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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #tw animal death

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sanktagenyas · 3 years

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alrighty so i guess coherent thoughts about this book might be a very generous estimate of what i’m about to write here but i’ll write down my thoughts anyway ‘cause i wanna share and possibly hear yours like for real interactions with my posts are not just welcomed they’re encouraged.

ok so to start our protagonists are alina and mal and our antagonist is the darkling and i pretty much related to alina right away because i love a hero with insecurities and doubts, i love an underdog so of course i was always meant to fall in love with alina starkov on sight. now the darkling... should be that i and everyone else would be beyond tired of the dark, tall, handsome and mysterious/scary men in fiction especially when they whisk our hero away for even more mysterious and/or nefarious purposes that they leave them completely in the dark about BUT the charisma fucking jump off of the pages i don’t know what else to tell you. and i am deeply intrigued about him and his backstory and also him and how he feels about our protagonist because when you catch the attention of a centuries old immortal being that says something about you but it says more about said immortal imo.

we come to learn that the darkling is beyond ruthless and yet he still a capacity for love after all this time even if it’s quite out of use to say the least. and just the fact that out of the thousands of people who have crossed his path there’s this one girl he saw and he was like well look at that someone who’s not unremarkable for once. and i know that’s not exactly a romantic sentiment but that’s how it starts, folks.

but anyway to cap my little ramble here despite the fact that i’ve seen that kind of villain before i do still really love the darkling. i like that we don’t have all the facts yet about what led him to become who he is so there’s just the right amount of mystery around him to keep you wanting to discover more and he is just human enough that he is not this caricature monstrous villainous figure (alina would beg to differ but i don’t listen to what alina yells at people when she’s angry)

now onto mal. i’m trying to word this in a way that doesn’t make me come off as a raging anti because the truth is that would require me to be invested in mal enough to hate him and as of now i’m just not. with book one being told entirely in alina’s perspective it’s pretty in your face that we should care about mal. our hero loves him and we want her to be happy, right? plus we really shouldn’t ship her with the villain there are so many wrong aspects about that dynamic just to name one aspect the deceit and the lies. the foundation of darklina is so fucked we should not ship it, right? well see that’s where i would argue that my biggest issue with darklina as a ship is the darkling in the final act all but saying fuck alina’s agency i’m going to make her my puppet for eternity not because that is necessary to accomplish my plan but because i’m jealous and resentful that she left me behind and didn’t embrace my plans for ravka and therefore embrace me.

and you might think wait i’ve lost the plot we were talking about mal and now we’re talking about darklina and the darkling but rewind back a little i said my issue with darklina in the final act of the book is the darkling pissing all over alina’s agency. and he might do that in more extreme ways than mal but mal certainly does seem to view alina as property at times and that implies him not respecting her agency. i could point to the fact that saying “don’t tell me we don’t belong together” is only framed as romantic statement because it comes out of the mouth of one of our protagonists and not our antagonist but that’s a cheap shot, it’s easy. instead i’ll echo my thoughts i shared about that malina reunion in chapter fourteen. mal was not one bit concerned about alina there and even though he says later on that not one hour was spent not thinking about her and wondering about her wellbeing all that flies out of the window the second he sees her with the darkling during the fete and here’s the thing if he had caught them mid makeout session i could understand him letting jealousy completely overtake him to the point that he doesn’t ask if she’s ok or how she’s been treated here and just assumes based on appearances (let’s not forget before she unlocked her powers alina was well and truly miserable regardless of the luxury afforded to her by her new grisha status so appearances don’t mean shit malyen) that she must be hunky dory and then tiptoes the line around slutshaming her but definitely crosses the line over into making her feel like shit for circumstances beyond her control territory and all that over seeing her do magic trickery at a party with another guy.

alina is allowed to be attracted to another man, she’s allowed to have feelings for another man. they’re both guilty of miscommunication as they obviously both feel the same way about each other but alina has the decency to keep her jealousy to herself and not have outbursts about mal getting close to other girls like she owns his ass or something. that put me off and then i was hoping there would be a talk that would clarify things and he would apologize and that happened but it also came with the revelation that mal was upset to see her happy with the darkling. so he’d rather see the woman he loves miserable and alone rather than happy and belonging? and that’s the romantic lead i’m meant to be fawning over? i’m just not seeing it right now and that’s why even as he so generously offers her absolution (idk if you can read my sarcasm but just to be clear it’s sarcasm) for having loved the darkling and tells her he loves all of her even the part that loved the darkling i’m like..... i don’t believe you boy.

i guess in summary my thoughts about mal as a love interest is i need some consistency you cannot have him throw a jealous fit over seeing alina standing with another man (that’s literally all they were doing for real) and looking happy about it and then have him be like i don’t care i love you anyway. you cannot have him act as though he owns alina and in the same breath throw in her face that the darkling owns her (i hate this foreshadowing thank you very much) and you cannot have him get cold or angry at so much of a mention of a life she might have that doesn’t include him and then expect me to believe he’s made peace with her having feelings for more than just him. he’s not even able to accept a scenario where she goes off and does shit that doesn’t involve him as he shows no interest in her life in the little palace for the longest time. meanwhile you can literally read all about alina wondering what happened to him and what he went through trying to get to her. and for the love of saints i would love it if alina would stop acting like she needs to be forgiven for these feelings i absolutely get that she feels conned and ashamed about it but you do not need to ask anyone for absolution for falling someone who made you feel seen for the first time in your life. fuck that noise.

i just know trust issues are gonna arise and i know he doesn’t feel that way truly. if alina turned around and at some point decided to show mercy to the darkling mal wouldn’t understand or accept it and i’d fully expect a guilt trip to ensue.

now that’s my thoughts on mal as a romantic lead and that’s about the biggest aspect of him we’re focusing on but i do think he is a brave man who genuinely cared for his friends and genuinely cares for alina as that whole journey to hunt morozova’s herd definitely proved. he loves her i don’t doubt that but one grand gesture doesn’t excuse the way he treats her earlier in the books is my point and as been pointed out by others i don’t like how much alina relies on him even when he isn’t here. her refusal to let go of him was directly affecting her happiness and overall health as she couldn’t come into her powers before she thought he was lost to her. if i’m not liking who the hero becomes when she’s with the love interest it’s a big indicator i’m not gonna love said love interest as much as i’m clearly expected to by the author. i like mal just fine, he’s not without redeeming qualities, i just don’t love him yet and i may never do and that’s ok.

now i wanna take a moment and a couple sentences (it won’t be a novel i swear, pinky promise!) to talk about the twist that i should have seen coming miles away and i already know once my sister watches the show or reads the book whatever comes first i will be mercilessly teased about not seeing it coming. but when i found out the black heretic and the darkling are one of the same my jaw dropped. as memers might say i took that personally. and even though we have a lot of grounds to covers still and unanswered questions such as is the darkling still alive? if he is what is he up to now? is baghra dead in a ditch somewhere or worse? will alina and genya ever see each other again? why was zoya so standoffish and violent with alina, what’s her story? the question in my mind most prominent is what happened to the darkling? what happened for him to become who he is. i love the quote monsters are not born they’re made and i much prefer to see a villain who wasn’t always one than one who is just evil for the evulz. so i want a backstory and i also wanna learn about baghra while we’re at it.

it’s all fun and well for her to denounce her son’s actions but and i hate to break it to her but YOU RAISED HIM LADY. so yeah baghra’s whole speech to alina is missing parts for sure because she’s not just gonna admit her hands are covered in blood as much as the darkling’s are. not without some pressing at least.

sooo to cap off all this i guess i would have just two throwaway remarks and that is that i am getting a lot of gay vibes from alina and if i took a shot every time she remarks on genya’s beauty or just gushes about genya in general i’d be drunk by now and i hope we get an actual queer romance somewhere in these books even just between side characters. second remark would be ivan i’m waiting for you to find some redeeming qualities my dude, i was rooting for you! at first he is a raging dickhead about it but seemed to mellow some and then near the end it’s right back to square one and i am really sorry about his brothers dying but having lost family members is not actually a get out of jail free card that gives you free range to mistreat people just because you can.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone book spoilers #i'm not putting anti malina tags on here because i'm not interested in engaging in disc-horse #that's why i'm also not tagging characters or ships but if it wasn't clear i am darklina trash yes hello #this is a) a mess and b) far too long but it's what it says on the tin aka my incoherent garbage thoughts

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crowleyellestair · 4 years

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Imagine being Jaskier’s Destiny

AN/// I hope everything is correct cause I wrote this kind of fast and I’ve never tried this format before, so I hope you guys like it

Destiny was an interesting thing that strikes fear into the hearts of everyone on the continent

Jaskier had always believed in it, like most

He had heard the stories of destiny catching up with those who don’t listen to it and he saw firsthand what happened at the party of the Cintra

Sometimes his mind wandered to Geralt’s attitude towards fate. What will happen to his friend if he decides to ignore his child surprise?

He trusted the Witcher with his life and lute, but would he be powerful enough to stand against the stars?

After months of worrying about his friend, he started to worry about his own destiny

Was he destined to fame and love or heartbreak?

A companion to travel through life with, other than Geralt, or will he die alone?

But one day he was granted more answers than he had before

Jaskier had been with Roach as Geralt had gone off in the woods to hunt for a witch that he was commissioned to capture

He wasn’t supposed to kill her, but she had apparently skipped out on paying back a local shop for supplies she took

Dandelion thought he spotted something out of the corner of his eye

So naturally he went to go look at it

But nothing was there

Until something caught his eye again farther into the woods

After a while he was brought to a cabin

It was a quaint little place, that was in the middle of the woods, so he assumed it belonged to who they were looking for

The towns folk all said she was nice, but she rarely listened to humans or did what they asked, thus the need for the Witcher

Jaskier had knocked and was met with a kind, old face that welcomed him in

She had spouted nonsense until he had him sitting across from her at the table in the middle of the room

The woman had grabbed his hand and her eyes glazed over

“A warrior wallowing will wander into your arms”

“That’s quite the alliteration-.” Her hand clamped harder and his normal smile dropped from his face

“It’s just past tomorrow’s dawn where she has unknowingly been waiting. The siren will capture her heart just as her heart will capture the music man.”

Now, Jaskier had no idea what destiny was going to give him, or how he was going to recieve it, but he assumed this might be it

After his hand was released with a pat, the woman asked if he wanted some pie, to which he accepted

Geralt had busted through the door an hour later

“Jaskier.”

“Geralt, you are just in time. Margery was about to tell me about the ghoul that had tried to fight a griffin. Now, I couldn’t say if she is lying or not, but it has made for a great story.”

He hadn’t been really listening to what she had been saying, just as she never listened to any of the questions he had

He was too focused on the wording of her statement

Was he going to lose his destiny to a creatrue right after he fell in love with her?

That’s a shitty destiny

Geralt had gotten the lady to listen to him and they made their way back to Roach, then the town

It had taken most of the night to find their way back out of the forest

So by the time they had reached the tavern, the sun broke the tree line and basked the three of them in gold

And Jaskier was excited

Because it was tomorrow’s dawn

But nothing came of it

He performed his heart out, but nobody stood out to him, and almost everyone in the room was married or was dissinterested in the man

A year past

He had forgotten about it, really

Until Geralt was injured and out of medicine and they had to stop in town, despite their original plan of traveling through the night

“Welcome to ‘Tomorrow’s Dawn’. ‘Ow can I ‘elp you?” The bartkeeper rasped

Despite the man’s tone, Jaskier was taken back to the woods and the old, kind woman

So Jaskier brushed him off, let Geralt tend to himself for once, and picked up his lute

He felt bad for Geralt having to deal with the man himself

But he had to know

He was in the thick of it, being more in tune with the audience more than usual

And that riled them up

People were dancing and singing along, but his attention was drawn to a figure plopping down in the corner of the room

The woman had dropped her hood to show a dirtied face

It looked as though this person had been in a recent fight, and her action of shouldering her broad sword off her back and onto the table helped furthure the assumption

She looked like a warrior

That’s when he noticed shining eyes focused soley on him

After he had finished the song, he pushed through people to get to her table

She put up the act of being bothered by his presence, but somehow

Somehow

He knew that she was lying, so he proceeded to sit

“You wouldn’t have been waiting, by chance, for something recently. Have you been?” Confusion struck her

“Yes?” There was a pause so she continued. “I was waiting to walk my friend home. It’s not safe outdoors at night by one’s self. As I expected, we had company. It was just past-.”

“Just past Tomorrow’s Dawn.”

“I mean, I guess it could be considered ‘just past’, but I was going to say the library. It’s more like a couple streets away, which holds many establishments in between, but sure. Just past.” Jaskier had let out a laugh at her sass, her playful attitude relieving him somehow

“And what could I call a hero like yourself?” She had also let out a small chuckle and a brief smile that had his heart doing flips

“I was merely being a friend. Y/n.”

The name had felt so right

“I’m-.”

“Jaskier. I know. I’ve heard of the Witcher and his famous bard. I must admit, the stories of your voice don’t give you credit. You could have easily been mistaken for a siren considering how wrapped up I was in your performance.”

Masterlist I have a few more Jaskier fics you should check out!

#jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #witcher imagine #dandelion x reader

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yukiwrites · 4 years

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Byleth, Thinking of the Future

Thank you so much for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! I got a bit carried away with this one, heehee, I hope you like it!

Summary: Right after the shocking scene at the Holy Tomb, the students were overwhelmed with questions as they watched their beliefs shatter right in front of their eyes. Amidst the confusion and questions, Byleth approaches Edelgard to ask why she had been so secretive...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Byleth, Hanneman and Manuela herded the students back through the elevator, the atmosphere around them once of absolute shock, understandably so. Claude walked beside the young Professor, his expression serious.

“Hey, Teach, those things you said back there…”

“All true.” Byleth said in a low voice, looking back at the astonished Blue Lions as they made their way out of the large underground.

