#the person who cuts my hair is aware of how sickly I am and is having me come in when she hasn't been doing a hair treatment before me

[jamiebluewind]

Oh my god could I stop being sick please? It's been two freaking months and I got shit to do!

#nasty bronchitis that ending up putting me in the hospital #I'm behind in doing real life things but also just so freakin tired #i wanna do dumb tumblr stuff #but i already have a post wrote up with links to all the info on shubble/wilbur situation so people don't have to look 50 different places #BUT I also don't wanna make every post I have time to make about... THAT #THAT'S DEPRESSING #but i said i would and I'm a person of my word so... #it's been over a month since I've been able to make a sound #you'd be surprised how bad it is sensory and emotion wise to not be able to laugh or make sounds when you cry or groan in frustration #I'm in PT too because I was so weak by the time I got in the hospital that I couldn't stand #was literally coughing so hard and so constantly that I couldn't keep down food #lost about 25 lbs in 3 weeks according to the doctors (I'm overweight but that is still a LOT for anybody that's not exercising to lose) #going to push myself today because my hair has gotten so thick and long that it's causing too many sensory issues #also a bit of gender dysphoria just to keep it interesting #the person who cuts my hair is aware of how sickly I am and is having me come in when she hasn't been doing a hair treatment before me #still there's a risk of an asthma attack or just collapsing from the short walk #literally do not care #my hair is thick and hot and too long #let me be an androgynous gremlin! #also my cat says hi (he is slapping my phone like No phone love me NOW!!! XD ) #bluewind talks

[songmingisthighs]

[9.55] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ good thing you're smart, if not Wooyoung wouldn't have a whole attitude change

⇁ tw : violence, torture, kindapping, mafia life

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

You don't remember how long it has been since they captured you. Being stuck in a basement would do that apparently.

Whoever was behind your capture had been torturing you beyond your own imagination. They had starved you, hit you, kicked you, attempted to drown you, tied you in an uncomfortable position every night, and sent in someone to make sure you don't get an ounce of sleep.

All that just to get information on Wooyoung.

Currently, you're being tied to a chair, being once again interrogated for informations you had no clue about, "things would be much easier if you'd just give us what we want," the buff man in front of you said, he held a knife to your cheek but at this point you couldn't even flinch, "where is Jung Wooyoung's headquarters?"

Your cold outfit was clinging onto you like second skin, it's uncomfortable and it's dirty, the cold had definitely impacted your health.

Recently all you've been able to feel is just the headache and the burn from inside your body. Not even the abuse given to you was able to inflict you pain.

Everything's just numb.

You look up at the man, almost with a challenging look as you press your face daringly to the blade, "I. Don't. Know." you spat each word like venom.

The man laughed, pretty amused at how daring you are being, "you're his wife, there is no way you wouldn't have known," you rolled your eyes at him, bitter that he used the word 'wife' because you know fully well that Wooyoung would never treat you as such, "then I must've not been his wife now, am I?" You retorted back at him, slightly shocking him because this is the first time within the (apparently) 7 days you've been captured that you had said something else other than 'I don't know' or 'fuck you'.

Everyone was startled at the revelation, they probably hadn't concidered that you might not be Wooyoung's wife. No one really know about Wooyoung's personal life, it seems.

Seeing their hesitance, you take this as your chance of escaping.

The buff man grab your hair harshly, his eyes narrowing at you in suspicion, "don't lie to me, whore, if you're not his wife, then why'd you have a wedding ring on?" "Stole it from my mistress before I ran away, needed the money," you lied easily, surprising yourself.

"And why are you wearing it?" He asked again, "to make it less inconspicuous, people need to believe that this belongs to me or else they'll alert the cops that I'm a thief,"

He seemed to be having an inner turmoil on whether or not he should believe you.

With how you've been acting and the lack of evidence that you are Wooyoung's wife, you could really have been the wrong target.

"That means Handong lied to us," he said as he push your head away, talking to one of the men next to him, "bring him in and get this bitch out," he said simply before turning back to leave.

But before he walked out of the room, he looked back once more at you with a bitter smirk, "make sure to... deal... with her first, insurance for your silence,"

When the doors closed, 5 men approach your figure, still tied on the chair.

One of them crouch down in front of you, he brush your hair out of your face with a sad smile, "I'm sorry that we have to do this, pretty girl," confused at what he said, you just stared at him. But then he suddenly slap you so hard that you fell down along with the chair you're tied to.

And thus began one of the longest night of your life.

Meanwhile Wooyoung was getting antsy. His men couldn't find you anywhere and there isn't a second when he didn't regret turning his abundance of cctv off

He spent his days either in meetings or trying to track your whereabouts. San had to step in and actually force him to eat, going as far as cuffing him to his chair and spoon-fed him, even throwing a cheesy "would (Y/N) be happy to see you in this state?" At him to which he replied, "considering how I treat her, I wouldn't be surprised if she is,"

So far, neither yours nor his parents were aware of your disappearance. His dad only asked about you once to ensure he still has leverage, which of course Wooyoung lied, he's already stressed over your disappearance the last thing he need is for his dad to bit his head off.

Each night he spent sleeping in his bedroom, moping to the fact that he genuinely misses and worried about you. He regret taking you for granted, taking your presence for granted. Now, he could only imagine your sleeping form next to him using the memories of when he actually slept in bed with you. He used to be able to feel your warmth next to him, now it's just cold and he dislike it.

Tonight was no different. Before he got into bed, he went to the walk-in closet and look at all the dresses he had brought you to events that you went to (re : events he was forced brought you because his parents would be there). He remembered every how you looked in every single one of them.

It's pathetic of him, to be pining over the woman he claimed to have no care about.

Just as he turned the walk-in closet's lights off, there were commotions from downstairs, then a huge bang like his front doors had been barged open.

Diving into his instincts, Wooyoung grabbed the nearest gun he had hid all around the room and ran out, thinking that it was a raid by his rivals.

But when he looked down from the second floor to the living room, his heart wrenched and he froze.

San had you in his arms, you looked sickly pale with bruises all over your exposed arms and legs, clothes had chunks of them torn, and you weren't moving. One would assume that you're dead.

Wooyoung dropped his gun and ran to his friend who had just put you on the couch.

The sight of you looking so broken panicked him. He wanted to hold you and be glad that you're home, but he doesn't wanna hurt you. He wanted to tell you how sorry he is and that he'll make up to you but he's not sure whether or not you're still alive.

He snapped his head towards his staff, "call the doctor! Call Kang Yeosang in!" He barked to which his staffs immediately obeyed, scrambling to do as he ordered.

"God, baby, who did this to you?" He muttered to himself, reaching forward to brush your hair out of your face.

