do you know that?"

"I make it my business to know" Ayla hid a little smile behind the cup of tea, sipping the contents shortly before her eyes found Harwin's bandaged hands "I've also heard of your exploits at Princess Rhaenyra's wedding, how you bravely hoisted her to safety"

"Oh, I bet that made you jealous"

"Mighty jealous now that I've met you" Ayla followed his teasing tone with her own one, both of them smiling as they talked.

Grayce pulled the conversation to the illustrated books she'd seen and how they portrayed Harrenhal in it's former glory, making Harwin point out that the castle wasn't all destroyed, there were still parts of it that held the former grandeur of Harren's original vision, including the still intact White Hall where King Jaehaerys I held the Great Council for the succession of his ruling.

Grayce had mentioned something about King Jaehaerys I and his visit to the Redfort, which prompted Ayla to lead her to one of the corners of the library to tell her all about it.

Harwin remained seated next to his sister Jaena, and he knew how dangerous of a place it was.

"Have you asked her yet?" She beckoned as she pulled the chair to sit closer to him, her eyes still trained on the door to mind it for Ayla's sudden presence.

"Ask her what?" Jaena quickly slapped his arm.

"For her hand" she scolded, as if they had any other reason to talk.

"No, not yet"

"And why not? We leave tomorrow at first light"

"I know that"

"Is there a 'but'?"

"Why are you so invested in this?"

"Because I like her" she whined, knitting her eyebrows together "we all do"

Jaena pulled a straight face when Ayla and Grayce walked back in the balcony. Harwin then stood up, greeted the girls and left them to keep talking.

That night, the last night, after Harwin settled his affairs and placed a new log in the fireplace, he sat in the armchair and sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to be sleeping much that night.

His feelings were clear, he realized he wanted Ayla as soon as they shared a first meal upon their arrival at the Redfort. He liked her eyes on his, the soft touches of her fingers on his hand, and when he kissed her in the clearing near the waterfall he made up his mind that nothing would give him such pleasure as to have her all to himself.

The words Gwayne had spoken about the arrangement had only made him lock his feelings and convictions more, and if he had to fight Gwayne to win Ayla's hand then he would be delighted to do so.

He straightened on the chair when he heard the door open, Ayla's figure slipping in between the tiny space she'd open, then she closed the door behind her slowly, not wanting for the heavy locks to make much of a noise amidst the quietness of the night.

She turned, finding his eyes already on her figure. She smiled, slowly walking to him.

Harwin picked up her intentions, clearly noticeable by the way she was just wearing her sheer nightgown, when she stood before him the light of the fireplace behind her accentuated the curves of her body under the garment.

"Couldn't sleep?" He asked, Ayla fisted her gown and leaned in to sit on his lap, his hands quickly found her waist, rounding it with his arm as he pulled her closer, and his other one found the dangerous place between her thighs.

"No, I'm-" she sighed, one of her arms had rounded Harwin's broad shoulders, his other hand touched his chin and jaw lightly "I'm heartbroken because of your departure"

She couldn't look at him in the eyes, Harwin could see the grimaces of her lips as she tried to make her chin not tremble.

"We still have the most fun way of communication, by raven"

Ayla let out a sad chuckle, her forehead coming down to his chin. Harwin pressed his hand along the curve of her waist, going up to her shoulder, then back down.

"I want to have this night with you" she sighed, her head shooting up to ghost her lips with his "and if I have to marry that idiot Gwayne later then I won't care because I will have had this, with you, tonight"

Harwin sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. He was determined to pull her head up to make his gaze meet with hers, ready to deny her, but when he did so he couldn't. She closed the short gap between their lips, kissing him slowly at first. When he didn't pull her back she ran her tongue along his lower lip.

He heard the straps of her gown slide, and before he could react she pulled her arms out of the sleeves, the soft skin of her back hit his caressing hand, then the softness of her breast collided with the roughness of his own chest.

He inhaled sharply. He hastily pulled them both out of the chair, making Ayla stand on her feet.

His lips left hers long enough to search for the sleeves of her gown, when he looked down and his eyes met her two full breasts, her nipples hard at the arousal, he quickened his moves. Ayla complied and let herself be dressed again, but when she was about to complain to Harwin, her eyebrows already knitted at the middle, he grabbed her jaw and pulled her for a kiss, his teeth nipped at her lips once before pulling away from her again.

"Let's go to another room, one away from my family and yours"

Ayla searched in his eyes questioningly, then took his hand and began walking. She pulled him around the castle and to a stairway, once on the second level, he saw her look at the doors as she passed them, then decided on one and opened it.

The room inside was cold, had clearly been untouched for some time, but the bed was made and there were some thick furs to keep them heated, they would be needing them later.

Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Harwin pulled Ayla for a kiss, one that verged tenderness and roughness. His lips then traveled down to her neck, Ayla's hands found the nape of his neck, her fingers crawling at his back as she pulled herself to be flushed to his body.

It was Harwin who now pulled at the strap that held the gown tight to her chest, then pulled and opened the neck wide enough to slide down the garment all the way down, leaving Ayla naked in front of him.

His big hand cupped her breast, filling his entire hand with it, then his lips found hers again. They walked to the bed, his lips still on hers as Ayla grabbed his shirt and pulled, Harwin diligently put his arms up and was rid of his shirt, leaving it discarded next to her gown.

Harwin placed his hands on her waist and made her lay on the bed, then engulfed her body with his as he towered over her.

"Is this what you want?" He muttered breathlessly on top of her, his lips now traveling down to her neck, Ayla sighed and ran both of her hands over his mass of loose curls.

"Yes" she breathed out "I want all of it, all of you"

He leaned back to sit on his heels, looking at Ayla in all of her naked glory, he raked his hands down the valley of her breasts, then down to her stomach. He then grabbed the back of her legs and pulled them to either side of his body.

"It may not be pleasant at first, but it will pass" he assured, his hands now smoothing down her inner thighs, he felt the skin perk up in goosebumps, then slowly his hand made it's way to her heat, her slit glistening from her arousal.

Ayla stared at Harwin and his imponent figure in between her legs, how he was devouring her with his eyes, how he was surely thinking of all the things he wanted to do to her, when suddenly his thumb lost itself between her folds and traveled up. She inhaled sharply when his thumb moved on top of her most sensitive bud, circling it. Ayla's mouth fell agape, her skin peaking in temperature.

Harwin's thumb began moving faster on her clit, making Ayla gasp loudly, her body reacting making her begin to arch her back at the sudden change of pace. Still, Harwin was not happy with how she was seemingly holding back her pleasure.

He towered over her, one of his hands supporting his weight on top of her as the other kept working on her bud.

"Ayla, look at me" he commanded, Ayla soon opened her eyes, it was a sudden blessing having him so close, she hadn't known what to do with her hands, but now she could press them both to his shoulders, her fingers leaving a white indent on his skin "I wanted us in the furthest away room because I want to hear you" one of his fingers entered her, then curled inside of her making her close her legs around his waist "or am I not making you feel good?"

"You are" she replied instantly, nodding fervently as his fingers began pumping in and out. His lips attacked her neck, deciding that if she wasn't going to let go so easily, he would push her to the edge until she could no longer control herself.

He grabbed her by the waist with both hands and scooted her up on the bed, then dove in and before Ayla could register what was happening, Harwin's tongue raked along her slit, and when it touched her clit she let out a moan, long, one that reverberated through her entire throat.

Harwin's skillful tongue moved fast over her bud, and Ayla soon found the covers of the bed, fisting them as she moaned loudly again, her back arching. She found herself letting out a string of moans that threatened to leave her lacking her voice tomorrow.

In the brief moment she looked down, her hands now finding his curls to fist them, her legs trembled beyond her control. Harwin pressed now two fingers inside of her, and when he curled them to touch the tender spot in her walls, her back arched and she let out a high pitch scream, a short one that stopped when her whole body trembled. Her breathing also quivered as Harwin kept his fingers inside her, the delicious clench of her walls hugged his fingers in a delicious rhythm.

Harwin straightened himself, once again sitting on his heels, his free hand rubbed Ayla's body, the skin leaving a trail of goosebumps after he caressed her.

"Ayla" he called breathlessly, not from exertion, but because he needed her now. Ayla opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly from the bed, a quiet understanding flashed on her eyes, Harwin understood that he could continue. He leaned over her, his arm propping himself up as his other hand, the one that he took from Ayla's heat, grasped his hardened member, he rubbed the tip on her slit, making Ayla press her hands at his shoulders again, her legs seemed to have a mind of their own, hooking themselves to hug his waist and to pull him closer, eager to finally have him.

She gasped when he entered her in one thrust, his fingers digging into the flesh of her waist as he stood still. Her walls were still clenching at the aftermath of her orgasm, making Harwin grunt as he placed his forehead to her clavicle. Ayla's orgasm hadn't stopped the initial pain of accommodating Harwin's girth to her tight walls, she'd pressed her hands at his sides and unconsciously held him still, as if it would subside the pain, her breath caught up in her throat, but she slowly let it out, relaxing herself at Harwin's caring hands on her waist and legs. When the pressure was bearable, pressing at his sides she beckoned him to start moving.

Harwin began thrusting in long strokes, his member managing to fit even deeper in her, listening attentively to her sighs and whimpers to gauge at how she was.

A moan escaped her at one of his long thrusts, soft and deep at the same time, like it originated from the deepest part of her throat, beckoning him to keep the pace going for the sake of sanity. He then lifted himself and placed his hands at her waist, picking up the pace on short and deliberate moves.

He wish he could have the view he had right now imprinted in his retina, the sight of her closed eyes and open mouth, her full breasts bouncing up and down, her hands now grasping at his forearms, then the most tentalizing sight of them all, his hard cock disappearing in her heat, squeezing it as he pushed inside of her, ripping more and more moans out of her throat.

Her face of pleasure changed as well as her moans, now higher in pitch, Harwin's hands now held hers and pinned them on top of her head. His hips began moving faster, making Ayla press the back of her heels at his lower back, the only way she had to cling to him as he pounded, Harwin was letting out his own soft grunts.

It was too much for Ayla to handle, the decided thrusts, the grip on her wrists preventing her from touching him, her moans echoing along with Harwin's own. She crumbled again, her back arching to meet with Harwin's chest as she came, a cry ripping out of her throat. Harwin's hands loosened the grip, giving Ayla finally freedom to dig her hands at his chest. Her skin became even more electrified when his hands raked her breasts, then up to her throat and back down again in the valley of her breasts.

She was spent, taking deep breaths as she felt her walls tighten around Harwin's cock. She finally opened her eyes, finding Harwin's already looking down at her, darkened with lust.

"Was that good my love?" Ayla nodded dutifully, her hands grabbing his and pressing down at her neck, she needed his hands on her body, the roughness of them to light her up "shall we keep going?"

Before Ayla could answer, he led her arms to round his shoulders, then pressed his own hands at her waist and pulled her off the bed. Now sitting with Ayla straddling his cock, she didn't know she could feel him so deep inside her, but she did. The change of position was enough to restart her wanton moans.

She had him exactly how she wanted him, chest to chest, his arm snaking around her whole back and his other hand guiding her hips in motion, back and forth, rubbing her insides with his cock in new spots. One of her hands clawed at his shoulder, the other one gripped at the loose curls in the back of her head, wanting to keep him close, to have his skin melt with hers.

"Fuck Harwin" she muttered, her lips on top of his, both of them breathing the same heavy air and drowning their moans with each other's mouths.

Ayla felt the change of pace, now both of his hands were leading an impossible fast pace, Harwin's turn to claw his fingers at her waist, surely leaving indents of his fingerprints on her body. Ayla felt an already familiar turn on her stomach, her forehead coming to his shoulder.

"Harwin" she gasped breathlessly, her legs threatening to numb. Suddenly she felt it, he stilled her movements to empty himself inside of her. Ayla hugged herself to him, his orgasm triggering her own, loosing all resolve as she moaned in his ear, her hand fisting at his hair making Harwin grunt, presumably in satisfaction at the mix of hurt and pleasure.

She felt outside of her body, lightheaded, but oh so very satisfied.

When she came to her senses, she was nested in Harwin's embrace, her head laying on his shoulder, covered with thick furs, his hand resting on her waist.

She lifted her head up just a few inches, seeing Harwin also become alert and look down at her with a smile.

"You feel asleep for a second there" he removed his hand from her waist as moved her wild hair out of her face "sleep love, I'll take you to your room before first light"

"Okay" she whispered, then crawled upwards to rest next to him, her forehead meeting his chin as her hand came up to rest at his jaw, her thumb lightly moving back and forth.

The next time Ayla came to her senses, she wasn't in the dreamy position she'd fallen asleep in. She was, sadly, back in her own bed, dressed and wrapped around the covers and sheets of the bed upstairs, her own bed was still made and untouched beneath her.

She quickly sat up when she saw the light outside, fearing that she had missed Harwin's departure. She unraveled the sheets from her body, noticing that one of them held the proof of her lost maidenhead, she balled it and held it to her chest as she looked to see if the other one was tainted. The door opened after a quick knock, leaving Ayla staring expectantly at the figure that would appear.

"Good morning my Lady" one of her handmaidens saluted, carrying a bowl of water and some rags, ones she left on the table near the fireplace.

"Good morning Talya"

"Oh, you've made your bed already" she noted, giving Ayla a quick look and a frown.

"Yes" she fisted the rest of the sheets "my blood moon came early, I was going to take this to wash"

"Don't bother my Lady" she extended her hands and Ayla gave her the sheets "the young ladies, Jaena and Grayce were waiting for you in the hallway, to break their fast with you before they left."

"Oh-" she felt her body loose the tension it was holding, they hadn't left yet "I'll meet them in a minute" Talya nodded, Ayla quickly added "I won't be needing any help with my dress, Talya"

"As you wish" Talya nodded, then headed out.

Ayla's suspicions were right, as soon as she rid herself of her nightgown, maroon dots painted her waist, the grip of Harwin's fingers leaving marks to remember him by.

Ayla changed quickly, not wanting to keep the sisters waiting, then quickly knotted her hair in a high ponytail, a few pieces falling and framing her face, then joined the girls in the hallway.

In the adjacent tower, Harwin harbored a pain in his chest that he at first doubted the reason for. He didn't touch a thing the maids had displayed for them to eat before their departure. Much to his dismay, he crossed glances with his father once, who looked at him with a sympathetic twist of eyebrows.

"You know, Lord Edder is to be in King's Landing in the upcoming month, a fruitful relationship has developed from this little adventure. I'm sure you and Lady Ayla will be able to reconnect then" he offered.

Harwin finally cracked a smile.

"That is not why I'm distraught. I believe lady Ayla and I do not need a longer courting period to gauge out intentions. I am going to ask for Ayla's hand before we leave" his eyes found his father's, gleaming with a certain proudness.

"I must admit I knew that would be the outcome of this trip the first night we had dinner with the Redford's. Lady Ayla is a picture perfect match for you, son"

"Still-" Harwin wished to keep his father's expectations at bay "I didn't say anything because I'm sure she would've insisted in coming to King's Landing with us. Leaving the family home is not something to take lightly"

"It surely is not, I'm glad you're willing to wait" Lord Lyonel stood from his seat and motioned at him to do the same "we should pay Lord Edder the respect of forewarning him your intentions"

Harwin nodded, then stood up from his seat and followed his father around the castle.

As soon as Harwin and Lord Lyonel crossed the door to Lord Edder's office, he smiled and waved his hand around, then placed both of them on Harwin's shoulders.

"There's absolutely no need for this my boy" he said with a smile, Harwin's nervousness dissipating almost instantly "I've raised my daughter to be a strong willed, intelligent and tenacious young woman. She, as you've witnessed, likes to get into a little bit of trouble every now and then. All she needs is for someone to protect her, sometimes from afar, but most important she needs someone to love her"

"I'm willing to do that and more, Lord Edder. If I am ever lucky enough to call myself her husband, she should expect nothing less of me"

"Good" he nodded, patting Harwin's arms reassuringly "I am more than happy to have our houses join" he looked now at Lord Lyonel, who by the look of his face mirrored Lord Edder's happiness.

Harwin only saw Ayla again when she and his sisters walked to the entrance of the castle. Harwin's heart tightened at the sight of her puffy red eyes and nose, she'd clearly been crying and so had his sisters.

He walked to them, Jaena and Grayce understood that they would want a few minutes to themselves. They left Ayla's side and Harwin kept walking with her to the furthest part of the salon, leading to a corridor.

"How are you today?" He asked, glancing down at her. Ayla gave a weak smile.

"Remember at the clearing, when you told me there would be plenty of time for us to make haunting memories together?" Harwin smiled sadly, standing in front of her and slowly raising his hands to her waist "back then I didn't think you were serious"

"Neither was I" he admitted. Ayla's eyes remained on his lips, her hands coming up to lay flat oh his chest. "Ayla"

Her chin trembled, Harwin's forehead came down to touch hers. He held her in his arms, much like he had done the night of Lord Mooton's verbal explosion. Their noses touched, and Harwin heard her unsteady breath as she tried to hold back tears.

"Look at me Ayla" he whispered. Ayla leaned back, took a deep breath and looked at him, almost instantly she blinked and heavy tears fell from her eyes "I promise you, this is our last goodbye"

He saw it, the clear change in her expressive eyes, how they turned to curiosity, then instantly disbelief.

"Next time we see each other, be it days or months from now, I won't let you out of my sight again. If you would have me-" Ayla closed her eyes, her hands crawled to his neck and she pulled his face to hers, foreheads touching "next time we see each other, I will make you my wife, if you'll take me as your husband"

"I will" she answered instantly, her lips meeting his plump ones "I will happily take you as a husband" she whispered over his lips, then kissed him again, now their lips dancing with each other, his tongue slipping into her mouth as one of his hands dipped lower to grasp at her glute.

Ayla startled in his arms and pulled away from the kiss when the hallway erupted in a frenzy of warnings and cheers, both from Harwin's sisters cheering at the both of them, celebrating them on their love, and Ayla's brothers who considered that Harwin had put a little too much passion in the kiss. Ayla was still holding him by the neck, but had managed to crack a good laugh along with Harwin, momentarily distracting them from the sorrow they would feel when they were no longer in each other's sights.

Upon their farewells, Harwin kept a reassuring grip on Ayla's hand as he saluted her brothers. Ayla on the other hand held both of his sister's, her eyes fixating on Grayce as she linked a bracelet at her wrist.

"We bought this at Wickenden. Something to remember us by"

Ayla stared at the thin chains twirling on themselves and painted in red, blue and green, the colors of House Strong.

"I love it" Ayla's hands slipped from Harwin's momentarily to hug Grayce and Jaena tightly "even if I wasn't going to marry your brother, I would've found a way to keep withing your lives. I hold you in a special place in my heart"

When the girls parted from Ayla and walked to the carriage, Harwin pressed his hand on her neck, rubbing his thumb over the curtain of hair and into Ayla's neck.

Ayla took a deep shaky breath and leaned to his shoulder, his hands found hers again and rubbed over her knuckles, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll write to you as soon as I can" he muttered to Ayla, but didn't want to utter a word, fearing that it may launch her tears into overdrive again, she opted for tiptoeing to kiss him, his hand lightly pressed at her jaw, keeping her lips on his for a long but soft kiss.

She held her breath when he pulled back, forcing herself to open her eyes and look at his.

"This better be our last goodbye" Harwin pulled the corner of his lips to a small smile.

"It will be, love" he pressed another quick kiss to her forehead and reluctantly peeled away from her, their hands holding together until the last second. When Harwin turned to walk to his horse, Adrian took Harwin's side next to Ayla and pulled her crying sister to him, Ayla blinked heavy tears as she watched him climb on the horse. He gave a quick glance at Ayla, she forced herself to smile, even though her lips and jaw were locked in avoiding to cry.

Then slowly, the party disappeared into the road. Ayla sighed, running a hand on her cheeks and cleaning it out of the fresh tears that ran on them.

"Congratulations my girl" it was now her father's turn to kiss her on the forehead, then rounded her shoulders with his arm and walked into up the stairs to the entrance of the castle "Ser Harwin is a great match for you, one I'm ashamed I didn't thought of to begin with"

"It's better we made it ourselves, I'm sure Lord Lyonel wouldn't have agreed to the match if it had been set up as a political one" she reasoned, grateful that her father had turned the matter of conversation away from her love's departure.

"We will meet again with the Strongs. I do have some new business in King's Landing, and you'll sure join me then"

"I gladly will, father" she replied with a weak smile.

"And the marriage itself-" Ayla quietly rolled her eyes, mostly to herself.

"You don't waste time, do you?" She quipped, interrupting him.

"The marriage itself will have to be within the next four months. I wish for us to join houses as soon as possible, for your sake and Ser Harwin's"

"And why are you concerned exactly?" She stood before him, blocking him from walking further "do you know something I don't?"

"I know plenty that you don't. Regarding your betrothal, I know that by the way Larys looked at the both of you when Harwin asked for your hand, he wasn't happy"

Ayla thought of the lack of interaction she had had with Larys, he mostly kept to himself or joined Lord Lyonel in the matters he still had to attend as Hand, even from afar. She was glad that her father had kept a keen eye on him and had been looking over her even in her moments of weakness.

"You're afraid he would somehow convince Lord Lyonel of calling off the betrothal?"

"I'm concerned he would plant a seed in the time you and Harwin are away from each other. It doesn't need to be with Lord Lyonel itself, it can be with absolutely anyone who wishes to stir chaos"

"Well-" a sudden smirk painted on Ayla's lips "let him try".

Taglist: @her-fandom-sanctum @mostclevermiss

#harwin strong #harwin breakbones #ser harwin strong #harwin strong x oc #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong smut #ryan corr #hotd

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forthesanityofstorytellers · 1 year

Text

Becks Backstory - Silvia

What started out as an attempt for me to keep things straight in my head turned into a series of short stories centered around Becks and her backstory, which quickly became her backstories given how many years she's lived and how many names and personalities she's adopted. Some are complete, some aren't, I'll update as I go, yadda yadda.

So. This is Silvia. She's the sixth name/personality Becks created. She's a bit more tame than Fiadris, slightly more reserved and a bit more broken. Doesn't let it stop her from being playful, even if that playfulness is a tiny bit more withdrawn.

WC 1,386

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–Late 1700s, America, hidden in the woods somewhere probably in the Northwest–

Silvia poked her head around a corner. William was huddled over his books, like always, small globs of magic light hanging over him while he studied. It was late into the night, but both Temerous and William were still awake.

Nevertheless, Silvia crept up on him. Barefoot as always, her clothes shuffling just the slightest as she moved. He was deep in thought this time, and she managed to summon a few vines to quietly creep along the wall, waiting until the right moment for them to reach out and slap his book away from him.

He startled and looked up and around as the book flew, Silvia catching it with a laugh.

“Gotcha!” she laughed as he turned with a frown.

“Silvia!!” he muttered, getting up and glancing around. “Give that back!!”

“What is it!?” she asked, sticking a hand out to stop him and looking at the page the book was opened to. Turned it this way and that. “These are sigils. Why are you working on sigils? I thought Temerous had you working on species classification.”

He tried to reach around her arm but was failing, her arms and vines moving to keep him at a distance while she ducked and wove around his grip when he managed to get past her blockers. “I– I don’t– Temerous just swapped lessons on me, I don’t– Silvia, come on, he’ll have my head if I don’t– Silvia–! Angel!!”

She stopped at that and looked at him, head tilted. He sighed and held his hand out. “Please, angel?”

She smiled. It had been a few years, and she still wasn’t tired of him calling her that. So she gave him the book back with a grand flourish, dropping it into his hands. “What is it?” she asked again, as he shuffled the pages back to the ones he had been reading.

“Temerous’ latest research,” he said, walking back to his desk and renewing the magic orbs of light. “He says something is going to happen soon and we’ll need to be ready…although what, exactly, is going to happen is something he won’t say. Just that we need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?” she asked. “How?”

William gave her an exasperated look but it cut off with a smile. “I don’t know, dummy. Temerous wouldn’t tell me.” He pointed to the book and his notes with a stick he was using to make the notes. “But he’s trying to find a way to combine these sigils here, see? Thinks he can make a way to separate a mage from their magic, just for a little while.”

“What? Why would he need to do that?”

William shrugged. “You’d have to go ask him,” he said, turning back to his work and tilting his head. “He’s really obsessed about it, though. As if this stuff is–” His voice cut off as it drifted away, Silvia already bounding down the hall and away. He called out after her and asked her to come back, but this time no amount of calling her angel would get her to cooperate. She was curious now, and if Temerous was the one to ask, that’s where she was going to go.

She found him where she always found him this hour of night. In his room, with the fireplace lit and staring into it. It had been years and she didn’t quite get the hang of this one; some days he acted like he was her age. And some days he acted like a bitter old codger that snapped at William and spent long hours staring into the fire.

Looks like tonight was a codger night. Not that she minded. He seemed to have a soft spot for her; never yelled, never hit, never threw things. Sometimes wasn’t always forthcoming with information, but never in a way that seemed like he was hiding something from her.

“Temerous…?” She called out, standing by his door. Peeking around the corner and waiting with her head tilted. “...Temerous?”

“...what is it?” he sighed, staring into the fire. “What’s gone wrong now…?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing wrong really. I just…” she hesitated. Tilted her head. “Why do you like the fire?”

“I find it soothing,” he answered absently. “Reminds me of…simpler days.”

She stared at the fire too, then, watching it dance and flicker against the stonework of the fireplace. Found her own memories flickering within…memories of something long lost. Long forgotten. Days when the fire was almost alive…Silvia stepped up to it slowly, watching it flicker and almost reach out to her. Like an old friend…like someone inviting her to play. She couldn’t quite place it…not anymore. But she knew that fire was once her friend, a playmate and companion.

She didn’t realize she had reached out for it until a firm grip wrapped around her wrist. She flinched and looked up, seeing Temerous staring at her.

“Don’t hurt me,” she whispered, tugging at her hand as she began to panic. “Don’t–”

The grip was gone, then, Temerous sitting back as a sad look came across his face. He’d never done anything to hurt her before. He hadn’t done anything to hurt her now. She rubbed at her wrist and stared at him, wondering why she’d said that. Wondering why he looked so sad all of the sudden.

“Don’t reach into the fire,” he sighed. “You’ll burn yourself.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not what you think it is,” he answered, reaching around to grab a long piece of sharp metal that he used to poke at it. “It’s not alive.”