“I’ll need more than that, Teach, come on. Can we go to your room to talk?” The young man looked back to his lifeless classmates, “there’s too many people around to talk freely.”

Byleth simply shook his head slowly. “On the contrary. I want to talk to all of them -- all of you -- he looked straight to the heir of House Reagan, “at the same time. I can’t allow doubt to be sown right after the truth was revealed.”

“Okay, I understand that much, but you do know that that was a bold statement, right, Teach? Do you have any plans about what to do from now on with all this new knowledge? Lady Rhea was in a rough shape down there, so this is the future of the Church we’re talking about here.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Byleth looked away from the inquisitive young man.

“No, no, wait,” Claude let out a nervous smile, patting Byleth’s shoulder carefully. “You didn’t think this through at all did you, Teach?” He snorted, cold sweat rolling down his temple, “I don’t think you know the scale of the scandal you just brought up, man.”

“Believe me, Claude,” Byleth’s voice deepened an octave, making the young man’s hairs stand on end. “I know more than anyone the scale of the things I just said.”

However, it was true that Byleth didn’t have an immediate plan of how to tackle the matters of the Church for the moment -- he simply wished fervently for the truth to be known; for his friend’s suffering to be noticed and grieved instead of glorified that… he was at a loss for the moment.

He had Sothis’ memories, yes, but he was but a human with the consciousness of the Goddess -- his vessel couldn’t hold the almost infinite power the Fell Star had brought along with the records of her life. Meaning he might have had her memories and a faint intent of how she had been leading mankind alongside the Nabateans, but it wasn’t as though Byleth himself had the practical experience of it, so he had to actually think about the consequences of his actions.

He had answered Edelgard’s question about the future of the Church -- it had been a subject that was marinating inside his mind for quite a while as well, though he had never given it proper attention to the development of it to actually see it blossom. There needed to be a reform.

How could one start to dismantle the base of a belief that had been rooted in a nation for centuries? Would he start preaching about the misdeeds that had been perpetuated through generations of Archbishops that were most likely controlled by Rhea from the backstage? Would he be able to uphold such a task at all while still pursuing the true enemies he should be setting his eyes on?

He had promised Sothis he would hunt down the remnants of Those Who Slither in the Dark and he would do so until there was nothing left of them to grieve. But he was only one man. Could he lead the hunt and change the people’s hearts at the same time?

Claude’s single question had made Byleth doubt his entire resolve, to the point that the Professor felt Sothis’ absence even more keenly.

She would have been the one to scold him and bring this subject to light before anyone else. She would be there, pulling his ear inside their shared mindscape to force him to think through his actions and those they affected while still grumbling that she would of course help him throughout it all.

The Professor sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll answer your questions, Claude, but we need to gather everyone-”

“Dear Professor, I don’t think now is a good time, as eager as I know that some of my students are to listen to your explanations.” Manuela approached with a worried look. “The news was too much to take for some of the kids, so I’ll be taking them with me to the infirmary. I think others need their space now more than they need answers to questions they don’t even have yet.” She glanced back at the pack of soulless students. “Give them some time to gather their thoughts and come up with their own questions, okay?”

Hanneman scratched his mustache uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that there were people who could turn away from new knowledge so readily, but agreeing that what a greater part of the students present needed was time to sort their heads. “As it stands, I will have to agree with Manuela on this one. Let us disperse the class and come back at this on Monday, how does that sound?”

“what?” Claude whined from Byleth’s other side. “You want me to wait two days to get the answers I need? Can’t I just go back with Teach and ask the stuff I want to know now?”

“Don’t be selfish, young man. Lead your House back to their quarters; look at how crestfallen they are.” Hanneman scolded his House’s Leader, gesturing with his chin to the Golden Deers’ expressions. Some were so shocked they looked like rag dolls while others were thinking deeply of how such knowledge could affect their lives -- only one or two looked like they were mostly fine with the situation, whichever it would be.

The same could be said about the other two Houses, though perhaps the Blue Lions had taken more damage since Faerghus had always had close ties to the Church, so most of its citizens were devout believers.

Edelgard observed everyone’s reactions carefully, not daring to approach Byleth like Claude did so as not to draw attention to herself. In two days, they would reunite, at the Blue Lions’ classroom, it seemed, so the Imperial Princess had time to think her options through until then.

Thankfully or not, Hubert had returned from the trip to the Empire in record time -- proving that the new teleportation magic they had painstakingly acquired was indeed a necessity for their plans to work properly. Edelgard filled Hubert in on the happenings at the Holy Tomb, urging him to follow her to the Blue Lions’ classroom early on Monday so they could bear witness to how strong Byleth’s resolve was in changing the Church.

Depending on his answer, Edelgard could have the upper hand in the upcoming invasion. She already had much more information than she had ever managed to dig through on her own over the course of her life just by watching that pathetic scene between the wailing Archbishop and the young Professor. Edelgard had had a faint idea of how the Crests came to be, but to think it all was linked to the bodies of the goddess and her children… Amusing.

The classroom, although usually on the empty side since it was rather large for the small amount of students it usually had, soon became packed with people from the other two Houses. There were plenty of places to sit at, of course, but Edelgard and Hubert chose to stand close to the door anyway, wanting to look over the students’ reactions to the Professor’s answers.

“As all of you are aware, we’ve gathered here to clear up any misunderstandings you might have had after that happening at the Holy Tomb.” Hanneman placed himself in the middle of the teacher’s desk, looking over the students’ eyes. “We all know how sudden everything was, so don’t be afraid to speak up and we’ll do our best to give you satisfying answers.”

“So you knew it all, Professor Hanneman. How didn’t you break after I spent the whole day asking you about it… Should I have haunted you in your sleep too? I know how well that would’ve ended…” Linhardt muttered from the front seat, a place he would usually never take but quickly took due to the severity of the situation.

“Believe me, lad, it was a living nightmare, as I made it clear for the past 30 times.” Hanneman exhaled in exhaustion, taking a step to the side to allow for Byleth to take the center of the stage. “The Professor here is the one who has the core knowledge of it all, so Manuela and I shall monitor the questions: raise your hand if you want to ask something and we will make a tally.”

Several hands filled the space, followed by a furious scribbling from the part of the two older professors, each taking into account the students of their own Houses while Byleth memorized the Blue Lions. Evidently, the first one to get the question was Claude.

“Can you tell us in detail about the origin of the Hero’s Relics and the Crests Stones? Are they related to the Crests per se at all? And-”

“One question at a time, lad, be patient!” Hanneman interrupted his House Leader, raising both palms in a placating manner. “We have all day to answer everything you all want, but one person at a time, alright?”

Flashing a dissatisfied pout, Claude crossed his legs under the table. “Yeah, alright. So?”

Byleth took a deep breath. “As I said before, the Hero’s Relics are weapons made out of the bones of the Children of the Goddess -- the Nabateans as they called themselves at the time.”

“Nabateans…” Claude muttered under his breath, nodding his head as though he understood. The name was murmured all over the students’ mouths, though Byleth hadn’t stopped speaking yet.

“The Goddess descended into the world and created the Nabateans from her own blood -- then they all started to impart their knowledge on the humans to help them prosper.” The Professor spoke as though talking about a legend, though all of the present were aware of the true myth passed along the religious carols, and it differed greatly from what he was saying. “Some humans started to feel intimidated by how powerful the Nabateans were and waged war upon war against them, wanting to topple the beings they saw as gods… But such wars nearly destroyed the world.

“Some of the defeated humans left bearing a large grudge, promising revenge, but Sothis had to focus her powers on healing the land instead, leaving it to her children to look for the stragglers. Some of them never returned, being the first prey to the experiments of Those Who Slither in the Dark.”

Edelgard’s hand twitched inside her crossed arms at the mention of the experiments as she narrowed her eyes.

Byleth continued. “Exhausted from healing the land, Sothis had no choice but to leave the land to her Children and retire to the place we saw as the Holy Tomb to rest and regain her energy -- but it was then that the tragedy of the Red Canyon happened: The enemy ambushed the weakened Nabateans, killing them with weapons made out of the blood and bones of their siblings, using these very same weapons to kill Sothis and forge,” Byleth took his sword out of his belt, “the Sword of the Creator.”

“Bloody hell,” Claude leaned on his chair, digesting all of that information. Ignatz was holding his chest as though in physical pain, tears clouding his vision -- and the same could be said about Marianne and Mercedes, being comforted by their closest friends.

“Through the experiments, the enemies realized that they could acquire the power of the Nabateans by drinking their blood -- and that was how the power known as ‘Crests’ were bestowed to the humans who weren’t born from the Goddess. It is also the ancient Nabateans’ crystalized blood that composes the rare Crests Stones -- it’s because of them that the Crest-bearers can wield the Hero’s Relics… Though I should leave the technical details to Hanneman here, if you all are interested.” He took a step back to allow the Crestologist his five minutes of fame.

“Well, as you all know…” Hanneman adjusted his monocle, picking up a piece of chalk to start writing on the board.

Manuela nudged Byleth’s shoulder, “are you sure about this? He’s gonna keep talking all day.”

“It’s fine, I just think he’s better at explaining the relationship between the Crests Stones and the Crest bearers. Besides, no one’s complaining.”

“For now, at least.” Manuela shrugged.

Byleth gave an once over around the classroom, his eyes meeting the Imperial Princess’ by the door. After she had made that radical-sounding comment at the Holy Tomb, the young woman had been oddly silent. Now, however, she looked paler than usual, as a frown covered her brow.

“Don’t you think Edelgard is behaving a bit strangely?”

Manuela glanced at her House’s Leader, looking back at Byleth. “She had been grumpy ever since I had to revoke her permission to return to the Empire, so I suppose it might still be about that?”

The young Professor narrowed his eyes, still in a staring contest with the Imperial Princess. “I’ll go ask her what’s wrong.”

“Wha- Byleth!” Manuela pulled his sleeve, whispering gravely, “if you leave, it will truly turn into a Hanneman-only class, you know!”

“Don’t worry, I’m only going to talk to her; I’m not going anywhere.” He flashed something akin to a smile, patting his colleague’s hand before circling through the desks towards the door by which Edelgard stood. “You seemed to be interested in the explanation I was giving earlier. Do you have anything to ask?”

Edelgard shifted her weight to one leg, looking up at the tall young man. “Only one thing: How do you plan to handle this situation with the Church? The power of the Nabateans can no longer rule over the humans, but right at the heart of this Monastery, lies the strongest one of them… She’s not mentally stable, either. What do you plan to do?”

“I’ll protect Rhea from whatever I can. It’s the least I can do to fulfill a promise.” Byleth replied without hesitation, though looked to the surly Hubert beside Edelgard before continuing, “there is much to be done in regards to the distribution of information, but first I’ll have to deal with Those Who Slither-”

“Enough. That is all I needed to hear.” Edelgard turned on her heel to leave. “It is a shame, Professor. I thought that we could have been allies in this.” She muttered as her white hair fluttered behind her small figure.

Hubert shook his head in disapproval. “To think there was so much potential. Perhaps later you’ll realize the true meaning of your statements, Professor, though by then it might be too late,” he smiled derisively before following his liege, leaving a suspicious Byleth behind.

What was the true meaning of Edelgard’s question? Byleth had so much to think about, he could barely sort his thoughts by himself, missing his mindmate so very dearly each time he felt overwhelmed.

Sighing, the young Professor turned back to the classroom filled with Hanneman’s voice, clenching his fists to resolve himself. One step at a time. First he would clear the students’ doubts, then he would think about what to do next.

If only he had the power to see what was going to happen instead of being able to go back a few moments in time… Perhaps then he would’ve been able to predict the preemptive strike the Empire would deal to the Monastery a few weeks from then.

#byleth fire emblem #claude fire emblem #hanneman fire emblem #edelgard fire emblem #fe3h #my writings #yuki's commissions

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

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Wires [4]: Frustration

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Death and life are the same thing- like the two sides of my hand, the palm and the back. And still the palm and back are not the same . . . They can neither be separated, nor mixed.” —Ursula K. Le Guin

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir takes Simon Marson’s statement with a grain of salt. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him—she doesn’t trust lawyers as a whole, but nothing so far has given her a reason to believe he’d outright lie—just that she’s learned firsthand how memories get clouded and fuzzy, particularly about routines. Sure, their victim worked for him. And, yes, she probably did the exact same thing every day, going to her paid internship at her father’s office Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday off, and spending Friday night bar-hopping with her friends. Yet there’s simply too much Marson was unaware of. The questions of who her friends are, what she did when she wasn’t working, her hobbies, any potential lovers, hell even where she lived, are all ones he provided no answer to or understanding of. To him, Sophie truly existed only in the hours between 8:00 am and 6:30 pm. Which isn’t exactly unusual, but it makes her job of following those leads harder, and she ends their interview feeling more irritated than she had when she started.

Dante, too, must be frustrated, because he says nothing at all to her when he leaves the observation room to join her at their desks, merely clacking angrily on his keyboard as he types his report. Lir does the same, transcribing the interview with Marson and her notes to send to Morrison later. A stiff drink is what she needs, maybe a call to Joan for a bit of relaxation, but she settles for chewing aspirin and drinking the bitter coffee unique to precincts. By the time she’s done recounting the events of the last thirty-six hours, her fingers are stiff and the throbbing in her temples has turned into a fierce clawing that makes her eyes water, and she’s keenly aware of the fact that they’re fast closing in on the forty-eight hour mark and how much more difficult this investigation is going to be beyond it.

“You eaten?” Dante asks. Lir shakes her head, and he picks up his phone, dialing quickly. “Me neither. ‘Bout to keel over, if I’m honest. You good with pizza?”

“Sure. Whatever toppings are fine.”