You stirred a bit when you heard his voice ans managed to open your eyes despite the splitting headache and the soreness all over your body.

When your eyes met his, you smiled, "hey, what are you doing in my dreams?" You croaked out, throat obviously sore and beyond parched from having been denied fluids for so long. It was your turn to brush his bangs from his eyes, something you've always wanted to do but know never could considering his dislike that turned out to be hatred towards you.

You suddenly frown at him, making his gaze on you softer, "I'm sorry," you muttered, not able to speak louder. At that, he tilted his head, "for what?" "Not being able to stay gone, I had to had the will to live, I should've let them kill me," you said before you slip into unconsciousness, rendering Wooyoung speechless at your words.

Before he was able to retaliate, San had swoop you back into his arms to take you to an empty room so Yeosang could come in and treat you.

"No," Wooyoung called, stopping San in his tracks, "bring her to my- our room, she should feel comfortable," to which San just nodded and obey, knowing how important it is to have you next to him as much as him next to you.

Yeosang came in not long after and spent 3 hours cleaning and stitching your wounds, checking for possible internal injuries, all the while making sure he's handling you with the utmost care as Wooyoung had been glaring daggers at him. Whether it serve to be a warning to not harm you or a sign of jealousy as Yeosang had a perfectly valid reason to cut your shirt and shorts off for handling.

"I can't make a clear diagnosis without checking for internal injuries, we have to take her to the hospital," Yeosang said. But Wooyoung just snap at him, "then freaking bring the machines here! She's not leaving this mansion and she's not leaving my side!"

Both men just stared at each other for a few minutes, Yeosang holding onto his ground on wanting simplicity, and Wooyoung being afraid of losing you from his sight again.

Knowing how stubborn his friend can be, Yeosang was first to crack, sighing and nodding at Wooyoung, "I'll see what I can do," he said simply before going out to talk to San about possibly transporting some of his machines.

The rest of the night, Wooyoung took care of you. He had put you in one of his large, white button up because it's the easiest to put on you. He stayed by your side in a chair, afraid that he might hurt you (than he already necessary does with his words) if he were to slip in bed with you.

As he watch you, his hands moved to held yours in his. His thumbs were rubbing the back of your hand when it suddenly caught on something.

Looking down, he noticed that it's your wedding ring, matching his own which he's wearing.

It brought a smile to his face seeing you're still holding onto it so dearly. You could've left it for him to find and throw away the day you left, but you had decided to take it with you.

Could it be that despite everything he's done to you, you don't want to completely erase him from your mind?

And that's what made Wooyoung broke down and cried.

He didn't deserve you, not one bit. But despite that, he knows that he's the only one capable enough of taking care of you, to provide for whatever it is that you need.

So at that moment, with you back in hia arms, he decided to step up and assume his responsibilities and treat you as how you deserve to be treated.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timestamp #ateez timestamp #au #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #smt timestamp

[natewriteslol]

The Wonders of Magic Pt. 1

Non magical!Twisted Boys x Witch!Reader

A/N: This has been sitting in my brain for a while since I have Little Witch Academia brainrot and I love snooty rich boys asdfljsfaj

Characters: Keep reading to find out!!

Warnings: Language and Y/N goes by she/her pronouns 

Summary: Dealing with magical adventures and society deeming magic as “flashy but worthless” doesn’t deter Y/N L/N from reaching her goal of becoming a powerful witch. However, what will she do when she has to find a way to stop the selling Calypso Academy? 

~~~

All your life you had dreamed of being a witch, however there was a slight problem. You weren't a magic user.

And as magic use had started to become more oppressed and scarce, magic schools were starting to open their doors to all walks of life. Making the most elite schools fall to their knees.

Either you lose your elite status or fall into debt.

So this was good opportunity for you, you managed to make it into one of the most renowned magic schools in the country, Calypso Academy. But it wasn't all peaches and cream, you weren't exactly accepted among your peers. Your family weren't magic users, nor were they wealthy. Yet you still pursued magic, there was a fire burning in your heart that just drew you in all your life. And you couldn't let your dream go just because of some mean girls. But this is the story of how you met some of your greatest obstacles.

 ~~~

It was the night of the great Ball, Calypso academy was having it's 350th anniversary. And you unlucky for you, you still didn’t know how to ride a broom since you were learning from the ground up. 

So there you were, by yourself, in one of the open fields of your campus. Trying to make this broom fly. 

And in your flight teacher Ms. Flint’s words, “If the broom doesn’t leave the ground, you can’t step a foot in the ball.” And so far, your feet have been stuck on the ground.

You felt horrible. I mean, what witch doesn’t know how to fly a broom? And while you were incredibly dejected

 from your failures, you knew you couldn’t just let it go. 

‘The trick it to be determined, yet feel as light as a feather. Be one with the broom’ your manifestation teacher, Mrs. Fairi had softly advised. You had to do this for for her, she already put so much faith in you, she would be so disappointed if she didn’t see you at the ball. 

“Nubes Volant ro!” You casted, pushing your leg to lift. Expecting your legs to come back down and for your shoes to hit the softness of the grass... but it never came.

You opened your eyes and there you were, suspended in air. 

Your excitement was indescribable, but you needed to be skilled enough to meet the requirements for Ms. Flint. So you tried and tried again, and while a little shaky you still managed to fly and do a stable landing! 

“I did it! Screw everyone in this academy who doubted me!” You  squealed a little loud, doing a little dance. You heard  footsteps and chuckling, but you brushed it off as some of your classmates. Too excited to care, you grabbed your things and ran off to show Ms. Flint.   But there was one problem, the entire point of this celebration was to both celebrate the anniversary but... it was begging as well. It was no secret that Calypso was losing money to pay taxes, but they were being pressured to give it all up. So to persuade the buyers, they had invited their son's to be enriched in witch culture and tradition. To prove them wrong and show that magic has value. However the students of the academy weren't aware of the true intentions behind the invites of the son's of these rich men. Many whispered in the halls about the upcoming ceremony. Talking about how handsome the young men attending were. But the day of the party was finally here! The banquet was absolutely incredible with 25 foot tables of food on both sides of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers with floating candles illuminating and creating a heavenly golden light. And the great ancient tapestries that surrounded the room. There was no way that anything could mess up your night. 

But then, you heard a shout from a classmate in the crowd. "The nobles sons! They're here!" You stopped stuffing your face for a moment. Everyone cleared the way for the grand wooden doors as they opened, a red carpet elegantly draping the piece of floor it laid on. Designer shoes clicked as they touched the ground. Every girl eyes followed as they walked, you snuck past some trying to get a glimpse of their features. They were five of them being escorted by one older gentleman, all incredibly handsome young men. One had a bright smile that was genuine and waving at some of the girls in the crowd. While the other had a smirk not paying anyone any mind, as if he was calculating something. One held a solemn expression, yet was incredibly poised and graceful. The last two however wore scowls, one that showed he most definitely didn’t want to be here while the other just looked strict. 