“Of course it is,” she said, looking back. “You feed it coal and wood. You give it a space to breathe. You give it a home, shelter from that which would hurt it. Watch over it as it dances. Watch it until it sleeps, and then bring it back to life the next night.” She looked back at him. “How is that not alive?”

He stared at her with a slight frown, consideration now entering his gaze. A small smile cracked his features and he let out a snort. “I suppose, when you put it that way, the fire does sound alive. Quite alive indeed.” He put his hands in his lap and gave her a wider smile. “Now, young half-sprite. What can I do for you?”

She blinked. Oh right. “Why did you have William switch from species categorization to sigil work?”

“Because I need him to learn about it,” he said simply. “Why else would I switch him from one subject to another?”

“Why?”

“I’m working on a new project and I don’t want him to be caught out in ignorance.”

“Why?”

He heaved a small sigh and shook his head. “Never you mind why. How is your garden coming along?”

She tilted her head and looked at him with a frown. “I managed to grow some of the things you suggested. Some of the plants don’t seem to like it here.”

“Give them time. I’m sure they’ll come around.”

“William said you said something was going to happen. What’s going to happen?”

He stared at her. “Many, many things.” His voice drifted as he spoke, like he was looking at her and looking past her. Seeing something that she couldn’t understand. “So much is going to happen, little half-sprite,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And you must be ready for it all.”

Then just as suddenly he roused himself, poked at the fire, and stood. “Come now, Silvia,” he said, flashing her a smile. “Let see if we can’t convince a few extra plants to make a home here.”

She was confused at the shift in his energy and mood, but that wasn’t anything new. He did things like this all the time, seeming to see her and see something else when he looked at her. Not like when Bran used to look at her, not nearly as off-putting. The look in Termerous’ eyes never gave her any suspicion or fear. And yet…

He shuffled her from the room, encouraging her to leave and following her quickly, getting her to race out to her garden despite the late hour.

#Becks #becks backstory #Silvia

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asksuccubussides · 9 months

Text

What if you were an asexual succubus, wouldn't that be fucked up or what Chapter 3

Masterpost of chapters

(Cw: There's a short Remus section towards the end with imagined violence and references to sex)

Etymology, psychology, Hauntology. These were all topics that Janus adored and he'd managed to fit them all into a single essay assignment. He should be bursting with the urge to write about it, But he wasn't.

He was sitting in bed with an empty word document open in front of him. Even though it was nearing noon he still hadn't changed from his night time clothes and a headache was building at his temples from staring at the screen for so long.

The thing was that he could clearly see in his mind each sentence he wanted to write to the point that he could vizualise every word one after the other. It was only when it came to actually moving his fingers to type it out that he froze. All his teachers had always-

"Dude! I think I just found even more proof that def proves that the occult is real!" Virgil exclaimed while barging in through the door.

Virgil's voice was constantly hoarse and he always smelled slightly of coffee and cigarettes even though Janus had never actually seen him smoke. While he carefully closed the door behind him his black bangs hung down in front of his eyes, like if the monster from the ring had short hair, and his overly big hoodie loosely clutched around his shouldero like usual. He always looked like he'd either sprinted away from a tornado just now or hidden away like a mouse for 5 hours.

He was a man who desperately wanted to slouch until he was invisible stuck in the body of a tall, boney and annoyingly noticeable man.

"Ough...I wasn't uhh interrupting you was I?" he asked when he noticed Janus sitting with the word document open.

Janus immediately closed the laptop and threw it aside "most definitely not! In fact I have done absolutely nothing today except for wait for someone to disrupt me"

"Great. Okay so dude I was checking up on some of my normal paranormal sites yeah? And I found this video. Definitive proof I'm telling you"

While Virgil took out his phone to show him Janus moved the blanket on the bed aside to make room for the other man to crawl under. (Like they always had done when they were kids). Though Viv just took an awkward look at Jan before sitting down on the floor with his back leant against the bed so Jan had to lean over his shoulder to see the video.

It was some grainy cctv footage taken of a parking lot during a late night. A seemingly normal person walked past but stopped by a random part of wall far away in the distance. After a few seconds it sort of looked like the person walked through the wall and disappeared.

"See? Ghosts!"

"Oh please, I could manually count the amount of pixels in that video. It's just a trick of the light. Besides Virge your source evaluation is horrible, it could be an edited youtube video for all you know"

"Right. let me just get a peer reviewed paper out about this 20 second video out real quick"

"I'd be one of the peer reviewers if you asked me to" Janus replied with a smile.

"Duh dude. I know you would be. Not like you have anything better to do"

Jan fake gasped "A daring accusation! A proper rude one as well! For your information my schedule is incredibly packed!"

"Yeah yeah" He waved his hand around while rolling his eyes "Anyway, I got an update on that ufo sighting as well"

The morning after Remus had fed he woke up in a groggy haze with his eyes all in blur and with his head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton. Roman had been sitting beside his bed but as soon as she saw that her brother had woken up she left without even giving him a chance to say anything.

Instead Remy had stayed by his side for the rest of the morning, or the equivalent to morning that hell had. They hadn't asked about the feeding or what had happened afterwards. They had just laid down next to him in bed and started telling him about the latest gossip and drama between the various succubi.

Eventually Remus put on some background music, (an experimental band from the rage circle that used stuff like bones and bottles of piss as instruments), and started making paper-war machines while listening to them talk. He only butted in with a comment or dirty joke every now and then, the important thing was that they knew he was listening.

"Soo like yeah girlie. That's the tea. Their breakup was so messy they both got sent to heaven. Fucking rough. Think that's all for now. Wanna switch?"

"Yayayay! Ranting time"

The friends swiftly changed positions so Remy chose the music (they put their hand against the speaker so they could feel the bass) and Remus set aside his paper makings to focus on rambling and stimming. He began to tell them about the latest torture methods he'd come up with which included showing them the paper models he'd made of the torture devices.

'But like who you torturing?

'Humans! Oh and angels!"

'Not angeeelllss' Remy pouted a little 'They're so cute'

'Your whole brain is a tumor dude'

'Even with a tumor brain i would still be hotter than you.....Also what's a like tumor?'

Remus shone up at the chance to explain 'Well to make a long story longer it was discovered in-'

'Great girl just keep talking just like that' Remy laid down with their head against his chest and closed their eyes with a relaxed smile playing on their lips.

"You can't even read my lips from the- Eh whatever. Imma just keep ranting" He laid his arms around their back and kept talking.

Remy could still remember the sound of Emile's voice but by the time the twins appeared they had long since been deaf. If they focused really hard they could sort of make out an idea of what Remus' voice should be like. The way his chest heaved in for heavy breaths bretween quick and jumbled sentences. They way his neck and throat moved when he spoke. The amount of lip movement he did.

They liked to think of his voice as shrill and annoying in the best way. His voice should be quite high in constrast to Roman's deeper though just as expressive voice.

It took Remus poking at them several times for them to actually open their eyes again and to their happy surprise they saw that Emile had come back. They could read on his lips that he said "The new puppy hell hounds were so precious! You two really have to go see them later"

"Sup slut" Remy greeted while wrapping their hand around their partner's tie to bring him closer.

"Hi honey" He gave them a quick kiss before letting himself be pulled down beside them. Remus immediately showed him the war machines he'd made out of paper and Emile complimented the creativity of it all.

Emile laid his hand against the speaker and felt the bass of the music his lover had choosen. He knew one of Remy's favorite things still was music (no matter how many times demons made snarky jokes about how ironic it was) so whenever his lover put something on he at least tried to 'listen' to it in the same way they did. He let himself feel the instruments pump up from his hand into the rest of his body and let the words being sung melt into melodies of the bass.

'I like this song'

'Yeah duh babe. It's Carly Rae Jepsen, you always like love her....As should everyone'

'I think I saw some demons in the uhmm....whichever ring it was, it sounded similar to hers'.

Remus started to smack his tail against the ground out of boredom as he noticed the couple zoning out into their own little conversations.

It was like watching an old married couple that had slowly grown entangled into each other. Lungs and bones slowly morphing together over the years. Sometimes Remus caught Remy humming on cartoon intros even though they couldn't name the cartoon if asked and even though Emile prefered not to eat or drink he still argued that decaf was the worst kind of coffee one could ever drink whenever it was brought up.

Unlike the succubi Emile didn't have a tail nor the ability to conjure wings. His horns were shiningly light pink and frayed at the ends as if small thorns were protuding out. His skin was so dark it made his smile look like stars in the night sky while his clothes were always in light shades of orange, brown and pink making him look like he was stuck in an outwashed version of the 60s.

He was "Like sooo much man. A lot of man" as Remy put it and when asked said he'd worked as an earth observer some half century and a bit ago which was why he knew so much about humans....Well knew and knew. He'd spent most of his time observing the rise of Disney, Hanna Barbera and animated films and had gotten really into psychology and medicine after having a nasty walk in with Sigmund Freud at a party. He still argued that Remy had been the inspiration for the Sleepy dwarf in Snow white.

"Hi Ro-Ro!" Emile waved as he saw Roman come into the sleeping quarters.

She gave the tiniest of waves back to him before adverting her eyes as far away from her brother as she could. The other three demons watched as she basically jogged past to get to her bed.

"There he comes"

Roman quickly grabbed a change of clothes and jogged out of the room again without even passing another glance to them.

"Aaaand there she goes"

'silent treatment huh' Remy signed to Remus.

'Perfect time to annoy him'

'Pretty sure it's objectivly not' Emile added in.

'What does he know. He goes on and on bla bla bla about how much he enjoys humans' Remus mimicked barfing 'But he's never even eaten enough food to take a shit! I have! I am basically connected to humanity now! The shit is what brings us toge-'.

'Okay gross. Too gross. Go girl. Get outa here'.

There was a mischevious grin on Remus' face as he jumped from the bed and skidadadled out of the room. The couple looked at each other, Emile sighed to which Remy shrugged.

"HeY! Hey! HEY! HEY!" Remus repeated as he ran up alongisde his brother. He kept shouting into her ear even though she did her best to not give any reaction. "Whatcha doing? Where you going? Why you such a pisshat?"

"Can I just get like one day without you" Roman finally replied.

".....Hmmm...Lemme think.....No! Why are you even pissed at me? I didn't even put any bugs in your clothes this time"

Roman stopped midstep and turned to him "I was having a really nice time you know, until I felt you being all miserable and had to come get you because you can't do the job we are literally created for"

"I didn't ask you to come get me??? Dude?? You're blaming me for your own shit"

"Was I just supposed to-" Roman took a deep breathe and looked away again. His hands started to fix the ends of his shirt to have something to distract himself "I'm not gonna do this today! I'm not! I have a really nice dinner with a historian planned and he will listen to me when I gush about historic eras and it will be good and nice and then we're going to see a broadway show and I won't let you destroy that for me!....Bitch!"

"A date with a human" Remus let up into a toothy grin "Sounds a bit patton-ish to me"

"Don't! I am not breaking any rules! I love human culture! I've never loved a single specific human and you know that! Don't you compare me that- that traitor!"

"It's more fun if I do though"

Roman kept walking towards the door to earth "I'm not letting you do this today!"

"You're no fun!" Remus yelled back as his brother slammed the door shut behind him.

"I think it should be ethically okay for me to shoot people with an eye laser if they stare at me for too long" Janus muttered out.

He and Virgil were sitting in the corner of the college classroom as hidden away as possible while listening to a lecture on philosophy. Viv had managed to pull Jan out of bed with the threat that he would definitely get failed at this class if he didn't at least show up physically every now and then.

If Virgil wasn't taking notes he either got anxious about forgetting anything important later, or worse, the teacher getting mad at him. Even though he was an adult man who shouldn't get anxious about not meeting the expectations of authority figures. Honestly Viv's obsessive note taking was probably half the reason Janus was still getting through his classes.

An essay should have been turned in to this class a week ago which Janus hadn't even though he could recite it nearly perfectly in his brain.

"A simply lie would do don't you think. College professors are usually nice like that. Not like our middle school teachers" Janus continued to mutter.

"Dude you were just taking the piss to see how far your lying could get you"

"And it got me some very nice stars in my margin! Thank you very much!"

Janus sent his friend a leering smile to which Virgil just rolled his eyes in return.

"Maybe I should have just let you fail this class as well" Viv teased.

"Aw but you loooove me" He made kissy noises while moving to lean his head against his friend's arm but Virgil scooted further away before he could.

The class ended and Virgil sat back and begrudingly watched as Janus hurried to the front of class to talk to the professor. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop Jan even if he tried.

After just a minute or so Janus returned "I got an extension time of two weeks. I told him my poor mum had caught a bad case of tubercolous and I had been faaar too busy taking care of her to have time to finish the essay"

"Your mum is rolling in her grave"

"If we have the same genetics I am quite sure she is cheering me on actually. I'm just the most innocent man there ever was"

"You wanna go to the library and work on it with me? I have thought of the perfect path of getting from here to the library while still stopping by a shop to get coffee While being seen by the least people AND the coffee shop allows app orders. It's a lifesaver"

"Would love to because there is certaintly no chance in the slightest that I will keep procrastinating"

"Obviously dude. Procrastination are what libraries are for"

Remus thought once again what humans flesh must taste like. The only time he'd taken a step into a library or ever used a human phone were both times to try and look up what it would taste like.

He thought about the blood spilling out and the veins bursting. He thought about the skin ripping open and giving way to fat and bone. He thought about if that could feed him instead of having to do this stupid fucking succubus shit.

The human had requested oral sex and he'd obliged even though he vastly prefered doing as little as possible because then he could zone out and think about something more pleasant. He had his mouth around the human's genitalia and the image of him twisting his teeth and ripping their genitalia away filled his mind.

He hated the feeling of the human's hands grabbing him. He hated their stupid hotel rooms and their stupid cars constantly making noise and the stupid fan in the background and the stupid overly bright lights and the stupid fuzzy carpets and the stupid perfume they wore and he hated it he hated it hated it. He didn't understand how Roman could love any of this. Any of them.

Bile filled his throat before the human filled it. He choked and sputtered and pushed away to spit it out on the fuzzy carpet. The human requested something else and he followed along. Selfish selfish beings always wanting more. It made their job too easy.

The human was wearing a cross necklace and when it touched his skin it burned. He gnarled like a wounded animal but the human didn't notice. He wished he could hurt them, even just a little. Like how they always pulled his hair and dragged their nails across his skin and spat and slapped and choked. God, sometimes he thought maybe being sent to heaven would be worth it if he just got to mutilate one of them.

The human was long gone when Roman entered the hotel room. He looked around for his brother but all he saw was a messy bed and an emptied out mini fridge. His brother must have forged himself on everything, including the plastic wrappers containing the candy. He nearly stepped on a piece of broken glass and groaned as he realized Remus had attempted to crush and eat a bottle again.

"Dukey I already told you that it isn't safe to eat glass or plastic!" She called out to the empty room before deciding to look in the bathroom.

She pushed the door aside and it gave way so easily it nearly fell from it's hinges. Her brother was sitting slumped over in the bathtub with the water up to his ankles and only his socks on. He was repeatedly lighting matches before throwing them in the water to see them fizzle out. Dozens upon dozens of matches were floating like dead fish in the bathtub.

"..Hey" Roman's voice softened if just a little.

Remus turned to her and his eyes were glassy and his face red. A piece of his hair was missing, probably burnt away by one of the matches. She knew what kind of night this would be.

"Let's get you cleaned up" Ro said before putting his arms under his brother's armpits to try and pull him up from the bathtub. Even though he got grossed out by angels he conjured just the tiniest of wings to help give him the strenght needed to pull Remus to a half stand at least. "I would prefer if I didn't have to be your knight in shitty armor all the time you know"

Remus slurred something out about flesh and Roman tried not to reel at the heavy scent of alcohol. He really had emptied the full fridge. She also did her best to not gag at how greasy and sweaty his hair was even when it got pressed against her nice historically accurate corset.

She tried to make him put on his clothes again but gave up as he slumped over like a ragdoll every time she didn't activly hold him up with all her strenght. She settled on putting her coat around him and hoped he wouldn't get too cold.

There was a wound on his hand that blistered and bubbled. Roman got the urge to hug him but reminded himself that Remus was an adult who had to learn his actions had consequenses and that he couldn't be coddled all the time.

"How many times are you going to burn yourself you stUPID-" She stopped herself when her speech turned into a yell and took a deep breathe "You know what happens! You don't have to experiment about it anymore! It's just the same wound every time! I'm going to have to drag you to Emile to get you patched up now! Are you happy!? Do you just want to give me another headache!? Why can you never make yourself sober once you're drunk! You neVER-"

She got close to yelling again and decided it was best to just not speak too much. She held her arm around his shoulders while muttering the phrase to open the door to hell.

".....Even if I don't always like you....I still love you.....You're aware of that right?" She mumbled out while helping him forward.

He just let out another slurred sentence about flesh.

"I get worried someone has put a hex on me late at night when I can't sleep y'know? I know it's illogical but it still gives me the hibbie jibbies" Virgil said.

"'Hibbie jibbies' huh? If I had the chance to hex someone I would do it. No hesitation" Janus replied.

It was close to 3 am and they were using one of the college's shared bathrooms as a make-do hair salon. Viv was standing leant over with his head in the sink. At the top of his head his naturally golden blonde hairhad started to peak through so he had to destroy it as quick as possible. Janus was sitting on the sink counter and had plastic gloves on to help massage the black hair dye into Virgil's hair.

"Who would you hex if you could?"

Janus without any second to think immediately said "Billionares. World leaders. Those sorts of people"

"Fair. Fair"

"Dear you're gonna get black dye on your hoodie if you don't-"

Virgil flinched away as Janus moved to lower his hoodie. He backed off so quickly black dye dripped down from his wet hair onto the entire sink.

His hair hung in thick bangs over his eyes as he spat out "It's fine! I got like 20 of these hoodies" He let out a yawn to seem nonchalant "Can you help me out with that" He waved at the now stained sink "I have to shower this out"

"...Sure"

Janus watched as his friend went into one of the showers and drew the sickly blue curtain between them. His bare ankles could still be seen with his light blonde leg hair peeking through. His veins were so noticeable through his pale skin and Janus got stuck watching the way the muscles in his feet moved and how the skin stretched over the bones as he undressed. He stuck his arm out from the curtain and held out his hoodie and boxers.

"Could you ta-"

"No problem" Janus interrupted while taking the clothes.

He folded the hoodie before using all of the paper left in the paper dispenser to try and clean the hair dye stains away. The sound of the shower running filled the room.

Correlation does not imply causation. Janus knew that very well and yet in moments like these he couldn't help but think that a distance had started growing between him and Virgil ever since he came out as gay. The last thing Jan wanted was his straight (and only) friend to get all paranoid over him making a move. The last thing he wanted was to lose him.

Janus and the notoriously straight Virgil are now open for asks!

#btw remus pessimistic view on humanity isnt mine #i think humans are inherently good :D hes just an asshole #sanders sides #thomas sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #remile #emily picani #remy sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #what if you were an asexual succubus wouldnt that be fucked up or what #tss

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drrealityslenderverse · 2 years

Text

Glimpse of the ARK

A03 request: HABIT drops by out of curiosity and ends up helping Hoody with some TTA stuff

Back to Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

He needed to respond to Jay’s latest updates. There was so much unknown and Hoody knew he needed to push the man to get the answers they all needed. He’d managed to push him this far, dropping hints when he could until Jay was where he wanted the man.

“Pushed… too far perhaps.” Hoody leaned back against the wall of the abandoned shed he’d been crashing in lately. While he never approached Jay directly, it was clear from his posts that he was growing more and more paranoid. “He’s turning dangerous.”

So, what was he going to do? With his partner in crime gone and Jay becoming less reliable, Hoody pondered whether or not it was time to dispose of the man before he turned violent like Alex. Part of him wanted to just out of the hope he could get Tim to return to him—or rather, the masked state Tim would go into.

“Alex is still the bigger threat… Jay could still be useful.”

He needed them to see the ARK. Hoody vaguely remembered the ARK, each time it felt like a piece of him had been torn away, but his memory wouldn’t allow himself to fully picture… whatever the place was. But it had to be important. Something about it called to him and he knew it had to hold the answers. Maybe not all of them, but at least something.

The man stood and stepped outside into the forest. It looked so innocent in the daylight. Day or night though, the faceless entity could show up. But he needed to stretch his legs and think, neither of which he could do in that cramped shed. Despite the cloth mask practically blinding him to the details of the world, the sunlight made him squint as he stepped out into the trees. Birds called in the branches around him, granting Hoody knowledge that he could relax; if birds were chirping then that entity wasn’t currently lingering about.

Unbeknownst to him, an entirely different being was.

The trials were underway and while HABIT didn’t normally visit each failure himself—normally he’d send the Rake or another pet—he’d heard of another group of humans suffering at the hands of the Operator. The entity simply couldn’t pass up seeing just what exactly was going on, especially when it meant he could have some fun with it.

His focus had settled on a man in a yellow-tan hoodie. After finding out he was the one sending cryptic videos as ‘Totheark’ he knew they’d be real fun. HABIT stalked them for days, watching from just far enough away that Hoody never picked up on his presence. A toothy grin crossed his face as he continued to creep closer to his unsuspecting target walking up ahead.

His heart picked up as he was close enough to reach out and touch the man. A gleeful expression that somehow managed to seem menacing spread over his vessel’s face as he closed the rest of the distance. HABIT’s arm went around the startled figure, pulling the taller man against his side easily despite the struggles. “Hey there! Why so glum huh? Maybe I can put a smile on that face.”

Hoody pushed away with a strangled hoarse shout, nearly dropping his camera as he stumbled forward. Turning, he stared in bewilderment at the unexpected visitor. He wanted to bark questions about just who the guy thought he was but months, years really, of barely using his voice had taken its toll.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. You know, because I’ve been hanging around. The Operator and your trigger-happy friend have been staying far away ‘cause of me.” HABIT beamed. His power radiated even if he didn’t appear as anything more than a human while inhabiting a body. It was enough to rival the stick-in-the-mud and any pets they had… one day, perhaps it would be enough to put them in their place beneath him. “...What, nothing?”

He rolled his eyes in impatience and strode forward, yanking the hooded man back as he tried to flee. Finally, it seemed to get Hoody to force a few raspy words out. “L…let…go!”

“I can’t just yet Frowny, we’ve got a game to play with your little friends. You want to know who you can trust? Wanna get them to see what’s out there? I think we should give them a little test.”

“How did he know..?” His gaze was wide and his mind was still trying to process what was going on as this stranger continued rambling about trials to put his old buddies through. “...His grip, the way he just seemed to appear… Either he’s crazier than Alex or this guy isn’t human.”

Both would likely be considered true.

“Let’s see that camera—huh, you people love carrying these things everywhere, shovin’ them in everyone’s face… I hope you’re getting my good side at least.”

A breeze rustled the branches above, the only sound now. Hoody eyed this stranger with apprehension. His gut told him this person was dangerous, that he needed to stay as far away as possible. But it was also telling him that refusing whatever was being offered would be a lot worse for his well being.

“Test..?”

“Trials to lead them exactly where you want them.” HABIT gripped his shoulder and turned him around, the world blurring for a moment and darkening as he shifted them into the Candleverse.

He gasped as he looked around, spotting a bridge a distance away while trees surrounded the small open space where they now stood. Hoody was speechless over the sudden change. The location wasn’t familiar, definitely not a part of the ARK he’d ever been in.

“Still recording?” HABIT gave him a push forward to encourage the man to take a look around. “That’s it, get a good shot.”

While the camera was in fact functioning still, the footage would almost certainly be glitchy. Still, it would show this wasn’t Rosswood nor any other place located in their plane of existence. Whatever it would pick up on was certain to blow the minds of Jay, Tim, and the others who followed along this journey—as foolish as they were to think they could help without being pulled in too.

“Welcome to a small piece of the ARK. Think this is crazy, you should see some other places…”

He wanted to speak, to ask the jumble of questions building in his head, but the words still wouldn’t come out. At least… not in comprehensible sentences. He could hear a chuckle behind him at his stammering. “I’ll definitely have to cut some of the audio on this when I edit the footage.”

His stomach lurched as he was unexpectedly whirled around again. The world seemed to spin yet in a blink they were once more standing in Rosswood. Hoody felt dizzy and did his best to stay on his feet after the sudden shift. At least with this guy he wasn’t hacking up a lung or fighting a head full of static.

“Think that’s enough incentive for your little friends huh? Wasn’t that fun!” HABIT patted the man on the head. “Ahh, you’ll be fine. Deep breaths and all that.”

The entity walked off just as suddenly as he appeared, though he did plan to linger around. He wanted to see how this new footage turned out and to witness first hand how it was taken. HABIT didn’t care much about the consequences or exactly what reactions this brought out. It was all just entertaining for him to see these mortals run about trying to get to the bottom of an endless pit for answers.

#marble hornets #everyman hybrid #slenderverse #creepypasta #one shot #a03 fanfic #jay merrick #brian thomas #hoody #mh hoody #tim wright #mh brian #habit #emh habit #totheark #marble hornets one shot #everyman hybrid one shot

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sylviegirlfriend · 2 years

Text

Until I Found Her | Carol Danvers x Reader

HEY! HOW I MISSED WRITING HERE!

Honestly, it feels like this blog is left over, and I hate that feeling, so I've decided that I'm going to update it again with a Carol oneshot.

I'm sorry for the inactivity here, I promise to come back to write more often if you want. If you like the story, please don't ignore it. I need to know the feedback and if I can continue with the blog...

This story is very domestic and fluff, so I hope you enjoy it!

Do you have any suggestions? Ask me or comment on my latest posts!

Enjoy!

Prompt: You like Carol, but can’t find the best way to tell her. One day, when she is tired from a mission, seems like it’s your chance.

* * *

Carol was usually on missions in space, and never had time to listen to the things you had to say. Despite that, the two of you had a friendship that had started the first time she came down to Earth after the blip, and you were fine with that, even with the distance.

She was a great friend, you had nothing to complain about, really.

The only thing that bothered you was that you couldn't really have the time, courage, and intelligence to talk about her feelings with her. Used to rejection and prejudice from the people around you, loving a girl wasn't easy when it came to you. And that was why Carol could never know the things you used to feel for her.

You were thinking out loud that night, not being able to sleep and having the impression that she would be back sooner than you thought. That's why you wanted to be there for her, wanted her to know that you waited for her, even in the worst conditions, lying on that cramped couch.

Suddenly, the door behind you slammed open, and Carol breathed a sigh of relief as she straightened her brown jacket in her arms.

“Carol? Is that you?"