He flashes her a grin before speaking into the receiver, and Lir uses the time to read back over Trish’s findings. They aren’t pretty. While there were no ligature marks, showing that Sophie was neither restrained nor strangled, there were heavy levels of Rohypnol in her blood, meaning she would have been unable to do anything at all. In fact, Trish notes that the dose probably would have been fatal, given the fact that Sophie was well over the legal limit for intoxication, clocking a BA of 0.16%, putting her at the threshold for alcohol poisoning. Did she normally drink so much? Lir runs her fingers over the paper, frowning slightly as she thinks. Joan hadn’t said much more about Sophie’s habits other than her cocktail of choice, and they hadn’t asked for a receipt, a stupid oversight that needs to be corrected. Because if that much liquor was’t common for Sophie, it means either she was drinking a lot more, which could lead them to recent stresses.

Or that the killer was feeding her margaritas all night to make sure she was too weak to fight him.

“There was no phone recovered from the alley, right?” she asks. Dante gives a grunt as he hangs up the phone, and she leans back, stretching to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “We’ve got to find her friends, talk to them.”

“What about the mother?”

“Gone. Parents divorced when Sophie was . . .” Lir checks her notes. “Six. The original custody agreement was for the mom to have supervised visitation, but she went no contact when Sophie was twelve. The last Marson heard from her, she was living with her new husband in Portland.”

Dante whistles. “No contact? Think Marson was abusing her?”

“Maybe. But why would Sophie hang around, if that was the case? You watch your dad beat on your mom for six years and wind up working for him?”

He grunts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring thoughtfully at a spot just over her right shoulder. “Abuse doesn’t always make it to the kids,” he says after a moment. “Sure, maybe pops was an asshole, but he was probably smart enough to keep it behind closed doors. Or maybe there wasn’t anything goin’ on other than two people who didn’t want to be together anymore.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Could have been mom, too.”

“Right.” Lir massages her temples, and the pressure there subsides enough that she no longer feels like her eyes are going to burst. A migraine is the last thing she needs right now, but that’s exactly where she’s headed if she doesn’t get some sort of rest soon. “So, we have a victim whose father knows nothing about her personal life, a killer who was smart enough to make sure we couldn’t trace her beyond the bar, and, after nearly forty hours, no real answers.”

“Sounds about right.” Dante’s grin is bitter.

“Fuck.” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Crime scene still roped off?”

“As far as I know. You plannin’ a visit?”

“Yeah. I need to get some air, and I want to take it in now that it’s quiet.” Lir grabs her coat from the back of her chair as she stands, sliding it on before leaning to open her desk and grab her gun and badge. Fastening them to her belt, she mutters, “Maybe something got missed.”

Dante gets up, stretching with a loud yawn. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, Lir.” His eyes are somehow both grave and mocking, and she’s not sure which irritates her more. “There’s a killer. None of us should be goin’ out alone, especially with the statistics about who else might show up there to get their jollies.”

That gives her pause. “Right. Okay. You driving?”

He dangles his keys. Lips twitching, she turns and heads down the stairs and out to the lot, listening to the quiet thumping of Dante’s shoes as he follows her. For someone so big, he doesn’t make a lot of noise when he moves, and she wonders idly if it’s a force of habit or just how he is as she slides into the passenger seat of his car and fastens her seatbelt. Like always, he flicks on the radio and finds a classic rock station before starting the drive, and he ignores her popping two aspirin into her mouth and chewing them dry.

The ride back to the alley passes in the silence between them. Lir looks out of her window, the rain sliding along the glass turning the world outside to a muted painting of blurred shapes and bright flashes of color on an otherwise dreary background, and thinks. Sophie Marsons had gone to the bar, as was her usual weekend habit, and ordered her preferred drink. Had she gone with friends? Had they danced, and laughed, until a stranger stole into their group, with eyes only for Sophie, eyes full of murder that she might have mistaken for desire? Despite what she had said to Dante about their victim being chosen randomly, Lir has little doubt that she knew her killer. Statistics point to it, the inevitable need for the comfort brought by familiarity that a new killer needs to do his work. Statistics, the voice of her old academy instructor rasps in her mind, are statistically incorrect.

If Sophie wasn’t the first, then there’s another victim out there.

Cold, bitter rain lashes her as soon as she steps out of the car. Huffing, watching her breath condense and twist in the air, Lir pulls her hood up around her face and tucks her hands into her pockets, wishing she had a slicker even if the garish yellow color of it would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Dante joins her, grimacing as he sets a black trilby on his head, water dripping from the brim steadily. “Good thing we already got forensics,” he mutters.

“Mm.” Making a non-committal noise in her throat, she ducks under the crime scene tape and walks into the alley, where she stands and takes it in. Without pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the street, it’s unnervingly quiet; is this how it was at four in the morning? Nothing but silence as the dull oppressiveness of the city while Sophie was carved open like livestock?

Lir is moving towards the dumpster when something rustles behind it. Pausing, she stares at it, her brow pinched and her hand moving slowly to her gun, waiting. Cat, she thinks, or rat. Something digging for scraps now that humanity has gone away. But the silhouette she can just make out on the other side is too large, and, as she watches, a tanned hand grips the edge before a rain-soaked head pokes cautiously around, the eyes that she sees wide enough that the whites are like spotlights. Behind her, she hears Dante hiss, the faint splash of water as he slowly comes up beside her. Looks like he was right. Someone else had shown up, and now all that’s left to do is figure out whether or not they’re the murderer.

“Police,” Dante barks. “Don’t move!”

The man jumps to his feet and takes off, and Lir lets out a string of curses as she darts after him. They always fucking run, guilty or innocent, because seeing a cop always makes them feel like they’ve done something wrong. Bearers of bad news, thugs with guns, she’s heard it all, and she wonders how this guy thinks of the police even as she chases him down the winding alleys of a city she’s already growing to hate. “Thorne!” Dante shouts, his voice dwindling as the distance between them grows. “Goddamnit, Thorne!”

Up ahead, the black coat swirls as the man rushes through the maze. Sometimes all she has is a glimpse of fabric as he turns a corner, others, on the straight, narrow stretches, she can make out more of him, and her mind catalogues these snapshots. Slender build. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. The glint of a ring. A pair of wild eyes peering over his shoulder. Despite knowing she should draw it, Lir leaves her gun holstered. Don’t you ever, her instructor had said gravely, take that thing out unless you intend to shoot, and she’s got no desire to fire a bullet that would at best embed itself harmlessly into a wall and at worst ricochet and cause more damage.

Her hood falls back, rain plastering her hair to face and neck. In her chest, her heart is a drum, and her blood roars in her ears, equaled only by the low whistle of her breathing as she tries to control it to fight off fatigue. Keep moving, she tells her legs, don’t fucking stop until you know who he is.

At her hip, her radio crackles, only to be ignored. Right now, it is only her and her prey, locked in the chase until one of them is forced to stop. Guilty people run, sure. So do frightened ones. Which is he? Killer or morbid onlooker, dangerous or afraid?

Lir never gets the chance to find out. They burst into a side-street, the cars around them blaring horns of fear and anger at this sudden intrusion, and a hand clamps onto her shoulder and yanks her back as a truck passes through the space she’d been about to step into. By the time it and its trailer clear out, the man is gone, and a scream bubbles in her throat that she fights to swallow. She knows who grabbed her—the scent of Dante’s cologne, muted by the rain, wafts into her nose, accompanied by the spiced, salty blend of sweat and deodorant—and she allows him to lead her back to the sidewalk, where she doubles over with her hands on her thighs and struggles to slow her breathing from the harsh, jagged pants to something close to normal. At this angle, she can make out the way water has turned the leather of his shoes a dull brown. Never gonna look nice again, she thinks, and closes her eyes against the swell of nausea that comes from exertion on an empty stomach.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dante growls, his voice rasping and hoarse from chasing her. “You ever stop to think for a damned second that we’d need backup? Or that chasing that idiot could have gotten you killed?”

The scolding makes her angry all over again. “I’m sorry,” she snaps, straightening to glare at him. “Should I have let our only lead so far go?”

“If it meant surviving? Yeah, you should’ve. Or were you hoping to wind up like Marsons?” His eyes are cold with fury, his cheeks flushed with it. “I told you, I fucking told you—”

Lir’s phone rings, cutting off whatever tirade he’d been heading towards. Scowling, she answers it. “Thorne.”

“You with Redgrave?” Morrison asks, crackling with static.

“Yeah.” Dante makes an impatient motion with his hand, and she holds up a finger in the standard request for a minute of silence.

“Get your asses over to Tellula Park. He’ll know where it is.”

There’s something so foreboding about Morrison’s tone that Lir knows the answer to her question before she even asks it. “What’s there?”

Morrison sighs. “Another body. Looks like our killer didn’t want to wait for us to catch him.”

“We’ll be there.” She hangs up, then looks at Dante, frustration and defeat welling within her to make her voice curiously flat. “There’s another victim in Tellula Park.”

Dante curses. “Our guy?”

“Morrison said it was,” she replies.

He glances around, studying the street sign at the intersection. “C’mon. Car’s about two blocks away. We’ll have to book it if we don’t want Morrison to rip us new assholes for taking our sweet time.”

Lir nods. Dante turns and starts down the sidewalk, and she follows, craving a drink and a good night’s rest and maybe a bit of company, angry to have wasted time on some idiot onlooker when the killer was busy leaving them another corpse, another family to notify, another twisted web. I didn’t know, she thinks, and that just makes her feel worse. Tunnel vision, that’s what she had fallen into, too focused on what was in front of her nose to take a second to really contemplate if a killer who took such care not to be noticed would have been so stupid as to come back to the scene of his crime in the middle of the day with cops still around.

They’re sweating and miserably damp by the time they reach the car. Dante pulls towels from the backseat for them to sit on—something her father had done, to keep water from damaging the seats—and turns on the heater to fight some of the chill. It’s only once they’re on their way to the new scene that he says anything at all. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lir’s head snaps towards him at both the words and the sympathy within them. Not that it’s unusual for cops to know how their partner feels, but usually that takes years of working together, not days, so either he’s particularly good and reading the people around him or he’s projecting. “What?”

“The new victim,” he explains. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. We had and have nothing to go on, and you chasin’ that guy didn’t get this one killed. Or,” his mouth twitches, “do you think you’re better than every other cop on the force?”

“Of course not,” she protests hotly. “I just . . .”

Dante cracks the window and lights a cigarette that he pulls from the pack in his door. “Look,” he says, exhaling smoke, “I get it. You’re new, gotta prove yourself, and this guy is a pain in the ass. But you ain’t got any control over him, or what he does. Only thing you can do is learn, be better, so you can catch him.”

It’s spoken in the same tone he might have used to console a weeping toddler, and she bristles. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I read your file.” He glances at her as he tosses the cigarette, still half-lit, out of the window. “You know what was top and center on the behavior section? Empathetic. You feel things, Thorne, feel ‘em deep, maybe, and that’s great for gettin’ inside the head of whoever’s doin’ this, but it means he can get inside your head, too, if you let him.”

She sinks into her seat, thinking of her dream, and gooseflesh breaks out across her arms despite the warm air blowing from the vents. “So what’s your drive, then? Fame? Promotions?”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Just don’t like bastards who hurt women, that’s all.” He pauses, then exhales slowly. “Look. I’m not gonna rat you out to Morrison. You made a decision that anyone else would’ve made. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking stupid decision, but . . . It stays between us. Right?”

There’s a rush of gratitude that she hates feeling. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees amicably.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires

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whentommymetalfie · 4 years

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Lights On

A/N: A quick little one shot I wrote for the Tommy/Alfie prompt fest over on Ao3. Modern AU and not connected to any of my other works. Established relationship and lots of hurt/comfort.

Summary: Every year on Bonfire Night, Tommy hides under the covers terrified by all the fireworks, this year Alfie is under the covers with him comforting him.

Tommy doesn’t acknowledge him. His breathing continues to come in erratic burst, wheezing out of his throat. Alfie strokes his hair

“It‘s just noise, love, just noise,” he whispers. “It’s scary fucking noise, I’ll give you that, all those bangs. But it’s just noise."

Pairing: Tommy/Alife

Wordcount: 1800

Warnings: ptsd

Never fucking drive in London... Alfie should know better by now and he thoroughly hates himself for this decision, as well as the one to ‘just swing by for some groceries’ despite working late in the bakery to prepare a dough. But his royal highness Thomas Michael Shelby will be most displeased if there’s no milk tomorrow and honestly, whatever his princess wants, he shall have. If only because it gives Alfie the excuse to say that exact phrase and watch Tommy scowl at him.

Right now however, he’s fairly sure Tommy would’ve taken his tea without milk indefinitely if it had meant Alfie would’ve been home on time.

Finally, he has to give up and park several blocks away from their apartment. And it’s possible the front tire ends up on the sidewalk, but that seems completely irrelevant at the moment. Far above him, the smattering of fireworks continue relentlessly. He slams the door shut using his foot, one arm around the bag of groceries and fishing for his mobile in his coat pocket with his free hand. The signals go through, but there’s no answer. Making his way down the street he starts typing out yet another text, despite the three previous ones remaining unanswered. Will be home in less than five minutes love-

“Oi, watch where you’re-“

He doesn’t even slow down to apologize to the highly offended owner of the voice.

Two minutes later, he’s standing outside their apartment, cursing and wrestling with the locks on the door, wondering who on earth decided doors needed this many fucking locks. If people are determined enough to break in and have gotten through one lock, why would a second one stop them? Would they suddenly fucking… give up halfway through?

Finally he gets the door open.

“Tommy, love, I’m so sorry I’m late. It‘s fucking bullshit this… was an accident on the A40 and I had to-“ He struggles out of his boots, leaving them haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “Had to fucking take the tunnel, didn’t I? Yeah. Absolute fucking bullshit- Some people clearly shouldn’t be operating any vehicle more complicated than a bike.“

All the lights are on in the apartment, but Tommy is nowhere to be seen.