They sat down in their seats in the front table that awaited them. Each seat was just as fancy as a king’s throne, with gold embellishments and velvet seats. 

It was a cookie cut scene, they were made for this life of luxury.

~~~

It was an hour into the ceremony, showcasing tricks and theatrical dances from every witch culture from around the globe. But it was almost as though nothing was satisfying them, besides the one with white hair. While he adorned a smile, there was something behind his eyes, as though he was doing some critical thinking. 

Nothing was enough for them. 

But it was toward the end and the noble’s sons were promised a tour. Every witch in the school was made to study up on knowledge of the campus. So that if you were the “lucky winner” you wouldn’t look like a complete fool. 

As you snacked on your chocolate filled croissant, Ms. Flint with her booming voice had called everyone’s attention to the center of the stage. Raising her wand, a split of golden light had displayed random names. 

Knowing your luck, you knew you wouldn’t be picked. I mean this was probably a tactic to get people to study the school’s magical history. It did work, as if there was a slight chance you were chosen you wouldn’t want to make a fool out of yourself in front of people like you usually did. But, Principal Hendrix wouldn’t be so irresponsible as to let a random student represent the school, right? 

Exactly. But even then, you sure did feel sorry for whoever was to give the tour-

“Y/N L/N!”

...

Remember what you said about shitty luck? 

Shocked was an understatement. Even though you had your two best and only friends Silva and Miete patting you on the back telling you congrats and to do your best, the hammering of your heart was too heavy for you to handle. 

Whispers broke out for a moment, a lot of girls were incredibly disappointed but cleared the way for you to go up the stairs and talk to Ms. Flint and Principal Hendrix. 

“Good job, Y/N. Now if you wouldn’t mind, please give these young men a tour of Calypso, would you?” Principle Hendrix said gently with a smile.

“Ha, ha, of course! But surely there’s been a mistake, I mean Lydia could probably recite the information without having to read a single book-” 

“No way, L/N. You were chosen, now do the tour please, the latest you can be back is at 9pm,” Ms. Flint replied, cutting you off sharply. 

“You’re an incredibly charismatic student, Y/N. Just keep them entertained,” Principle Hendrix whispered as you walked toward the table.

Be charismatic, not awkward! Got it!

“Alrighty then! Who’s ready for a tour?” you said, almost giving finger guns as a mechanism. 

“Oh, I am!” 

“Yes,  I’ve been wanting to see the range of this property in person.”

“Yes, I would like to get this over with. I have an appointment tomorrow and I would not like to miss it.”

Other than that, all you received was a nod and an eye roll. But it’s better not to pry and ask for more from them. 

Each getting out of their seats, you walked outside. Hearing cheers from the crowd and the occasional “Vil! I love you!” which made you a little embarrassed. 

Feeling the night breeze and seeing the stars poke through calmed you down slightly, it was 7:45 and all you had to do was blabber at them about the school until 9. 

Easy task, Y/N. Easy!

~~~

Once you got outside, the tour had been running smoothly for only a couple of minutes. But you couldn’t help but feel as though they started scanning you, as if they saw you from somewhere. Until unfortunately, the sunshine of the group’s lightbulb had went off. 

“Oh! You’re the girl with the broomstick towards the front of the school! You looked so happy practicing.” 

“There must be a mistake-”

“Are you sure? If so then I guess you have a doppelganger” the boy with glasses teased. 

“Didn’t you say, ‘Screw everyone at this academy’?” the short, red head questioned, persecuting your behavior. 

“Well some people here aren’t exactly the nicest. It was just an excitement of the moment thing, sorry,” You said, trying to get Mr. Non-Rule Breaker off your back. 

~~~

So... you had accidently overshared about your adventures on campus. 

It had all started when one of the boys looked shocked that the ancient Willow tree was thriving and looking beautiful as ever. When he looked at it from pictures given to him, it was completely lifeless and grey. 

“This tree, it looks completely different? It’s been sickly for years! How is this possible?” He asked, as his main piece of evidence the white haired boy gave to his father to buy this property was foiled. 

“Oh, that was me. They had willow worms in the roots that were ready to hatch and I accidently brought them out,” you said, a little prideful, yet it was quickly stomped out.

“That is highly irresponsible, you should’ve had a professional complete that task, not an inexperienced student,” the red haired boy scoffed, it seemed as though he didn’t respect this school at all. Yet the boy with grey hair and glasses paid him no mind, still incredibly astonished, but it was quickly wiped from his face and replaced with a somewhat of a sour look. As though you beat him at some game he was playing.

“...Interesting. I never knew magic could do something of that caliber,” he remarked,  pushing up his glasses. 

“Magic is incredibly useful, Mr...” 

Shit. You didn’t get their names...

“My apologies, I didn’t catch your guy’s names,” you said, placing a hand behind your head. 

You had never in your life seen a group of people get so surprised, besides the other white haired boy, who was happy to tell you his name. 

“I’m Kalim, Kalim-Al-Asim!” he said, shaking your hand with a vigor, “It’s a little funny that you don’t know who we are, but I like that about you!” 

How was it funny? You’ve never seen these people in your entire life? The blonde man was especially offended as you glanced at him for his name. 

“Vil Schoenheit. Actor, singer, dancer, beauty influenc-” 

“Hmmm, Vil I can’t help but feel that you’re angry at Ms. L/N for not knowing who you are,” the boy with glasses remarked before taking your hand, “Azul Ashengrotto, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“I’m Riddle Rosehearts,” the short red-haired boy said.

“...Leona Kingscholar.” 

“Alright, I’m glad I got your names! Let’s get a move on! I have got to show you some more stuff!” you said before moving along, gaining more confidence as you talked to them. 

Maybe this tour wasn’t so bad after all!

~~~

Coming up:

“How did you not know who the noble’s sons are?!” Miette yelled, but her soft voice wasn’t exactly giving the shocking boom to emphasize her feelings.

“I’m sorry! Everything was completely fine after that, if this whole tour was such a big deal then I would’ve studied them more instead of the school,” you said, completely pooped out from last night. 

So much pressure on you made you very tired out, and all of these new details coming out made you feel even more guilty for your half-assed tour. 

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #vil schoenheit #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil #leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona #kalim al asim x reader

[stardust-walker]

World on Fire: Chapter 2 {Loki x Sigyn)

Summary: Sigyn was supposed to have died almost 100 years ago. A peace mission to Migard gone wrong and she had never returned. Everyone had thought she was dead until Loki is shown someone who looks too familiar when he comes to Earth on a mission. Sharon Odell. Shannon Orwell. Sidney Orwell. No matter what name she goes by, it’s all the same. Now that Gods and heroes are real, there’s no use hiding who she really is anymore.