“(Y\NN)? What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Waiting for you,” you shrugged, chuckling. “How was the mission? Did you get too hurt? Do you need me to do the bandages?”

The blonde smiled back, relaxing her frowning brow and raised her hand in surrender. “I don't need bandages, I told you. I'm a strong girl, it's not that easy to hurt me!”, she looked you up and down. “Now tell me, really, what are you doing up at this time of night?”

“Waiting for you, I already told you!”, you said trying not to sound rude. “It's not every day that Captain Marvel shows up at your house after a tough mission in another galaxy!” you sighed. "And I couldn't sleep either."

“In that horrible armchair, you would never be able to…”, Carol joked.

The cold was coming in through the window and through the open door. Quickly, you felt that your body had frozen completely, and when the blonde realized this, she ran in a great hurry to close everything that was giving way to the cold outside. Still, you were still shaking.

“Here,” Carol removed the brown jacket from her body and held it out toward you. "You can keep her, you know I don't feel cold..."

You blushed violently — wishing she hadn't seen this — and took the jacket from her hands, tucking it into your body. Your hands were hidden in the sleeves, but at least you could warm what was freezing.

"I... ah...", you realized you were stuttering and cleared your throat. “I made tea. Would you like some tea?”

She shrugged and took her seat in the armchair gently, while you poured a cup anyway. Taking a seat on the other, larger, more comfortable sofa, you handed her the cup and stood there, watching that tired little face as Carol drifted between sleep and waking.

She was tough enough to admit she hadn't been hurt, but you knew, you knew just by looking at that expression, that in the morning you'd find bruises and a few cuts on her arms, feet, and legs.

* * *

"Your teas are always great, (Y\NN)", she smiled, taking the last sip.

It was almost dawn, the sun's rays were taking shape on the window and on the city, and after you had freed yourself to get some sleep for a few seconds, you opened your eyes to stare at her. Immediately, you couldn't identify it, but you were sure you were hearing a melody in the surroundings.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn't have done that, but,” Carol laughed. “I looked for a relaxing playlist on your phone and ended up putting it to listen, I hope you don't mind.”

“No,” you smiled, still a little groggy. "If it helps you, I don't mind."

You were taken aback by her taste in music more than the fact that she had put on a playlist of her own. No absolutely normal person would put Nick Cave's Into My Arms on just to relax after a deadly mission on another planet.

It kind of made Carol special and different from everyone else.

“Mind if I change the song, at least?” you asked, just trying not to sound obtrusive. When Nick Cave ended, some unknown music started playing and you felt like you needed to keep the mood going. Carol shrugged again, more asleep than awake.

You grabbed your phone and changed the song to a newer one, which was a big hit on social media and was as slow as Into My Arms. Stephen Sanchez's voice invaded your house and gave you a much-needed snuggle.

“I don't know if you've heard this song before, but...”

“Until I Found You?” Carol scoffed. "Are you kidding? Kamala listens to it all the time.” Kamala Khan, Ms. Marvel, you were proud when Carol talked about her because you could see in the sparkle in your friend's eyes how special that girl really was to Carol.

Suddenly, you were caught off guard. Carol hugged you from behind and started swaying your bodies in time to the music, at the moment when you turned to face her and the smiles grew while you were still swaying.

“I didn't know you still wanted to dance”, it was your turn to joke.

"My energy doesn't run out that fast, (Y\N), I'm not tired at all..."

You were swaying around the room in a perfect waltz, your hands around her and Carol's hands on her waist. It seemed that time did not pass, that it had stopped there, at that exact moment, it even seemed that you were in another dimension.

Now seemed like the perfect time, the perfect setting, for you to declare yourself.

But just looking into her eyes, you felt like you were forgetting the world and your own daydreams. You didn't even know your name anymore, so much depth in those beautiful eyes.

Once again, you were caught off guard as Carol's lips came closer and gently touched yours. Your eyes widened in surprise, but not to spoil the moment, you closed them just as the taste of cherry and fluorine penetrated your throat.

You didn't expect Carol to want to do that, much less expect you to respond right away. But she tasted so good, and you'd wanted to kiss her for so long that it all seemed insignificant.

Seconds later, when you broke contact, she looked you in the eye again, with an embarrassed little smile that matched her flushed cheeks.

“I-I,” you began, stuttering again. “I kind of always wanted to do this. It's been a while...yeah, I've wanted to kiss you for a while."

“You're cute when you stutter, honey,” Carol laughed. "I've wanted to kiss you for a while, too, but I didn't have the time or the courage."

You laughed. "Now you have it. All the time in the world.”

“You're right,” she replied quietly. “Can I do it again?”

Without you reacting or responding, Carol pressed her lips to yours once more. Only, this time, it was just a peck of minimal seconds.

The Captain laid her head on your chest and closed her eyes, breathing in your scent with a smile on her lips as you rocked her some more.

And, parallel to all this, the sunbeams were finally showing through the window, welcoming a new day that promised to be full of surprises and unexpected clichés, especially for the two of you.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers #captain marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #marvel #lgbt #romance #fluff #oneshot #this is too cliche i'm sorry #hope you guys enjoyed it

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flightfoot · 3 years

Text

Perspective From Another Timeline

Thanks to my betas @steelblaidd and Izzybusy!

I ADORE @buggachat new Bakery Enemies AU. This idea just kept on swirling through my head, I had to write it! This is set between parts 13 and 14, so after Adrien meets Alya and Nino but before Marinette starts sympathizing with him. AO3

---------

“You okay?”

Alya shook her head, trying to clear it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve weathered worse than that - we both have.”

Nino grinned at her. “True that.”

Alya smiled at him fondly, remembering Heroes Day. It was a bittersweet memory, with her having been turned against Nino and them both being akumatized.

But they had fought to protect each other as best they could. She’d seen Prime Queen’s footage, how Carapace had struggled to get her to fight against Dark Cupid’s magic, how he’d only given into despair after she’d given into akumatization.

“What did that blast do to us?” Nino wondered. “Everyone else the akuma blasted just disappeared. Why’re we still here?”

Alya’s brow furrowed. “I dunno… hold on, let me check to see whether any new info on the akuma’s been uploaded.”

Pulling out her phone, she tapped on the Akuma News Alert app.

An error message popped up, telling her that she had no internet connection.

Puzzled, Alya checked her phone’s other settings.

No wifi - no wifi even recognized, much less connectable - no cell service, no connection to the outside world at all.

She glanced over at Nino. “Hey, you got any signal?”

Taking out his own phone, he quickly checked his connection. He shook his head. “Not a single bar.”

Frowning, Alya looked around. “Maybe all the cell towers were taken out?”

Everything looked intact though, no sign of any destruction at all.

Something else caught Alya’s eye. “Hey Nino, what time should it be?”

Nino blinked. “Well I mean lunch just started so it should be a little past noon-”

He glanced around, noticing the long shadows and the pinkish-orange of the evening sky.

“-which it clearly is not anymore,” he concluded.

Great. “Guess Ladybug and Chat Noir must’ve taken a while to defeat the akuma,” she said, putting her phone away. “Hopefully my parents aren’t too worried. They like me to text them just after an akuma attack, but right now…?” she gestured to her pocket.

“My folks aren’t as worried,” Nino said. “But they still expect me back home before the sun goes down. They’ll be getting nervous soon.”

Alya let out a small sigh. “So much for playing Super Penguino together.”

“Hmmm…” Nino’s eyes gleamed. “You know… it’s not night just yet. And I’m sure my parents would understand if I was a few minutes late because I grabbed a bite to eat.”

Grabbed a bite to eat? What was Nino hinting at…?

Alya looked around at their location more closely.

Wait… that blast seemed to have carried them to that one park, the one near-

Alya grinned. “I think my parents will forgive me for not calling in if I bring them fresh-baked treats from the best bakery in Paris.”

---

*ring ring*

The scent of freshly baked bread wafted through the store.

Instantly Alya felt her shoulders loosen up, releasing tension she didn’t even know she’d had. There was just something so warm and comforting about the bakery.

Of course, a lot of that was due to the people running it. Good luck finding more friendly, caring people than Marinette’s parents. Sabine often checked up on anyone who seemed to be struggling or upset (and ready to protect them if they were - Alya had seen the video of the time a TV crew decided to invade Marinette’s privacy), and Tom was basically a giant teddy bear in human form.

But neither of them were manning the counter today.

Instead a young woman stared back at them.

A very familiar-looking young woman.

“Marinette?” Alya asked cautiously.

The woman stared at her for a minute. “Alya?” she finally asked. “What happened to you?” She paled. “Did a new supervillain attack? Is that why you and Nino are younger?”

Huh. Weirdly scared reaction from Marinette. They’d all gotten used to supervillains by now. She’d expect an older Marinette to take them in stride even more than the current Marinette.

Hm… an older Marinette, a different time of day, and Marinette not seeming to know about the latest akuma attack?

“Marinette… what year is it?”

Marinette blinked for a moment. Her eyes widened.

Seemed Marinette understood what she was getting at.

She told Alya the date.

Her hunch was right. “We’re in the future,” Alya breathed.

A wicked grin slowly spread over her face.

Five years was a long time. A lot of things could have happened. A lot of information could’ve come to light.

Like Hawkmoth’s identity.

Or more information on the Miraculous.

But most importantly right now-

She leaned in close to Marinette, making sure to keep her voice down, just in case someone else was around in the back. “So did you ever get together with a certain blond-haired, green-eyed model?”

“Uh… what?” Marinette asked, looking puzzled.

Alya snapped her fingers. “Adrien. Did you and Adrien finally get together? Ooooh, if you did you’ve GOTTA tell me how the confession went! Or, no, wait, don’t tell me, I want to get the deets at the time. Just let me know how long I’ve got to wait, girl!”

Marinette just stared at her, slack-jawed. “Adrien… like ADRIEN AGRESTE?!” she said, her volume rising with every word.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up. “Um… yes…?”

She’d thought that Marinette would be glowing about finally getting together with her crush, or dejected about still not being able to spit out what she wanted to say to him, downcast over him rejecting her, or maybe even infuriated because he mistreated her and they subsequently broke up.

(The last one was VERY unlikely though. After the Felix debacle, she’d learned to have a bit more faith in Adrien’s good nature.)

Shock at the concept of dating him? Not something she’d anticipated.

Footsteps echoed from behind Marinette.

So one of Marinette’s parents must’ve been in the back-

Adrien popped his head around the corner.

Seemed both he AND Marinette had aged well.

Not that Adrien looked all that different. Taller, definitely, maybe with slightly messier hair and… were those earrings? They looked good on him.

“Hey dude!” Nino waved at his best friend. “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck.

“WOW those outfits really take the years off, huh?” Marinette said loudly, shoving them out the door. “Make you look smaller than usual. Well we better go talk about plans later okaybye-”

She promptly slammed the door behind them, physically pushing them away from the bakery.

After Marinette had dragged them a good distance away, Alya finally got over her shock, turning around and glaring at her. “What was that about?!” she asked Marinette indignantly, hands on her hips. “You know me, I wasn’t going to spill anything to him. That’s why I was talking so quietly! Why’d you have to do that?!”

Nino frowned, seeming more concerned than annoyed. “Adrien looked really hurt by that. Not cool.”

“There’s nothing to spill!” Marinette protested, gesticulating wildly. “I only met him for the first time two days ago!”

*record scratch*

Two-

Two DAYS ago?!

Ok, hold up.

“Adrien joined our collège class the day after I did! He sits in front of you in class! What’re you TALKING about?!”

“Uh… no…?” Marinette tilted her head to the side, befuddled. “I think I would remember that, even if it was a few years back.”

Alya let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, no kidding. He would be uh, difficult for you to forget. Heck, even if your memory was erased, you’ve got so much stuff revolving around him, I couldn’t see that lasting long.”

Marinette blushed. “Why do you think I have a crush on him?! He’s HAWKMOTH’S SON!”

“WHAT?!” Alya and Nino yelled in unison.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir defeated Hawkmoth a couple years ago,” Marinette explained, pulling out her phone.

A moment later she held it up, showing a blog post from the Ladyblog.

Oooh, that’s a nice graphical design. I’ll have to look into updating my site, Alya thought.

Turning her attention to the picture, she squinted. “Hey, can you enlarge the photo?” She asked.

Marinette complied, enlarging it and turning her phone sideways, letting it fill the entire screen.

Gabriel Agreste being led away in handcuffs by the police, with Ladybug and Chat Noir in the background. Ladybug looked satisfied, with maybe a twinge of melancholy, but Chat Noir…

He stared vacantly ahead, seemingly not focused on anyone or anything, a smile on his face - but the most forced one she’d ever seen.

“What’s wrong with Chat Noir?”

Marinette frowned, looking troubled. “I don’t know. He seemed really, really upset when Hawkmoth was defeated. It was a tough battle, bad enough that neither of them have returned since, but that doesn’t explain why-”

She trailed off, lost in thought.

A moment later she looked up, meeting Alya’s eyes.

Immediately she waved her hands around, trying to ward off… something. “I- I mean, that’s what I read on the Ladyblog and what I could piece together from video footage, it’s not like I was there, NOPE. I was huddled in my room the entire time. Not like I have any insight into what Chat Noir was acting like during the battle, not beyond what any other civilian would know! That would be ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!” she let out a few forced guffaws.

Alya’s eyebrows flew up.

O...Kay…?

Maybe Marinette had been following Ladybug and Chat Noir during the final battle and hadn’t wanted anyone to know? She’d wondered whether Marinette might have a thing for Chat Noir, but her crush on Adrien dwarfed any feelings she might have had for him. Plus it’s not like Marinette would actually know Chat Noir, unlike Adrien.

Thinking about Adrien…

“He must’ve been devastated,” she murmured. Marinette looked at her questioningly. “Adrien, I mean,” Alya clarified. “Having your father turn out to be a terrorist? I can’t even imagine.”

Marinette buried her face in her hands. “Not you TOO,” she said, her voice muffled.

Nino slowly started edging his way behind Marinette.

“What’s your problem with Adrien?” Alya asked. “Did he do something?”

Marinette glanced away. “Not… exactly… I just… I’m afraid that it might all be an act. That he might’ve been helping Hawkmoth secretly, and… and even if he wasn’t before, that he might just be biding his time, waiting until he figures out who Ladybug and Chat Noir and then BAM!” she slammed her fist down on her other hand. “He takes them out, steals all the Miraculous, frees his father and rules Paris FOREVER!”

Alya reached out towards Marinette tentatively. She collapsed into Alya’s arms.

Hugging her tightly, she sang a soft nonsense song, rubbing small circles in Marinette’s back.

She’d done this a few other times since she’d met Marinette, though she’d never thought she’d do it underneath these circumstances.

Whatever these circumstances actually were.

Did everyone have amnesia or…?

“Do you have any big memory gaps?” Alya asked once Marinette’s breathing had calmed down. “Especially from five years ago?”

Marinette shook her head.

She’d shelve that theory for now then. More likely it was…

“An alternate timeline, huh?” Alya said.

Marinette looked up at her questioningly.

“That’s what I think this is,” Alya explained. “I WAS thinking that maybe there’d been some sort of mass amnesia, but if you don’t have any memory gaps - and trust me girl, with how involved you were with Adrien, there WOULD be memory gaps - that seems unlikely. I’m betting this is some sort of alternate universe, one where Adrien never got to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you think there’s something between me and Adrien!” Marinette said. “I mean sure, he’s pretty, but did I really fall for him just for that?”

Alya shook her head. “Actually, you hated him at first. Chloe’d been bragging about how he was her friend, and with that on top of you catching him trying to remove the gum Chloe’d planted on your seat and mistaking it for him PLANTING the gum… well… both of us just assumed he was a spoiled rich bully, just like Chloe. Luckily that turned out not to be the case.”

“How’d that misunderstanding get cleared up?” Marinette asked. “And how did your Marinette jump from that to crushing on him?”

Alya grinned. Marinette had ranted about this moment to her SO. MANY. TIMES.

“School let out later that day. It was raining and Marinette had forgotten her umbrella, so she hung back a moment, long enough for Adrien to approach her. At first she looked away from him, not wanting to acknowledge his greeting. But then he told you - told her I mean - that he hadn’t done it, promised that he’d just been trying to take it off with such sincerity that she had no choice but to believe it. He opened up to her, even though she’d been shunning him just moments ago. And finally he gave her his umbrella, just because he could. Because it was the kind thing to do. She’s been a goner ever since.”

The Marinette in her arms looked away. “I can see why she might have developed a crush on him. But I still dunno whether I trust him.”

“I don’t know whether I have anything that could convince you on that,” Alya admitted, “especially since this is probably a different timeline, and for all I know he could be evil here. Just make sure that you’re judging him on his own merits, okay? Not who he’s associated with. Not his fault he has so many crappy people in his life.”

“I’ll… take it under consideration,” Marinette said reluctantly.

Marinette looked from side to side. “Where’d Nino go?”

“Oh, he snuck back into the bakery several minutes ago.”

“WHAT?!”

---

Nino opened the door to the bakery, letting out a small sigh of relief. He really wanted to check in on his best friend, and judging by Marinette’s behavior, she wasn’t exactly keen on him or Alya chatting with Adrien.

Thinking back on what he’d just heard, he frowned.

He wished he could say that he’d never have suspected that Gabriel was Hawkmoth.

That he didn’t think Adrien’s old man could ever be capable of such evil.

But he knew better.

The guy threatened to withdraw Adrien from school and isolate him from everyone else at the drop of a hat, paid little attention to his son when he was at home, and was a very negative influence on his life in general. He might have been grieving, but… so was Adrien. He needed the only parent he had left.

And instead Gabriel had chosen to respond by becoming a supervillain and terrorizing Paris, endangering his own son in the process.

He really wished he’d gotten to hit Hawkmoth with his turtle shield more. At least he got to relish the smack he got in.

“You’re back!”

Nino looked towards the voice.

Adrien walked closer to him, a tentative grin on his face. “I didn’t think you’d return so soon!”

“I had to come back to talk to my best friend,” Nino said.

“Best friend?” Adrien asked, blank-faced.

Oh, right. According to Marinette, Adrien hadn’t joined their class. She hadn’t even met Adrien until recently.

Had some sort of memory-wiping akuma attacked? Wouldn’t have been the first time.

“Do you know who I am?” Nino asked, pointing at himself.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… well I know you’re friends with the Ladyblogger and Marinette, and… sorry, that’s it.”

He looked really apologetic, like a dog who’d ripped up a bunch of toilet paper and acted guilty about it once caught.

Hm. If it had been a memory-erasing akuma, maybe he could jog Adrien’s memory…?

And even if it wasn’t, he wanted to let Adrien know that someplace, somewhere, people cared about him. If Marinette’s reaction to him was any indication, he’d need that reassurance. Being looked at with suspicion, having people run from you just because of who your dad was, thinking that you might’ve been involved in his crimes… he couldn’t imagine.

“You joined our class the day after Hawkmoth first attacked,” Nino told him, pulling out his phone.

Adrien shook his head, looking confused. “Uh… no? I wanted to, I REALLY wanted to go to school, but Father-”

He cut himself off, looking away.

“Marinette said the same thing,” Nino told him. “That you hadn’t enrolled in our class, that she’d only met you recently. I don't know what that’s about, whether everyone’s memories were wiped, or an akuma messed with the past, or what.”

Come on, come on, where was it- ah!

He clicked on a photo, one taken a few months ago, holding his phone up so his friend could get a better look.

Adrien squinted for a moment. His eyes widened. “That’s-!”

Nino nodded. “Our class photo. The official one, anyway.” He chuckled. “I liked our unofficial ones better.” Swiping to the side, he showed the new ones the class had taken at the park.

Adrien’s jaw dropped more with every new photo. He let out an involuntary bark of laughter at the one of himself, Nino, Kim, and Juleka posing. “I- I always wanted to mess around like that at photoshoots,” Adrien said. His voice trembled slightly. “But I wouldn’t be able to get away with it. And that’s mostly fun when you can share it with friends, at least share the picture, and I- I couldn’t. Chloe wouldn’t have appreciated it, and L-”

He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Luka?” Nino asked.

He didn’t know why Adrien would know Luka and not anybody else, but he seemed the most likely option.

“Uh…” Adrien scratched the back of his neck, looking away.

Hm, he’d have to see if he had- ah!

“You played in Kitty Section too, with Luka, Rose, Ivan, and Juleka.” Nino explained, clicking on the video.

Adrien’s hands shook as Nino handed him the phone, watching the mini-concert.

“I- I was allowed to- I got to-” Adrien’s voice quavered.

“Not at first.” Nino grimaced, remembering how bummed Adrien had sounded when he called him. “Your old man said that Agrestes were soloists, and that we were all bad influences.”

“HE was the bad influence,” Adrien said. A current of anger, of venom ran through his voice that Nino had never heard before.

“Well I already knew that, even before finding out he was Hawkmoth,” Nino said, making a face. “Dude needed to chill out.”

Adrien snorted. “If he had any ‘chill’ he wouldn’t have decided that becoming a supervillain was the best way to heal my mother.”

Oh.

So THAT was why Gabriel had done it.

He’d just thought it was standard ‘I’m an asshole and want to rule the world while being a jackass to everyone in my life’ behavior.

(He still wasn’t going to rule out that being a factor.)

Nino put a hand on Adrien’s shoulder sympathetically. “At least he’s gone now and you’re free, right?”

“Right,” Adrien said. He didn’t meet Nino’s eyes.

“Not you TOO,” Marinette had said, burying her face in her hands.

As if she found it exasperating that Alya sympathized with Adrien. As if she had expected differently.

Those worries she’d voiced as Nino had been tiptoeing away, about Adrien helping Hawkmoth, about him lying in wait, biding his time… Marinette probably wasn’t the only one to have that concern. And with Adrien’s face being as well-known as it was...

“You AREN’T free, are you?” Nino asked, eyes wide.

Adrien sighed. “I was as surprised as everyone else when I found out who Hawkmoth was. That someone who’s caused that much harm, that much trauma to this city, lived in my own house.” He clenched his fists, digging into his jean’s fabric. “I could barely believe it… no… I didn’t WANT to believe it.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I- I only remember snippets from right after his arrest. The police chief talking to me. Riding back to the station. It’s all a blur. Everything felt like I was processing it underwater. It was all so blurry and muffled. Even- even then, though, I could feel everyone’s accusing stares.” “I understand why, don’t get me wrong,” he cut in hurriedly. “Who wouldn’t be suspicious of the son of the terrorist who’s been making everyone’s life miserable for the past four years?” Adrien almost panted with exertion, his eyes wild. “And- and it was happening in my own house! Underneath my nose! I should have KNOWN! I could’ve stopped this!”

Reaching out, Nino pulled his friend into a hug.

Adrien stiffened for a moment, before melting into his embrace.

“It’s his fault, not yours,” Nino murmured. “Remember that, dude. He was the adult. He was your parent. Your ONLY remaining parent. I’ve met the guy. And I’ve heard you talk about what he’s like. If you had investigated more?” Nino shuddered, thinking about the disproportionate punishments the bastard had enacted. “And knowing he was HAWKMOTH on top of that? I’m kinda glad you didn’t. Yeah, maybe you could’ve ended things sooner. Or maybe he would’ve hurt you more before you had the chance. I’m just glad you survived.”

“I-” Adrien’s throat sounded tight. “I’m- I’m glad I survived too.”

They stood there for a moment, Nino feeling Adrien’s breath go in-and-out, his heartbeat racing, until it gradually started to slow.

*ring ring*

Adrien and Nino broke up their hug just as Marinette burst through the door, Alya on her heels. She skidded to a halt in front of Adrien - but not quite in time, sending her careening towards the floor.

She never made contact.

“Woah!” Adrien shouted, catching her in his arms.

Nino detected a hint of pink to Marinette’s cheeks before she abruptly sprang to her feet.

“So, uh,” Marinette said awkwardly. “I’m guessing Nino talked to you about some stuff. I mean, of course he talked to you about stuff, because that’s what talking is about. What- what I mean is, what were you two talking about?”

“I wanted to show him how much we care about him,” Nino told her. “Especially since with this… amnesia?”

“I think it’s an alternate timeline,” Alya said.

“Especially since in this timeline,” Nino continued, “it really doesn’t seem like he had anyone.”

“I had a couple other friends,” Adrien told him quietly, giving a melancholic smile. “But I lost contact with them right after Hawkmoth’s defeat.”

Noticing Nino’s frown, he hastily added, “they didn’t abandon me or anything! They were online friends. One moved somewhere without internet reception, and the other... we never knew each other’s names. But we talked all the time. We chatted, laughed, defeated villains together…”

“In the video games we played, of course!” he added after a moment. He chuckled fondly. “We played as a team. Together, we were unstoppable, no matter what our opponent threw at us.”

Adrien swallowed. “But in the aftermath of Hawkmoth’s defeat, with all the turmoil, with everything that happened… I lost my means of contacting her. I- I don’t know whether I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“We’d promised to meet up after Hawkmoth’s defeat,” Adrien said. His voice cracked. “That- that once it was safer in Paris, we’d finally tell our names.”

His eyes dropped to the ground. “Instead, we lost each other. Maybe for good.”

“I know what that’s like,” Marinette said. She sounded strangely distant. “I had a friend like that too. I cared about him. A lot. Maybe… maybe even as more than a friend.” She said the last part haltingly, as if she’d only just admitted it to herself. “He- he wanted to know who I was. For me to know who he was. But- but I couldn’t do that. Not in Hawkmoth’s Paris. I already cared for him so much it ached. If I was closer to him than that- if I’d accepted his rose- I’m- I’m afraid Hawkmoth might’ve used the strength of those feelings against me. That I could’ve gotten akumatized, or he might’ve, and if we knew who each other was, knew WHERE the other one was… I just… I couldn’t accept that we might be sent to hurt each other.”

“We talked while the final battle was raging,” she continued. “He seemed really upset, more angry than I’ve ever seen him before, but… also kind of sad. I wanted to know what was wrong, but there wasn’t really time to press him. And after that battle he just… disappeared. I knew there was going to be some sort of disruption, but- but I’d thought we’d have more time to talk beforehand, that we’d be able to exchange new contact information. We were cut off before we had the chance.”

“I- I think of him every day,” she said quietly. “Wondering how he’s doing. He was always so positive, no matter what life threw at us. I hope that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he hasn’t lost that positivity, that optimism, the ability to see the best in the world and in others.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know you cared for him so much,” Adrien said, giving her a warm smile.

Marinette blinked, giving herself a small shake. She turned to Alya. “I dunno whether you’ll remember any of this after the Ladybug in your time restores anything, but on the off-chance you do, is there anything you need to know?”