“Tommy?” He shoves the entire bag of groceries into the fridge -fuck actually sorting them into shelves, he’s got more important things to do, and then sets off towards the bedroom.

There’s a small lump in the middle of the bed, covered entirely by the duvet and several blankets.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs as he walks up to the bed, sinking down onto the mattress and rubbing his palm over the figure. “It’s okay.”

The lump remains motionless but he feels the slight tremors under his palm, can hear the hitched breaths. When he lifts the covers ever so slightly he finds Tommy curled up into a tightly wounded ball, knees drawn up to his chest, face tucked against them and arms covering his head. He’s not just trembling, but actually shaking violently, which becomes painfully clear now. When a smattering of fireworks go off just a block or two away, he lets out a choked whimper and winds his fingers into his hair.

“It’s alright, love, I’m here now,” Alfie says and lies down behind him, pulling the covers up over them both again. Then he curls himself around his quivering frame, opting for wrapping an arm all the way over his knees and letting him stay in his position. Tommy doesn’t acknowledge him. His breathing continues to come in erratic burst, wheezing out of his throat. Alfie strokes his hair

“It‘s just noise, love, just noise,” he whispers. “It’s scary fucking noise, I’ll give you that, all those bangs. But it’s just noise. Happy people who just want an excuse to play with a bit of… fire and gunpowder, but it’s all fun and games. And the worst that’ll come out of it are all those colourful plastic bits you find all over the city for days afterwards.”

He presses a kiss against the nape of his neck.

“You’re home, you’re safe, and no one in the world will ever hurt you again. Because I’m going to personally hunt them down and end them in the most painful way possible if they do.”

There’s a high bang right outside the bloody window and Tommy lets out a horrified shriek that seems to cut like a dagger through his chest. Then there’s another one and Alfie realises that whoever is setting those off is hanging out on the street beneath their flat. If he listens closely, he can hear the unmistakable drunken hollering of a few lads apparently having the time of their fucking life out there.

When the third firecracker goes off, Tommy starts crying. This heart wrenching, desperately frightened sound that cuts him to his very core.

And fuck it, Alfie might not be able to do anything about the entire goddamn city losing their collective mind, but he can at the very least keep them away from this small patch of street…

“I’ll be right back, love,” he promises in a whisper and squeezes Tommy tightly, before climbing out of bed and stomping over to the window. He throws it open and stares down at the street, where a group of five young men are having a grand ole time with a box of matches and far more firecrackers than anyone should reasonably have. Which of course must break all sorts of laws but he couldn’t give less of a fuck -as long as they’re far away from here.

“Oi, you fucking lot!” he bellows and successfully gains the attention of at least two of them -one wearing a spectacularly dumb hat with some print he can’t read but instantly hates anyway, and one with a slightly less dumb hat. “Fuck off with that noise will you?”

“Nah, you fucking…fuck off,” Dumb Hat Guy yells back. Now, that’s really fucking eloquent, innit?

“Alright, this is the deal,” Alfie barks at them, somehow trying to burn Dumb Hat alive with his gaze alone. “I’ve got someone up here who can’t fucking stand all this noise. So if I have to fucking tell you again, I’m going to come down there and shove one of those so far up your arse you can fire it through your fucking mouth!” He does wish he was a bit closer -he cuts a more imposing figure face to face, he’s well aware. But thank fuck the guys don’t seem to be out for trouble tonight.

“Fucking fine,” Less Dumb Hat Guy bellows as Dumb Hat Guy starts dragging him down the street to join their three friends, who are blessing the neighbourhood with a terribly off key version of God save the queen.

All things considered that went easier than expected. Alfie shoves the window closed and quickly returns to the bed and Tommy, who hasn’t moved an inch since he left, still shaking violently and choking out heart wrenching sobs. He pulls him close again.

“There we go, they went away. I know I can’t make all of the noise stop, but it’s a start,” he whispers and rubs his palm over his side. “But it’ll stop soon, I promise.”

For a bit, there’s no change: Tommy stays curled up so tightly that Alfie thinks he might’ve frozen like that, the quiet sobs wracking his frame. Alfie just holds him. Holds him, shushes him gently and mutters soothing nonsense against the soft skin on the back of his neck. It’s all he can do for now. He wishes he didn’t have to know shit like that, but things are the way they are, right? So he’s well versed in how these things usually go. And he knows that right now, Tommy can’t quite hear him. Mostly just registers that he’s there, that he’s not alone. But there’s no point in getting into elaborate stories. Simply repeating that he’s safe, that he’s not alone and holding him is enough.

Bit by bit, Tommy’s muscles seem to soften, and his legs relax enough for Alfie to wrap the arm around his waist instead. He places a hand on his chest, feeling the quick pitter patter of Tommy’s heart against his palm. Like a frightened rabbit’s. He pulls him a bit closer. Hoping his own heartbeat will somehow seep into Tommy’s chest and calm his racing pulse.

The fireworks continue to thunder in the distance.

“So, a lady came to the bakery today,” he begins quietly. “Wanted to buy raisin bagels. Of all the things in the world. Whoever began stuffing raisins into perfectly good bread should be charged for their heinous crimes against humanity.“

He talks a bit about the nerve of certain people. It’s becoming quite warm and stuffy underneath the duvet, but it’s a small price to pay. Whatever makes Tommy feel even marginally more safe is worth it. As he talks, he can feel Tommy relax further into his embrace. Finally he turns around to face him, burying his face in his chest.

“Would you like to get out of these clothes, love?” he asks then. “Think you’d be more comfortable.”

After getting a small nod in response, he helps Tommy out of his clothes and goes to turn the light off, making sure to first switch on the lamp on the bedside table. When he climbs back into bed, Tommy is watching him from under heavy eyelids, his long lashes still wet with tears. God, if he could, he’d go out there and personally rip the fireworks from each and every fucking idiot holding them, consequences be damned. A statement that when said out loud finally earns him a faint smile, even as Tommy still trembles ever so slightly.

Soon, Tommy is safely wrapped up in his arms again, face buried in his chest. Outside, another round of fireworks go off right nearby and like clockwork, his breathing hitches.

“Did I ever tell you about the time me and my cousin tried to build a hot air balloon and send his action figure to the moon?” Alfie asks and Tommy makes a noise that could almost be the beginning of a quiet laugh.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, it’s an excellent, excellent story, so strap yourself in,” he says and starts stroking his hair again, raking his nails softly against his scalp. “So, me and my cousin, right, we used to spend a few weeks every year at his grandmother’s place outside Margate. Big fields and all that, and-“

It’s a long story. And once that is finished, he follows it up with another one, and another, as the fireworks outside continue to brighten the sky into blue and green and red. Tommy clings tightly to him, as if he’s drowning. Perhaps he is, in a way. But Alfie will do his best to keep him afloat.

#tommy x alfie #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #tw: ptsd

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astertataricvs · 5 years

Text

Muzan Kibutsuji x Reader || Serve me

Muzan was in his other appearance which is his woman form. He opted to wander off during the night to hunt some humans again to slay and devour. Being in his woman appearance would be easy since men were invariably hungry for women. Since he doesn't want to draw any attention of people in the streets where he can kill them in an instant, hence the efficient option to hunt is being a woman whereas he can lure them out in a dark alleyway and began to annihilate and devour them.

The red-eyed demon easily allured an old man who reeks in alcohol. His face immediately scrunched when the scent of the man hits his nose. If he wasn't in the middle of the streets were humans were passing by, he wouldn't hesitate to stab this man's heart and gorge him. The old man kept on talking gibberish as for Muzan, he was getting impatient to haul him in the alleyway, not bothering to listen to an insignificant human that he despises the most.

When the two reach his destination, the old man swiftly pinned him on the wall and subsequently sniffed his neck. Muzan was disgusted at this human actions, especially how he stared at him with a lustful gaze. The demon was enraged, he doesn't like someone touching him specifically without his permission. The man slipped his hands under his kimono and rubbed his inner thighs. Muzan wasn't even fazed to what the drunk man was doing to him. If a normal woman was in his position, he bet that she's shivering in fear and shouting for help. However, this is Muzan we were talking about! He can eliminate anyone with just his bare hands! No one can ever frighten him!

Now that no one is around and it's just the two of them, he gradually lifts his hand and sharpened his nails, veins were protruding on the back of his hand and was about to decapitate the man's neck when,

"Oi! What the hell are you doing?!" You rebuked and throw a pebble on the drunkard's cheek.

The man who was about to do nasty things to Muzan was disrupted when he felt a pebble thrown at him. He whipped his head to glance at you and glared once he sights your little body.

"Oi, you little girl! How dare you interrupt our session?!" The man yelled fiercely as he speedily walks closer to you. You stepped backwards and prepared yourself in a combat position.

"Don't you dare step any closer, I warn you," your voice laced with virulence, even the first demon recognized it.

Muzan was profoundly infuriated, first, he was touched by a low life's filthy hands and lastly, you interrupted from killing his prey! The red-eyed demon was enraged, he can feel his blood boil due to his indignation and irritation to the mere humans in front of him. Muzan opted to kill the two of you but halted in his tracks when the man suddenly hurled at his direction. The leader of the demons effortlessly evaded the man's body who was thrown on the trash cans, causing an uproarious sound to reverberate in the alleyway.

Muzan's eyebrows creased and promptly turned his head to peer at you whose fixing the kimono and huffed due to your exhaustion from throwing the man and giving him a piece of his lesson.

"Hey, are you okay, miss?" Your sweet and angelic voice resounded in his ears. He was looking at you keenly from head to toe and was bewildered about how you contrived to throw him despite your small figure.

Muzan only grimaced at you and was about to trudge towards you but you already beat him to it. You were giving him a tender and sincere smile that he hadn't seen in all of his life. Although he was living in Japan for about thousands of years, this is the very first time someone smiled at him albeit you just met him today.

"Did he do something inappropriate to you? Did he go that far? Do you want me to kill him instead?" Muzan was surprised. A human was asking him to kill her fellow human despite that you're not even a demon like him. Normal people, specifically you who was just a normal girl with peculiar strength doesn't have any resolution to annihilate their same race. Except if you're a criminal though. But scrutinizing your features, you seem not to be the type of girl who would kill people. Your eyes were glittering with innocence and your face was too angelic to even do that kind of thing.

But what if... you're an angel in disguise?

"Hey, miss, are you really alright?" You asked once again then tilt your head to look at the gorgeous woman in front of you.

"Yes, and I didn't need your help," he sternly said then gaze at you with austere eyes.

Sighting the woman's eyes, you can't help but be mesmerized. It was the same shade as the colour of blood and it was flickering in the moonlight while staring at your (colour) orbs. You were awed by her beauty thus you can sense the aura of sophistication and jurisdiction she was effusing.

"Well, I'm glad that he didn't do anything to you! I'm happy that I made it on time!" You chirped and leaned your face closer to hers which you can vividly see the beautiful plum red eyes of hers. Muzan was furious at your doing, that's why he doesn't like humans since they do not know the place where they should be at.

"Get away from--"

"You have beautiful red eyes," you said in amazement while staring intently at the enticing eyes she has.

You were completely unaware that this woman in front of you was actually a man in disguise and you don't have any clue what he was competent of. You were fortunate enough that he hasn't slaughtered you yet despite that he was boiling in fury.

Before Muzan can lacerate your face with his claws. You immediately skipped back and bestow him your luminous smile.

"You're really pretty, miss! I bet you're also handsome if you transformed into a man! I would definitely fall in love with you!" You giddily said then giggled.

The ruthless demon was unimpressed at your statement. He only stared at you with impassiveness and repulsiveness. He doesn't want to hear it from a human who he resents with passion. On the contrary, Muzan's indignation dwindled a bit. Although you complimented him with sincerity, it doesn't change the fact that he wanted to kill and eat you this instant. But as soon as he approached you, you suddenly showed him a piece of paper. Muzan isn't interested in what you want to give him, the only thing swirling in his head is to execute you. No human can communicate to him nor be amiable towards him.

"Miss, if you wanted some skin care products and makeups, you can visit our shop!" You put the paper on her hands and smiled widely at her. "I'll wait for you there!" You skipped backwards then wave your hands, saying goodbye to her. Then momentarily, you run away without listening to what she was going to say. You're in a rush so you don't have any time to hear her out. Your intuition tells you that you're going to meet her soon.

Muzan read the writings on the paper and shred it into pieces. He glared at the path of the alleyway and turned his heels to leave the loathsome place. When he was about to leave, he saw the man's body lying with the waste scattered around him. The red-eyed demon clicked his tongue in irascibility and quickly sliced off his neck. He won't pass the filthy things he did to him. So much for eating the old fart, he doesn't want to tarnish his tastebuds with some human who was smeared with garbages.

"Akaza," he called out into nothingness but the said man hastily appeared beside him.

"Yes, Muzan-sama?" He kneeled in front of his master.

"Take this thing out here, eat it if you want to."

"Right away, Muzan-sama," he bowed and stood up to clear the man out of his master's sight. Akaza witnessed what happened between you and his master. The upper moon three demon was livid about how the way you communicated to the leader of the demons. He was only restraining himself to assault and eradicate you in an instant. Even if he doesn't like to kill women, he won't exempt you since you're being discourteous to the red-eyed man. However, he doesn't want to disrespect Muzan and he knows that if he interposed, he would probably be dead.

"Muzan-sama, do you want me to kill that insolent woman in your place?" He asked with conviction.

Subsequently, the said man scratched his face which caught him off guard. Blood was trickling on his face as Muzan flashed him his utmost menacing glare. Akaza's body shivered upon sighting how treacherous his master was. Bloodlust was exuding in his body as he squeezed his grip on his neck thus his red eyes were glistening ferociously.

"Don't you dare lay a finger on her, Akaza. She is mine to kill, understood?!" He snarled and malevolence was evident in his tone. The upper moon merely nodded to which Muzan instantly released him and turned his back.