Masterlist

Chapter 2: Start a war

Sidney hated the fact that she was stuck without much of a choice. She had to trust SHIELD and that meant she had to trust Nick Fury with her life. A heavy sigh left her lips right as she heard a branch crack in the woods somewhere behind her. The blonde squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She couldn’t get turned around right now when she was so close to getting out of here. 

Sidney’s eyes popped open as she heard a jet flying overhead. She was off again, but this time she didn’t even care. She pushed her way through the brush and branches before she stumbled into a clearing. As the wind whipped around her, she faced the woods. Those rogue agents could still be after her.

“Miss Orwell,” a voice shouted over the whir of the engine. She had been so in her own world, she hadn’t even heard them land behind her. A small smile appeared on her face as she turned and met the gaze of Phil Coulson. “How nice of you to join us,” Coulson called over the roar of the engines. Sidney stomped past him as the jet began to ascend again.

As the ramp began to close back up, they could just see the two SHIELD agents stumble out of the woods. “So those bastards were still following me,” Sidney grumbled as she shrugged off her leather jacket. 

“Some branches in your hair,” Coulson smiled as he motioned towards the back of his own head.

Her eyes narrowed and a sarcastic remark was cut off by another voice.

“Anymore detours?” That voice.

Sidney turned quickly. Her jaw nearly dropped as she finally realized they weren’t the only passengers on the jet. She swallowed hard as Coulson stepped forward to make introductions. She could practically feel the excitement that radiated off of the older man. “Steve, this is Sidney Orwell. Sidney, this is-”

“Steve Rogers,” Sidney interrupted as she took a step forward and held out her hand. Steve stood and squeezed a little too tight as they shook hands. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain.” She smirked as she pulled her hand from his grasp and straightened out her green sweater. “I have to say, I’ve been dying to meet you since they thawed you out.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I wish the circumstances were better,” he smiled at her. She couldn’t help but notice how terribly sad he looked. “I knew an Orwell.” Sidney’s shoulder stiffened as Phil’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Shannon,” Sidney stated after a few moments of silence. Her mind worked quickly. “My grandmother,” she answered Steve’s unspoken question. This seemed to comfort the man somewhat. The two of them were silent for a second.

“You mean to tell me that your grandmother knew Captain America and you held out on me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working right now, Philip?” Sidney responded in a cold voice. “Call me old-fashioned, but sometimes a girl would like to know who’s trying to kidnap her. Along with what they want with the Tesseract.” 

“Hope you’re a quick study. There’s a final exam when we land,” Coulson dead-panned as he picked up a tablet off of the seat where Steve had been along with a folder. “This will tell you all that we’re working with so far.”

Sidney lowered herself onto the bench across from Steve as the two men moved closer to the cockpit to talk. She was grateful they weren’t closer when she opened the folder. It felt like all of the air left her lungs and she just couldn’t bring herself to breathe as she stared at the image that had clearly been printed from security footage. There was Selvig on the right and Barton on the left. They hadn’t been lying about agents being compromised that was for sure.

It was the man in the middle that had caught her attention. He looked tired and sickly, but it was him. The person who had tried to kidnap her was Loki. She could feel the whole charade starting to crumble down around her already.

Coulson had realized a few minutes before they landed that he needed to make sure Sidney knew exactly what she was getting into. She quickly recited a shortened version of the notes she’d read about the others. Banner was a genius who turned into a monster due to gamma radiation. Natasha was a former Soviet spy, current SHIELD spy. She had tried hard to repress any emotion in her voice when she stated all she knew was that Iron Man was a man with more money than God.

Steve had laughed at that one. “Sounds like something your grandmother would say about his father,” he shook his head as the small jet jolted.

Coulson clapped his hands together. “Alright, everyone out of the bus.”

Sidney rolled her eyes as she slapped her hand down on the folder one last time before she turned to stand up. Steve had his hand held out in front of her. “What a gentleman. This must be what it was like in the good old days,” she joked as she allowed him to help her to her feet. The blonde still felt far off in her own world as she shrugged her jacket on and followed the men out onto the deck. 

The salty sea air relaxed her as she took a deep breath and allowed herself to get lost in the sensation of it for just a few seconds. The dampness in the air felt nice after being cooped up in a jet or running through the woods for most of the day.

It felt like home.

“Welcome back, Sidney,” a familiar voice called out.

A smile spread across her face as she reached out an clapped a hand on Natasha’s shoulder. “Don’t get too cozy, Romanoff. I don’t plan to make this a regular thing.”

Natasha rolled her eyes as she motioned for the two of them to follow her. “It was quite the buzz around here when they found you in the ice.” The red-head addressed Steve as Sidney continued to survey her new surroundings. “I thought Coulson was gonna swoon.”

Sidney snorted. 

“Did he ask you to sign his Captain America training cards yet?”

“Natasha,” Sidney scolded jokingly. “Let’s not scare away out new friend.”

Natasha smirked at the blonde woman as Steve stepped forward to greet another new arrival.“Dr. Bruce Banner,” she interjected, “this is Dr. Sidney Orwell. Her family’s been with SHIELD since the beginning.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Banner waved at her as he smiled awkwardly. His hands tugged nervously at his jacket as he seemed to study her warily.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your research is just absolutely incredible.”

“Sidney was brought on to help with the Tesseract…once we get a hand on it, anyway.” She didn’t miss how Steve seemed to tense up at every mention of the cube. 

“I expect we’ll be spending a lot of time together then,” Sidney grinned. “Don’t worry, I pride myself on being a very calming person.”

Bruce let out a short laugh. Sidney couldn’t shake the feeling that things were going to go downhill very fast. She had heard of the Hulk. Everyone had after what happened in the Bronx, but the only thing she could do was try. As long as she did what SHIELD wanted her to do, she could go home.

Home.

Maybe she could even see—No. She wouldn’t even let herself think about that even as her heart beat a little faster and her stomach turned.

“It must be strange for you. All of this,” Bruce motioned around the deck. At least Bruce seemed like a nice person; she wasn’t too sure she wanted to meet the other guy yet.

“Well actually, all of this is kind of familiar.” Steve sighed.

“We might want to step inside for a minute. It’s gonna get a little hard to breathe.” Sidney didn’t miss the smirk on Natasha’s face as she turned to face her. 

“God I hate planes,” Sidney whispered to herself as she jolted slightly when they rose up out of the ocean and into the sky.