“Oh!” Alya pulled up some footage. “You told me who Hawkmoth was, but what about Mayura?”

“Mayura?”

“Who?”

Alya snapped her fingers. “You know, the Peacock Miraculous wielder, the one summoning the sentimonsters! Did she not exist in this universe?”

She pulled up part of the fight against Mayura, the sentimonster Ladybug, and Hawkmoth.

The video ended, she took another glance at Marinette and Adrien.

Marinette seemed to be in shock, staring straight ahead.

Adrien frowned, thinking. “I’d wondered for a long time how Father managed to hide his supervillain activities from Nathalie, considering she was around him most of the time. I thought maybe she was just really good at never asking questions.”

He grimaced. “Looking at that? I’m betting she didn’t ask questions because she already knew the answers.”

“You think Mayura’s Nathalie?” Alya questioned.

He nodded. “Unless something’s different in your universe. My father doesn’t have a lot of associates, and the way he acted around Mayura there, how he was willing to pass up a chance to fight Ladybug for her Miraculous in exchange for catching her… the only people I can think of who he’d do that for are my mother and Nathalie, and mom…” he trailed off.

“I- I didn’t even think about that,” Marinette said guiltily. “I remember reading something about Gabriel having a secretary, but I didn’t think about her much beyond that.”

“Maybe you could ask this universe’s Alya to post something on the Ladyblog, telling Ladybug and Chat Noir she has a lead on who Mayura is?” Alya said. “I mean, I know they haven’t shown up in ages, but maybe that’s just because they haven’t had reason to.”

Marinette winced. “I… really don’t think that’s it… plus Ladybug and Chat Noir never said that someone was helping Hawkmoth. Mayura never appeared, at least in public. I don’t know what we can do about this right now, especially without proof. Maybe if Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared, but…”

She sounded doubtful. Alya was beginning to think that the final battle was even worse than Marinette had alluded to.

She hesitated a moment, before turning to Adrien. “I- I think I owe you an apology. I thought you might’ve been helping Hawkmoth, but… well… I was just judging you by who your dad was. You’ve been nothing but sweet and kind.”

Adrien smiled at her, though it was slightly strained. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. A lot of people in this city have suffered at Hawkmoth’s hands. I don’t blame them for being scared, or angry at any reminders of him.”

“That doesn’t make it RIGHT,” Marinette said heatedly.

Nino nodded. “Dude just because something’s done to you it doesn’t mean it’s justified, or that it shouldn’t be made better. Like with your old man forbidding parties. I didn’t let that stop me from bribing your bodyguard into letting me and the other guys throw a party at your place for you!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It kinda escalated though. I think half the guys at Paris were partying in your room by the end!”

Alya gave Nino a sideways look. “And ONLY the guys because they ditched us girls while we were planting trees with a lame excuse. Seriously if you’d said you wanted to throw a party for Adrien while his dad was away, you could’ve just told us!”

Nino winced. “Yeah, my bad. At least we got to have fun there for a while before the akuma attack.”

“Akuma attack?” Adrien asked, eyes wide. “But I thought you said Father was gone!”

“He was- OOOOOOOH.”

“Yeeaaaah I don’t think he was actually gone,” Alya said. “You threw a ‘secret’ party in Hawkmoth’s house, WHILE he was still at home.”

Adrien gaped at Nino. “How’re you not DEAD?!”

Nino chuckled. “Lucky I guess?”

*twinkle twinkle*

A familiar red mass flew towards Alya and Nino.

Adrien’s eyes widened.

“Behind the portrait!” he blurted out, just as the two of them were enveloped by the ladybugs, spiriting them off to whence they came.

It was silent for a moment.

“Do you think they heard?” Adrien asked Marinette.

“I hope so,” she said, looking off in the direction the ladybugs flew.

She turned to him. “I was planning on setting up some hang out time with Alya and Nino later this week. If you’re not busy… would you like to join?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know.

#bakery enemies au #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #buggachat

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yellowflowerbub · 2 years

Text

a/n: This isn't finished and I don't plan of finishing it but I thought the story was still cute so I thought to post it anyways. Tumblr kept deleting my progress on it :(

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): Timeskip!Mitsuya x Reader

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘(𝕤): Mature Language

You angrily stuffed both of your hands into the small pockets of your thin jacket as you bunch you shoulders together in a desperate attempt to feel any type of warmth. Though the jacket was visually appealing, it's unfortunate design gave you little to no comfort at all. Returning your body to it's equilibrium was definitely not one of it's uses.

Reaching a hand further into the crevices of your jacket, you retrieve your house key. You shove the key inside, unlocking the door as you hastily open the door and shut it behind you just as fast. A relaxed sigh erupted from your throat as a rush of heat hit your body.

"Takashi?" You called.

"Yeah, I'm home." A calm response echos it's way throughout the house. You smile upon hearing his voice. The uncommon mix of the coarse rumbling from his throat and the calm tone it was used in had always been so soothing. A pleasant sound that you could sleep to or entirely immerse in for hours at a time. You could even have described it as angelic.

You began to slip your shoes off and cast them to the side, laying them neatly next to one another. As you do so, your fingers work at the many buttons adorn your vexatious jacket.

"This damn jacket was really workin' my nerves today." You complained, tossing said item on the armrest of a nearby chair.

Mitsuya chuckled, "What did the jacket do?"

"Nothing!" You exclaimed, "Winter clothes are supposed to keep you warm but this thing barely did anything! I feel like I would've been warmer if I'd taken it off." You began to walk over to the kitchen area as you spoke.

"And the pockets. They were so small I would've been happier if they just didn't include them at all. Like, my keys felt like they were gon' fall out."

"I'll apologize on your jackets behalf. Here," As you reached the kitchen area, Mitsuya already had a seat pulled out for you, "Take a seat to lower your stress."

He stood tall but not with proper posture per usual and adorn his body he wore a light tan sweater with a not-quite white collared polo underneath. Overly baggy white pants were under said polo tying the entire look together. His hair was disheveled but in a way that was obviously purposeful making it look neat.

He appeared oddly jocular- or exuberant over something. Whatever the something may be, it was evidently important. Cautiously and hesitantly, you lower yourself onto the soft seat.

Lightly patting your shoulders, he slips away from you. "Besides your shitty jacket, did anything else happen today?" He questions, voice echoing a bit from the distance.

"No, not really. Everyone's been really stressing about finding volunteer work for the Buddy Program though."

Footsteps emerge from behind you as Mitsuya approaches you. He steps to your side and places a large mirror on the table in front of you. You subconsciously check your appearance before glancing up to the male who'd already been staring, eyebrows furrowed and raised. "Buddy Program?" He asks, his head slightly tilting to one side.

"Mhm. It's a thing that one of the professors is making us do." You explain, "We pick out volunteer work we'd be interested in and get paired randomly with someone else to it based on what we pick. I think it would be great but I'm just not too ecstatic about being paired with someone else."

"Yeah because what if you get paired with someone who wants to be friends with you. Scary..." He mocks while he flails his lanky arms at his sides.

"Oh hush!"

"Sorry, sorry. Just teasing, hun."

a/n: Sorry it was so short but I swear I had like 2,000 words here but tumblr hates me sometimes and I don't want to rewrite.

edit: found the latest update in my archives so sorry it's spaced out like that.

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya x reader fluff #mitsuya fluff #tokyo rev fluff #timeskip mitsuya

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likeiwishiknew · 2 years

Text

Shadow Songs - Azriel & Gwyn

Read on AO3

Chapter 16: Strike Attack

It had been weeks since the incident at the river house and still, they had nothing. No answers about the book, and no answers about the attack on Azriel at the House of Wind. Nothing.

Gwyn feared they’d hit a dead end. Though no one in the Inner Circle was giving up. Cassian was still visiting the Illyrian camps, while Azriel worked more covertly - monitoring comings and goings of camp leaders and males who’d been most resistant to Cassian’s line of questioning. The strange book had been placed under lock and key, Amren was hard at work doing whatever it was she did. Gwyn and Nesta had offered to help, but Amren insisted she would handle it on her own. And when they’d invited the older female to come with them into town to get away from it all for a little while she’d shooed them off.

The bar was crowded as usual. One of Nesta’s favorite bands playing tonight. It was the reason her friend had insisted on coming to this particular bar. Gwyn would admit she had rather taken a liking to them as well. The lead singer’s voice reminded her of velvet, soft and unique.

Nesta stood beside her, sipping her sparkling water and eyeing the room. At first, the males had tried to talk them out of going out into town on their own. But after Mor and Nesta had pointed out how sexist that was. They’d all conceded. Though not before getting each of them to promise to take extra caution and not drink too much.

It was an easy promise for Gwyn to make. She’d learned her lesson the last time she’d had too much at Nesta’s birthday party.

Standing over at the bar, Mor was getting their drinks. It did not escape Gwyn’s notice that Emerie kept her eyes on the beautiful blonde female, narrowing them slightly when a random fae stopped to flirt with Mor. Emerie would probably have her work cut out for her if she ever intended to act on her feelings and pursue the older female.

Gwyn briefly turned to gaze out the window when she spotted something strange in the sky - a distant unfamiliar glow. On nights when she could not sleep, Gwyn would often sneak up to the upper levels of the House of the Wind and study the night sky. She knew the constellations of the Velaris sky as well as she knew her own face. Whatever that light was, it was no star.

An uneasy feeling washed over her.

Mor chose that moment to sidle up beside her, standing between her and Emerie.

“Fear not friends, I made sure the bartender didn’t skimp out on us.”

Gwyn saw Emerie smile at Mor. She hated to sour the mood, but she couldn’t keep her concern to herself.

“Mor, I think there’s something strange in the sky outside.”

If any of them would know what it was, it would be Mor. She’d lived under these skies longer than any of them had been alive.

The other female thankfully did not question her. Mor simply glanced over her shoulder to look toward where Gwyn was staring. Turning toward the window once more, she could've sworn the bright spot appeared closer than it had a moment earlier. Gwyn sensed the moment Mor tensed.

“We need to get out of here.”

“What?” she heard Nesta ask from her other side.

“Everyone stay close!” Mor shouted. At the older female’s declaration, everyone stilled - as if awaiting orders.

Mor turned to them then. “All of you, grab onto me. I can’t winnow all of us very far. But we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Gwyn asked as she grabbed hold of the other female’s arm, Nesta and Emerie did the same.

“That thing you’re seeing… well, think of it as a giant magical bomb hurling straight for us.”

Well shit.

“How bad is it?” Emerie asked.

Mor met Emerie’s eyes as she answered. “I can’t say I’ve never felt one quite like it.”

Before any of them could say anything else, Mor winnowed them all away.

Azriel and Cassian were standing in Rhys’ office giving their latest status updates when Azriel heard what sounded like a crash in the distance. He could almost swear he felt the ground shift beneath his feet. He also felt, rather than saw, his brothers stiffen. Alarms immediately went off in his head.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. His focus shifted between the two of them.

“There was some sort of attack in town,” Cassian answered first.

He felt his blood run cold. “What?”

Rhys nodded. “Mor just informed me of the same. They’re all fine but some sort of explosion went off. One that appears to have been directly aimed at where the girls were having their night out. It could just be a coincidence but…”

“But you don’t think it is,” Cassian finished.

His siphons glowed. While Azriel saw red. He needed to do something. He needed to go to Gwyn wherever she was and make sure she was okay. It wasn’t enough to just hear that she was fine. He needed to see for himself.

Rhys must’ve read as much on his face because his brother spoke before he had the chance to act on his instincts.

“Don’t worry, Az. Mor is bringing them all back here now.”

Not a moment later they appeared.

He rushed over to Gwyn. His shadows nearly beat him there.

“Gwyn, are you alright?” Azriel asked. One hand holding her arm, the other palming the back of her neck.

She nodded.

Mor was the first to speak. “I was able to clear the bar and extended my reach as far as I could. But I have no way of knowing how impactful the attack was or how many might’ve been affected by it since I have no idea the source of the power. We need to send help and most possibly healers in case everyone is severely injured.”

From the corner of his eye, Azriel saw his friend and High Lord nod in understanding.

“Maybe…maybe I can help?” Gwyn offered, “I remember reading that my water abilities can be used to heal.”

Azriel gave her arms a gentle squeeze. “They can be in some cases, but Gwyn you’re not trained in that. From what I’ve heard it isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

He also didn’t much like the idea of her running back to the site of danger. Not when they weren’t sure exactly what it was they were up against. Not only that, Azriel was certain if Gwyn went and wasn’t able to help as she’d hoped she wouldn’t be able to let it go. She’d blame herself in some way. He didn’t want to see her put herself through that.

“Right…you’re right. I just…”

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Her eyes met his as she spoke again.“I just pray everyone is alright.”

He pulled her into his arms, bracing her head against his chest as he stroked her hair. “I know you want to help. But right now the best way you can do that is by staying safe. Stay here with Nesta and Emerie until we know more. Rhys, Mor, Cassian, and I will go inspect the scene and do what needs to be done from there.”

She nodded against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, thankful she did not argue. That was the thing about Gwyn. She was never one to argue for argument’s sake. He counted himself lucky in that regard, in many regards really.

Rhys turned Nesta. “I’ve informed Feyre of what happened. She’s putting Nyx down right now and I’m sure she’ll want to see all of you. She isn’t exactly happy that I’ve asked her to stay behind, but I told her I’d call if anything urgent came up.”

Nesta didn’t look too happy about staying behind either, nevertheless, she gave Rhys a single nod before turning back to Cassian.

“Don’t do anything stupid, like go off and play the hero without considering the risks.”

Azriel could already see the shit-eating grin forming on Cassian’s lips. “Me? Never,” Cassian said with a wink.

He was quite certain they all had to fight the urge to roll their eyes. Nesta, on the other hand, simply shot him a glare.

“Flirt later,” Mor said.

Rhys moved to stand beside her. “Agreed. Let’s go.”

Azriel gave Gwyn’s hand one last squeeze before letting go. “We shouldn’t be long,” he promised.

“Be safe,” she said, the faintest smile on her lips.

Her smile was the last thing he saw before winnowing away with the others.

---

@azrielsshadowsdanceforgwyn @bittermuire @ofstarsanddreams @corrdolium @toolazymyguy @mystical-blaise @inkdrinkershadowsinger @itswrongsong @dealingdifferentdevils @rhysmoira @brucexselina @inejjg @rhysmoira @gwynnight @fairytamy @bluegold08 @amandapearls @highqueentaey @lioness-says @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @princessofmerchants-reads @cantkeepmyeyesoffofyou-x @gwynrielsupremacist @lady-riel

@my-fan-side @spookylightkidranch @velaaaris @keramzinskies @zoyavnikolai @elucienschild

@lovelywordsandwine @ladygwynriel @parisakamali @mirubyai @trashforazriel @the-bookish-valkyrie @genya-berdara @ladyllbookstan

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

these violent delights, pt. i

In an immersive theme park where cutting-edge technology makes your wildest dreams come true, the line between fantasy and reality begins to blur. enter westworld, where artificially intelligent automatons known as ‘hosts’ are programmed to fulfill your every delight.

(westworld AU, eventual host!dabi x reader, host!keigo takami x reader, eventual shouto todoroki x f!reader)

part one | part two | part three

featuring: hanta sero, denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, momo yaoyozoru, eijirou kirishima

part one: you prepare to enter the park for the bachelorette party your bridesmaids wanted. meanwhile, westworld’s capable employees prepare to roll out the latest programming update.

wc: 8.7k

pt. i warnings: smut (18+!), sci-fi dystopia, artificial intelligence, medical/surgical procedures, body modification. gun violence, robbery, kidnapping, drinking, death, no beta we die like teddy

notes: this is part one of my entry for The Smut Pile’s Western Collab! this is my very first server collab and I am so thrilled to be kicking it off with this plot monster. this is the first of three parts- it leans a little heavy on the world building, so stay tuned for parts two and three. the action dials up from here, promise! i’m excited to be putting out one of my first plot-heavy stories on this blog!

please note: part one borrows several events from season one, episodes one and two of the series. the story will branch off in its own direction in parts two and three. you do not need to be familiar with Westworld to enjoy this fic- so please give it a try! 💖

(MASTERLIST)

“This doesn’t feel right.”

Livestock Management technician Hanta Sero drifts idly from tool cart to operating table with his raven hair pulled back. He’s clad in a protective latex apron and gloves, approaching the table with a blowtorch in one hand and a long, slim pair of forceps in the other.

“That’s what it says here.” Denki Kaminari stands across the black-tiled room, his back reflected in the glass walls of the operating facility. He scrolls mindfully through a folding datapad with a crease of deep concentration in his golden brow.

Snapping his datapad shut, he lifts his chin to find Sero’s conflicted gaze across the lab.

“The specifications were pretty precise.”

“I know what the briefing said,” Sero retorts. “I just…”

He ignites the blowtorch and takes a deep breath, letting his gaze over slowly over the pale, unmarked flesh of the body stretched out on the table in front of him.

“What?” Kaminari takes in the sight before him. He lifts his eyebrows. “Oh. Well-“

He gets up from his stool, tugging his gloves back over his shirtsleeves and crossing the room toward Sero and the body in question. He picks up a scalpel, making a clean little cut just below the subject’s left nipple without any hesitation.

“Dude, stop!” Sero reaches with the hand still clutching his forceps, blanching as a thin well of blood trickles onto pristine flesh.

“He’s offline,” Denki chuckles. “He can’t feel a thing. You’ve patched these guys up a thousand times, Sero. What’s the problem?”

“I dunno,” Sero muses, drawing the back of one glove nervously over his temple. “I dunno. I think they’re starting to get too real. It’s messing with me.” He shoots Denki a weak chuckle and shakes his head.

“What do they need this guy all burned up for, anyway?”

“Momo told me he’s for the new narrative,” Denki replies, puzzling over the red hair and immaculate pale skin of their unsuspecting victim. “Some kind of grizzly new villain who’s supposed to stir up trouble.”

“Better make him extra fucked up, then.” The blowtorch, extinguished in Sero’s panic, is ignited again, but he’s still hesitating.

“Hey,” Denki prompts. “Why don’t we start with the system update? That’ll kill some time. And then- hey.” He reaches across the tool cart, grabbing for the bottle of black hair dye that came with the host’s modification kit. He shakes it in Sero’s face, letting a smug grin cross his features.

“I’ll do the carpet if you do the drapes.”

Sero and Denki find their rhythm easily enough. Before long, the tension dispels and they’re letting conversation flow smoothly between them, making weekend plans while Sero pushes polished silver staples into the now-scarred flesh of the transformed host.

“This guy’s older than he looks,” Denki quips from the tool cart, where he’s selecting an appropriately sized needle for the delicate work ahead of him. “His systems haven’t been updated in years.”

“I’ve never seen him in the park before,” Sero admits. He’s finishing the clean row of staples that trail from the corner of the host’s mouth to his ear, struggling to push the staple into the skin at the edges of his face. The sharp prongs don’t hold as well in the spots where the muscle and flesh thin to just skin stretched over bone. He looks up in frustration, shaking the spots from his concentrated gaze.

“Whoa,” he starts as he spots the way that Denki’s moved up between the host’s lean thighs. “You’re really gonna-“

“That’s what it says in the briefing,” Denki presses. He’s got the aforementioned needle in one hand and a bowl of curved barbells in the other; he’s gone a little grin about the gills, too.

“Sick fucks,” Sero snorts, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel very historically accurate, does it?”

“Please,” Denki pushes. “If you think this has ever been about history, you’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“Christ, you wanna talk about nasty surprises,” Sero replies, blanching and averting his eyes while Denki inserts the first piercing. “Just wait’ll the guests get a look at him.”

"Bakugou's outdone himself this time," Denki agrees, brow furrowed with sympathy and panicked concentration as he unscrews the first barbell. "Those idiots won't know what hit 'em.”

“Bring yourself back online.”

Head of Programming Shouto Todoroki sits in front of the park’s newest addition, datapad spread across his lap. Sero and Denki’s work paid off; the new host is looking fiercer than ever.

Not new enough for Shouto’s tastes, though. He can still see the blue glint when “Dabi,” as his new narrative calls him, shifts into wakefulness and lets his eyes flutter open. He shoots Shouto a sinister grin but does not move from his seat.

Shouto doesn’t want to believe what they’ve done to him. He’s still nude, putting all his new modifications on brilliant display. The staples in his flesh look angry and inflamed. The scars, done perfectly to appear long-healed, still make his blood curdle.

He can’t even think about the flashes of silver that catch the light when Dabi crosses his legs.

“And who are you supposed to be?" Dabi growls an opening line that shakes Shouto more than it ought to. He sports a brand new drawl that fits the world he’ll be slotted into soon enough, but it’s too much, bouncing off the pristine glass and shiny tile beneath his bare feet.

“Lose the accent,” Shouto commands. Dabi's expression shifts a little, but he does not drop eye contact.

Shouto can’t help but wonder if they all stare like this. He hasn’t been alone with a host in a very long time. Especially not one with this kind of significance.

“Do you know where you are?” He presses, determined to push forward. The sooner he gets Dabi through analysis, the sooner he can pretend like the unsettling host doesn’t exist.

But Dabi’s voice with no drawl is even more spine-chilling.

“I am in a dream.”

“And… do you want to wake up from this dream?”

Dabi’s eyes drift away in a direction they’re not supposed to. For a moment, he casts his gaze down and to the left, letting it sweep across the edge of the room as his brow creases with terrifying subtlety.

The gesture is minuscule, almost as if he's recalling a distant memory. For a moment, Shouto can only admire its beauty.

Then he realizes it’s not supposed to be there.

“Yes,” Dabi continues, his voice soft and lilting and almost wistful. “I’m terrified.”

“Freeze all motor functions.” Shouto’s heart pounds in his chilled throat. His extremities have gone cold. But Dabi follows his instructions to the letter, freezing before he can even blink. Shouto questions why he expected any differently.

Not two minutes later, Head of Behaviour Momo Yaoyorozu ducks gracefully into Dabi’s glass prison. Shouto is still sitting exactly where he began, perched on a little rolling leather stool. Six feet away, Dabi has not moved, bare and frozen on a stool of his own.

"I got your page," Momo soothes, shutting the door quietly behind her and unfolding her datapad. The hinges go rigid when they sit flat, blending seamlessly into a broad tablet that she taps and scrolls quietly through.

“I checked his programming on the way over. There’s something new here,” she concludes. “But I don’t know who added it. Must have been one of the interns, or-“

“I know who it was,” Shou answers grimly, already scrolling meticulously through the lines of code that make up Dabi’s new personality. Momo freezes, looking up at him with cold surprise.

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” he confirms. He takes a deep breath to quell his racing heart and shoots his closest colleague a shaky look. “You’re going to want to see this.”

“Incredible,” Momo gasps a few moments later when Shouto asks Dabi the same series of questions and gets the same frightening response. He knows why it shakes him as much as it does, but it hasn’t occurred to him that someone like Momo would actually… appreciate them.

“It’s like he’s-“ she starts, then stops herself. The conclusion she’s drawn should be as impossible as it sounds. But it’s staring them both in the face.

“Like he’s remembering something.” She finishes her thought this time, and Shou clenches his jaw.

"He must have slipped the code into the update," he determines. "In the programming, he's calling them Reveries."

“Kind of poetic,” Momo muses, still admiring the way that Dabi’s eyes seem to mist as they stare into the middle-distance. “It makes him look so real.”

“The code pulls memories from his earlier programming,” Shouto continues, looking up at Momo and waiting for her to be as spooked as he is.

He’s almost frightened that she’ll be defensive. But she’s sharper than he’s given her credit for, and that revelation is enough to pull her from her stupor.

“That could cause a lot of problems,” she muses. “Especially if the loops haven’t been closed properly. They’re supposed to be wiped after every cycle, but if there are links pulling them back…”

“I know,” Shouto emphasizes. Momo straightens, planting matter-of-fact hands on matter-of-fact hips.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” he confesses, turning back to catch another blood-chilling glimpse of the all-too-familiar host. “I can’t just pull the programming out from under him. He’ll know.”

“You can’t send him into the park with it. If it’s slotted in with the update, he could spread it to the other hosts.”

Shouto pushes his datapad aside and leans forward, steepling his fingers as he sighs deeply and descends into even deeper thought.

Momo’s right. With the Reveries included, the update has potentially disastrous consequences. But that’s operating on the assumption that his father makes mistakes, which most people would confirm is simply impossible.

If he clears the programming before letting Dabi go through, however, he’ll be facing the wrath of his father.

Shou purses his lips, lacing his fingers together but leaving the pointers extended and pursing his lips against the smooth joints.

“I think we’re going to have to.”

The glossy, perfect train- the first of many you'll take today, as you're told- pulls into a station that's even whiter than the train itself. Polished white floors and perfect whitewashed columns are the first things you see out the massive panoramic windows as the cars pull to a complete stop. When the doors glide open, your maid of honour touches your sleeve as the other girls filter out of your private compartment and onto the platform.

You’re far from the only ones disembarking the train. The rest of the platform is soon crowded by immaculately-dressed guests from all over the world. They bow and shift like a flock of starlings, moving in stark contrast past the perfectly-still bodies of the white-clad staff waiting to greet them.

A tall, statuesque woman with raven hair steps forward, addressing your maid of honour by name. She gives you an apologetic wave and a see you in there before disappearing amid the writhing sea of people.

You’ve been reading up on this place for weeks, scouring pamphlets and websites and guest reviews for every detail about the induction process you can glean from public knowledge. Details of the park itself are kept very private, but you’ve learned all you can about the way you’ll be introduced to it.

This place was not your first choice for the occasion at hand, but your friends practically insisted. You know it’s for selfish reasons- it’s the only chance they’re ever going to get to see the place for themselves- but you can already think of several places you’d rather celebrate your coming nuptials.

Not exactly your typical bachelorette party fare. But your friends agreed to wear matching dresses in that shade of pale green you couldn’t stay away from, so you’re giving them this.

Before long the platform is nearly cleared. You’re just starting to make your way toward the escalator, wondering what exactly became of the host who was supposed to greet you, when a soft croon of your name over one shoulder nearly shocks you out of your sandals.

Your host has arrived, and he’s even more gorgeous than you feared. Graceful and lithe-looking, he’s clad in a pristine white suit and turtleneck that contrasts the bold flashes of his golden hair perfectly. He shoots you a smooth smile, lit by razor-sharp tawny eyes and as he turns his face to catch the light, you can see that his jaw is grazed by the barest hint of scruff- perfectly groomed, just like the rest of him.