"Get that human out of my sight, now!" He commanded and without any words, Akaza speedily obeyed the red-eyed demon, not wanting to kindle his temper.

● ● ●

Standing outside the shop, you were sweeping the dust and dirt in front of your workplace. It's been two weeks since you encountered that elegant lady from that night. You wondered how she was doing and if she read the paper you have given her. You really wished that she would come in your workplace, she really is a beauty you had ever laid your eyes on.

After you finished sweeping, you sighed. You turned your heels to enter the shop but,

"Hey." You paused upon hearing that familiar velvety voice. Looking over your shoulder, there you saw the woman that you've been anticipating for weeks. Your eyes shone and quickly discarded the broom in your hands, too delighted to even return it to its respective place.

"Hi, there! I'm really glad that you came! I thought you forget about it." You beamed her your sweet smile and the woman who you still haven't got her name smiled faintly at you.

"May I talk to you?"

"Oh, sure! But where?" The woman beckoned you to follow her and you gladly complied. As the two of you reach some random alleyway, you feel déjà vu all of a sudden. You also met her in the alleyway, does she likes walking to some crappy path?

"What do you want to talk about?" You inquired and the pretty woman turned her heels to face you. Seconds of waiting for her to reply, you grew impatient as the red-eyed woman stared at you with an iniquitous smirk. You were confused to why she was smirking, you were about to ask her again when suddenly her body started to boil like hot water and her face was thawing.

You gasped upon sighting a peaky scene unfolds before your eyes. Eyes widen ever so widely as the woman's face began melting and shifting to its inherent visage. As seconds ticked, the face of the woman was changed into a manly one. The man in front of you has the same colour as the woman's eyes and he has curly black hair. You studied his appearance; the kimono was altered into a suit that was extravagant for you to afford, his plum red eyes blazed in the dark as his lips curved into a sinister smile.

For some anonymous reason, you feel intimidated by his appearance. Your mind was in chaos and you wondered where the woman went. But after witnessing the gruesome scene, you deemed that this man standing across from you was the same woman you met from that night. They have similar eyes that you won't ever forget, those stunning plum red eyes that mesmerized you were still there.

"W-Who are y-you?" You manage to ask him despite the lump stuck inside your throat. The fancy man ambled, closing the distance you had and halted once he was satisfied at the gap.

"I still won't forget the contumelious attitude you bestowed me that night. And before I can tell you my name, let's see if you can maintain the blood I'll give you," he devilishly smirked and slashed your neck with his sharp nails.

You gasped at the pain he induces to you and momentarily, you can feel a searing sensation within your neck. Your hands started to shake and tears cascade on your cheeks due to the excruciating pain inside your neck. Your breathing ragged and frantically inhaled some air, however, the agonizing pain was hindering you to breathe and it was smothering you to death. You feel like you're gonna die and you saw your body oscillating like what you have seen from what happened to the woman. Is your appearance going to change just like him?

Due to the intense pain, you grovelled on the ground and choking for some air. You looked at the man who was eyeing you without any mercy evident in his eyes, he was staring at you as if you're kind of garbage he doesn't want to sight.

You didn't know what he did to you, the only thing that you recalled is when he scratched your neck then you started to feel a burning sensation. You can't handle the pain anymore, you only cried in despair as tears relentlessly fell.

Then afterwards of enduring, your vision starts to blurred and darkness consumes your wellbeing.

After the gruesome scenario, Muzan was slightly amazed, perceiving that you survive from his blood albeit you have a diminutive body. There are some's who died because of just giving them a few amounts of the blood of his, they were even more potent than you and have a huge body but they didn't even endure his blood.

Muzan extorts a light chuckle then carried your motionless body in his arms. Your (colour) hair turned into red ones and complexion become paler than it was before. He eyed your dormant face then scoffed.

"You're going to serve me from now on, (Name)."

The reason why he knows your name is because he ordered Akaza to spy on you. In those two weeks, his mind battled whether he would kill you in an instant or turn you into a demon. In the end, he chose the latter since there is a possibility that you will die from his blood or nevertheless persevere. But he was very amused that you survive from the excruciating pain.

Nonetheless to say, from now on, your life will start to change and serve the leader of the demons, Kibutsuji Muzan.

#kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kibutsuji muzan x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

Text

Very brief mention of abuse and bullying. Read with caution. Thank you!

***

📷 Memories 📷

***

"I'll be home soon, Kyrie. I promise. Okay." Nero placed his cellphone back to his pocket just in time to see Nico's mysterious black - haired friend glancing at something outside the window of the trailer.

"See something you like?" The young Devil Hunter asked, his eyebrows knitted in confusion at the way the man stared.

"She has been at it for almost an hour and a half,..." The man answered with a low voice.

"I told ya, don't mind what she does." Nico, who was fixing the broken camera at the back of the trailer where her messy workplace was situated, answered almost harshly. She gave a quick look at her friend, saw him still staring outside the window, and rolled her eyes in defeat. Then, with a slightly irritated look at Nero, she added, "See? He just won't listen!"

"What are you looking at, anyway?" Curious, Nero finally gave a glance outside the window to see what the man was staring at. And lo and behold, he saw Mary sitting at one of the old benches outside not far from where the trailer was parked, doing something really,... unusual. "Oh, this is something new. What's she doing?"

"I saw her taking out a sketchbook from that bag of hers. And she started,... scribbling." The man answered.

"Huh. Really?" Nero scoffed and collapsed at the chair opposite V. "Well, that's something new. At least she's doing something really productive for a change."

"Meaning?" It was V's turn to ask a question.

Ever since he arrived at the location, V couldn't help but feel that there really was something very odd about what was happening. At first, he thought that Nico was only exaggerating things to make him come out of hiding, hysterically saying stuff like Demons appeared here and there, did this and that, and that she needs his knowledge to get to the bottom of this. Now, years of extensive studies on Demonology has taught V that the evil creatures would not appear and wreak havoc on the surface unless they are ordered to do so by a higher, sort of high - ranking, Demon. Or if they are seeking something of utmost value. Regardless, when V arrived, he proved Nico's words to be the truth. Demons did appear here and there and did this and that.

However, he can't say that his knowledge about Demonology is enough to solve this mind - boggling issue about these creatures appearing out of nowhere.

And Mary's odd behavior, and most probably his guilt of wrecking the damn camera, didn't help with the situation, at all.

"You see," Nero began. " ... Mary was - "

"Hey,... " Nico interrupted all of a sudden. The two men both looked at her and saw her pointing at something right outside the window next to her. " ... that's Morrison!"

Morrison? Thought V as the Artisan went out to greet the new visitor,...

***

It's unmistakable. Marsha heard the girl crying. And she has never even heard or seen the child do so.

The tall and perfectly poised woman abandoned her knitting and sped towards the living room to see her niece trying to patch up what looked like wounds on her palms with bandages.

And not just any wound,...

"Mary?!" Marsha called. The little girl almost jumped in fear as she heard her name being called and tried to hide her hands behind her back.

And this only made Marsha even more suspicious.

The woman sighed, strode closer towards the girl, bent down and grabbed her niece's arms. "You don't hide things from me, young lady!"

"But, Marsha, it's nothing!" The girl hopelessly argued, for she knew she was losing. Marsha finds out about everything, and that was a fact.

But, the older lady was having none of Mary's arguments. Marsha pulled her niece's arms from behind her back, held out her little hands, and saw, in utter fright and disgust, the lashes and blood painting the girl's little palms.

And the sight infuriated Marsha to the bone.

The next morning, Mary found Marsha knitting again on her little space in the huge library.

"I'm going to school." Mary announced with a loud voice over the Doris Day song that was being played on a vintage record atop one of the antique tables next to the shelves to her left. It was Marsha's favorite song.

And to what Mary just said, the older lady looked up from her handiwork and only raised an eyebrow. Raising her wire - rimmed glasses above her pointed nose, she said, "Oh, you're not going to school today, young lady."

Mary furrowed her eyebrows in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because, I said so!" The woman answered, her facial expression as stoic as ever. "Now, do come here and keep me company."

The little girl, although doubtful of Marsha's decision to not drive her to school that one particular morning, obeyed, putting her bag on the floor next to the iron table and sat across her aunt.

Looking at the many colorful yarns and several unfinished projects on the table, Mary asked, "How about tomorrow?"

"No." Marsha answered, her eyes never leaving her craft. Her answer remained the same for a week that Mary finally took up the courage to pick up one of the green yarns and a pair of darning needles from Marsha's knitting kit.

And this did not go unnoticed by Marsha, herself. Looking at Mary's freshly bandaged hands, and the needles she's holding, she nodded, and said, "Very well. I could teach you if you want. ONLY if you want."

Mary gave a sheepish smile and placed the yarn and the needles back to the basket before her. She, then, took out her sketchbook and some coloring materials from her bag and went on to finish that Venus art she's been working on for a week since Marsha forbade her to come to school.

It was not until another week when Mary finally found out that Marsha tried to press charges to the school and that awful teacher who gave her those wounds. Getting little to no justice after what happened, Marsha gave up and, instead, had Mary enrolled to a different school that was very far from that accursed place full of bullies, not to mention that devil Burns ( who only received penalties so light it's ridiculous, considering what he's done ) still on the loose and freely roaming about that campus.

It was also during that time when Mary almost memorized all of Doris Day's songs about love and heartbreak, and how not to question Marsha's decisions ever again.

***

" ... please, call me, Mary. I'm so worried about you - "

With furrowed eyebrows, Mary ended the voicemail from her aunt and made her way back to the trailer where she found, yet, another visitor sitting on a chair across that tall, black - haired man who stepped on Nico's camera.

Stuffing her cellphone back to her pocket, she saw the new visitor standing up and offering his hand to her.

"I'm Morrison." The man graciously introduced himself as he shook Mary's hands. "And you must be Mary Suermann! New accomplice of Nico?"

"Ah, yes, you might say that." Mary answered quietly as she took her hand from his, trying to ignore the fact that she could feel someone staring at her from behind her back. She carefully turned around without having to face V and stood next to the door, seeing that her companions were discussing something.

"So, let me get this straight," Morrison began as he settled back to his chair. " ... strange Demons began appearing randomly in some specific locations in this city? And not just any Demon, you say?"

"Yeah." Nero, who was sitting on the sofa next to V, answered. "Ahh, V, what did you say that Demon's name was, again?"

"Niddhogg." V answered, his low voice sending shivers down Mary's spine. She would never, ever, forget that voice, no. "But it wasn't particularly a Demon. It was a parasite that lives in an evil tree called the Qliphoth, which thrives on Human blood."

"And this Qliphoth tree," Morrison spoke. " ... are there any of those growing around here?"

"If there is,... then this city could very well be done for." V answered, successfully drawing all eyes on him in curiosity. "You see, this,... demonic tree,... grows quite,... let's just say,... rapidly. But, never mind that. The point is: there should be no Niddhogg if there is no,... Qliphoth,... to begin with."

"Niddhogg,... " Morrison mused as he rubbed his stubble. "I'm not gonna lie with you but, that is the first time I've heard of that thing. I don't even know what that looks like - "

"Exactly why Mary had to take pictures of it!" Nico added, emphasizing on the name like she was some kind of a criminal who committed such atrocious deeds. "Isn't that right, huh Mary?"

With a deep sigh, she took out her sketchbook from her bag, opened it, and handed it to Morrison, who gazed at it with such unmasked awe.

Not that the Demon illustrated in it was such a looker, no.

"Magnificent!" Morrison exclaimed. "Are you the one who drew this, Mary?"

With a little sheepish smile, she nodded, and answered, "Yeah."

Morrison looked up from the sketchbook, held it up for the others to see, and asked, "Is this the one?"

And to this, V's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It truly was an exact and very detailed drawing of the demonic parasite Niddhogg.

Who knew this girl had some kind of a hidden talent?

"Indeed." V answered, a bit of admiration getting past his monotonous voice, which Mary didn't miss.

Nico, who was leaning against her jukebox, took the sketchbook from Morrison's hands and stared at it with widened eyes full of wonder and disbelief. This made Mary smile a bit, and V, who was observing this entire scene, didn't miss the little gesture.

"Whoa. Ya really are an artist!" Nico exclaimed.

"Why?" Nero butted in. "Don't believe her?"

Even before Nico could fire up her own response, Morrison cleared his throat and said, "I want to take a picture of that illustration, if I may. I would show it to my associate in the Devil Hunting business and see if he could crack any sort of thing, anything, regarding this demonic parasite."

Seeing that Morrison's statement was directed at her, Mary nodded, giving her full consent. And as the man began taking photos of her Niddhogg art with his cellphone, Nero asked, "Where were you going, anyway?"

"To the office of the said associate in the Devil Hunting business."

"You mean, Dante?"

"Right you are." Morrison handed the sketchbook back to Mary and placed his cellphone back to his breast pocket. "I have some things to discuss with him. About a man who was found dead in his own house just this morning."

"What happened?" It was V's turn to ask a question.

"Reports say he died of cardiac arrest. Not that big of a deal, to be perfectly honest. Except that this man was linked to the disappearance of a few children in the last decade. There are no sufficient evidence to prove his crimes but, investigations are underway after they found some curious things in his home right after his body was taken."

"And those are?" V pried even further, and it was honestly making Mary a bit nervous.

"Some trinkets and clothes that belong to children. Apparently, they were hidden in a small compartment just behind his fridge. The authorities found the man's body, and some emptied bottles of water, right next to it."

"Maybe they belonged to his kids, or something?" Nero tried to explain.

"Yes, except that this man had no children, or relatives living close by. And the only people he knew were his colleagues in a school he was teaching at. Now, don't you worry about this thing. You have your own problems to deal with. But, just to be sure that my hunches are wrong, I will speak to Dante regarding this - "

"This man," All eyes, including V's, all turned to see Mary looking wide - eyed and horrified as she stood near the door. " ... who was he?"