The bridge of the plane was impressive that was for sure. If SHIELD was anything, they were efficient. Her stomach turned just a little bit as she spotted Nick Fury at the helm of everything.

“Gentlemen,” the older man called out as he turned around. “Sidney,” he nodded at her. The blonde responded with a sarcastic smile. 

“Hello, Nicholas.” She patted the man on the shoulder as he passed her to greet Bruce. 

“How long am I staying?”

“That’s exactly the question I had, doctor,” Sidney chimed in.

“Once we find the Tesseract, you’re in the wind,” Fury replied. Was that supposed to be reassuring?

Sidney narrowed her eyes slightly as Coulson spoke up from the lower deck. “We’re accessing every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet.”

Sidney suddenly became very aware of her own phone in her pocket. She would have to make a mental note to dump both of her phones when she was done with this place. Bastards.

“It’s still not going to find them in time,” Natasha sounded worried. That couldn’t be good.

“How many spectrometers do you have access to,” Bruce frowned. 

“How many are there?” Fury raised an eyebrow.

Sidney pursed her lips as she watched Banner shrug off his jacket. “Call every lab you know. Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I’ll figure out a tracking algorithm. Basic cluster recognition.”

“Dr. Banner, I’m impressed.” Sidney smiled as she nodded her head. She figured it went without saying that she would help him with that. “Do you have somewhere for us to work, Fury?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Agent Romanoff?” Fury called out. “Could you show Dr. Banner and Dr. Orwell to the laboratory?” 

At least she trusted Natasha enough to follow her.

“So what’s your specialty?” She didn’t expect Bruce to be one for friendly conversation and if anything this proved her right. He was trying to be nice, she could tell. It seemed like he hadn’t had a normal conversation in years. Sidney knew what that felt like a little too well.

“Astrophysics,” she sighed. “Kind of runs in the family,” she smiled as she brushed her hair from her eyes. 

The two of them were silent as Sidney began to busy herself. SHIELD’s technology was advanced past what the general population had access too but, thankfully, she had somewhat of a grasp on it. As her hands extended along the touch screen that hung in the middle of the room. 

“Are you one of them?” Bruce spoke up suddenly. Sidney’s dark eyes narrowed as she surveyed the man.

Sidney hated to say it, but she’d been asked that question many times. Maybe not in the same context but still. “A spy? Oh no, Bruce. I’m far too much of a talker to make a good spy.” She laughed at her own poor excuse for a joke. “I’m more of a quiet observer if anything.”

“Sounds a little like a spy to me,” Banner retorted. Sidney let out a small peal laughter. 

She dragged her fingers along the screen. All the humor disappeared from her expression as her face went pale. “What the hell,” she whispered as she tapped the screen again.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Sidney shook her head as she gulped. 

“What the hell is that?” Bruce raised an eyebrow as he stepped closer. 

Sidney shook her head. “Nothing! I…I was just trying to see what they had on Loki and Thor. I guess I just ended up in the wrong section or something.”

“Why Thor?” Bruce frowned in confusion.

Sidney crossed her arms over her chest as she stared at the image on the screen. “Because they’re brothers. Haven’t you heard the stories?” She wasn’t surprised to hear that Bruce lacked knowledge in the Norse mythology department.

“So if you were looking for them, why-”

He trailed off as Sidney swiped the image off the screen and hurried from the room. The text on the screen was still burned into her mind’s eye. 

Alias: Sidney Orwell

Threat Level: Neutralized

There was no time to corner Fury as she intended to. No time for anything, in fact, as she stomped her way onto the bridge of the ship.

“We found him. 67% match. No…79% match!”

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the image on the computer. He didn’t look quite as sick as he did in the photograph, but something still felt…off.

A chill went down her spine as Loki cast a brief glance at the security camera.

He knew they were watching him.

_________________

Hello friendos, here’s another chapter. I’m just out here tryin my best so feel free to give me any feedback. I really appreciate it! Let me know if you would want to be added to a taglist! Hope you continue to enjoy!

#loki x sigyn #marvel loki #loki #loki x reader #loki x oc #loki odinson #loki odinson fanfiction #loki odison x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fanfiction #sigyn #bruce banner #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #u know what i love? bruce banner and sigyn being soft but very angry friends #being dramatic is a quality loki's wife needs prove me wrong #tom hiddleston

[sassy-starker]

Five Times Stark Industries Employees Saw Peter Parker

(And One Time They All Found Out Who He Was)

Word count: 9128

CW: none

Notes: I promised @tony-is-my-daddy that I would tag them in my fluff fic and that was literally almost 2 weeks ago so I’m really, really sorry. I got caught up with finals and everything, but, I finally present to you, A Self-Indulgent Fic Where Peter and Tony Act Sappy And Confuse Employees

1.

Peter couldn’t focus.  His eyes were bleary and his mind was wandering.  His attention was completely taken up by the hollowness in his chest.  The workshop felt all too empty and quiet, but he knew that background noise wouldn’t help.  He needed someone there.  He needed people— hell, even just a person— to be with him.  His mind felt distant, yet all too aware at the same time and it was driving him insane.  He hated the winter.  He hated seasonal affective disorder.  He hated this.

In a rash decision, before his brain could even think, Peter pulled out his Stark Phone and tapped into messages.  He tapped on his most recent contact and began to type.

Peter: hey, do you think i could go down to the intern labs and just work down there?

Peter: like the ones with the individual workspaces?

Peter: i need to be around people

Tony: Of course! I should be done with my meeting at about 5 so then we can go binge shitty rom-coms and cuddle and eat Chinese food

Tony: Pepper saw me on my phone. Gotta go

Peter: <3

Tony: <3

Peter, now with confirmation, gathered up what he was working on in his backpack and shoved his phone in his pocket before getting up and moving to the elevator.

“Where to, Peter?” FRIDAY asked him.

“Fifty-fourth floor please.”

The elevator moved relatively quickly down the floors, and it wasn’t long until it dinged and the doors opened, revealing rows and rows of worktables with interns scattered around and working on individual projects.  Peter knew that they moved on and off the floor, depending on whether they were working in groups with their department or solo.

People looked over to the unknown young man while he set his stuff down on a table.  He paid no mind, feeling comforted by having people around.  He always felt nice when he knew that he wasn’t all alone, that the world was still there and time was still moving on.  Just as he sat down, though, a lab director from some floor below them walked right up to the desk.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re allowed to be here,” he said in a sickly sweet, obviously fake voice.

“Excuse me?” Peter asked politely, looking up to the man.

“This space is for interns and employees. You don’t appear to be either,” the man elaborated.

“No, I’m allowed to be here,” Peter shot back simply before looking away from the man and reaching for his bag to pull out his project materials.