"Hello," you greet, trying not to lose your breath. You clasp the fingers of your right hand around the ring finger on your left- the remnants of your favourite new nervous habit. You've taken to twisting your engagement ring in moments of idleness or anxiety, but for safety's sake, you've left the flashy diamond at home.

You know you’re engaged. That’s what matters most.

“Good,” the host croons. You’re getting quickly used to his honeyed brogue, strong and low and sweet as he takes your hand and drops a suave kiss to your knuckles. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He jerks his head toward the emptying escalator, eyes never leaving yours.

“Follow me.”

As you’re ascending through the polished storeys of the park’s immaculate headquarters, your attendant rattles off a long list of mundane medical questions. He’s tapping away on a datapad as he walks, and you’re sure that whatever information he’s taking down will be swept away for later use.

Finally, he brings you to a plain-looking white door. He tucks away the datapad and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s graceful and perfect- too perfect. You’re starting to suspect that he’s no ordinary employee.

“Go on,” he urges, nodding toward the door. You shoot him a sideways little glance but step forward, hooking your fingers around the polished handle and pushing it open. You step inside.

The interior of the room- or closet, as it would be better described- is lit almost exclusively by glowing strip lights hidden in the crevices of the doorway, racks of clothing, and bordering a large series of mirrors that stud each wall.

It’s the biggest walk-in closet you’ve ever seen. And it’s filled to the brim with racks of clothing, all appropriate to the vague late-19th century setting of the park.

“Everything is bespoke,” pipes your immaculate attendant as he shuts the door behind him, “and exactly your size.” Painfully, you remember being asked for your body measurements in anticipation of this visit. Did they custom-tailor everything for each guest?

Or are you being given special treatment?

“You can pick out anything you’d like,” he continues, moving toward you, “and your other clothes will be waiting for you when you’ve finished your stay.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you muse, fingering the raspberry-coloured silk of a lavish-looking day dress.

“The clothes you choose will determine the course of your experience.”

Your attendant is right beside you now, so close that you can see the way his golden eyelashes brush his tanned cheeks. He’s leaning in to examine the silk same as you, but his shoulder pushes just a little close to be solely practical. As he grips the material between lithe fingers, he lifts his gaze to yours on purpose. There’s a charming lilt to his smile that you can’t help but admire.

He pauses, dropping the silk and turning to face you head-on. Though the smile has slipped from his features, he still eyes you with interest.

“You want to ask, don’t you?”

Your brain catches up immediately, confusion swelling and fading in the span of a heartbeat. It tightens to thick dread in your chest.

He’s right. You do.

“Are you real?” The words sound even more ridiculous in the air between you than they did in your head. But ever since you boarded the train it felt like you could never be sure. And he’s perfect. Too perfect. Even the way he takes your question seems scripted and rehearsed.

He gives a low chuckle and takes your hands, stroking smooth thumbs over the backs of your knuckles. Then he peeks up at you from beneath flawless dark lashes and flashes a hint of pearly canine as he speaks.

“If you can’t tell, does it really matter?”

You don’t need him to expand.

“Come,” he prompts gently, dropping one hand to pull open a drawer of delicate slips and shifts, sitting in neat, folded piles of undyed linen. Some are plain, others trimmed excessively with lace and ribbons. You’re drawn to the coloured ribbons immediately- pale peach, soft blue, mint green. But the brassy gold of your attendant’s eyes is even more magnetic and you can’t look away for longer than a handful of seconds.

“You know,” he continues, squeezing your fingers gently and moving back in to run his knuckles up the inside of your wrist. Every single one of his touches is delicate, fluttering like a songbird against your skin. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he looks at you.

“Some of these clothes are a little difficult to put on alone.”

He does not explain further, but he watches as you’re drawn to the same conclusion that he is.

You have to roll this one over in your mind for a long while. You left your engagement ring behind, but the engagement itself still stands. Then again, he told you to enjoy yourself here. ‘Make every use of the park’s benefits,’ he’d suggested.

He’s just a computer, you tell yourself. A glorified sex toy. Maybe he walks and talks and flirts like a real human being, but…

There’s something about him that’s making it hard to turn him down.

After a silence long enough for any normal person to question, you look up at your attendant once more. He’s patiently awaiting your response, having gone uncomfortably still. You're not even sure he'd blink if you stare long enough.

You give a tight little nod and he’s smiling again, the same lazy smile as before. His default expression, you’re beginning to gather. He reaches for your coat.

“Wait.” You stop him with one hand on either forearm. He’s touched you before, but it’s still shocking how warm he is. Even though the sleeves of his perfect white jacket, he feels unquestionably alive.

"Don't you have a name or something?"

“Of course I do,” he responds. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Um…” Your brow knits. “Yes.”

He slips around behind you, curling his fingers into the open folds of your jacket and beginning to slide the weighty material off your shoulders. As he does, he leans forward, letting his lips draw close to your ear and making you shiver.

“Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeat. It’s pretty and rolls easily from your mouth in a slow purr of desire. You can’t help yourself anymore. Keigo’s been programmed to put you at ease, but he’s doing much more for you now.

He undresses you methodically, pausing only briefly to run a hand down the curve of your waist or dip his fingers under the point of your chin when he catches you looking down. Even when you’re standing completely naked in front of him, he does not move to touch you in any untoward manner.

Whatever unspoken arrangement you thought you had formed is obviously not as unspoken as you’d hoped.

With his help, you select some period-appropriate undergarments. He helps you into your breezy linen shift first, lovingly tying the drawstrings into a neat little bow at the centre front. The corset is not as uncomfortable as you'd anticipated, fitting you devastatingly well. Keigo’s skilled hands pull the laces with precise tension, and the whole time he breathes soft commands and inquiries over your shoulder.

“Too tight?” He whispers, holding the laces taught at your waist. You take a slow, deep breath, then shake your head.

“Good.”

He ties the laces off and helps you into two petticoats- one of plain white cotton, the other of decorative silk and lace. Then he sits you on a cool, leather-covered sofa on one edge of the room and drops to his knees in front of you.

“Uh-“ you start, but he produces a pair of silk stockings from seemingly nowhere, smirking over the tops of your knees.

“Let’s get this out of the way.”

He pushes your airy petticoats up from your ankles, letting the backs of his palms brush the insides of your knees. He shoves the material up to your thighs and your confusion is multiplied now- is this what you think it is?

The way he admires your thighs as you shyly press them together certainly makes it seem so.

"Keigo," you gasp, curling your fingers against the edge of the sofa. The leather is supple and delicate beneath your touch like you could tear it if you wanted to.

He looks up just in time to watch you hook a bare thigh over his shoulder, and his brows shoot into his pointed hairline.

You’ve decided what you want out of this trip.

"Dove," he chides, setting down the stockings and pushing them gently aside. He takes both hands up the backs of your calves, stroking perfectly manicured fingernails into the tender skin at the backs of your knees.

He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. His face disappears behind the swath of frothy white petticoats gathered in your lap, but you feel his hot breath on your skin clear as day.

“If you wanted something from me,” he purrs, “all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m asking now,” you hum, letting your head fall back against the back of the couch. He’s easy enough to convince. Somehow, the fact that you didn’t have to work very hard for this almost makes it feel more acceptable.

“Here’s my answer,” he replies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of your inner thigh. You let out a strangled gasp, thigh jolting against his face as he slips his hand under the other leg- still hooked over his shoulder. You let out a low, shaky breath, trying not to think about the mark he’ll leave.

He pushes your leg away after biting it, shoving your knees apart and leaning eagerly forward. His head is fully buried under your gathered petticoats at this point, and you can feel him nosing his way into the crook of your groin, sliding a few free fingers up to prod gently for your hair-dusted folds.

“Wet already, bluebird?” He chuckles into your skin, sending shivers up your spine. “I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” you groan. There’s heat rushing to your cheeks with every word that tumbles out of his pretty mouth. You don’t want any of this to stop, but the heat between your legs is the one quickly growing unbearable.

“Do you want me to?” Keigo sits back almost immediately, ridding you of the delicious tingles his close breath were sending across your skin.

“No, no!” You yelp sharply, indignantly, digging your bare heel into his back to keep him close. He stops as soon as you apply pressure, letting out a quiet little chuckle.

“Keep going,” you pant, curling your toes against his pretty jacket.

“Your wish is my command,” he hums, already leaning into your flesh again. He does not hesitate this time, burying his head between your legs and giving the weeping slit of your cunt a long lick.

His first touch is all it takes to remind you how long it’s been.

“Fuck,” you gasp, low and languid. He doesn’t hesitate to close his lips around your swelling clit and suck. He makes sharp, sloppy noises with his lips and tongue, and the way they resonate in your ears near-doubles your pleasure. He’s eating you out perfectly, with terrifying precision. The strength of his jaw and tongue remains almost painfully consistent.

All the better for drowning him out. Despite his easy-flowing attitude and suave charm, he’s not a person. And it isn’t unfaithful to want him like this.

Even if you know he wouldn’t like it.

Keigo is diligent and careful, plunging his tongue in and out of your needy hole before finding the nub of your clit again, hard and sensitive. When he flicks the tip of his tongue against the tender front of it your legs spasm and you cry out softly as sensitive goosebumps rush across your ribcage.

“Like that,” you plead breathlessly, drawing your foot up between his shoulder blades as the tension builds. “Again, please.”

You’re holding the swells of your petticoats up around your thighs for him, but your fingers are beginning to clench in the delicate material. You’re not going to last long at all beneath a tongue as talented as his.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he purrs into your body, sending thick vibrations through every nerve in your system, “I won’t leave you unsatisfied.”

As he settles into his rhythm again, he plunges two fingers into your messy depths. He curls them tightly inside you, massaging your tender walls with a blunt and careful touch.

It takes little more than a few methodical strokes to make you fall. You cum with a tight little squeal, closing your thighs tightly around his head while you spasm and buck and sigh. He’s attentive enough to keep pumping his fingers through your orgasm, drawing out the pleasure as much as possible and greedily lapping at the wetness that trickles from your clenching pussy.

"That's it," he soothes, easing you down from your high with one calming hand on the column of your twitching thigh. As you settle, sweat-soaked, back into your seat he surfaces, sweat and shiny, sticky fluid sticking in the bristles of his perfect scruff. He licks his lips and you realize you’ve unconsciously mirrored him, doing the same.

In the moments directly following your peak you say nothing, looking down to meet his brassy gaze as deep uncertainty settles into your gut.

What happens now?

Keigo sits back on his haunches, pulling the folded pocket square from his breast and mopping up the mess on his chin and jaw like he'd done nothing more than spill a glass of wine or splash water over his lips.

“Much better,” he croons, reaching for the discarded stockings from before. “Feeling a little more relaxed?”

You swallow hard.

“I’d say so.”

His smile is surprisingly bright and sunny.

“Good.” He hooks his fingers under your knee again, unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Sliding a palm down to your ankle, he fits one stocking deftly over your foot and slides it up your calf, continuing his work as if uninterrupted. He fits the stockings over your knees and ties them off carefully with slips of silk ribbon, sitting the knots just below your knees so the stockings won't fall. Then, he gets to his feet and offers you a hand.

“Let’s pick out the rest of your clothes, shall we?”

The park is even more immersive than you imagined. The photos do it no justice. When you step off the (genuine steam-powered) train at Sweetwater Station, it’s accompanied by a very real twinge of anxiety. The village is like a scene out of a Clint Eastwood movie. Only there are no cardboard sets here. The saloon doors really swing inward. The shops and businesses that line the main street are built from real, weathered lumber. The dust that’s kicked up by the hosts that go about their daily lives is already beginning to coat your new boots.

You sneeze.

“God bless you,” greets a kind stranger in a rough-hewn grey coat and white hat. He’s got a very apparent drawl to his voice, but the glint in his blue eyes is kind.

Back at the facility, guests and hosts were easy enough to distinguish from one another. Out here, it’s a little more difficult. You’re not sure whether to believe that everyone is real or assume they’re all fake.

Luckily, there are four women beside you whose humanity you are acutely aware of. You’re lucky enough to have found your bridesmaids on the train in- all clustered in the bar car, but together nonetheless.

And they’ve insisted on keeping the party going.

“C’mon, bride-to-be,” your maid of honour chides, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you out of your reverie. “I know exactly where we need to go first.”

“It’s not even noon yet,” you protest, but the others are already miles ahead of you. You’re dragged easily into the broad, dusty street and toward those broad, swinging doors. The saloon stands proudly in the centre of town on a prominent corner with faded signs advertising its wares. And your maid of honour eagerly bats the doors open, striding boldly into the sun-soaked saloon.

The tables are surprisingly crowded for this time of day. It’s most likely a flood of guests, disembarking the train and heading straight for the local watering hole for a real taste of the action. Beyond their idle chatter tinkles the bright keys of a player piano against one wall. You can see the player scroll turning in the piano’s upright fixture, but that doesn’t change the unsettling way that the keys seem to press themselves.

It’s an eerie fixture in a town populated by walking, talking player pianos.

The man behind the bar bleeds Old West stereotypes from every pore. He’s got a huge, exaggerated greying moustache and a tweed waistcoat with shirtsleeves bound back for work. He’s polishing an empty glass with a cotton rag, but you spot him just in time to watch him politely greet a guest and reach behind him for a frosted bottle of unlabeled whisky.

The only other fixtures in the place are the women patrolling it, clad in colourful, lacy outfits that you’re certain violate some kind of historical convention. But they’re all breathtakingly beautiful, bosoms heaving over tightly laced corsets and fluttering from table to table like songbirds. They seem to provide little more than decoration and, as you settle into a table not far from the door, they fade easily into the background.

Until one of them screams.

You’ve read as many stories as you could scour the internet for before coming here. You know this place can get intense. Details of the park’s narratives and interactive storylines are kept under wraps as much as possible, so you can’t be sure whether this is out of the ordinary or not.

But when you whip around to find the source of the blood-curdling shriek, it doesn’t feel scripted.

It doesn’t feel scripted when the pretty girl in peach lace flings herself to the feet of a brand-new guest, here with his wife and their young son gaping from across the table. It doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to be wracked with sobs having never exchanged a word with this man.

It doesn’t feel like she should be pleading with him.

But the sobs wrack her body anyway, and her rosy little cheeks are flushed deeply now as she sniffles and blubbers.

“My daughter,” she begs hoarsely. “My girl, my daughter, please, I know you have her. Give her back to me, please. I know you took her. Give her back to me, I’ll do anything.”

Whether the father-of-one knows what she's talking about or not he's white as a sheet, stumbling backwards against the edge of his wife's table and pushing his arms forward, trying to keep her away.

The player piano finishes its tune, keys stilling as the saloon’s patrons look on in shock. And for an honest handful of heartbeats, the saloon is silent save for the host’s ragged sobs.

It takes a few moments for the player scroll to re-align itself before the tune restarts, and as the familiar notes cycle back through the saloon the host re-centres herself, climbing to her feet. There's a hardened resolve on her tear-stained face as her target looks around, gathering his wife and son with a this is bullshit and turning to leave.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me-“ the host begins to snarl. She lunches for the man, hands outstretched for the back of his brand new jacket, or maybe the brim of his crisp Stetson.

“Freeze all motor functions!”

A deep voice booms from the door of the saloon, amplified and simultaneously muffled with the use of a megaphone. The girl, and every other host in the saloon, freezes in place as though they’ve been paused. They don’t just stand still- they’re paralyzed. The smiling bartender is stalled with a glass in his hand; he doesn’t even blink.

In the doorway stands a hulking man of at least six and a half feet, seeming nearly as broad across the shoulders as he is tall. He wears a black uniform, armored black vest and heavy combat boots with a head of brilliant red hair spilling over his shoulders. As he lowers the megaphone he’s grinning, the bare flash of a sharp canine catching the low light of the bar.

“Sorry for the intrusion, folks,” he declares, striding across the floorboards toward the frozen host. Her expression is paused in a sneer of sheer horror and aggression, her hand outstretched for the man who has long since stepped aside.

The red-haired guardian angel, who has the name Kirishima stitched neatly onto the breast of his protective gear in white thread, catches your gaze. He shoots you a familiar little wink and a nod, a soft y’alright? escaping his throat in a quiet little growl.

You lick your lips, nodding slowly. Kirishima averts his gaze and reaches for the frozen host. As soon as he touches her skin she goes limp, falling easily into his powerful hold. He hoists her body over one shoulder and surveys the saloon, touching two fingertips to his forehead in a bright little salute.

“Please, don’t let me intrude on your stay any longer,” he continues. “As you were, everybody. Resume.”

The last word seems to be a command for the hosts in the room, as they spin to life again. They resume their rounds as if no time had passed at all; as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever transgressed.

Spooked, but encouraged by Kirishima’s smooth removal of the offending host, the guests around you go hesitantly back to their conversations. The player piano, also halted by Kirishima’s commands, has resumed its delicate play, and slowly the environment returns to the way it was before.

Your friends are among those willing to brush off the incident.

"What happened?" mumbles your maid of honour across the table, as if the host were still around to overhear her. As if the host's friends might be listening in to see if anybody's talking about her.

“No idea,” quips one of the other girls. “Must be some kind of glitch.” She looks over her shoulder, watching the remaining hosts at the bar. “I wonder if it happens often.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Head of Narrative Katsuki Bakugou slams a stack of papers onto the table in front of him, disrupting the intricate hologram that provides a real-time, scale model of the park to the room’s occupants.

“Katsuki!” Momo scolds, watching the hologram stutter and flicker. It’s not the first table he’s damaged.

“You’re not pulling my fucking narrative. It rolls out today. Do you have any idea how many writers I had busting ass on that thing?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” she retorts, tapping the screen of the datapad she’s got hooked tightly in the crook of her other arm. “You saw the host that Eijirou pulled, didn’t you? The fact that he had to step in at all means things got way out of hand…”

“Bullshit,” Katsuki retorts, sweeping his papers off the holo-table (and shattering the image one more time). “That was a fucking glitch. You don’t even have the results back from Behaviour yet.”

“I already know what they’re going to say,” Momo continues.

“That’s right,” Katsuki snarls. “I forgot you know everything around here.”

“She was carrying the latest update. There must be something wrong with the code.” Momo tries not to remember Dabi and his distant stare. She swallows the part about the extra coding slipped in by the man who could do no wrong.

She flips her datapad shut- it’s doing her any good, since Katsuki’s right. The results from Behaviour regarding the misaligned host won’t be ready for some time.

“You can’t. Pull. That. Narrative.” Katsuki’s squared up now, all the gathered papers tucked under his arm. His jaw is ticked, nostrils flaring as his eyes flash. “An entire trainload of guests is wandering around Sweetwater looking for the stories they fucking paid for. If you pull the plug, there’s nothing left.”

He’s right again.

“Look.” Katsuki crosses to the holo-table one more time, only this time it’s without the murderous intent in his gaze. For once he’s ready to use the table as intended, pin-pointing the broad, dusty street of Sweetwater’s main strip and bringing up a live feed of the bustling little town.

"Dabi is riding through here in less than two hours," he continues. "Dial-up his aggression a little. Make him shoot up the place. If you want to pull the hosts, at least let them go out with a bang.”

Momo isn’t convinced. But it’s the closest thing to a happy medium she can picture at the moment. Katsuki, as prolific as ever, knows how to think on his feet.

“How many d’you think he’ll take out?” She probes quietly, quirking an interested brow.

“Enough to keep the guests AND your Doctor Frankensteins entertained while I find us some more loopholes.”

Her mind races through more questions. But the panic, fluttering high and shallow in her chest, has somehow been replaced by a delicate sort of reassurance.

She flips open the datapad one more time, activating the remote host commands available only to an employee of her standing. Finding Dabi’s program file, she does exactly as Katsuki suggests and dials up the aggression in his behaviour stats by eighty percent.

“This had better work,” she threatens softly, but Katsuki’s already folding his arms across his chest, looking far too satisfied with himself. His ego is insufferable, but his talent is unmatched. Worth suffering for.

His mouth splits into a triumphant grin as he shoots an idle glance at the live Sweetwater feed. The only stage he’s ever needed.

“’Course it will.”

The afternoon sun has nearly dipped behind the tallest rooftops in Sweetwater when your friends stumble out of the saloon. Your friends are already tipsy, giggling and clutching each other as they try not to trip over the hems of their skirts. They’re all a little too eager to pull out the extravagant lace fans that pair perfectly with their colourful dresses and fan at their heaving bosoms.

As you bound down the steps and into the dirt road, you dive seamlessly into the milling crowd of hosts and guests, starting to swim. If you’re about to be caught in the eye of a devastatingly orchestrated narrative maelstrom, you’re blissfully unaware.

“Give me the time,” Katsuki grunts from the Sweetwater side of the holo-table. Momo glances up at the digital clock on the wall.

“Thirteen fifty-eight, forty-two,” she notes. Katsuki’s got the camera feed trained on a lone trio of riders, clad in black and plodding steadily toward Sweetwater. He watches carefully, keeping an eye turned on the clock.

“They’re going to be late,” he grunts bitterly, folding his arms over his chest. Sero, Denki and Kirishima, who have all crowded around the holo-table on their lunch breaks to watch the show, snort in near-unison.

“I don’t think anyone down there’s keeping track,” Denki quips, smoothing his palms down the front of his crisp shirt, apronless for once. Katsuki shoots him a vicious glare.

“You wanna go back to your sewing room or what?”

Denki goes quiet.

Inside the park, the sun passes behind a cloud. The light shifts just enough to draw your gaze, and when you look up, you’re among the first to spot a few dark shapes approaching. They’re close enough that you can make them out as riders, all on horses as black as the wide-brimmed hats on their heads.

There’s something about them, their precise formation and the slow, plodding, deliberate pace of their horses that holds your attention. You can’t quite write them off as guests, no matter how much they stand out from the dully-dressed villagers around you.

You glance across the street just long enough to spot a WANTED poster tacked to a column not far off. You can’t make out any of the writing on it, but the face is distinct- dark, shaded patches covering his jaw, chin and lower lip, carving out two shadowy patches under his eyes.

There’s something about the narrow shape of his cheeks that pulls familiar.

But you don’t have to wonder much longer.

The three riders ride quietly into town, the crowd parting around them with little more than low murmurs and dull, lidded fear. They pull to a stop in front of the saloon, barely twenty feet from you.

The cowboy in the grey tweed coat who caught your eye fresh off the train approaches the riders. He’s got a revolver holstered on one hip, and he draws it slowly out of its pouch as he squares up with the horse at the lead of the pack.

“Haven’t you seen the signs with your mug on ‘em?” He drawls, his face drawn into an expression of tense righteousness. He jerks his chin toward the nearest one, the WANTED sign you’d seen seconds earlier. “You’re not welcome here, Dabi.”

The taller rider in the centre- Dabi- tilts his chin into the sunlight, and that’s when you catch sight of its purplish colour. His face glints with silver, a perfect match for the drawing posted across the street.

He does not hesitate, drawing his own revolver in one smooth motion and shooting the cowboy in the chest. The gun discharges with a crack that’s louder than you ever imagined it could be, punctuated by the screams of bystanders nearby.

As the village descends into panic you stand there dumbstruck, watching the chaos unfold.

“Wait for it,” Katsuki grunts, hiding his satisfied grin as his colleagues watch in rapt fascination. Sero hasn’t blinked since the action began.

“You sure?” Dabi rasps, voice muffled by the feed. He produces a shiny golden badge and flipping it, like a silver dollar, onto the expiring corpse of the righteous host.

“No,” Denki whines. “He killed the sheriff?”

“Shut up and keep watching,” Katsuki growls, quelling the proud adrenaline pumping through his veins. There’s nothing quite like seeing his hard work come to life- supremely worth fighting with Momo over.

Dabi smirks, tipping the brim of his hat.

“Seems like invitation enough to me.”

He swings capably off his horse and you can’t deny your fascination with the mystery surrounding him. You should be terrified, but there’s something about the cool confidence with which he carries himself that you can’t quite put aside.

If the women flocking to the windows on either side of the street are any indication, you’re not the only one who feels that way. In a brief moment of lucidity, you take a glance around you. Your bridesmaids have disappeared, disappearing in the panicked mass of flooding crowds after the scarred rider fired his first shot.

He’s followed by a second rider on his right flank, both quickly disappearing into the bar. The third rider- a petite blonde woman swathed in a heavy coat- gets down off her horse and turns quickly toward her saddlebags. When she comes around the front side of her steed, she’s got a shotgun in her hands.

She’s loading it. The pandemonium amplifies. At her feet, there’s a long, thick coil of rope that’s partially unwound and trailing into the saloon. It’s unwinding slowly, with dull screams and shattering glass echoing from inside.

That’s all you have time to notice before another shot goes off in front of you. The little blonde girl’s levelled her shotgun, emptying her rounds at anyone who raises a weapon against her. You’re barely standing ten feet away. But she passes you clean over.

Is it because you're a guest? The only ones who have fallen at her hand are the hosts, capable of being hurt by her gunshots. The guests who haven't taken off are clustered in the windows of shops or hiding behind broad wooden columns, but there is no fear painted on their faces.

You know the hosts can’t hurt you. But there’s something about the thrill of it all that sends adrenaline pumping through your veins anyway. There’s a cool mystery to all of the black-clad riders.

A part of you wants to join them. If you can be anyone you want in here… why not one of them? Why not swing cooly down from your horse and terrorize, when there are no consequences to your actions?

You take one step backwards, then another. Your senses are finally coming back to you. You should run. Disengage. Maybe you can’t be caught in the crossfire, but you can’t stand dumbly in the empty street, either.

Something has to change.

Before you can make it to the safety of a storefront, a pattern of three gunshots in tight succession from inside the saloon triggers something in the blonde, still picking off hosts. There are bodies littering the street.

She lowers her shotgun and hops back onto her horse, spurring it on with a sharp whistle. The beast takes off without hesitation, and it’s then that you realize the other end of the coiled rope is wound around her saddlehorn. As the horse strains its haunches and pushes forward the rope goes taut. And as the pair of them take off down the street, the spoils emerge: a heavy wrought iron safe, bursting out of the saloon doors and leaving nothing but splintered remains in its wake.

It bounces and rolls down the steps and slides smoothly as soon as it hits the dirt street. The blonde shooter and her horse disappear, safe in tow.

You wonder what became of the bartender inside and his friendly moustache.

Dabi emerges seconds later, a fresh rifle clutched lazily in one hand. His companion’s lost his hat in the turmoil inside- he’s blonde, too, with a deep scar splitting his forehead from hairline to brow.