"His name," Morrison began as he stood up and gathered his things on the table. " ... was Roger Burns. He was a teacher at - "

"I know." Mary heard Nico's little gasp at what she just revealed. "He was my teacher."

"Oh!" Morrison exclaimed and put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for the loss of your teacher - "

"Actually, I'm not in the least bit sorry. In fact, he - "

"He?" Morrison and the others waited as Mary held out her hands to show them something. But, then, something made her stop as she somewhat stared in disbelief at her own hands.

V, who stood just in time to see what Mary was looking at, saw nothing but her smooth - looking palms.

"Girl, what are you trying to say?" Nico, who was getting a bit impatient, questioned.

Mary looked up, smiled, and brought her hands down. "Nothing! Just,... nothing."

"Alright, then! I'll take my leave. I'll see you around." Morrison, who pretended to not be weirded out by what just happened, tipped his hat and finally left the trailer with more questions than answers.

"Are you alright?" Nero, who placed a hand on Mary's shoulder, kindly asked.

With a smile, she answered, "Never better."

However, V knew that was a lie. Mary was hiding something from them. It was very clear to him. But, what was it?

And why should Mary open up to them in the first place? They wouldn't believe her if she told them that the scar caused by her now dead teacher was all but mysteriously gone!

***

📷📷📷

***

#vitale #devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #memories #mary suermann #v and oc #v and mary #chapter ii

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 6 years

Text

Honeysuckle

Chapter Two

Master List | Venom Master List

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Eddie Brock x OFC | Word Count: 2409 Warnings: Language. Italics indicate mental conversations. Bold is clearly Venom.

The scent woke her first, tickling her senses enough to see Cassidy rousing from the weird dream of a black slicked body, the substance moving like oil in a strangely beautiful way over the man it was part of. Bacon. She smiled to herself, wondering if her dad was cooking breakfast when the reality of her life came crashing down on her.

Her parents were dead. Her sister and brother were both dead. The pillow beneath her head wasn't her own, and she had no idea where she was.

“Eddie, she wakes.”

The voice brought terror screaming through her veins, and Cassidy sat up with a jolt that made her grunt, wince, and grab for her side only to notice the clothes she wore weren't hers.

“Hey. Morning.”

Cassidy looked up to find the man from last night standing in the doorway. He hunched a little, as if waiting for a blow or reprimand, and fiddled with his fingers.

“I, uh, we had to change your clothes. You bled right through your shirt and pants. There's a bullet wound in your side, more a nick really, glancing blow, but the one in your hip looked like shrapnel from a ricochet. Venom says he got it all out and did what he could to fix it, but you're not compatible so he couldn't heal you all the way.”

She blinked, unable to fully comprehend someone who talked that fast.

“Breakfast.”

“Right! There's breakfast. Toast. Eggs. Tattered tots. Bacon. Wasn't sure what you'd want.”

“Where the hell am I?” Cassidy asked, and who the hell else was talking?

“Our place,” he said. “I'm Eddie, remember? And you met Venom last night.”

“Nine feet tall. Back as spilled ink. Shiny white teeth?”

“That would be him. Us,” he nodded. “I never did catch your name.”

“Vicky.” She grabbed for a name off the top of her head.

“Nice to meet you, Vicky. Funny thing about that is,” he held out his hand, and a black tendril of goo snuck around his shoulder to place her wallet in his hand. “Your driver’s license says, Cassidy Granger. Iowa, huh? Who the hell did you piss off to wind up with a middle name like Bertha?”

“You went through my stuff!”

“Wow, lady!” Eddie held up his hands. “Chill out! We just wanted to make sure you didn’t have some medical condition we needed to worry about. You passed out, and we helped.”

Cassidy sat back and pulled the blankets up around her chin. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is all… really weird.”

Eddie lowered his hands and stepped cautiously in the door. He moved closer, finally taking a seat on the foot of what must have been his bed. The room was too lived in to be a guest room. “Can you tell me what those guys last night wanted with you?”

She shrugged and looked away. “Don’t know. Muggers maybe.”

“She lies.”

Cassidy’s head snapped up, and she stared at the head floating to the left of Eddie’s. “Holy shit…”

“Venom can tell when your lying. Something about pheromones. So you wanna try that again?”

Unable to look away from the floating black head with the same teeth and eyes as the creature from last night, Cassidy mumbled, “How… how are you doing that?”

“He’s a parasite.”

“I am not a parasite! I am a symbiote. He is my host. Together, we are Venom.”

“I… I thought… you were Venom?” Cassidy asked.

“It’s complicated,” Eddie muttered. “Long story short, he’s from outer space, can’t survive on this world without a human host. We got together a while ago and, well, kind of ended up saving the planet. I’m Eddie Brock-”

“The reporter?” Cassidy squeaked.

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “And he’s Venom. But when bad stuff goes down, what you saw last night happens, and then we become Venom.” He shrugged when she only continued to stare at him. “It’s a thinker, but that’s us… in-in a nutshell.”

“Do people… know about this?” Cassidy waggled her fingers at the two of them.

“Not a lot, no. But some. My ex, she knew, but there was this explosion and Venom almost died, and since then we just… didn’t tell her he… didn’t.”

For someone who was a reporter, he wasn’t overly articulate or sure of himself. From his hand, a tendril of the black ooze she now knew was Venom wormed its way across the bed and up to her knee where it became a long-fingered hand held out as if to shake.

“He likes you. Which is saying something as Venom doesn’t like many people.”

She glanced at Eddie, then slowly lowered the blanket and tentatively took the offered hand. “Um… hi?”

“You smell good. We won’t eat you.” The white teeth spread into a macabre smile.

Eddie stiffened and shot the floating head a hard look. “What the hell, man?”

Cassidy blinked, trying not to shiver at the feel of warm goo caressing her flesh. “What? He didn’t say anything.”

“Not out loud,” Eddie muttered, pink dusting his cheeks.

“You two… talk telepathically?” Her life just kept getting weirder, and the goo was still holding her hand.

“Yeah. Sort of. He’s kind of just in there all the time,” Eddie murmured, wrapping his knuckles against his temple. “Least I’m never lonely.”

It was a telling statement and made Cassidy’s heart ache a little for him, even though she knew nothing about him. Well, other than the explosive reporting he often got into on TV. “So… breakfast?” she asked.

“Sure!” Eddie hopped up with a grin.

Venom tugged on her hand. “Tater tots are my favourite.”

Okay, how was a black slime, goo monster, creature, parasite, thing suddenly as adorable as a puppy?

“Um… pants?”

“Right! Sorry.” Eddie rushed over to a dresser and tugged open the second drawer. “I put your shirt and jeans in the wash, and, um, we tried our best not to, you know, ogle you or anything when we changed your shirt and stuff. It’s just you were really bleeding and-”

“Eddie,” she held up her hand and offered him a smile as Venom finally detached from her fingers. “I get it. And I appreciate you not, like, letting me die and all in that alleyway. Just let me put some clothes on, and we can talk over breakfast.”

“Sure, sure.” He tossed a pair of sweats on the bed and headed out of the room, Venom trailing behind. The last tendril of darkness swung the door shut behind them.

Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief and threw back the covers, forgetting for a moment about the wound in her side. He’d left her in her underwear, so she was ninety percent certain there hadn't been any funny business, plus he seemed… shy.

A nice guy, clearly, but Cassidy couldn’t afford to let any more people into her life. Not when they all kept dying because of her.

Dragging the sweats on, she looked frantically around and found her wallet lying on the top of the dresser out of which he’d taken the pants. Her jacket was missing, but the closet was hanging open and had a hoodie she carefully took down to keep the hanger from jangling. Zipping it up, she stuffed her wallet in the pocket. By the door were her shoes, likely where Eddie had tossed them when they’d brought her home and cleaned her up.

Cassidy stuffed her feet into them and headed for the window. The fire escape was right there. All she had to do was use it.

The window stuck, squeaked a little, and finally slid all the way up. Luckily, the noise didn’t seem to register with the occupants of the other room, and she threw her leg over the windowsill.

A scream ripped from her throat when the black as night body landed on the railing in front of her.

“You can’t leave without breakfast.”

She went over backward into the room and landed on the floor in a heap, sending pain tearing through her hip and side. Cassidy hissed then swore in three languages.

“Impressive. We only know a few of those words.”

Cassidy blinked at him, it, them as they crawled through the window after her, all sinuous limbs and flexing muscle, giant claws and needle-sharp teeth. “Please. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go.”

“We don’t want to.” Venom crouched over her, his hands on either side of her hips. “You bleed.”

Those wickedly dangerous looking claws touched her with deceptive gentleness and pulled back to show the red on them he brought closer to his face.

“Honeysuckle…” Long and red, his tongue slid over and wrapped around his fingers. “Sweet like strawberries.”

“Just let me go,” Cassidy whispered. “You need to let me leave before…”

“Before what?” He crouched lower, hovering over her. Those strange white eyes narrowed as he sniffed her again. Then his tongue was slicking over her throat and along her jaw. “You are afraid. Of us?”

He sounded so unhappy, Cassidy shook her head and scrabbled around until she found his thick fingers. She clutched two of them tightly, willing him to believe her. “No. Not you. But I get people killed. I need to go before they find out about you, or they'll come for you too.”

Venom’s face drew closer; his eyes narrowed in anger. “Who hunts you? We will eat them.”

She gave a startled bark of laughter. “I only wish you could.”

Then Venom was gone, and it was Eddie who hovered over her. “We can help you. It’s kind of what we do. You’ll be safe here with us.”

“No,” she slowly shook her head, “I won’t. And all that will happen is they’ll kill you, or try to take you too.”

“We’re tough to kill, and no one takes us anywhere. Being a lab rat doesn’t appeal to Venom. Or me.” He grinned, and it was boyish, sweet, and so very charming, she wondered what had happened to the shy man of earlier. “Come on. You can eat and tell us what this is all about while I bandage you up again.”

He sat back on his knees and rocked up to his toes, then reached down and picked her up like she weighed nothing.

“What… uh, what happened to your friend?”

“He’s a bit annoyed with you at the moment. He’ll come back when he’s through pouting.” Eddie cocked his head. “Yes, you are pouting. No, I won’t take it back. Stop acting like a child!”

Cassidy stared at him with her mouth slightly open, utterly fascinated.

“Sorry,” Eddie blushed. “It’s like listening to someone on the phone. Back before I figured out how to talk to him up here,” he pointed to his head, “I used to wear a Bluetooth so that people would stop staring at me like I was fucking nuts.”

“I can see how that could be a problem,” Cassidy murmured, following Eddie into the kitchen. Well, technically the rest of his apartment. “You know… I figured you’d live better. You do all that crazy reporting. I thought you’d get paid well. Danger pay and all that.”

“Sometimes," he shrugged, "but I like this place. And the neighbours know me, and they know about Venom. The gangs were harassing a few of the local businesses. You know, for protection money and the like. We took care of the problem. Now the neighbourhood is safe, prospering, and any new gang trying to move in gets to meet Venom.” He grinned over his shoulder at her. “They don’t stick around long.”

“And no one talks about you, him, the whole thing?” she asked, sliding onto the chair he held out at the little Arborite table that looked like it belonged in the seventies.

“Why would they? We protect them without asking for anything. In turn, they keep our secret. Mrs. Chen, she runs the bodega down the block, we kind of… ate the guy who used to come in and harass her at gunpoint for his weekly “protection money”. I told her I had a parasite, and ever since she makes us chicken noodle soup. “For your friend,” she says. I haven’t the heart to tell her he’d rather eat live chickens.” Eddie shook his head sadly; eyes lost to the memory before he shook himself free. “So I eat it for him.”

“Live… live chickens?” Cassidy whimpered.

“Hey, hey! It’s okay. It’s just he needs things like livers, brains, organs and such to sustain him. Without it, he’d have to consume mine, and I’d rather not go through that,” Eddie turned toward the stove and muttered softly, “Again.”

“Christ,” Cassidy groaned and thunked her head on the table. “When did I fall down the fucking rabbit hole?”

Eddie snickered, and a deeper chuckle rolled out with it.

“Don’t laugh at me, asshole! You’ve had time to get used to this! I can barely wrap my brain around my own problems let alone the whole shit ton of ass fuckery this is!”

Eddie returned with a plate piled with toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, and tater tots, and set it in front of her.

“Ketchup?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cassidy sighed. “Is it in the fridge?”

“Where else would it be?”

Eddie scoffed and turned to get it, but Cassidy grabbed his wrist. “You wanted to know why those men were after me?” He frowned but nodded. “It’s because of this.”

Cassidy turned toward the fridge and released his wrist to hold her hand out. “Dispareo.” It vanished from existence, leaving everything within sitting on invisible shelves. Concentrating on the ketchup bottle, she crooked her fingers. “Ad me.” It zipped across the room and landed in her hand. She set it on the table and flicked her fingers at the fridge. “Se sisto.” It returned in all it’s dirty, dingy, magnet covered glory.

“Holy… fuck,” Eddie breathed.

She picked up a tater tot and popped it in her mouth, then looked up at Eddie and the floating head of Venom and smiled. “That’s right, Harry. I am a wizard.”

Next Chapter

#Honeysuckle #eddie brock #eddie brock x ofc #venom #venom fanfiction

279 notes · View notes

leahxx129 · 6 years

Text

Supernatural Fanfic: Reader x Sam - Path of Healing

Hello. Back in the days when I was completely slightly obssessed with The Vampire Diaries, I used to write fanfic, mostly in connection with Stefan and Kol. And recently I wondered upon this great blog on here @fanfic-from-a-67-impala, which gave me the idea and inspiration for writing a Sam one-shot. It may be a little lengthy, but I hope you enjoy it.

*note that the picture is not mine.

You were ordering your favorite coffee at a local coffee shop. The barista must have been new, because he was very slow, you swore even you could’ve prepared it faster. Once you got your order, you turned around to leave, but instead you bumped into a firm muscular body.