“Who do you think you are?” the lab director interrogated. “I’ll get you kicked out of this building!”

“I’m Peter-” the young adult started, but was cut off by FRIDAY interrupting.

“No last names, Peter,” the AI warned. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.  I can assure that Peter is allowed to be here.”

Peter simply looked up and gave a shrug to the lab director before continuing to pull out the materials from his bag.  The man looked up to the ceiling fearfully before retreating back to his own workspace.

That was the first time they saw Peter.

2.

The next time Stark Industries employees saw Peter could only be described as chaotic.

The door to the stairs opened and somebody rushed out, weaving their way around people and workstations with practiced ease, all while laughing so hard that there were tears falling from their eyes.

Upon closer inspection, the employees realized that it was, in fact, the mysterious young man from only a week earlier.

Moments after Peter rushed in, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, and out ran the Tony Stark, covered in red and blue glitter. Not to mention that he looked furious, but not the type of furious where he was genuinely angry. It was more like that fond kind of furious, where you’re annoyed and upset, but can’t help but find the situation a bit funny and the person responsible is somebody you care about.

Tony ran out of the elevator, also weaving around his employees and their projects, obviously chasing the young man. By that point, though, the young man was laughing so hard that he had slowed down considerably. Thanks to that fact, Tony caught up and tackled him to the ground. All the employees were frozen in shock and just watching as their boss stood up and rubbed glitter off his skin to get it onto the man he was now standing above.

“No!” shouted the younger, getting up from his spot on the floor and giving the engineer a light shove. Both of them were still smiling and laughing about it though. “This is gonna take forever to wash off!”

“How do you think I feel?” Tony retorted, sprinkling some glitter into the other man’s curly hair. Once again, the younger man gave him a light push.

That’s when the two of them became acutely aware of the attention they had garnered.

“Sorry for disrupting your work,” Peter apologized to the crowd of employees sheepishly.

“We’ll send somebody to clean up the mess we made,” Tony told them, eyeing the trail of glitter he had left on the floor, “but get back to work.”

Hesitantly, they all began to go back to their workstations, but kept their eyes on the two men as they talked quietly and walked back to the elevator. Nobody said a word until the elevator doors had closed, obscuring their view of their boss and the mysterious man.

“Who the fuck is that kid?” Ashley questioned, turning to the coworkers she was in an experimenting group with.

“I have no idea,” Dylan answered, slowly tearing his eyes away from the elevator doors.

“He’s definitely a weird one,” Jenna piped up decisively. “I mean, have you ever even seen a picture of Tony Stark smiling that fondly?”

“And he talked back to him!” Dylan added on. “Like, holy shit, that kid shoved him and Stark only laughed!”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things while working here,” Ashley told them, sparing a glance at the elevator, “but this is definitely one of the strangest.”

3.

“Please?” Peter begged.

“No,” Tony answered for what felt like the hundredth time. “Gossip spreads across the building quickly and basically every employee is already trying to figure out who you are! I don’t want them finding out and leaking it to the press!”

“But they already know, so what does it matter? It’s not like the rumors will go away if they just don’t see me again!” Peter argued, jumping up from where he was seated in order to stand in front of his boyfriend.

“The rumors will die down if they don’t see you again. They’ll eventually move onto talking about something else,” Tony replied, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him close. Peter embraced the man and the two just stood there for a few moments.

“I just want you to be safe,” Tony told him quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” Peter responded, pulling away but still holding onto his boyfriend’s hands. “All your employees sign NDA’s, so even if they did leak something to the press, which I doubt they would, legal would be on their ass and sue them for all they’re worth.”

Tony sighed, realizing that Peter had a good argument that he just couldn’t counter.

“Fine. You can come help me with the presentation.”

Peter pumped his fist in the air and let out a whoop in victory, causing Tony to roll his eyes fondly.

+++

When the employees working in R&D walked into the small auditorium on the 16th floor, they knew Tony Stark was going to be there, but they didn’t expect the infamous mystery man to be there.  On the stage, Peter was talking animatedly about something or other while Tony just listened, a fond smile on his face and his eyes sparkling.

The crowd walked in hesitantly, everybody’s eyes on the two men up front, who still hadn’t acknowledged them.  When everyone was seated and the clock struck the exact time the presentation was supposed to start, the two finally turned to them to get started.

“Hello, R&D department! I hope you’re all doing well!” Tony greeted with his press smile on. “You all know who I am, but I have somebody else here with me today.”

“What’s up? I’m Peter,” the younger man introduced himself, hitting the woah as he said his name.

“Did you just-” Tony started with a sigh before cutting himself off. “You and your fucking tiktok dances.”

“You say that as if you didn’t ask me to teach you the Renegade last week!”

“That was different! That was for the Stark Industries tiktok! I need to be relatable so I stay relevant!” Tony defended.

“And yet you still won’t let me teach you the dance to ‘Say So’ even though it’s iconic!” Peter shot back.

“You and I have different ideas of what counts as iconic,” Tony said dryly before turning back to the crowd of employees. 

“Anyway, today Peter and I will be telling you all about the new prosthetics line that your department will begin developing!”

Despite the importance of the presentation, the employees were only half listening as they were more focused on whispering about the mystery boy.

“Okay but what the actual fuck happened at the beginning of this?” Jenna asked quietly as she leaned over to her coworker on the right of her.

“No fucking clue. I can't believe this dude is just casually talking and joking around with Tony fucking Stark!” Dylan whispered in reply, not taking his eyes off the stage.

“And apparently he taught Stark how to do the Renegade. That’s fucking insane,” Ashley added from Jenna’s left.

The three turned their attention back to the two men on stage, finally listening to what they were saying again.

“Street smarts!” the younger man exclaimed, jumping in about something they were saying before.

“Stay alert out there,” both Peter and Tony quoted with large smiles. As if nothing happened, they jumped right back into the presentation.

“This is the weirdest fucking thing in the world,” Dylan declared quietly.

“I second that,” Ashley muttered.

“I third that,” Jenna added on without taking her eyes off the stage.

The presentation went on a bit longer, but it didn’t drag on.  It helped that the entire time the two men were joking around and making the employees progressively more and more confused.

Peter and Tony wrapped up the presentation soon enough and the R&D employees began to file out, most of them keeping their eyes on the two men talking quietly on stage.  Jenna, Ashley, and Dylan walked out together, some of the last to exit the auditorium, and the three made it to the elevator before Jenna realized she left her jacket behind.  She told her friends that she would catch up to them and way back to the now empty seats.  Not paying attention to the world around her, she looked for where she had sat and made her way through the row until she reached her seat and found her cardigan.

“See, I told you it would be okay,” said a voice from the stage.  Jenna turned around and saw Peter talking to Tony, the men standing close together.