"Let today be a lesson for every one of you," Dabi calls, re-cocking his shotgun as he surveys the fresh bodies and fleeing guests. You've stopped dead all over again, drawn to him like a magnet despite your best judgement.

He levels the shotgun, aiming it about five feet to your right. You follow his gaze. In the window over your shoulder, with her hands pressed to the glass, is a little girl no older than five. She’s watching Dabi and his riders with fearful fascination and does not seem to realize that she’s been targeted.

You don’t care if she’s a guest or not. She’s a human girl with big, lively eyes, and your adrenal glands work faster than your sense of logic.

Dabi shuts one eye, tilting his head. The corner of one lip curls ever so slightly as he concentrates, taking aim. “And that lesson is-“

“Stop.” You step in front of the window, spreading your arms and drawing his attention for the first time. When he looks at you over the top of his shotgun, his expression goes slack. He drops the shotgun and his eyes are wide, wider than they’re supposed to be, almost.

You’re close enough to see that they’re a shocking shade of blue. That blue strikes an achingly familiar chord in your heart.

You recognize those eyes.

“What the fuck!”

If the holo-table didn’t weigh half a ton, Katsuki would’ve flipped it on its end. The feed is as smooth as ever, but his face has gone scarlet as he paces away from the table, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What? What’s wrong?” Kirishima’s well past the end of his lunch break by now, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back to work before seeing the way this plays out.

“He stopped,” Katsuki growls. “He’s not s’posed to fucking stop.”

Dabi’s been stopped on the brink of a speech that took Katsuki days to put together. He’s been waiting to hear it delivered for weeks. It’s the speech that Dabi’s entire narrative was hinged on, forged out of countless sleepless nights and careless notes scribbled idly on coffee breaks.

“Holy shit.” There’s a genuine shock in Denki’s voice that’s enough to make Katsuki turn around. Denki’s gone white, Sero beside him, too.

“You’d better get over here and see this, dude,” Kirishima mutters, jerking his chin toward the feed. Momo’s watching over his shoulder, too, one hand pressed to her pursed lips.

“That’s a guest, isn’t it?” Sero quips. Silence settles over the room.

“I’ll get Shouto,” Momo declares, turning away and opening up her datapad.

“What’s going on?” Shouto bursts into the holo-room not two minutes later, mismatched eyes lit up with urgent concern. “Did I read your message right? I-“

Katsuki’s pacing the room, quieter than ever. Denki, Sero and Kirishima are still gathered around the feed, winding back the stream to replay the events that have sent them all spiralling. Momo’s the only one who even acknowledges his presence.

“Something’s happening in the park,” she explains, hushed and tight as she meets him at the door. “Another updated host is off-script.”

“How bad is it this time?” Shouto asks, hiding the dread that’s spreading in his gut. He had hoped that the girl from the saloon was just an unexpected glitch, but the results from Behaviour told another story.

Still, two deviances in just the first day of the update feels worse than he dreaded.

“You’d better take a look for yourself.”

Momo leads him to the holo-table and the feed, letting the other boys step aside. Shouto steps up to the projection, watching Dabi ride into town. Watching him break into the saloon with Twice and Toga, two other repurposed hosts, by his side.

He watches Toga ride off with the safe behind her and watches Dabi start his speech. And then, from a near-birds-eye view, he watches Dabi spot you of all people. Dabi lowers his rifle and strides toward you.

Shou’s heart leaps into his throat.

With dull horror he watches Dabi slip a leather-gloved hand under your chin. He watches you tilt your jaw into his touch. You’re fascinated by him. Even though the dust and pixels it's painfully obvious.

Dabi seems to notice, too, since he stoops low and hoists you over his shoulder without another word. You struggle, but he holds you fast. He strides across the road to his horse and sets you- still squirming and fighting- in the saddle, climbing on behind you and grabbing you tightly before you can escape.

Just before he spurs his gargantuan black steed forward, he pauses to glance over his shoulder. Shouto can’t be certain, but for a moment it seems like Dabi’s found the camera, staring plainly up at Shouto through its low-quality lens.

A breath passes. He looks away, gives a whistle, and disappears into the wilds beyond the town.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Kirishima presses. “Katsuki, you didn’t program him to kidnap a guest, did you?”

“Of course not,” Katsuki snarls from across the room, his nerves fraying dangerously. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? Do I look like a walking liability to you?”

“Look, it’s fine,” Denki chimes in. “It’s not like he can hurt her or anything. Just chalk it up to the park experience. Tell her Dabi kidnaps random nobodies all the time.”

The room goes quiet as a crypt. Kirishima looks at Shouto. Shouto looks at Katsuki. Katsuki looks at Momo, and Momo takes a slow, deep breath.

“Do you want to tell him, Shouto?” she asks, “or should I?”

Shouto closes his eyes and tries to quell the panic rising in the back of his throat. He shoots Denki a cold look, jaw ticked but eyes blazing.

“That’s my fiancé,” he mutters, low and shaky. “Dabi kidnapped my fiancé.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #dabi #hawks #hawks smut #hanta sero #denki kaminari #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #momo yaoyorozu #tw guns #tw gun violence #tw death #tw drinking #tw body modification #reader insert #westworld au

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 2 - Auction

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies

“You no longer own me.”

The guppies in the tank that spans nearly half the space of the wall flush around, their brightly colored and flared tails gently wading in the water. Juyeon gently taps on the glass, the yellow guppy swimming towards him instead of away. The shelves are stacked with books on marine life and nature, posters of the Northern Lights dawn the walls if they weren’t covered in the latest Apple commercial poster.

He hears the hurried footsteps before he hears his assistant, who is huffing by the time she’s at the door of his office. “Anything urgent, Miss Young? Forgive me if I imagined I told you that I would be unavailable until after lunch.”

“Sir, I think you should see the news. I know why your parents aren’t in office today.”

“What?” Juyeon finally pulls away from the tank, worried eyes scanning his assistant. She’s well-dressed, has short hair and ruby cheeks. She looks like she belongs in high school. “Anything serious happen? An accident?”

“Um, no, it’s just--”

Ring ring

Lee Juyeon turns to the phone set on his table, then side-eyes Young Jin Seol, feet turning toward the device.

“No, sir! Wait, before you--”

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. We’re calling from The Board to request your availability tonight for a press conference regarding today’s updates.”

Juyeon scoffs gently, standing straight up and resting a hand on his hip. He turns to look at Jin Seol, eyes filled with caution, as if they meant to say I told you not to pick it up.

“I’m sorry but... what updates?”

“The change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS and the marriage.”

There’s a brooding uneasiness in his gut as he processes the heavy word. In the world of corporate under The Board, the word ‘marriage’ is nothing but a contract.

“Remind me who this concerns?”

“You, sir. The marriage between you and Kim Jang Won. The Board would like your presence during a press conference to address the marriage as well as the following change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS.”

It’s like Medusa has just stared him straight in the eye, for Juyeon fails to respond in any way possible.

“Uh... sir? Hello? Mr Lee Juyeon?”

Jin Seol rushes over, able to hear the voice on the other end calling out to him. She grabs the phone and presses it to her ear, eyes plastered to Juyeon, whose lips seemed to be whitening. “Hi, this is Young Jin Seol, Mr Lee’s assistant. He’s not feeling very well now, so I’ll get him to give you a call later regarding the press conference, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, um, of course. But we’d like to have details settled by 1pm later, Miss Young. If it’s not too troubling to relay the message to Mr Lee.”

“Rest assured, he’ll...” Jin Seol watches Juyeon trudge to the couches sitting before the tank, sinking into the soft cushion and pressing his fingers into his closed lids. “I’ll make sure he gets back to you by then.”

Juyeon can feel the skin on his chest stretch when he sucks in a deep breath. The nonsensical thoughts start to crowd his head in the most logical way possible, if that was even possible. Luckily, the only thing he could hear was the bubbling of the oxygen pump in the tank.

He hears Jin Seol return the phone back into the phone set before he finally opens his eyes, vision a little blurred from the pressure of his fingers.

“I could schedule them in straight away but I have a feeling you’d want to talk to your parents first, Mr Lee.”

Juyeon brings his palms down to his nose and mouth, lips perpendicular to his index finger and his thumbs under his chin as he focuses on the table before him. The white tulips in the vase have already started to brown.

“Schedule them for lunch at 11 and I’d like to be left alone from 12.30 to 1. I’ll call The Board myself afterwards,” Juyeon notes the coldness in his voice, an element he doesn’t even recognise much. “My parents and I have alot to talk about.”

The Director of Chang’s Funeral Services personally flips open the file, turning it and sliding it across the table to the siblings sitting opposite them. Mr Chang would’ve shat himself if Kim Jang Won had come alone - she doesn’t have the title ‘Hera’s Princess’ for nothing. It’s a good thing ‘The Prince of Artemis’ had come with her. But maybe that’s just it, isn’t it?

What if he pulled out a gun and shot me right now?

Younghoon’s eyes conscientiously process the printed words on the document, his sister a little too over the edge to be paying attention to anything.

“We-- Um, carried out an investigation and realised that the bodies were... well... mismatched.”

Younghoon listens, but his gaze is still on the carbon print. The file was labelled KIM JO-PIL but the papers in the folder belonged to someone else. Someone else’s body. A common city address.

“Have you excavated the body?”

“In progress, Mr Kim. They should be calling any time now for after identification.”

“I don’t suppose you have the documents for Kim Jo-Pil? The ones that were supposed to be in this folder?”

“The thing is... I remember seeing the documents. My colleagues have too. The people in charge of your father’s burial saw it too. But... if it’s not in this office then frankly, I’ve got no clue where it would be.”

For the first time in 3 hours, Jang Won actually looks somewhat understanding, sympathetic, empathetic. Younghoon shuts the file and slides it over to Jang Won when she sits up in her seat.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll take the file and contact the deceased’s family. When’s that body identification phone call coming in?” Then the 3-hour streak is lost, and Younghoon sighs exasperatedly, out of her peripheral vision. “Taking mighty long for a simply body identification, no?”

Flustered, Mr Chang fumbles for the phone set sitting in the corner of his desk, hurriedly dialing a number.

“Where do you think he ran to for 2 years?” Jang Won squints at the deceased’s information. “Why 2 years?”

Younghoon runs a hand through his hair, probably worth about half a million Korean Won. “You ask me as if I know any more than you do.”

Mr Chang is finally talking to someone. Jang Won’s focus fixates on something familiar at the bottom of the page.

“That’s because maybe you do,” Lifting the file, she points to the bottommost section.

LAST OCCUPATION:

PHOTOGRAPHER FOR ARTEMIS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP

“It’s your company and subsidiary. I’m surprised you don’t recognise the name.”

“I might own Artemis but I don’t personally know all 278 employees. If he’s a photographer and I don’t recognise him, that means he’s in another department. Women, or children or product. I’m only listed as a model under the ‘Males’ department.”

There’s a silence in the air that allowed Younghoon to hear the gears churning in Jang Won’s head. The appearance of Kim Jo-Pil, 2 years after his supposed death, has just dragged both his children and everybody else related into a mess of a puzzle. But Younghoon has no doubt his sister can find all the pieces, much less draw the connections.

There’s a reason why she could build HERA & ARTEMIS from the ground up.

Mr Chang finally hangs up, sighing heavily as he looks at the powerful siblings over the rim of his glasses. “They’ve confirmed. The body in the coffin you saw your father in belongs to the man in the document.”

Younghoon chortles in disbelief. “Right then. So our father did die, but someone managed to swap the bodies before it was lowered, and then proceeded to keep him alive for the next 2 years.”

Jang Won flips and finds a portrait of the dead man. “Question is... who?”

Younghoon stands up first, thanking Mr Chang and tapping Jang Won as he turns for the exit of the office. The Director doesn’t even get a chance to bid his goodbye when Jang Won leaves, behind Younghoon.

Escorted by four bodyguards, the siblings walk side by side with her heels clicking against the floor. Upon reaching the first floor, the lift doors ding open into an array of reporters hustling outside the entrance.

“Get them out of my face before I ruin their lives!”

The guards rush before them, hurriedly trying to disperse the crowd. Jang Won pulls out her sunglasses, covering her eyes.

“Time-wasting assholes.”

The shouted questions are loud and intrusive. The short distance of a few tens of metres feel like a mile from all the shoving and yelling. The flashes refuse to cease, but they’ve been in the spotlight for so long, it just gets annoying.

BREAKING: KIM YOUNGHOON AND KIM JANG WON SPOTTED AT CHANG’S FUNERAL SERVICES - KIM JO-PIL CONFIRMED TO HAVE BEEN SWAPPED OUT BEFORE BURIAL TWO YEARS AGO

Juyeon turns into the private room the restaurant manager has led him to, leaving him at the door whilst his parents gawk at the headlines blasting on the screen mounted to the wall. There’s a picture of Kim Jang Won and her brother getting into a car right below the headlines.

“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”

Both of them whip around to see the young man standing by the door, pushing himself off the frame and strutting into the private room. The whole fit he was wearing could buy a short vacation. His father reaches for the remote and shuts off the television.

“I expect nothing less from Kim Jo-Pil, given the history of HERA & ARTEMIS. It was just a matter of time before his daughter took over and turned it into a multi-billion name,” His mother sings, fingers around the base of a glass of wine and carefully swirling the blood-red liquid.

Juyeon sits, and a waiter comes by to fill his glass with wine. The gentle whir of the air-conditioning in the room is the only source of noise, other than the waiter taking his leave. Juyeon picks up the glass, raising a brow as he brings it to his lips. “I expect nothing less from my own parents when they are about to put me up for a certain type of contract,” He pauses, the glass in mid-air. “Say... a marriage.”

His lips meet the curve of the glass and he takes a sip.

“We wanted to tell you before we agreed, but--”

“But the money’s more worth?” He winces from the alcohol in the wine, frowning and offering a sarcastic purse of his lips. “I can imagine. All that stuff you have at home... you know, grand piano worth five million, a kitchen big enough for a herd of horses-- oh, not to mention the actual stable of horses... Yeah, I guess... I guess I could empathise with how you needed more than those. Planning a re-deco? I might know some great architects.”

“Juyeon...”

“No, no,” Placing down the glass, he waves his hand. “Let me put things into perspective for you. After all, gotta make the homework I did on my way here worth it right? See if it’s correct.”

Juyeon clears his throat and cracks his knuckles, knowing that his parents are offering him the most miserable looks they’ve ever given him in his life.

“The Board announces Kim Jo-Pil’s return. HERA & ARTEMIS goes back under his belt, leaving Kim Jang Won, current owner and might I say, the very reason why HERA & ARTEMIS is as good as it is today, jobless and absolutely helpless in a ditch. The Board then passes a rule, one which I have never heard before in my life, maybe because it’s never happened before, but... in order for Kim Jang Won to re-obtain some kind of ownership or at least some part of HERA & ARTEMIS, she must marry a name attached to The Board. And the two of you, seeing how rich and successful Kim Jang Won has made HERA & ARTEMIS, snatched the offer up first and put me on the stage... for auction.”

“Auction...!”

“Correct me, will you? Because that’s exactly what I think you did. What, becoming the next director of Apple-Korea isn’t enough for you? Owning the Korean branch of one of the largest tech companies in the world isn’t enough-- you must have a fashion-retail company?!”

The entire room falls into heavy silence. The waiters knock before entering with some seafood appetizer. Juyeon sucks his lips between his teeth, nibbling anxiously on his bottom one.

“Juyeon...” His father waits for the waiter to leave. “We... we just wanted the best for you. You know how powerful the Kim family is. Any remote connection to them will do us good. It’ll do you good.”

He scoffs and rubs his forehead with his index and middle finger. “I really have no clue what’s going on in those heads of yours sometimes.”

“I don’t know why you’re so against this, Juyeon. It’ll be helpful to you in your future!”

“As opposed to what? Wanting to be a marine biologist? Wanting to study the waters and nature? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Thinking that his father would hush his mother, Juyeon is surprised when he doesn’t.

“Wow, really? Nothing?”

Silence.

His mother picks up a fork.

“Very nice to know that you’re treating me like a piece of property instead of your son.”

Juyeon pulls the napkin off his lap and stands.

“Oh, and uh... Don’t wait for a wedding invitation. You’re not getting one.”

“Juyeon!” His parents collectively exclaim in disdain, eyes widening as he struts towards the exit and out of the room.

“What? You auctioned me off! You no longer own me, right?!”

Juyeon huffs angrily, hands running through his hair and ruining his own efforts of waxing his hair. He enters the lift, multiple staff members looking at him stride into the metallic box, confused. His fingers search for his phone in the pocket of his blazer, the device buzzing non-stop from the headlines and messages and emails from broadcasting companies and companies he couldn’t give two shits about.

But when the lift doors open and he sees the Kim Jang Won standing right outside with the same suit and sunglasses he had previously seen her on TV with, his eyes widen with a mix of surprise and distaste.

“Well, if it isn’t Kim Jang Won... or might I say, my fiancé?”

“My dad couldn’t have done this on his own. I have a theory, and multiple plans to fix this mess of a shitshow, so I’m here to figure out if you wanna be in on it.”

Juyeon scoffs and shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping out of the lift and staring down straight at her. He attempts to search for her eyes through the chocolate-brown shade of her sunglasses, but fails.

A tiny smirk crawls unto her lips as she pulls it off, her bright, sparkling, manipulative eyes ignite some flame in Juyeon.

Because that’s just how smart and cunning Kim Jang Won is.

“I know you don’t give a shit, Lee Juyeon. About The Board, about the marriage, about Apple.”

He chuckles, teeth wiping his canine teeth as he pulls his shoulders back. “So you Googled me. Should I be impressed?”

Then his phone buzzes and he pulls it out in a bid to display some kind of disinterest.

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: The tulips are here! [photo]

He blinks, eyes travelling from the screen to the most powerful figure of his generation under The Board.

“If I could find this out from Google, I think you should revisit your privacy logistics,” Kim Jang Won squints one eye and raises her brow. “I’m not here to confuse you or piss you off, Lee Juyeon. I’m here with an offer, to save both our asses. I want HERA & ARTEMIS back but I cannot do it if I have no link to it.”

“What’s in it for me then? It’s not like you can buy me a degree in marine biology.”

“I can’t but you could have the freedom to do so. I’ll pay for you to start your own company. Whoever said you needed a degree to do what you wanted to do? In this world... all you need is money and a little bit of brain... but!” She points to him her sunglasses. “You don’t have to worry about either because I’ve got that covered. All I need you to do is get down on one knee -- willingly -- for the whole world to see... and I’ll give you your freedom.”

Juyeon sucks in a deep breath so hard that he wheezes and Kim Jang Won could not be any more satisfied with herself.

#juyeon #tbz #the boyz #the boyz juyeon #juyeon fanfic #juyeon scenario #juyeon scenarios #lee juyeon #lee juyeon scenario #lee juyeon fanfic #the boyz lee juyeon #tbz juyeon #love me a little less

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years

Text

Matters of Importance Part 5: The Halls of Healing

Series Masterlist

A/N: Updates take so long because it takes me forever to phrase statements for Yoda. I started watching Clone Wars and got a serious amount of inspiration and I’m going to run with it. Last part got a lot of attention, if you want to be added to a taglist for this one just send me an ask!

Warnings: I went dark with this. PTSD, Night Terrors, Mentions of Torture, Panic Attack

Summary: After Oosalon, you return to the Jedi Temple to heal. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon return, Obi-Wan at your side as you heal. Qui-Gon contemplates just what the connection between you and his apprentice entails, with Master Windu and Yoda.

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,312

You woke up in the Halls of Healing, a medical droid hovered over you. You squinted at the white light that illuminated the room. A thin sheet covered your body, you winced at your torso, the Bacta had healed the wounds, but you could see the scars that remained. Bacta could erase them forever, but the Order left scars behind, as a reminder.

“You are awake, that is good.” A voice stated at your side, you glanced over to see Master Yoda floating in his pod at your bedside.

“Master…” You started, but flinched when you tried to sit up.

“No need, for that. Heal, you must.” Yoda stated, tutting when you tried to push yourself up again. You sighed and laid back down. “Alert the others, I will.” Yoda murmured, floating to the door. He paused for a moment. “Send in, Kenobi, I will.”

The door slid open and your eyes met Obi-Wan’s as he bowed to the Jedi Master before closing the distance between you in a few strides. It had been a while since you last saw him, years of missions had kept you from seeing each other. He was taller and broader in his shoulders. His hair still short, his Padawan braid over his shoulder. He smiled in greeting, his blue eyes meeting yours.

He scanned the length of your body, you knew he had seen everything that had happened, but the heat still rose in your cheeks. His eyes returned to yours, “You’ve looked better.” He joked as he sat in the chair next to your bed.

“The same could be said for you.” You retorted with a smile on your face.

He reached out to you with the Force, I was worried. He murmured in your mind. “Master Yoda refused to let anyone but himself be with you.”

You hummed in response, while unconscious you had sensed the Master. His presence could not go unnoticed once he tethered himself to your mind. You had felt the darkness creeping through the cracks that had resulted from Guattako’s treatment. You had hidden inside your mind, making yourself as small as possible, but Master Yoda had reached you. Come back, you must. Finished, you are not. His voice had echoed, bringing you back from the area you had shrouded yourself. Shadows still lingered, but they were not suffocating the light inside. A small part of you worried about the Master wandering through your mind, what had he seen?

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Obi stated, drawing you from your thoughts.

You smiled at him. “It’s been a while since I saw you, almost forgot what you looked like.”

He chuckled, “Take it all in.” He threw his arms out and gave you a wink. He started spinning tales of his missions with Qui-Gon, all but Mandalore. You listened as the light from the windows faded form the sun to the lights of the city. Speeders raced by the windows, carrying their passengers to the latest Coruscant night life. The dull roar of the city calmed you. Your eyes started to feel heavy as Obi-Wan detailed the latest mission, he stopped when a yawn escaped your lips.

“I know, I’ve been sleeping for days, why do I need sleep.” You muttered.

“I wasn’t going to say that.” He retorted, looking slightly offended, before taking in the sight of you on the bed before him. “But I should leave you to sleep. You went through a lot.” Obi pushed himself up from the chair. “Good night.”

Thank you. You sent to him.

He turned back at the door. Anytime.

You closed your eyes when his form disappeared into the dark halls of the Temple. Drifting to sleep was easy, but being fully in your mind, was difficult. For a few hours you were in a dreamless sleep, then the dreams began.

Guattako’s voice entered first. “Saber.” He snarled, and a pale yellow light ignited as it got closer, the blade of your saber glowed red. You tried to retreat from the blade, but it advanced and was thrust into your torso. You felt the burn grow in your center.

A dark chuckle distracted you for a moment, Guattako’s mask floated before you. “Would you die for the Jedi Order?” The disembodied mask chanted.

Obi-Wan awoke to panic tightening his chest. He glanced around his quarters, hand reaching for the saber on his nightstand. Then he realized, the panic was coming from you. He pulled on a pair of pants and started running to the Halls of Healing, his bare footsteps echoing in the empty Temple. You’re safe. He urged through the connection, but he could feel it bounce back to him.

Energy crackled as he walked into the room, you were thrashing in the bed, lightning dancing on your fingertips. A medical droid was attempting to subdue you, but you pushed it across the room into the wall. It whirred as the light faded from its eyes. I’m here, it’s me. He stated tentatively, approaching your bed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he reached your bedside.

I’m here. He stated firmly, reaching out to you in the Force. He felt the panic rolling off you in waves, pushing him away from your mind. He glanced at the lightning that flashed in your hands, he steeled himself and sat on the bed, ignoring the pulsing energy and gripping your hands. He was surprised for a moment as the lightning felt like nothing against his skin. It’s me. He pressed into your mind and images began to flash through the connection. Guattako torturing you, your saber igniting then pressing into your flesh, the warlord’s mask taunting you. You are safe, he can’t hurt you. You’re in the Temple.

Fear still ebbed from you as a whimper fell from your lips. He felt you reach out to him, Obi?

He sighed in relief. I’m here, come back. He glanced down at you and your eyes opened and met his, before tears flooded them. For years, he would be haunted by the pure terror that stared at him that night. He pulled you into his chest as the tears began to flow. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He whispered into your hair as sobs echoed in the hall.

His eyes were drawn to the doorway where three forms watched the exchange, he kept his arms wrapped tightly around you and there was no missing the challenge in his eyes as he stared at them. His Master bowed his head in his direction before turning away, Windu and Yoda fell into step with him. The three Masters had locked themselves in conversation upon your awakening. Leaving the two apprentices alone in the Halls of Healing.

“Curious, the connection between the two.” Yoda murmured.

“I wonder if we made a mistake, separating them for training, for missions.” Windu responded, eyes focused on Qui-Gon.

“And what would have happened if we trained them together?” Qui-Gon asked. “What would they become together?”

“Valid, both points.” Yoda stated, glancing between the two Masters before him. He first turned to Qui-Gon. “Delay, your missions, we shall. Train together, they must.”

Windu’s eyes widened slightly. “And if their power is too great?”

Yoda’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “A problem, I think it will not be. Light, I sense in them. Together, the light grows.”

After one more day in the Halls of Healing, the medical droid allowed for your release. Obi-Wan appeared the moment the announcement was made. He walked you to your quarters, you deposited your things and turned to him.

“Thank you, for the company.” You said, a small smile on your face.

He returned the smile. “How about a walk? You’ve been stuck in the Hall of Healing so long, some time out of a room might do you good.”

You nodded silence fell between you as you walked in step with Obi as he lead you through the halls to the Temple Rock Garden.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it back. The pain.” You murmured to Obi as you entered the Garden. Padawans littered the area, lifting rocks as their Masters corrected their form. A small green being held out their hand and floated another stone to a pile that was at least six times their height. You sat at one of the benches before the Reflection Pool, you glanced down at yourself in the smooth water. To most, you looked the same as you always had, but your eyes were weary, tired, and you could see the fear that you tried to bury deep inside yourself mirrored back to you.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He answered as he helped you to sit on one of the benches. “You can’t always control what the connection sends. Or what we might see through it.”

You chuckled, “We are entitled to our secrets though.”

Obi returned the laugh. “I suppose that was just a moment of youthful ignorance.”

“Youthful ignorance, are you now a wise adult at twenty-three?”

He glanced at you for a moment. “I hope, wiser than I was at seventeen.” He stated as a grin spread across his face.

“I think Master Qui-Gon would echo that sentiment.”