’Look out, pal, you don’t want this caffeein to be elsewhere than in my veins!’ you said.

’Oh, I’m so sorry, I just didn’t see you there, I’m-I’m really sorry!’

You raised your eyes to the man’s face just to see that you bumped into the one and only Sam Winchester.

’Sam?’ your voice was barely a whisper. Sam furrowed his brows.

’Uh…Do we know each other?’ he asked, visibly puzzled. Anger washed through you. How dare he?!

’Do we know each other? Serioisly??...Very funny!’ you couldn’t conatain yourself and punched him in the nose.

The hit took him by surprise. Having lost his balance he stepped back and knocked a chair over. After all, your right hook was one of your best features.

You ran out of the shop, not mindig the bystanders’ curious looks and Sam’s ’What the hell, lady?!’ exclamation and you got in your car. You know it was possible to run into him at some point, but why now? This was an important case, one you’ve been working on for months. You really didn’t need him to show up just like that.

Trying to ignore the fact that he was in town, you went on with your investigation and you suddenly realised it was already 10 p.m.. As soon as you arrived to your motel room, you took off all of your clothes and went to take a shower. The water felt amazing against your skin. Out of the blue, you heard a noise from the room. You didn’t turn off the shower so the intruder would think you’re still oblivious to their presence. You put on a towel quickly and took your gun from the sink. When you saw the bathroom door open, you tore it ajar.

’Hands where I can see them!’ you shouted.

The intruder obeyed, you could see from their silhouette. You swiftly turned on the lights.

’Sam?! What the hell?! How’d find me?’

’Well, your car is quite unique…’ he said flashing a small smile, but when you did not return it, he continued ’ Look, I can explain….’

’Oh I’m sure you can.’ you grimaced. ’Now slowly start to back off or I’ll shoot you in the leg.’ to validate your statement, you cocked your gun.

He did what he was told until he reached the bed. He sat down. None of you spoke for a good two minutes. Finally, he collected his thoughts first.

’Listen…I came here because I wanted answers. Based on the punch, I get the feeling that you know me, but I’m sorry, I just don’t remember you.’

You let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He showed up pretending to be clueless...

’How do you have the nerve after everything that happened to come here and act like you know nothing?!’

You were standing too close and Sam used your emotional moment to grab your hand, knock the gun out of it, pull you onto himself and shift so he could be on top. He was pinning you to the bed with his whole body weight, making you harmless. He still smelt like you remembered.

You felt his breath carrassing your cheeks. His proximity really confused you. It reminded every part of you of the good old times. But that was a long ago.

’You know, I made a promise that the next time we meet, I was gonna kill you. You got off easy at the coffee shop.’ you said panting.

’Okay, that’s enough.’ he said in frustration. ’I told you, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know who you are, so how about you refresh my memory starting with a name and place!’

’It’s Y/N… We met almost 6 years ago in San Antonio.’ you grumbled after realizing he was serious.

’6 years ago?’ his face changed a little as realization hit him. ’Oh, God.’

’What?’

’If I let you go you promise you won’t attempt to kill me, okay?’

’Okay. For now.’ you agreed reluctantly.

He climbed off you and stood up, running his fingers through his hair. You fixed your towel and poured yourself a drink.

’6 years ago I had no soul. And now I don’t have any memories from that period, only bits and pieces.’

’Wow’ you said downing your glass ’I mean I’ve heard worse explanations but this is just crap.’

’No, it’s-’ he stopped for a second, thinking about a way to make you beleive him. ’So, you’re obviously a hunter.’ You nodded. ’That means you heard about the apocalypse.’ Another nod. ’My brother Dean and I averted it, but my soul was stuck in the cage with Michael and Lucifer for almost a year.’

Actually, his words started to make sense. You always knew there was something off about Sam, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

’Now, we met during that period when I was running around without a soul. Could you tell me what happened, Y/N, please?’

’No!’ you said too quickly. ’I mean not today at least.’

’Okay. Than can you at least tell me what case are you working on?’

’Shifter. Been on its ass for 4 months. In this town, it disguises itself as a dancing teacher for couples.’

’Perfect.’ he said ’I’ll call Dean, tell him not to worry about me and we can finish this together,’

’Oh, no! I’m not working with you, Winchester, not again!’

He seemed uncomfortable at the though of you resenting him so much.

’Okay.’ he said. ’Let’s make a deal. We finish this hunt together, you tell me why you hate me so much and I’ll be gone for good. How about this, huh?’

Admittedly, his offer was quite tempting. Not having to face him ever again? Major avoiding move, but it was for the best.

’Deal.’ you said, raising your glass at him.

***

You got up early, eager to kill that son of a bitch shifter. You swiftly got ready, packed everything and when you opened the door to leave, you bumped into a tall person. Again.

’Ugh, Sam, you gotta stop doing that!’ you said with forced annoyance in your voice.

’Sorry. Just couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d come by and ask if you were hungry. We could grab some breakfast before icing that son of a bitch.’

You studied him for a moment. He looked so different, so much more…human, than the last time you saw him. But the memories still stung like a mofo.

’I’m not sure that’s a good idea, pretty boy.’ you said leisurely.

’C’mon. It’s just breakfast.’ he gave you those puppy dog eyes you thought you never see again. You couldn’t say no to those hazel orbs.

’Okay.’ you said ’But you’re paying.’

’I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ he replied, restraining a laughter.

You both got into your car and you drove yourselves to the caffe from the previous day. The barista looked considerably anxious.

’Look, if you are here to make another scene, I cannot serve you.’ he stated.

’Relax, buddy!’ you flashed him your most convincing smile ’It was just a lovers’ quarrel! Now… we’d like two breakfast menues, please.’

You sat down to a small table. A few minutes later your order arrived.

’So, uh, lover’s quarrel, huh?’ you could see he was carefully choosing his words. ’First you call me pretty boy, now this…Did we, uh, did we have a thing going on or something?’

You looked him straight in the eyes while slicing your pancake.

’I thought we had a deal.’ you said simply. That was enough to throw him off his track and send him apologizing.

’Sure thing, I’m sorry.’

As you examined him while he was eating, the shyness in his motions, you could tell this Sam wouldn’t be able to do what the Sam you knew did.

’Do you still have your FBI stuff with you?’ you asked, hushing you’re thoughts away.

’Yeah, why?’

’Because we you’re gonna need it.’

An hour and a half later you were at the dancing studio the monster supposedly worked at. After telling Sam about your plan, he flipped.

’Are you nuts?! I can’t dance! We will never pull this off. This thing is gonna realize we are hunters and will ditch town as soon as it can….’ he whispered franctically in front of the changing rooms.

’Oh, trust me, it will work. Just stop whining, change into your FBI shirt and trousers and meet me here in five, okay?’

There was an intense stare-down, but eventuelly you won.

’Fine.’ he said through gritted teeth.

You went into the women’s changing room and quickly put on the short red dress you got upon arriving in town. It highlighted your oblique by fitting to your body in all the right places. You put your hair up in a bun and went out. Sam’s eyebrows flew high up in surprise. He even blushed a little if you weren’t imagining it. He cleared his throat.

’You look, uh, very nice.’ he complimented.

’Thank you. You don’t look that bad yourself.’

You then entered a very spacious hall, mirrors wrapping the walls of it. Other couples were standing in the middle so you joined them, trying to be as invisible as possible.

’Welcome, everybody!’ you heard a woman say. The shifter. You clenched your fists. She continued ’Thanks for coming. Today, we are having a latin session and oh, as I can see, there are some new faces. The young lady with the handsome man? Would you mind introducing yourselves?’

Damn it. Great. Of course she would notice you.

’Sure. My name is *fake name* and this is my partner, *fake name*.’ you lie instantly.

’Great, nice to meet you. How long have you been dancing together?’

The answer ’too long’ coming from you and the answer ’not long enough’ coming from Sam merged together. You both laughed nervously.

’Alright. Why don’t you show us what you got?

’Hit it!’ you said, just as Sam was starting to protest, taking him by his hand and leading him to a free space.

Smooth by Santana started blasting from the speakers.

’ Y/n, I really can’t do this.’ he pleaded.

’Relax, pretty boy. You got this. Just close your eyes, open your mind to the music and feel me. The way I move. Our motions.’ you tried calming him and praying to God that it would work.

After a few awkward steps he caught onton something. Something that was burried deep inside him, up until now. He took over the lead suddenly, pulling you closer to him. His eyes were locked with yours, never breaking the connection. Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony tight up against each other, always knowing what the next step was.

♪♫ Gimme your heart, make it real, or else forget about it. ♫♬

As the music died out, Sam finished the dance with a grand twirl and bent you over. His lips were just a couple of inches away. You were both panting. You remembered he was good, but not this good. It seemed like when he put his feelings and passion in it, it almost had the charm of the first time.

’What the hell just happened?!’ he asked breathlessly with genuine fear in his eyes.

’I’ll explain later, but first we have to get the shifter.’

A simple nod was the reply.

***

You were sitting in a bar, four empty tequila glasses in front of you. The shifter was a milk-run this way that you had back-up. After the dance class you followed the monster home and when the night fell, took care of it.

’I don’t mean to press matters, you know, just trying to hold up my end of the deal…’ he started, downing his third tequila.

You knew this moment would come and you tried to prepare yourself for it, but damn. Nothing can prepare a girl for telling the love of her life that he murdered her family. Following his steps, you downed your own, hoping that the alcohol would numb your pain.

’Sure. Let’s get it over with….’ you said ’Uhm, my family is-was different from all the other hunter families.’

’How so?’

’My father…he wasn’t only a hunter. He was a businessman. He had this wide range of clients, clients who were more than happy to pay for certain specialities for their collections of weird.’

When you saw the confused look on Sam’s face you cut to the chase.

’My father didn’t hunt monsters to kill them, Sam. He did it to sell them to influencial collectors.’

A look of disgust spread across his face. And he didn’t even hear the best part of your story.

’How do I come in the picture?’ he asks.

A small smile played across your lips as you remembered the very first time you met the one and only Sam Winchester.

’We met in a bar, pretty boy. I chose a song from an old juke box and started dancing, already boozy. After a little while I felt someone hug me from behind. He started dancing along with me and we ended up executing a perfect choreography. It was you, Sam.’

’But I can’t even dance.’ he scoffed with disbelief in his voice.

’You told me you had dance classes at Stanford. You wanted to impress your then-girlfriend, Jessica, if I’m not mistaken.’

’True, I had dance classes, but that was ages ago.’

’You wanna hear the rest or you’re just gonna keep interrupting?’ you scolded him. He motions for you to go on. ’By the end of the night, I got so hammered that you had to take me back to my motel room. My father and brother were waiting for me there. When you introduced yourself, they instantly knew who you were. So we started to hunt together. You and me…we did a little more than just hunting together…Yeeeaaah, we got a little tangled up.’

You smiled and he replicated it.

’One day, you realized that we never killed anything on sight, my family always seemed to take care of it later, or less publicly. You found out about my dad’s business and wanted in.’ Sam’s jaw dropped but you continued regardlessly ’And he said no. So that night, the cages of the monsters magically opened up by themselves and chaos ensued. The beasts killed my dad and my brother. One almost got me, but I managed to get away. You on the other hand, remained intact as you see, you left. Without a single freaking word. And I’ve never heard of you ever since. Not until we met at the coffee shop here, anyway.’

Your story appeared to shock him entirely. He ordered another round.

’Are you… are you sure that it was me? That I let those monsters out?’

’Sam.’

He looked you in the eye. His gaze was full of sorrow and guilt.

’I’m so-so sorry, Y/n.’ he uttered.

’Yeah. You and me both, pretty boy.’ you abruptly drank the last of your tequila and got up from the bar stool. ’I gotta get going. It was lovely making a deal with you, Sam. Bye, Winchester.’

’Wha- wait, you can’t just go like that!’ he protested.

’Sure I can. Just watch me.’

’At least let me escort you back to your motel room.’

You eyed him for a little while then nodded yes. Damn those tequilas.

The bar was a fifteen-minute walk away from the motel. The chilly midnight air should’ve woken you up, it should’ve made you realiyze how bad of an idea it was to let Sam this near you again, but the power of the tequilas already kicked in, not allowing you to think straight.

When you got in front of your door, Sam took your hand out of the blue and gave you a twirl.

’Sam…what are you doing?’

’Since I’m never gonna see you again, I’m giving you one last twirl.’ he murmured into your ears when he drew you closer to him. The warmth radiating from his body seemed to captivate you. You danced for some time to absolutely no music at all, when leaned in and gently pressed his lips against yours.

You pulled away a second later. No. Tequilas. please, stop.

’I’m sorry-’ he started apologizing, but for God knows what reason, desire took over you. You kissed him back passionately, your fingers entangled in his hair.

’Wanna take this inside?’ you motioned to the room with your head after you both pulled away for air.

’Wanted it since you punched me in that coffee shop, y/n.’ he admits, earning a genuine laughter from you.

The night you spent together was amazing, something out of this Earth. No man that you crossed paths with since the separation could live up to Sam in any way and that night just reminded you of this. Early in the morning while he was still fast asleep, you dressed up and packed. Although you could still feel him on every inch of your body, with a clear head, you knew this was a mistake. And for that, a huge one. You stretched out your arm towards the door knob.

’Going somewhere?’ you heard from behind. Just great. He was awake, sitting straight in the bed.

’Yeah…Last night was…magnificent, but I have to go, Sam. I just have to.’ you mumbled.

’Why?’

’Isn’t what I told you enough of a reason?’ you snapped back at him.

’It is, but still, it’s not the whole truth now, is it.’ he raised his voice. ’I can feel it.’

’I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ you said a little too mechanically to be believable.

’Y/n, please…’

A tear trickled down your face which you wiped away as soon as you realized it. Without a word, you tossed your cellphone and he caught it in the air.