“You know I just get worried,” the billionaire replied, his voice more sincere than Jenna could’ve ever imagined. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I can take care of myself, Tones. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Jenna felt like she was intruding on a private moment, so she started to make her way out of the rows of seats and back to the door as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Just because I don’t need to worry doesn’t mean I won’t. I care so much about you, Peter. You know I love you.”

Jenna froze in place, right at the end of the row of seats and about to step into the main aisle that led to the doors.  Against her better judgment, she found herself staring up at the two men on the stage, her gaze stuck on them.  She just couldn’t look away.

Peter and Tony were basically right up against each other.  They only were a couple inches apart with both their hands intertwined.  She couldn’t see it earlier, but, now that they were right next to each other, Jenna could tell that Peter was about half a foot shorter than Tony.  The younger man was looking up at the billionaire with a bright smile that was returned.  It was like nothing she could’ve ever imagined; a ball of sunshine and pop culture references right next to a man known to be scuffed up and rough around the edges.  It was like this boy brought out a completely different side of Stark.

“I love you too,” Peter replied softly before leaning up on the balls of his feet to give Tony a soft kiss on the lips.

Jenna, sucked in a breath of air harshly, the sound being enough to alert the men to her presence.  The two men stared at her with wide eyes for a moment and she stared right back.

“Shit.” Tony broke the silence of the room, his voice conveying the concern written across his face.  Peter put a hand on his forearm and schooled his features into a comforting look.  The man looked over at him and tried to take solace in his lover’s gentleness.

“I told you something was gonna go wrong,” the billionaire said with a mix of concern and fear on his face.

“We’re not getting into this argument again,” Peter responded decidedly, his tone making it sound final.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize I was walking in on anything. I just came in because I forgot my jacket! I . . . please don’t fire me, Mister Stark,” Jenna stammered once she had broken out of her shocked stupor.

“He’s not going to fire you,” Peter reassured her with a kind tone.

“Well . . .” Tony said, but his tone was a bit humorous.

“You’re not gonna fire her because we decided we couldn’t wait until we got back to the penthouse to be all sappy.” Peter gave the man a stern look and it occurred to Jenna once again that this soft, delicate-appearing brunet clad in pastels had somehow reined in the man who had spent so many years being known as a playboy.

“I’m not going to fire you, but you can’t tell anybody, not even anyone within the company. If you do, my legal team can and will sue you for all you’re worth. Understood?” Tony had a dangerous edge to his voice, letting the girl know that he was completely serious. There was no way that this was an empty threat.

“Understood,” Jenna replied with a curt nod. “But I just have one question.”

“Shoot,” Peter told her.

“How old are you? Because . . . well, you look pretty young.”

Tony started laughing and Peter gave him an annoyed look.

“Stop laughing! You do this every time!” Peter exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm.

“Everybody thinks you’re, like, sixteen! You look barely old enough to have your license!” Tony shot back, his laughter dying down.

“I’m twenty-one,” he told Jenna. “I’m not underage, if you were wondering. Tony may be a bit of a mad scientist, but he doesn’t date people who are underage.”

“Okay, good. I was just worried for a second. Um, thank you for not firing me and I swear I won’t tell anybody. I should get going,” she rushed out with a relieved smile.  Without another word, she made her way out of the auditorium, holding her jacket close to her chest.

When she got back to her floor, Dylan and Ashley bombarded her with questions about what took her so long, but she just told them that it took her a second to find it.  Of course, they weren’t satisfied with that answer, but Jenna didn’t let anything slip.

That was the third time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

4.

When Jenna walked into work the next morning, early as always, she found an envelope sitting on her designated area of her group desk, which separated into four sections for her project team to sit at. Across the front, it had her first name written out in a neat, cursive scrawl. She furrowed her brows as she looked at it, questions racing through her mind as she wondered who it could’ve been from.

Without another thought, she ripped it open and pulled out the contents. She unfolded the paper that was inside only to find a letter written in the same handwriting.

Dear Jenna,

I wanted to write you a letter, but realized that I never caught your name yesterday. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked FRIDAY who you were. Thinking back on it, that definitely makes me sound like a creep, so I apologize.

I wanted to thank you for not completely flipping out on Tony and I in the auditorium yesterday. I know that the whole thing was definitely crazy and it would’ve made sense if you freaked out. I also wanted to thank you for not immediately telling anybody. Seeing as no news stories have come out and nobody in the building has confronted Tony, I’m assuming you didn’t leak it, which is relieving.

I hope you’re doing well and if you need literally anything, just drop off a letter in the company mailroom in box 106.

As a thank you, there’s a Starbucks gift card also in the envelope! I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, but seeing as you work in R&D and most of the employees in that department survive off coffee, I’m going to assume you do. Enjoy!

I’ll (hopefully) talk to you soon!

-Peter

P.S. Tony might not say it, but he’s also grateful that you haven’t leaked anything! I can promise that you’re good in his books :)

“What’s that?” Ashley asked, sneaking up behind Jenna and startling the woman.

“It’s nothing,” Jenna replied quickly while shoving the letter back into the envelope and cramming it into her bag. Ashley gave her a suspicious look but let it go, sitting down at her area of the group desk that was beside Jenna’s.

“I have a prediction!” Dylan announced as he entered the almost empty floor and waltzed over to Jenna and Ashley. He collapsed onto his stool and dumped his bag onto the floor beside him.

“This should be good,” Ashley muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms.

Jenna just looked away.

“So, we’ve established that it’s strange that nobody has ever heard of Peter and how, out of nowhere, he shows up!”

“Yeah, that’s kinda why we all think it’s weird,” Jenna shot at him, hoping that it covered up her panic.

“It’s also odd that he’s got a bit of a resemblance to Stark,” Dylan continued, decidedly ignoring her.

“I don’t see it,” Jenna interrupted once more, but the man didn’t stop.

“Maybe, just maybe, Peter is Stark’s son who he didn’t want in the spotlight until he was old enough to handle it!”

Ashley gasped while Jenna glanced away from them with a look of both panic and amusement. 

“Or Peter is Stark’s illegitimate child and he doesn’t want to have a scandal!” Ashley built on the theory with an excited smile and wide eyes.

“What do you think, Jenna?” Dylan asked, and both of Jenna’s teammates had their eyes on her.

“I think you two are full of bullshit,” Jenna told them, trying hard to keep her voice steady. “He’s probably just Stark’s intern. Maybe he’s a super genius or something.”

“Bor-ring!” Ashley replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, our theory is way better,” Dylan bragged, a bit of humor in his tone.

Jenna stayed oddly quiet for the rest of the morning.