Obi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was a handful. Especially on Mandalore.” He glanced down at his hands and sighed. “I think, with this connection, secrets are dangerous, especially when connected to emotion.” He paused and looked over to you.

You considered his words for a moment, guilt still heavy on your heart. “Emotion does pass through, and pain.”

Obi reached over and took your hand in his. “I do not blame you for what I felt. Had I the power, I would have taken it all from you. I saw what happened, a viewer of both what was happening to you and your thoughts. You don’t need to apologize for that. ”

You squeezed his hand.

He sighed, glancing at your entwined hands. “I want to tell you about what happened on Mandalore.”

Your eyes flicked to his face. “Obi, you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to tell you.” He replied earnestly, he paused for a moment, to give you a final chance to say something, then he began the story. “We were sent to protect the Duchess, Satine Kryze. Groups had amassed to overthrow her rule, as a pacifist, she threatened the history of the planet. They sent bounty hunters after us and we had to go into hiding. Satine is a strong woman, I think you both would get along.” He smiled. “Probably too well, it would be a danger to my existence if the two of you were in the same sector, let alone planet. The year on the run and getting to know her, I realized that I was glad of the duty to protect her. I would give my life to save her, because I love her.”

His grip on your hand tightened for a moment, his brow was furrowed as he framed his next statements. “We’ve been in the Jedi Order since we were children. I remember the lectures about attachments and how they lead to the dark side. And then you came along, this connection, and we were trained to maintain this connection to each other. This attachment did not lead to the dark side. Then, I met her, and what I feel, felt, for her, I only felt the light side of the Force.” He took a deep breath. “I tried to stifle the connection between us, because I was afraid that if you knew my feelings for her…. I don’t know what I was afraid of. Losing you, losing her, losing my place here. I wasn’t thinking.”

You chewed on your lip. “I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know,” He smiled, you could see the sadness in his eyes. “I decided when Satine was returned to the throne, that I would continue on my path to becoming a Jedi. So Master and I left Mandalore.”

You took in the sight of the young man beside you. There was turmoil brewing in the Force as the connection pulled his emotions to the surface between you. You still love her. You observed.

He sighed. I do, I think I always will. He tilted his head back to glance up at the sky.

I wouldn’t have said anything if you had stayed with her. You watched as he returned his gaze to yours, his eyes softened.

Thank you.

You were drawn from your conversation by Master Windu and Qui-Gon approaching you. You both dropped the other’s hand quickly and turned to your Masters. Windu stared at your face for a moment. Qui-Gon glanced between both of you, his eyes squinted.

“Master Yoda believes that it would benefit you to train together for a few months.” Windu stated, breaking the awkward silence that had developed between the four of you.

Your eyes widened. “What about the missions?” You asked, Obi’s eyes were on you.

“Missions can wait a few months.” Qui-Gon stated, eyes fixed on his apprentice. “We start your training tomorrow.” Qui-Gon tilted his head and then turned on his heel. Obi-Wan stood and followed his Master, he glanced back.

See you tomorrow.

Silence hung in the air as your Master sat in Obi’s abandoned space. He stared into the pool. “You don’t have your saber.” He stated simply.

You reached at your hip and realized he was right, you had left it in your quarters. “I forgot.” I mumbled.

Master Windu’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never forgotten your saber.” He stated simply.

“There’s a first time for everything.” You tried to state nonchalantly.

And that was the first time, but not the last. You had spent a week in the Temple, your saber had remained in your quarters. It wasn’t uncommon for a Jedi to roam the Temple without their saber on their hip, but it was far from the normal practice, particularly for a Palawan who was to prove themselves to the Council. You continued to be drawn back to the Garden, there was peace being surrounded by the small oasis the Jedi had created. The grass a far cry from the rocks of Oosalon. You were still waking to nightmares of Guattako standing over you, sometimes you joined him, others your saber connected with your body, dealing the final blow. Obi-Wan appeared each night when you woke in a cold sweat. After a particularly grueling night of terrors, you wandered into the garden before the sun rose in Coruscant. The lights of the city almost illuminated the planet, but they lacked the comforting warmth of the sun’s rays.

You rubbed your eyes and sat next to the pond, watching the assorted aquatic creatures mill about under the water’s surface. Your mind was momentarily distracted as you wondered at the multitude of species living in harmony. Perhaps a Jedi Mind Trick kept the creatures from killing each other. Perhaps they had become attuned with the Force after living inside the Temple for so long. You were pulled from your musings by the sound of a soft footfall. You glanced up to see Master Windu approaching, there were dark circles under his eyes. You worried you were causing them, while Obi-Wan was always present to pull you from the terrors gripping you in sleep, there was always another form that hovered in your doorway. He approached and sat next to you on the bench.

Master Windu pulled your saber from under his robes. You hesitated when you reached for it. Windu’s gaze softened for a second, “It is not the saber, but the wielder who is to blame for the actions.”

You nodded and slowly took your saber from his hands. You felt a wash of cold spread through you, you shivered and clipped the hilt to your belt.

“Perhaps some time in the Spire would help.” Windu offered, then turned to gaze into the pool.

In that moment you realized the Spire was not a suggestion. You stood and began to walk to the Spire, you rode the lift up, mind wandering to what Obi-Wan had told you. Love was a foreign concept to you, well romantic love. In your trainings you were taught of compassion, a kind of love. As a Jedi, you believed that all life was important and to be respected. A Jedi was to care for every being in the galaxy, and dedicate themselves to helping to create a better life for all. Romantic love, that was forbidden, it lead to feelings of possession. When love was mingled with possession, it took away free will. But what you had sensed from Obi did not feel like the Masters had described. Obi had radiated love for the Duchess, love that yes, he would have laid down his life for, but also a love that he left, because that was what was best for more. A greater good.

You were alone in one of the many meditation chambers of the Tranquility Spire, your lightsaber at your hip. It had been a comfort, feeling the weight of the weapon, but now you felt unsteady as the hilt bounced with your steps. The weapon that denoted your title of Jedi, a piece of the most honored history, felt like a black mark on your existence.

You sighed and sat on the floor, crossing your legs into a lotus position. You detached the hilt from your belt and set it on the ground in front of you. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift into the Force, you reached your hand out to lock your signature onto your saber. For years, it had responded readily to your needs, but now, it fought against you, reluctant to respond to your will. You grunted in frustration and pushed more of your power toward the weapon, you heard a crack and opened your eyes, your saber floated around you in parts. You eyes were torn away from the mechanical parts to the Kyber crystal, pale yellow light glowing in the center of the room. You pulled it closer and felt a thrumming energy, you reached out and touched the floating crystal.

Do you see it? The clouding? A voice whispered in your mind, you recognized that voice. It was from the cave all those years ago. Do you feel the darkness?

You tentatively reached out to it, feeling the cold you had felt when you were young. Who are you?

A chuckle filled your mind. In due time, you will know who I am.

You growled, taking a closer look at the crystal. It was clouded, like a shadow had emerged from the depths. Kyber crystals were naturally attuned to the light side of the Force. You knew little about how Sith wielded them You pushed into the crystal’s Force, searching for the darkness. You hooked it and began to pull it, you continued pulling at the darkness until a shadow formed next to your crystal, which glowed brighter than before. You encased the shadow in your Force energy and brought it close for inspection. You were curious, had Guattako’s use of your blade tainted the crystal? What had caused the darkness?

You closed the energy around the shadows and they dissipated. Your saber still floated in separate parts, you closed your eyes and began reconstructing your saber. You opened your eyes and the reconstructed hilt floated before you. You reached out and wrapped your hand around it. The voice did not reappear, and your blade thrummed with familiar energy. You pressed down with your thumb and the pale yellow blade ignited. You smiled, feeling the peaceful energy you were used to with your saber.

#obi wan kenobi x jedi!reader #obi wan kenobi reader insert #obi wan kenobi/reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #matters of importance

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huntertales · 3 years

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Part One: Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder. (Rock And A Hard Place S09E08)

Episode Summary: Sheriff Jody Mills enlists the help of Y/N and the Winchesters to help investigate multiple kidnappings that belonged to the same chastity group. The three decide to infiltrate the group for themselves. But things go wrong when Y/N and Dean disappear. Sam and Jody must rescue them before it’s too late. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,223.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

NOTE: Yes, this is a repost. I edited a few things around because I didn’t like it when I read it over. Took me a few days to actually get around to doing such thing. Sorry about that, but please enjoy!

Dean wasn’t sure if he should be concerned at the state he found you in when he walked into the kitchen this morning, or take a picture to tease you about this later. It seemed you were in the process of eating breakfast before you somehow fell asleep at the table, your head cradled in your arms as you quietly snored, notifying Dean that you were in a deep sleep. You hadn’t taken a hunt in the past couple of days since coming back from New York, giving you and the boys a chance to catch up on some sleep between looking for jobs and trying to figure out how to fix the mess Metatron made. While you helped when you could, your sleep hadn’t been disturbed all that much. Dean thought this might have been the first time since you started hunting you’ve gotten a healthy amount of sleep.

He could tell because you slept like the dead last night. Dean had to lovingly, but quite forcefully, push you off his chest so he could get a jump start on the day. Normally it was you who slipped out of bed first and Dean eventually got himself up. Instead you rolled over to your side of the bed and slept for another twenty minutes before you got up. You seemed your usual self when you woke up this morning, eyes half-shut and grumpy, signaling to him you forced yourself up against your own will. On mornings like this Dean learned to wait until your first cup of caffeine to speak a word to you. It seemed you had just done that from how the pot was still hot and plenty full for everyone else. But for some reason, you were still exhausted and in need of a little cat nap.

“Sweetheart?” Dean quietly spoke out to you, making sure to keep his voice at a soft enough level so he didn’t disturb you from your slumber. Normally you were a light sleeper on a good day. He made his way over to the table and leaned over to see your peacefully sleeping face. You were out cold. His lips twitched into a small smile at how adorable you looked. Dean knew he was going to get it from what he did next, but to hell with the consequences. He never got the chance to prank you like he did with Sam.

Dean made his way over to the table with a bowl in hand and a little too roughly dropped it down, causing you to wake up abruptly and with a rush of panic. The man snickered to himself behind his coffee cup as he watched you frantically look around the kitchen wondering where the noise came from. When you realized who was to blame for your rude awakening, there was a few second delayed reaction before you rolled your eyes.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Dean greeted you, smiling from the way you tried to fix your disheveled hair and smooth down your wrinkled top. “Did I disturb you?’

“What? No.” You mumbled. You rubbed your eyes like a tired child and forced yourself to keep a yawn from escaping your mouth. Sam happened to come into the kitchen right as you dropped your arms into your lap. The younger Winchester gave you a slightly confused reaction at your groggy demeanour. Your face scrunched up in annoyance from his lingering stare. “What are you looking at, Sasquatch?”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Sam asked you out of concern, wondering if a bad nightmare kept you up most of the hours. None of you were strangers to restless nights due to a wandering mind that went to dark places you traveled to. Your entire life was a living nightmare, your past troubles liked to come and haunt you when you tried to sleep. But it seemed that wasn’t the case for you.

“On the contrary, she slept like a drunk baby. I had to pry her off me this morning.” Dean answered his brother’s question for you on his behalf. “And I caught her napping on the table.”

“Before either one of you waste your breath, I’m fine. It’s just…I’m fine.” You reassured the younger Winchester before he could bombard you with his typical worried expression and a follow up question. Despite your lack of a proper answer to explain your exhaustion, you didn’t want them to worry. They liked to over exaggerate things when it came to you. It's always been that way. Lately you didn’t want them looming over your shoulder, asking you every few minutes if you were feeling okay. Before either one of the brothers could drag out this conservation farther, you quickly changed the subject. “How’s Kevin? Has he found anything yet?”

“Jack. He’s on about four days of no sleep.” Dean said. He grabbed the box of cereal and poured himself a bowl while Sam joined the both of you at the table after fixing himself a cup of coffee. “He looks worse than you.”

“Dean, please. You know Sammy doesn’t like it when you flirt with me out in the open like this.” You replied with a sarcastic remark with a little hope the boys might think you were in decent shape after all if you were able to keep up with the petty banter. Despite how you looked. Somehow you thought you might feel worse. “What about Crowley? Do you think he might be lying about the whole ‘Metatron spell being irreversible’ thing?”

“Crowley lie?” Dean pretended to sound shock at such a possibility, causing Sam to scoff between sips of his coffee. While the situation was grim, there was a small silver lining that you might be able to use to your advantage over the demon. “I do know one thing. Next time that junkie’s jonesing for a hit of blood, we got leverage.” You were about to agree with the plan, knowing it was better than anything you had, but the words failed to come out of your mouth. Instead a rather loud yawn escaped first. “Seriously, you want a pillow?”

You rolled your eyes from your boyfriend’s concern hidden behind his behavior. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look so good, Y/N.” Sam shared his concern along with his brother’s. He’d been silent for most of the conversation since settling beside you. It didn’t take much observations to see you weren’t looking that great as of lately. He was starting to grow uneasy with the possibility that there might be something wrong with you. Something deeper than you realized. “Do you feel like you’re getting sick?”

“I’m not sick. I just—I feel like my battery can’t recharge.” You admitted to them, trying to explain how you felt to the best of your ability to them. “I don’t know. It’s probably just stress or something.”

You reached for your bowl of soggy cereal when the room fell into a moment of silence. The brothers glanced over at one another from hearing how you felt. A string of unspoken words were said between them as they processed what you explained about your current situation. You were being held together from the inside out with duct tape and angel grace. Things weren’t moving quick or as efficient as they wanted. Despite wanting to talk about it, Ezekiel remained silent on a possible reassuring update, choosing to stay silent.

You scooped up a spoonful of flakes and stretched out your head to take a bite, only stopping at the sound of a cell phone going off. Dean reached a hand inside his pocket to pull out his phone after realizing it was his own and answered the call. The person on the other line was a familiar one to the boys, you however gave the older Winchester a slightly confused expression at hearing the name he greeted.

”Who’s Sheriff Mills?” You whispered to Sam, wondering why the name sounded a bit familiar, just not enough for you to put a face to a name.

“Jody Mills? The sheriff up in Sioux Falls? We worked on a case with her years back with all the dead people rising in town?” Sam tried refreshing your memory. You thought about it for a second before shaking your head, coming up blank. He tried to resist the urge to pass his brother a look of disbelief as he continued on to try and jog your memory. “She went on a blind date with Crowley and nearly died.”

“Oh.

Jody.” You finally figured out who was on the other line, your fingers snapping at your eureka moment before the call could be put on speaker for all of you to talk to the woman to see what she was calling about.

“Uh…I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction.” Jody said. You leaned forward to listen to the call better as you placed your elbow on the table to cradle your head. For a second you swore you heard a faint sound of something crashing in the distance. “A small town I cover outside of Sioux Falls—only crime to speak of being the occasional cow tipping. Then last week, four people go missing.”

“All right, so, what makes you think this is our kind of weird?” Dean asked the woman.

“I’ve got a witness who says he saw someone lift an S.U.V. to nab a girl last night.” She told you the key detail that made her think of the boys and call them for some extra help.

“Huh.” You glanced over at the boys with a rather intrigued expression as the possibility of another case for you to dig a little bit deeper into to see if it might be a hunt. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s definitely our kind of weird.”

+ + +

You and the boys packed up your things and made the drive up to South Dakota to visit the sheriff. You figured it wouldn't hurt to keep yourselves busy while Kevin worked himself to the bone with the tablet. All of you decided to meet at the latest crime scene and go from there while you caught up on details. You were happy to be out of the bunker and moving around. You hoped going back on another hunt might give you a second wind. There was nothing better than a couple of missing people to get the adrenaline pumping. You just wished you knew what was making you so damn tired. You bit back another yawn when the Impala pulled into the parking lot of some diner.

You were the last one to get out when Dean parked the car next to the sheriff’s truck, still moving a bit slower than you intended. The boys greeted Jody with wide smiles and tight hugs after seeing her again. You slammed the backseat door shut and smoothed out your outfit before approaching the woman, giving her a friendly smile. However it seemed she wasn’t expecting to see you. Your smile faltered slightly at the confused and startled expression that crossed her face. It seemed the boys failed to mention about your resurrection from the dead when they called to see how she was after everything that went down earlier this year with her blind date with the King of Hell.

“What’s wrong, Jody? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dean joked with the woman, finding her reaction at seeing someone who thought was dead was rather funny. She turned her head to look over at the man, demanding an explanation. “Yeah. We felt the same way when I saw her again. It’s a long, messy story.”

“I’m

a ghost. Or a zombie.” You reassured the woman before she could try and process how you were somehow alive. “It really is a messy story. Short version of it all: not really dead, just lost my memory and thought I was someone else for two years.”

“It never is easy with you boys, huh?” Jody felt the need to ask. You could hear the humor in her voice at the trouble that seemed to follow them. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you again, Y/N. Glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.” You agreed with the woman, smiling at how her personality peeked through her words. From what you remembered about the woman all those years ago when Bobby was still alive, you liked her. And the things the boys mentioned about her during the drive here made you think she was going to be a good friend to have on your side. “Luckily, I’m back and ready to hunt down whatever is kidnapping these people.”

“That’s the spirit. So, car was right over there, ass over teakettle.” Jody gestured over to the other side of the parking lot where the abduction took place, all that remained was the broken glass from the car that was currently being swept up by a maintenance worker. “Now, normally, if somebody would tell me that one guy lifted an S.U.V, I’d tell him to take a flying leap, but after what I’ve seen and now heard…”

“Nothing’s impossible.” You said. You opened up the case file to one of the missing people and skimmed through the information, wondering if there might be something important here to make note of while the boys went through the others. "How does this match up with other missing people?”

“Well, four abductions, strong evidence left at every scene—literally.” Jody said.

“So, the first vic was a pastor?” Sam asked, wondering if there was another more solid connection to the rest of the victims.

“Yeah. Door of his study was punched in. And the next two—an engaged couple.” Jody explained the case in better detail. You looked down at the case file Dean laid open on the trunk of the Impala and the black and white photograph attached. All of the victims appeared to be the small town folk who were innocent at first glance. Someone went out of their way to snatch them up.

“Locked bedroom window was ripped open.” Dean noted the similarly strange and destructive pattern between each kidnapping.

‘And then we have our waitress here with the topsy-turvy ride.” Jody added.

“Any other connection among them?” Sam wondered.

“Yeah. They were all members of Good Faith church here.” Jody said. You narrowed your eyes slightly while you thought of the possibility of what might be might be to blame for this if there was a religious connection to all of this. You and the boys dealt with something like this a little similar earlier in the year. “My church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it.”

Dean hummed his response at hearing the sheriff and her new found spiritual faith. You tossed him a dirty look at his reaction to the woman’s faith to God. She had every right to believe in whatever she wanted, even if you didn’t feel the same way. Jody seemed to have picked up on the same feelings you had when she asked him what that was all about. “I didn’t peg you for churchy.”

“Yeah. You know…choking on the ladies’ room floor ‘cause of witchcraft kind of makes a higher power seem relevant.” Jody gave the man a truthful response to her sudden urge to join a church. You offered a weak smile when you saw her eyes direct over to you. “And seeing someone you were told was dead doesn’t help, either.”

“Jody, are you sure you’re ready to jump back into the fray?” Dean asked the woman in a concerned tone of voice, knowing all the things she witnessed last year and the passing of Bobby didn’t help the woman. But it seemed he underestimated her.

“This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I’ll be.” Jody gave an honest response to the man’s question. She was a sheriff, after all. If she wanted to protect her town from creatures that went bump in the night, she was going to have some practice in order to do that. You had a feeling from what Jody witnessed over the years, it was going to take a lot to scare the woman to the core.

“Okay, so, we have missing church folk and super strength.” Sam summarized what all of you knew at the moment so far about the case. He decided to take a shot in the dark, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to throw his theory out there. “Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be a Buddy Boyle type thing.”

“Wh—angels?” Jody repeated the creature the younger Winchester spoke out in the open like it was nothing. She looked at all of you with disbelief at how casual you were being. “You’re joking.”

“Don’t get your pants on fire.” Dean said, stopping the woman from becoming thrilled at hearing about creatures she thought only existed in the bible. “They suck.”

“You said there was a witness.” Sam said, circling back to what Jody mentioned earlier.

“Yeah, well…” Jody shrugged at the person who was waiting for you to talk to them. She didn’t seem too set on the idea they were going to be any help to you. “More or less.”

You and the boys decided to get a booth inside the restaurant while Jody rounded up the witness so you could speak to them. You sipped the coffee you ordered out of politeness and patiently waited. A few minutes later Jody arrived with your witness, a homeless man who most likely camped out near the place from the looks of him. You offered a friendly smile when the man's eyes scanned across the table to see what this was all about. Jody pulled up a chair while she ushered the man to take the seat in the booth next to you when you slid over to be close to the window. He set his coffee cup down to the table, seeming comfortable enough to give his side of the story.

“Okay, Slim.” Jody said. “My friends here want to talk to you about the missing girl.”

“Honor. Her name was Honor.” The man started off by giving the missing girl’s name, indicating that he knew her on some personal level. And it seemed he remembered her from the kind behavior given to someone like him. “Nice girl. Always left me meatloafs.”

“Slim, why don’t you tell us what you saw that night?’ Sam asked the man, hoping to get to the reason why he was here in the first place.

“I heard a big noise, got woke, and there’s somebody over there lifting a car up—like this.” Slim demonstrated what he witnessed last night, lifting up his arms the way he saw the stranger did to the car, as if the several ton machine weighed nothing.

“And did you happen to see who it was?” You asked him another question.

“I was too far. But I saw a light go off.” Slim made sure to add a small detail he thought was important enough to mention. Sam guessed it was a white light, “Blue. Blue like fire. But not. Then she was—she wasn’t there.”

“Could you think of anything else?” Dean hoped for a little bit more from the man, but Slim shook his head before he looked down to his cup of coffee. He was helpful enough for you and the boys at figuring out what you might be tracking. Dean pulled out a small wad of cash from his pocket and handed over a twenty dollar bill to Slim, hoping to give him a hot meal for his help. “Well Slim, thank you for your time.”

Slim happily pocketed the money and went on his way with the cup of coffee he came over with. You let out a quiet sigh from trying to figure out the proper direction you should be going to figure all of this out. While you didn’t have much at the moment, Slim’s description of the kidnapping might have been something for you and the boys to go off on.

“Okay. So, no white light. No angel.” Sam said, feeling confident enough to cross the creature off the list at the endless other monsters to blame.

“Has anybody talked to the victims’ families?’ Dean asked the sheriff.

“It’s next on my list.” Jody answered.

“Okay, and you said that they were all part of the same church?” Dean’s question was replied with a nod of the head from Jody. This connection, strong or weak as it might be, was the only one you had going for you as a possible hunting ground of where this monster was picking their victims. It was better than anything. Your lips stretched into a frown when Dean looked over at you. “Ready to get your worship on?”

+ + +

You and the boys decided to change out your clothes meant for posing as federal agents in favor of something more casual. The church all four of your victims seemed the usual run of the mill place of worship. You pretended to play along as the new people in town interested in joining to get a better understanding of how things worked. The woman who helped give you a tour of the place was a little too friendly and squeaky clean for your liking. She smiled in delight when you and Dean introduced yourselves as a happy couple "engaged to be engaged" with his little brother tagging along.

You roamed around the church hand in hand with Dean while Bonnie, your overly peppy tour guide, told you all the things Good Faith church offered to its members and the public. Usual things like Sunday school and charities for the homeless. You decided to have a little fun and play into the whole loving couple when Bonnie mentioned the church was perfect for weddings as well. You smiled at her when she occasionally turned to see you and Dean whispering to each other, acting like a couple of crazy kids in love with a religious ceremony in mind. It wasn't that far off from the truth. You did love Dean, and while you wanted to marry him someday, a church would be the last place you'd choose to do it.

After the tour was complete, the four of you made your way to Bonnie's office where she took a seat at her desk before gesturing for the rest of you to follow with the few chairs she had available. Sam missed out when his brother swiftly snatched the chair next to yours, causing Dean to smirk in victory while the younger man awkwardly looked around to find another seat and pulled it up next to the desk.

"We hope you enjoyed the tour." Bonnie said, the smile she greeted you with felt as if it never left her face. It was starting to make your cheeks hurt at the welcoming disposition she carried on. "Any questions before we get you all registered?"

"Yeah. Uh, look," You pretended to be apprehensive from the subject you were about to approach after she had been so kind to you. "Ms. Futchko—"

"Oh, please, dear." Bonnie quietly laughed at the formalities and corrected to you something more casual, wanting to treat this situation like you were among friends. "Bonnie will do just fine."

"We love the church. We do." You cushioned the strange questions you were about to ask her, deciding to pretend and act as if you were a concerned citizen wondering what you might be getting yourself into. "But...well, we've heard that a few members have gone missing. And while my boyfriend likes to think he's Superman," You flashed a quick smile as you reached out to squeeze Dean's hand before letting it rest there to continue milking the little performance on sharing your fake concerns. "We’ve been talking in private about it. And to be honest…that kind of scares us.”

"Let me assure you, with our increased security, Good Faith has never been safer." Bonnie told you, placing a hand to her chest to try and give all of you a better peace of mind. It seemed she was worried about her fellow churchgoer, just in the way a little too religious person thought was the best form of action. Leaving it up all to the chance God would intervene and save the day. "And those people who have gone missing, well, they are front and center in our prayers."

"What a relief." Dean let out a breath at the reassuring sounding news, making Bonnie's smile return after it disappeared shortly from the change in conversation. "Now, you must have been close to them."

"Well, we do share the A.P.U. bond." Bonnie. Dean pretended to be intrigued at hearing such a thing when he asked more about it. "Our chastity group. ‘Abstinence Purifies Us.’”

You pretended to turn your head to another direction when you scratched your nose, the easiest way to sneak an eye roll of frustration at hearing the new connection to the victims. Out of anything, you should’ve seen the virginity angle coming from where you were.

"Wow." Sam laughed and smiled, faking interest about such a group. "You mind if we sit in on that, maybe see if it's for us?"

“I’m afraid it’s members only. I'm sorry, but it can get pretty personal." Bonnie apologized for the inconvenience after offering so many things for you to join, but it seemed this one was off limits for obvious reasons. You, never being the one to miss an opportunity, jumped to it before either one of the boys could back out.

“Then count us in.” You said, lightly smacking your thigh as you grinned.

"Well, I'll be a squirrel in a skirt." Bonnie softly laughed in delight at hearing your eager enthusiasm to join a group, intidicating to her that the three of you were good Christians. You mirrored her behavior as you smiled over at Dean when he squeezed your hand a little too roughly, wondering what the hell you got yourselves into. "I'll be back in a jiff with the papers."