’Look for voicemails I sent you 6 years ago. God knows why I kept them, but I did….’

He silently followed your instructions. When he finally found the voicemails, he pressed play.

’Hey, Sam…my dad and Nick..they’re dead…where are you? Call me back, please…’

He opened another one from later.

’Hey, Sam…I left you a dozen messages…I know it was you, I just don’t get it…how could you do that to them?! To us?! Uh, just call me when you get this.’

Another one followed.

’Hey, Sam. I really really need to talk to you. It’s an emergency….Sam…I’m pregnant. Please, call.’

He looked at you in shock, but pressed the play button for the last voicemail you ever sent him regardlessly.

’Hey, asshole. Not like you care, but I just wanted you to know that…that I lost the baby. A hunt went sideways. Anyways…if I ever see you again, Winchester, I will kill you. Have a nice life until then.’

Tears formed in his eyes as well and made their way down his cheeks. You sat down beside him. All of a sudden, he took your hand in his.

’Y/n… you have no idea how sorry I am. It wasn’t me but in a way it was. I will never forgive myself for this…I could’ve had a family and I screwed up. Big time. I am so sorry!’

You were at loss for words. You can’t even count the nights you let it play out in your head, what would living a normal life with Sam and your child be like. But everytime you did you ended up crying yourself to sleep.

’You see, this is why I can’t be around you, Sam. I just can’t.’ you finally said.

’Y/n, please. Just give me a chance! Come with me to the bunker me and my brother own. Let’s go on a few hunts togehter and we’ll see how things turn out.’ he tried so hard to convince you.

’Sam…’ you placed your palm on his cheek. He took it a second later and kissed it.

’Please? I remember being with you, you know….As I lacked my soul, I couldn’t love, but I had this sense of what’s right and what’s wrong. And being with you, it always seemed right. I didn’t even know why, it just always did. Please, give us a chance. I am not the same person you met in that bar.’

’I know.’

’Then give me another chance. A chance to prove that I’m worthy of you and your forgiveness. After all these years, I can help you heal.’

The fact that he wanted your forgiveness and wanted to help you heal made you think. You never admitted it to yourself, but these were probably the things you wanted most after he left and always failed to get.

’We’ll take my car. But no crappy music or else you’ll have to hitch a ride for yourself.’ you said simply.

His eyes lit up.

’Is this a yes?’

’Yes. Well, more of a strong maybe. Don’t make me regret it as I can still shoot you in the leg.’

’I won’t.’ he whispered and kissed you again, reassuring you that this was the right decision to make. You finally stepped onto the path of healing. And you couldn’t wish for a better partner than Sam to do it with.

#impala #fanfic #fanficfroma67impala #inspiration #writing #supernatural #smooth #sam winchester #prettyboy #soulles #shapeshifter #supernatural fandom #fiction #SPN #spnfamily

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plierspade2 · 2 years

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Embassy Of The Folks's Republic Of China Within The Commonwealth Of The Bahamas

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#台胞證

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hisquccn · 7 years

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Spoils of War pt 6

Soooo here is Chapter 6 of what was supposed to be a one-shot. I feel like I might start winding this down soon since I didn’t want to make it long, and if I do make things too long I end up losing my muse for them. We’ll see how it goes.

Chapters 1/2/3/4/5 AO3 Entry

Summary: The prince used to love his gifts from his knights as they conquered new lands, until he realized the blood that was spilled for each new object. As he grew unhappy with material possessions, the knights resorted to bringing him less willing spoils of battle. He has to put an end to their capturing of innocent people… Hopefully his new prize, a blonde with a temper larger than his kingdom, can help him set the country free…

Roy was still in shock when he headed to the great hall. She'd accepted his proposal. Riza would be his advisor in all things to do with the kingdom. The only stipulation was that spreading her father's research came first. He understood immediately. He had a meeting set the next day with the highest scholars and most well known physicians in the city. Their apprentices sat at their sides, quietly listening to the woman's explaination along with their teachers, waiting for their opinions to be made for them.

The prince slipped in quietly, listening to the words fall from the woman's lips with grace, despite the scrutiny that came from the eyes of her audience.

“You expect us to burn the living to keep them from dying.” A bearded man spoke first. Roy recognized him as the doctor living in the castle while treating his father. He was a well respected man, but he was stern in his practice. “They'd wish they were dead in that sort of pain.”

The blonde never lost her calm. Riza simply shook her head. “There's a certain amount of pain a human body can stand, then it goes into a state of shock and--”

“I'm aware of the body's own defences.” He interrupted. “People die from burns, miss Hawkeye. They don't live with their help.”

“If you'll just read over the research. The subject studied still lives. They are able to resume a normal life thanks to the bleeding being stopped.”

“This subject,” it was a slightly younger man who spoke this time. Balding with a slight lazy eye, though his good eye was looking down at the papers in front of him instead of at the woman before him. “I'm aware that they lived. But these wounds could have been sewn. He chose to burn them close simply to test his theory. It was cruel. The other subjects were animals, which he removed limbs from just to burn the stubs. Your father was truly a dark man, Miss Hawkeye.”

“My father was a well respected scholar much like the rest of you.”

“Your father--”

“He hurt animals and healed them. But just as the notes show, those animals were as good as dead from infection due to the wounds in those limbs. He did not simply chop up living creatures to suit his research.” She corrected, brows narrowed. The fire in her voice began to take over the room as Roy soaked it in. It was that adament form that knew he'd made the right decision.

“And this human subject? Why did he choose to burn them instead of sew them? Surely the scars--”

“They are the cost of living. The test subject was aware of the risks and the pain. They subjected to the treatment when asked.”

“And what pain did they feel? Were you there? Do you know?” A large woman leaned forward in her seat. She seemed to be the most interested in the group on how the studies went. She'd listened carefully to each word spoken. “How was the poor subject able to stand it?”

Riza took a breath before speaking. “They screamed around the wooden spoon they were given to bite down on. But the bleeding stopped quickly. The scarring was intense. The pain was moreso, but they lived. They were bleeding too quickly for stitches to have been possible. ”

“They were still at risk for infection after this new technique, weren't they?”

“Any wound is at risk for infection. But cleaning a closed wound over time is much safer than trying to suture such a large wound in such a short time as to save the subjects life. You are all aware how quickly someone can die from blood loss. How many patients have you lost? How many could have been saved by going through this technique. Yes there will be lots of pain, and it will have to be cleaned well, but they will live.”

The room was silent for a few moments. Riza stood confidently in the center of them all, awaiting their next statement. Finally, the bearded man, the King's doctor, spoke. “This wouldn't be a first resort. Or even a second.”

“No sir. This would be only for dire situations.”

He nodded slowly. “I think I'd like to look over this more. Perhaps my own research would be in order. I hope you understand. I can't simply trust a dead man's notes. I need to see this for myself.” She nodded before he continued. “I think this could be a valuable practice, even if not used often. Hunting wounds are common in court. War wounds are common on the field. We've lost many due to sutures not being enough. Tournequets, too, are only so effective.”

“I thank you for your consideration, sir.” Her shoulders were back, but a breath left her chest she seemed to have been holding the whole time.

“And I thank you for your information.” He replied. “I'll keep these copies, if you don't mind. We'll have them bound for the records. You have the originals.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Hawkeye. I will continue this discussion with the others. Thank you for your time and for your father's work. He was once a well respected scholar, you are right. Though you must understand our hesitation.”

“I do. Thank you.” She bowed her head politely, picking up her own copies before thanking the others for their time as well. Roy watched her leave, stepping out behind her as quietly as he'd entered. She didn't even seem to notice him standing near the door when she passed.

“You did well.”

She didn't jump at his sudden comment, but turned to him. “It wasn't the easiest thing to explain. I'm not my father and I'm not a doctor. I just hope his notes speak better than I did.”

He chuckled softly. “Don't be down on yourself. You spoke wonderfully. That confidence is what we need in this court, after all, Miss Riza.”

Habitually, her hand went to push her bangs from her face, a deep breath entering her lungs. “I hope you can still say that after you've officially assigned me to your side.”

“Lady Hawkeye will be just as reliable as Miss Riza. I'm sure of it. I trust you.”

“That could be dangerous, you know. Trusting a village girl with a bad attitude.”

He laughed again. “I'm sure. I hope you'll advise me against it in the future. Though if you poison me, I'm sure I wasn't a suitable leader for this country. You will be so close as to get that chance. Though I don't believe it will come to that as long as I don't go astray.”

Her eyes widened. “You could have me killed by even suggesting I could do that.”

“I don't want you to let a corrupt man sit on that throne. I want you to want the best for this country. I told you, I trust you. I trust you to help me lead the kingdom, and if I stop being the prince, or the king this country needs, I expect you to do something about it.” He made sure to keep her attention as he spoke, eyes locked to hers. Every word was an oath. “Do you still want the position?”

Riza never looked away. His dark eyes and his firm words kept her still. At his question, she nodded. A firm expression on her face, “I do. But don't get confused. I will advise, but you will lead.” She told him. “You will lead this country, and I'll follow you wherever that path may lead.”

He smiled at that. Her affirmation was all he needed, and he knew he'd never have to ask again. “May I join you for dinner?”

She took a deep breath, the fire in her eyes clouded for a brief moment. “Yes. There's something I wanted to tell you. So I'd like that.”

His mind wandered throughout his lessons. He'd lost almost each fencing match, thinking about what she could want to tell him. In private, no less. It wouldn't be some girlish confession of love, he knew. It wasn't in her to do such a thing. He wouldn't even know how to respond to it. She was right in the idea that he barely knew her. It didn't stop the pounding in his chest to know that, nevertheless, but even so, she was to be his advisor. Being also his lover was not an option.

Her past with him, the alleged affair they shared years before, while he slept on a couch at night and she kept her distance. Few knew how well played an act it was. That alone would be hard to erase once he'd announced her, but he'd find a way. As long as their 'affair' was over, he could find a way to make it right.

He stepped to her door, a tray in hand as he knocked. No one questioned the prince's urge to carry the two meals himself anymore. Riza said nothing as she opened the door, motioning him to come inside. He stepped again to the familiar cafe table, setting the tray down quietly. “You had something to tell me?” He was right to the point, curiosity throbbing in his mind like a migraine.

“It's not really dinner conversation. If you wanted to wait until afterward...” She offered. It was an unspoken request for time.

He nodded, lifting the lid from their meals. “Then dinner first.” He smiled, assisting her to her seat politely, pushing the chair in behind her. “They have already decided on studying further into your father's research. They will be testing it in a future hunt.”

“I'm glad.” Her voice was quiet. Neither of them spoke afterwards. The only sound breaking the air in the room was the moving of silverware. Her food moved back and forth, but little left her plate.

Roy finally spoke up, his stomach seemingly smaller from the foreign tension between them. “Miss Riza? What is it you wanted to tell me?”

She stopped moving, setting down her fork before looking up at him. “I was the human subject.” She said it simply enough, never beating around the bush. “For my father's research, I was the test subject for his burn technique.”

His blood ran cold. The screams she described before, biting down on wood, scarring... Riza was describing herself. “You... you chose that instead of stitches?”

“I chose the entirety of the experiment...he presented the option to me. To help him with his final test as he requested.”

Dark eyes narrowed. “He asked you that... the entirety of the experiment. Riza.” there was no title added, but his voice was firm. She never let her eyes wander from his as he continued. “What was the cause of the wound he treated?”

“A scalpal.” She swallowed thickly. “The wound was created cleanly to prevent infection...”

Roy stood quickly, looking down to her. “He cut you open to burn you closed?” His voice was hard. “He made you--”

“He asked me. I consented.”

“He shouldn't have even asked you.” He growled. “What father asks that of his only child?”

She was quiet at that. Her chair slid backwards as she stood. “They are going to ask about the scarring. When you go hunting, when your men go to war... I want you to know how the injuries look.” She told him, for once, her eyes avoided his. “I want to show you the last test. I trust you will tell no one who you saw this from.”

His heart shook. He wasn't sure he was ready to see it, but he didn't want to let her down. The anger in him was washed away by pity. “Don't.” She told him, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don't look at me like a wounded pet, please. I chose this.”

The prince nodded, taking another breath. “Okay.” He trusted her with his life, and with his throne. Returning that trust... he couldn't deny her that.

Roy knew that seeing it would hurt him. He knew he'd hate her father more than he ever had for defacing her back the way he had after getting her back home. She chose to return to him after he sold her. She chose to care for him. And she chose to accept his offer. He was the only parent she had, and she was willing to do anything for him, until his last days. He fought the pity he felt inside, with the hatred that burned inside him.

As she turned away from him, untying her robe, his heart lurched. He wasn't ready. He knew he wasn't. He knew she wasn't. However, they both bared through it. She lowered the sleeves of her robe to her waist, using one hand to hold the robe from falling further, and the other to cover her front after pulling her hair over her shoulder.

There was a line running diagonally from her right shoulder blade, to the top of her left hip. The deep scar was broken through the middle, an ugly red scar blotched across her spine. The burn covered all but a few inches on either end of the cut across her back.

She shivered at the cold in the room, waiting for anything to break the silence as she stood. Several moments passed, Roy standing in awe at the woman before him. She'd withstood so much pain... he'd never been more awestruck by her. Her will was stronger than any he'd ever witnessed, and she bore her back to him, trusting him with the image before him.

Riza had dressed before speaking again. “I told you not to look at me with pity.” She told him.

“I don't pity you. I respect your decisions and I can't do that with pity.” He told her. “I'm angry with him. I hate what he did to you. No matter the respect I have for his research. No matter how valuable this... this sacrifice was... I hate him for it.” She was silent once more before he continued. “But you, Riza... I'm amazed by you.”

#spoils of war fanfiction #royai fanfiction #royai #roy x riza #fma fanfiction

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writerspink · 5 years

Text

K-12 Words

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capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

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exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

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stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

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feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

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install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

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warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

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