Bonnie wasted no time jumping up from her seat and heading to another room across the way, allowing you to watch what she was doing. She opened up a filing cabinet and shuffled around some papers to find what she was looking for. Your attention fell back to Dean when you felt him softly smack your arm.

“A chastity group?” Dean asked you, wondering if this was really how you wanted to spend your afternoon. And why you needed to drag him into your plan. You knew he would love to do anything else than listen to a bunch of horny virgins go on about temptations and sins brought on by the world.

"It's not a bad idea." Sam seemed to have agreed with your plan of action, figuring out the same possible pattern you had. If you knew who was in the group, you might have a better chance at saving others from going missing. "If all the members were in A.P.U., then maybe whatever took them is stalking virgins."

"And that Slim guy said he thought he saw fire." Dean added another little detail that went together with the virginity part. Something you've dealt with before. "So, what are you guys thinking, dragons?"

You never got the chance to finish the conversation when you saw Bonnie return back with the forms in hand. You cleared your throat and went back to acting casual as if that’s what you had been doing the entire time she was gone during the short period of time. You forced yourself to smile again when she handed you over a clipboard with a piece of paper attached.

"You can just sign here, and your purification can begin." Bonnie instructed you, letting you glance down at the piece of paper. You read the title of the paper and slowly your expression fell as to what you were about to promise. Something you lost several years ago. You bit your bottom lip when Sam mentioned the pledge, only to be taken by someone who had never had intercourse before. "It's a commitment to your virginity."

"I don't think we can really un-ring that bell." Dean thought he was funny with the innocent sounding joke, deciding to humor himself. Bonnie, however, stared at the man with a blank expression. It hadn't dawned on her just yet why you couldn't sign right away. "You know what I mean?"

A moment of silence fell across the room as Dean's smile faded away when Bonnie continued to stare at the man with eyes too wide for his personal comfort. Slowly, the wheels in her head started turning, making her realize the sins you've committed. "Oh. I see." Bonnie's gaze quickly darted away from you and Dean specifically, as if she was trying to hide her disappointment. However, like the good Chrisitan that she was, the woman offered you a chance at redemption. "Well...if you just ask for God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then you'll be born again as a virgin in His eyes."

"So, you just hit the 'virginity do-over' button, and all is good with the man upstairs?" Dean's question meant to come off as sincere and curious, but he had a way of coming off a little igorent at times. Sometimes he didn't understand the kind of people he was dealing with and how to adapt.

"It's not a button." Bonnie corrected the man. Her tone of voice fell into a softer, and yet slightly colder one as she defended her personal views in a way to make him better understand. "And...this isn't just a piece of paper. I mean, this is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin until marriage. Isn't that something you want? To be pure for each other until your wedding night, the way God intended?”

You raised your brow slightly from the way Bonnie tried to guilt trip you for doing something thought of as a sin. Premarital sex was the least horrible thing someone could do. However, just to get yourself into this damn group, you decided to pretend and feel remorseful for a second. You looked over to Dean, the both of you nodding your head and shared matching smiles. "Well, you had me at 'clean slate.' Right, sweetheart?" Dean asked you, clicking his pen to be the first one to sign. "Let's do this."

You and the boys signed your names on the pledge and handed over the clipboards back to Bonnie's awaiting hands. She glanced down at the names you scribbled down and smiled in delight. "Congratulations Sam and Dean Winchester, and Y/N Y/L/N. You are all virgins."

You found yourself letting out a quiet laugh at hearing something you hadn't heard in a while. Sam faked his enthusiasm while Dean took it a smidge too far, grinning a little too wide and seeming excited at the news. At least making a show out of it for Bonnie. You knew one thing for certain: this was going to be one interesting afternoon.

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frostsoldier · 3 years

Text

A Certain Step

No warnings, just fluff except one line of Bucky's injury, but not detailed. Bucky x Reader Regency AU. 4,882 words.

A/N: This is a repost of something I wrote in 2017. Since then I lost most of my work, but was able to find this one and clean it up a bit. I also updated it to use fewer physical descriptions of the reader. Thanks @shreddedparchment for encouraging me to repost. Enjoy!

“Y/N! Y/N wake up, child! Captain and Mrs. Wentworth's ball is tonight and we must get ready! Don’t laze about!”

Y/N Y/L/N sat up in bed, ignoring the dizziness that came from moving too quickly. Her mother was right, she had overslept already and needed to prepare.

She pulled on her slip and, as she combed through her closet, thought about how she would like to present herself that evening. As the only daughter of a local gentleman – who earned enough in his mercantile ventures for his wife and child to live comfortably, but not enough for them to attend balls as regularly as their neighbors – she owned few dresses that would be presentable at a captain’s ball. Hiring a coach and horses, purchasing new dresses, and stocking up on ribbons – for who can forget ribbons – add up quickly.

Y/N was certainly considered beautiful, but without a large dowry she was in no danger of wicked men trying to snatch a fortune. She was lucky enough that, whomever she was to marry, her parents encouraged her to marry them for love, as they did.

She decided on a white muslin dress with her favorite lilac ribbon tied around the high, empire waistline. The muslin base was overlaid with a sheer covering with white stars she embroidered herself. She styled her hair up on her head, dotted it with wild forget-me-nots, and allowed some of the locks to escape and frame her face. Her mother came into her room, adjusted her hair to fall more evenly, and nodded in approval at her reflection.

"There. Aren't you lovely? Now, we have a little time before we must leave. Why don't you work on your bonnet you were trimming? Though, I think you and I both know you’re more likely to read that novel you keep going on about!"

"Yes, mother."

Y/N made her way to the parlor to read the latest novel she purchased in town. Her mother was right, she’d rather read than trim the hat she got stuck on three days ago and has refused to touch since.

Too soon it was time to go. She clambered into the small coach along with her mother and father with assistance from the coachman. As the wheels clattered down the dirt roads, her mother couldn't help but gush over the possibilities of the evening. Her father pretended to watch the countryside pass out the window, but Y/N knew he was listening to his wife's excitement. He had a small smile that he hid behind his hand while resting his elbow on the sill.

Her parents loved each other like no other couple she knew; the term wedded bliss seemed to be made for them. She was animated and cheerful, he was reserved and coy; together the two of them could be mischievous if they put their minds to it, which they often did.

She only hoped to have a love like theirs one day, but due to her small dowry she knew there was the possibility that she would marry a local, small-minded land owner who wouldn't encourage reading or dancing.

If there were three things in life she loved, it was reading, laughing, and dancing. No matter the tune or dance, she was a natural. The rises and falls of the music always moved her feet, whether it was a quadrille, a reel, or the slowly dying minuet, she loved all dance. Most young gentlemen that caught her eye were avid dancers.

The coach slowly pulled up to the hall as her family piled out. Her parents greeted the Wentworths, Mrs. Wentworth commenting on how lovely she looked this evening while Captain Wentworth and Mr. Y/L/N promising a drink together later.

As she walked through the doors the familiar feeling of awe and anticipation washed over her. The first dance was already starting on the wooden floors of the wide room. Chaperones were standing and sitting on the sides of the hall, some watching their charges more carefully than others. Men were flowing in and out of the card room, laughing and drinking along to the music. The musicians were in a balcony above the head of the room and several lines of dancers flowed down to the bottom. Young folks chatted and flirted at the ends of the sets while making sure they were ready to hop into the fray when the dance reached them. One young lady was so lost in observing her partner’s uniform that she started to balance when the rest of her set went to moulinet. She rushed to join back in, but the damage was done, and Y/N could see how embarrassed the young woman was.

Her mother came up next to her and entwined their arms as they walked through the room.

“There are many young people here tonight, especially with both the militia and Captain Wentworth’s men in town,” her mother said. “What do you think, has anyone caught your eye yet?”

“Mother! We’ve only just arrived!”

“You can’t blame me for asking, dear. You are my only child and I want nothing more for you than to be swept off your feet in a suitable match.”

“And what do you consider suitable for me, mother?”

“Well,” she started, glancing around the room at the gentlemen. “To start he must be handsome enough to tempt you, but kind and gentle. He must be well-read and – a definite requirement – he must enjoy dancing as you do.”

“I don’t know if anyone enjoys dancing as much as I do,” Y/N said, her mood faltering slightly.

“To be fond of dancing is a certain step toward falling in love, my dear," her mother confided in her. "Why, your father and I met in a ball just like this when I was your age and someday there will be a young gentleman who will love you just as much as he loves me. Who knows; maybe a suitor will make himself known tonight?"

She winked and turned back toward the room to view the ladies in their finery and the gentlemen viewing the ladies as well. Y/N laughed, shook her head, and returned to gazing about the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they spoke, two gentlemen entered the assembly. The first to enter was blond with sweeping shoulders and dressed in the scarlet regimentals of the militia. His black boots clicked against the floor as he strutted into the room.

Following him in, the second had long, chocolate hair tied low by his neck and a clean-shaved, sharp jaw. He was dressed in the blue regulations of the Navy and the white lapels of a Lieutenant. His shoulders and arms strained against the sleeves of his embroidered blue coat, which he wore unbuttoned with his white linen shirt and neckcloth showing through. His expansive legs were covered by breeches and stockings, his black leather boots polished as to reflect the lights of the chandeliers above.

“Captain Rogers! Lieutenant Barnes! So glad you both could make it, gentlemen,” Captain Wentworth exclaimed as he approached the two newcomers.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Captain Rogers, the blond gentleman, responded. He gave a short bow to his Naval counterpart.

“Lieutenant Barnes, it’s good to see you out and about again. How’s your arm treating you?”

“As well as it can be, considering,” the lieutenant said in a slightly gruff voice. “I’m just glad to still be here, sir.”

“No need to ‘sir’ me here, we’re not on the Sophie now!”

Lt. Barnes smiled, knowing his former captain will always be his leader, “Sorry, force of habit.”

“No matter,” Captain Wentworth shrugged and gestured to the room. “Please, enjoy yourselves! Anne planned this evening for all to enjoy themselves.”

Captain Rogers and Lt. Barnes made their way through the room, chatting and admiring the general splendor.

It was then that Lt. Barnes heard the most beautiful sound: a laugh rising above the music and chatter. He searched about himself, looking for the source.

He soon found her, her head shaking side to side and loose strands of her Y/H/C locks moving with the motion. Her perfect lips were still curved in the aftermath of her laughter.

As she raised her head to gaze around the room, her Y/E/C eyes caught his stormy blue ones. They stared at each other in shock and the room seemed to lose all sound for a moment until she remembered herself and averted her eyes with heat rising to her cheeks.

He turned back to his friend, who had been admiring a brunette with soft curls from a distance.

“Rogers, do you know who that woman is?” Lt. Barnes said, clasping his friend on the shoulder to bring his attention in the direction of the beautiful creature.

The captain forced his eyes from his prospective partner for the evening and followed his friend’s gaze. He saw the young lady and didn’t recognize her at first, but saw the older woman she was with and inferred her identity.

“Why, that’s Miss Y/N Y/L/N! I’ve known her longer than I’ve known you. We grew up down the lane from one another!”

‘Y/N…’ Lt. Barnes thought, ‘A lovely name for an even lovelier girl. She looks like a doll…’

He shook his head and asked Captain Rogers to describe her.

“Well, she’s accomplished. She can embroider anything, makes hats and pillows, plays the piano forte, not a strong singer, mind you.” He looked back at his friend, and knew exactly what answer he was looking for. “She’s smart and witty too; a bit shy, but when she dances, she really opens up and enjoys herself.”

Lt. Barnes nodded and turned away from Y/N, walking toward the other side of the room. Captain Rogers was left standing in place, wondering what he said to upset his companion.

In truth, he had said everything right. Lt. Barnes may grow to like that girl, maybe even love her if he dared to hope. Only if.

While he has had the opportunity of winning prizes in his Naval career, it hasn’t left him unscarred mentally or physically and it weighed on his mind in the ballroom.

He has killed hundreds of men in the heat of battle. Fathers, husbands, sons, all of them had families they would never return to all in the name of the king and to prevent the tyrant Bonaparte from taking England into his clutches. He knew that if he didn’t do it, someone else would have to, or more English men might have died. It weighed so heavily on his mind some days that sleep eluded him for fear of the nightmares.

No woman deserved to share her marriage bed with a man half in agony.

Physically he was healthy – years of working on a ship has made him strong – but a life on a man of war has its risks. One of the largest causes of injuries on a ship was the shrapnel: pieces of wood that splinter due to cannonballs flying through the ship’s side.

It was one such exchange of cannon fire that caused his injury Captain Wentworth inquired about. He was below deck, assisting a gun crew after a midshipman had been struck, when a cannonball passed just to his left through an already weakened portion of the hull. The shrapnel ripped through his coat and shirt altogether.

The result was a devastating injury to most of his left arm, which remained covered in scars from his wrist up to his shoulder. He remained self-conscious of them long after the wound had healed, and they still bothered him sometimes, especially when it rained.

No woman deserved to be on the arm of a man who couldn’t even stand that arm himself.

As he continued to circle the room, he noticed Y/N again, this time helping a poor young lady off the floor after she was knocked over by a clumsy boy running through the hall. Concern splayed across on her face and her kindness radiated enough to reach him in his dark moment. As the young lady thanked her and went back to her party, Y/N looked up and their eyes met again. He bowed his head and she gave the slightest of a curtsy, the limit of what interaction they could have without being properly introduced.

As she turned back to, who he assumed was her mother, he decided to try to be worthy of her kindness, at least as an acquaintance and even if his heart yearned for more.

He wove through the crowds back toward Captain Rogers. When he met with him, Lt. Barnes leaned close to his ear.

“My friend, would you please introduce me to Miss Y/L/N? I find that I’ve been caught in staring when I cannot look away and am afraid she may think poorly of me before she even knows my name.”

The captain gave a wide, toothy smile at his friend, who was already enthralled with Y/N again.

“Of course. Shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N first saw the young Naval officer when their eyes met after her mother’s cheeky remark. She observed that she was not the only young lady in the room who appreciated his appearance. He, however, didn’t seem to notice them as he appeared to be distracted in his own thoughts. She kept an eye on him to make sure he would be alright. She didn’t know why she felt a yearning to comfort him; it might have been the storms she saw in those eyes.

Suddenly there was a commotion next to her and a young woman was on the floor. She quickly reached down and offered a hand in assistance. After being assured the woman was alright, she turned her attention back to the crowd and found the Naval officer already looking at her. He nodded to her and she ducked a quick curtsy to him; unsure what compelled her to interact with him.

He returned to who she assumed to be his friend, a militia man whose back was to her. All she could see was his close-cut blond hair and his regimentals. The Naval officer said something and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She averted her gaze before seeing who he was talking to and turned back to her mother. Mr. Y/L/N had long left for the card room and Mrs. Y/L/N tried to tell Y/N about how she just saw Mr. and Mrs. Bertram and their daughter.

She forced herself to pay attention to the conversation at hand once more, though some piece of her remained with the bewitching officer.

Her mother was soon distracted from discussing Miss Bertram’s dress by a familiar face approaching them.

"Captain Rogers!" Her mother exclaimed, curtseying as he bowed. "Why, we haven't seen you since the regiment left for Meryton!"

"Well, Mrs. (Y/L/N), the regiment has returned, and at the height of the season too! Did you know that Mr. Knightly and his family arrived not five minutes ago, and we should be expecting Colonel Brandon’s family as well…”

Lt. Barnes and Y/N looked on in the conversation, occasionally glancing at the other when they thought they were not being observed. Finally, Lt. Barnes politely cleared his throat at his friend.

"Oh, my apologies!" Captain Rogers made a slight bow toward him. "Mrs. Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N, may I introduce Lieutenant James Barnes, my old school mate. Lt. Barnes, this is Mrs. Y/L/N, who was practically a second mother in my youth, and Miss Y/N Y/L/N just as much of a sister to me.”

The ladies curtsied and Lt. Barnes bowed to the women.

“It’s wonderful to meet both of you, though it is shameful that Captain Rogers here,” he said turning to his friend, “hadn’t told me about you before.” He glanced at Y/N at this remark, who lowered her eyes, but had a hint of a smile.

“I certainly have!” the captain said looking comically aghast. “Do not listen to him, Mrs. Y/L/N, I spoke often and fondly of your family while at school.”

“Not to worry, Captain Rogers, I will only cry a little at being forgotten,” Mrs. Y/L/N feigned dabbing at tears. “You had more important things to focus on, like getting into trouble at school, or so I’ve heard.”

“Me, never! A bit of mischief is all.”

“Come now, Captain,” Lt. Barnes said, “I had to get you out of more than one scuffle as I recall.”

“I was only 10! After you enlisted in the Navy, though I did have to rethink my opponents.”

“Who knows how you would have ended up if you hadn’t!” Lt. Barnes said, wagging his finger at his friend as if he was still a school boy. Y/N tried to stifle a laugh when she imagined the bickering the two got into as children. Lt. Barnes, however, heard the small noise and smiled at her.

“And what kinds of mischief did you incur as a little Miss Y/L/N?”

She scoffed slightly at the accusation, “I was nothing but well-behaved I’ll have you know, Lieutenant!”

“Oh, come now, my dear,” her mother interjected. “Why I remember one time you convinced the poor captain here that if he stared long enough at the bark of a tree in the center of town, he could see the outline of a grand ship!”

Y/N blanched, “Mother!”

Lt. Barnes let out a barking laugh which turned into harsh false coughs upon seeing his friend’s warning glare.

“Ahem, yes, well it seems we are all guilty of some infractions of propriety in our youth.” He leaned toward Y/N as if it were a great secret. “I once tricked the captain into thinking it was good luck if he caught up to a fleeing cat and gave it goat’s milk.”

Captain Rogers groaned at the memory.

“I ended up with hoof-shaped bruises, scratches on my hands, and tears in my new clothes. My mother was furious with me!”

Y/N could not suppress her laughter this time, and Lt. Barnes beamed at the sound.

The captain looked between the two, as did her mother. Both arched their brows and then glanced at each other. Captain Rogers cleared his throat and everyone turned to him.

“Well, if we’re done poking fun at my childhood,” he said, “I believe I saw Miss Carter earlier and I must greet her and her cousin. Mrs. Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N.”

As he departed, Lt. Barnes was left in the company of the women and a silence fell among them. Mrs. Y/L/N said that she believed she saw an old acquaintance too and would like to greet them, but didn’t say who it was. Y/N was about to offer to come with her, but Lt. Barnes interjected.

“Well, Mrs. Y/L/N, if you would not mind,” he said glancing at Y/N, “I would like to ask Miss Y/L/N if she is free for the next dance.”

Y/N, shocked into silence, didn’t say anything at first until her mother not-so-discreetly nudged her arm and she came to her senses.

“I’d be delighted, Lt. Barnes.”

He smiled and offered his hand to lead her to the line of couples preparing to dance.

With the first few notes he bowed and she dipped low in a curtsy, glancing up as she rose and noticing he was looking at her. He smiled as the dance began at the top of the set, where her attention shifted to a few couples away. Y/N watched with a keen eye and smiled as she recognized the figures.

"This is one of my favorites, Lt. Barnes," she said, trying to keep her poise as the dance progressed toward them.

"And why would that be, Miss Y/L/N? Is it the figure when the lady leads through, allowing your figure to appear even more to the greatest advantage? Or perhaps is it the proximity to your partner leading the line of four down the hall?"

She looked at him in amusement for such a speech, especially his barely hidden compliment of her figure. She decided then to risk impropriety and make such a compliment herself.

"No sir, I enjoy this dance as it allows one to test the talents of one's partner," she said, noticing the dance was about to approach them. She had to act fast. "But I must agree with you, sir, that it puts both parties of the couple in a fine light."

When the tune looped again, they reached for each other with their right hands and started to turn. She could feel his warm hand lightly gripping hers through his glove, the strength hidden by long fingers. All too quickly they had to let go, but turned back by the left hand.

As they turned, she looked into his eyes, the irises matching the stormy seas he has sailed for many years, though she didn’t know what troubled him.

"When did you first join the Navy, Lt. Barnes? Were you a small gunner boy running about the deck like a monkey?"

"I was a young gentleman, only about 12, but I learned quickly," he said, seeming to shake off his distraction and remember something funny as they crossed by each other.

"Something other than the dance amusing you Lieutenant?"

He smiled again, as he walked in front of him back to her side and he to his.

"No, I was just thinking of someone you remind me of from when I first joined."

They crossed again and met in the middle of a line, leading down the hall. As they advanced and retreated she gave him a playful glare out of the corner of her eye.

"No one too roguish I hope?"

"No, no, not at all. A most principled fellow, but imaginative," he said as they crossed up and met in their progressed place, starting the dance again.

"Imaginative? You think such of me, Lt. Barnes?"

"Well the second question you asked of me was if I ran about like a monkey! I'm sure you pictured a mop-haired young lad climbing where he shouldn't and getting into trouble!"

"Well knowing Captain Rogers, and knowing that you're friends with him, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if you had a similar penchant for mischief at that age."

She could swear that he smirked at her comment, but the dance required them to turn away from each other at the last second, so she couldn't be quite sure.

"No, actually, it was your dear friend who caused the most mischief. I came to his rescue many times."

Y/N giggled and Lt. Barnes thought it was the sweetest sound he has ever heard.

"Now that I don't doubt at all. He once managed to get one of my family's poor chickens stuck in a tree. It took hours to coax it down. Clearly from your story earlier, he has a way with animals."

He laughed heartily, earning a few glances from the couples around them and making him duck his head bashfully as they casted to place.

Y/N smiled at the now easy-going man and the dance continued for the better part of 15 minutes. They discussed more about his career and found they had a common enjoyment of novels.

As the tune ended, they both honored each other again and prepared for the next piece of their set, which turned out to be his favorite, The Physical Snob. As this particular dance didn't allow for easy conversation due to the fast movements, he instead enjoyed how energetic Y/N was with her dancing and watched her skip around with the other ladies.

They continued to talk at the bottom of the set while waiting to rejoin. After the tune ended, they gave their bow and curtsy and would have continued together, however propriety required that the other be shared among the eligible dancers in the room.

He attempted to come back to Y/N for another two dances later in the evening, however she was already requested by Captain Rogers, who gave his friend an apologetic look before starting to lead the young woman to the sets.

Lt. Barnes leaned down close to her ear before she followed and in a whisper asked if she would be so kind as to save the next two for him. She blushed and with a coy smile said that she would.

The evening ended with the Boulanger, danced into the early hours of the morning with the sun rising above the grove. As the guests started lining up to bid their hosts goodnight, Lt. Barnes and Captain Rogers stood beside Y/N, her mother, and her father once more.

"My dear Captain Rogers," Mrs. Y/L/N started, "we will have to have you for a family dinner, at least three courses!"

The Captain bowed to her, stating that he would be honored to join the Y/L/N family for dinner, while his friend’s gaze caught Y/N's out of the corner of his eye and she saw that barely hidden smirk again.

As her mother and father gushed over the ball with the Wentworths, Captain Rogers made himself scarce as to allow his two friends time to bid their farewells for the evening, knowing there was a spark of something in their meeting.

"I hope your family has a safe trip home, Miss Y/L/N."

"Thank you, and you're staying with Captain Rogers, are you not? I hope you both arrive swiftly and safely as well, though he does only live a short trip away. Not that something couldn’t happen in such a short time, but it’s not likely, is it? Oh, I don’t mean to tempt fate by saying it’s unlikely…"

He grinned at her rambling and could tell she would have continued if the Wentworths hadn't rescued her with the expectation to say goodnight.

As the family and friends made their way outside, Mrs. Y/L/N and Captain Rogers hung back a bit and made tentative plans for a dinner, their hushed voices would have hinted at some conspiracy if Y/N had noticed.

Lt. Barnes bid the Y/L/Ns goodnight and offered his hand to assist Y/N into their coach. She gladly accepted and they both felt that same connection as when they first danced earlier that evening.

"Goodnight, Miss Y/L/N."

"Goodnight, Lt. Barnes."

Their eyes stayed connected as the door closed and the coach started to ramble down the path. He continued to stare after the coach until it was out of view before sighing and turning back. His friend stood there, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"It seems you are quite smitten with her, Lieutenant."

Lt. Barnes straightened his back and looked his friend in the eye, but then blushed and his bravado was all but gone.

"When do you think I can see her again?"

Captain Rogers laughed and put an arm around his friend, telling him in a soft voice what the sneaky captain and Mrs. Y/L/N discussed. Lt. Barnes's eyes bulged with the information and finally he chuckled and looked back to where her coach had disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N finally turned back to facing forward in the coach, sighing silently over the loss of Lt. Barnes's company. Her mother noticed this and a flash of a smirk went across her face before she composed herself.

"Well that was a lovely evening, wasn't it, Mr. Y/L/N?"

"Yes," he said, "excellent games of cards, good food and drink, better company, a brilliant evening indeed."

Her mother took this opportunity to catch Y/N's eye.

"Well, my child, what did you think of the ball and its company?" she said arching a brow.

Y/N felt heat in her cheeks again, but controlled her smile.

"Yes, mother, it was a wonderful ball. I will have to write Mrs. Wentworth first thing in the morning to thank her for the invitation."

"And it was so nice seeing Captain Rogers again, and all grown up and in the militia now! Oh, and what was his friend's name... It's on the tip of my tongue..."

Y/N knew what her mother was doing, but decided to play along.

"Lt. Barnes."

"Yes! That was it. A pleasant enough fellow, and quite handsome too. You danced with him, did you not, Y/N? Twice if I remember correctly."

"Yes, mother."

"How was his company during those dances?" Her mother's eye sparkled with mischief as her daughter averted her eyes.

"Like you said, he was quite pleasant. I would not mind seeing him again."

"That's good to hear child, because he and Captain Rogers are joining us later this week for dinner. The captain and I have already set it up, and goodness knows how late that could run. It'd be a shame if they might just have to stay for the evening and enjoy a walk around the gardens the next morning."

Y/N, shocked by the revelation and her mother's audacious planning, could not speak for a moment, but moved her mouth in an attempt. She finally schooled her features and smiled knowingly.

"Yes mother, that would be quite dreadful, but I'm sure we'll make it through somehow."

Her mother turned back to her father and Y/N looked back out the window.

'Dancing is a certain step toward falling in love, indeed,' she thought to herself as the sun rose over the woods of their home.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #regency!bucky #regency au #bucky barnes #fluff #my writing #frostsoldier writes

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