+++

When lunch rolled around, Dylan and Ashley went off to the food court floor of the building, but Jenna decided that she wanted to make use of the Starbucks gift card she’d been given. When she opened the envelope back up to get it, she discovered that it was a two-hundred dollar gift card, which left her in shock for a few moments. Still, she shook herself out of it and went to go get a sandwich and a coffee.

After lunch, she found herself back with her teammates, working on their project, but sipping on a venti white chocolate mocha this time around. Around half an hour after they’d come back from lunch, the elevator doors opened to reveal Peter, wearing a sunny yellow sweater that matched the smile on his face. He walked out of the elevator and seemingly ignored all the eyes on him. He made his way over to a table working on prosthetics and began to help them out, the team there looking a bit surprised but extremely grateful for the assistance.

When Peter looked up and spotted Jenna, he gave her an even brighter smile, which she returned. She shook the coffee cup in her hand a little, bringing his attention to it, and he gave a silent chuckle. Jenna took a sip of her mocha and turned back to her project.

“What the fuck was that?” Ashley asked, drawing both of her teammates away from where they were designing arm prosthetics.

“What?” Dylan and Jenna replied in unison.

“That little interaction you just had with Peter,” the blonde woman elaborated, looking at Jenna accusingly.

“What interaction?” the man piped up before the brunette could respond.

“She and Peter made eye contact and smiled at each other and then Jenna held up her coffee cup and Peter chuckled!”

Dylan gave Ashley an incredulous look before shifting his gaze to Jenna.

“It was nothing,” Jenna defended with a level voice before getting back to work.

“Does this have something to do with the letter from this morning?”

“What letter?” Jenna and Dylan asked in unison.

Ashley sighed. “Jenna, come on, just tell me what’s going on? Is there something you know that we don’t?”

Before the brunette could even respond, Peter passed by their table.

“Hey, Jenna!” the young man greeted cheerily.

“Hey, Peter,” she responded, a smile on her face.

When he was gone, she went right back to her work, ignoring the looks from her teammates.

Jenna knew it was going to be a long rest of her day.

That was the fourth time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

5.

By the next Friday, the questions from Dylan and Ashley had died down, but the suspicious glances were definitively not stopping, nor becoming anymore secretive. Luckily, though, Jenna was becoming better and better at ignoring the looks from her coworkers.

There were no more appearances from Peter, but Jenna had been enjoying exchanging letters with the brunet. The letters would sometimes be accompanied by pictures, mostly of Peter and Tony, and the woman had fun printing dumb pictures of her own and sending them back. The two would share funny stories and talk about themselves, though Peter still never shared his last name, but the brunette didn’t blame him for that; she knew he wanted to continue to keep himself on the down low. Tony would sometimes put in a few sentences on a letter, mostly a short quip about something his boyfriend wrote, and Jenna couldn’t help but find her boss’s dry wit rather humorous.

As the weekend approached once more, Jenna found herself feeling glad to get away from her teammates’ conspicuous looks and probing questions. When it reached midday, she was beyond happy to escape to the food court, rushing in order to get ahead of Ashley and Dylan. 

When she walked into the food court, she knew there was something going on. The chatter of the floor was quieter than normal, despite the normal amount of people being there. It was less conversation and more pointed whispers. When she followed where everybody’s eyes were looking, she discovered Peter sitting at one of the round tables on his own.

The young man had a couple slices of pizza on a plate in front of him, with one slice in his hand. He had wireless earbuds in and his phone was propped up using a pop socket attached to the back. It was obvious that he was watching some show or another.

Jenna simply shrugged and went to grab her own food, paying no mind to the whispered gossip spreading across the floor. She got a container of Chinese food from one of the stations and looked around to find a place to sit before realizing that she didn’t know where to go. She usually sat with her teammates, but she had been trying to escape them until she had to get back to work, which left her with nobody to eat lunch with.

In a strange and unusual burst of confidence, Jenna walked across the floor and toward Peter’s table, decidedly brushing off the eyes that followed her. She put her food down and sat in the chair across from her boss’s boyfriend, attempting to act casual as the quiet chatter toned down in order to hear what happened next.

Peter looked up when she sat down, seemingly confused that somebody was joining him at his table. When he saw that it was Jenna, however, he cracked a bright smile. He took out his earbuds and put them back into the carrying case before shutting off his phone and setting it face down on the table.

“Hey, Jenna!” His tone was bubbly, an air of familiarity to it. Just hearing him talk made Jenna feel calmer; the boy had a way of doing that.

“Hey, Peter,” she greeted back, less excitedly but still conveying that she was happy to see him again. “What’s up?”

“Not much! Tony’s in a meeting and I decided to come down here for lunch. I didn’t like how quiet it was.”

“I think you mentioned that once. That you don’t like being alone in spaces, I mean.” Jenna paid attention to every word in every letter she received from the young man. She felt like she connected to him in a way that she’d never connected to anybody before; it wasn’t like any friendship she had in the past.

“Yeah. It just feels nice to know that the world is still turning and I’m not completely alone.” He looked sad for a moment, eyes glazed over and distant. It was a somber kind of happiness, a mix of emotions that weren’t supposed to be mixed in case of an explosion, but not a loud one; it was more of a combustion, internal and quiet, soft and powerful. “But, anyways, what’ve you been up to?”

“Not much,” Jenna replied, trying to move on from the delicate moment. “Been working on the prototype for the prosthetics and I think it’s going well. There’s a few bits and pieces that me and my teammates have gotta work out before we send the design to our lab director, but I think we’ll get there soon.”

“That’s really cool! I honestly can’t wait for the prosthetics line to go into production! I think it's really gonna change the game since it’s gonna be a high tech line but also more affordable than the competitors!” Peter’s eyes were shining, the gleam replacing the far off look from only moments earlier.

“I’m excited for it too!” Jenna admitted. “I know it’s gonna help so many people and I can’t wait for it to go on the market!”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but his phone buzzed before he could speak. He picked it up and read the notification, giving a small chuckle and typing out a response before looking up at Jenna.

“Was that . . .?” Jenna trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence but sure that the brunet caught her drift.

“Yeah,” Peter responded easily with a fond, but exasperated, look. “He finished his meeting and asked if I saved him some food from my lunch. I did, but I’m tempted to eat it myself and tell him to go get his own food.”

Jenna snorted.

“I’m not that mean, though, so I’m gonna take him the last two slices.” He slid his phone into his back pocket and his earbuds case into his front one before standing up and grabbing the plate with the two slices of pizza.

“I’ll see you later, Jenna!” he called as he walked away, heading towards the private elevator.

“See you, Peter!” With that, the woman went back to eating her lunch, as if nothing had happened at all.

When two people sat down at the table, Jenna looked up at them, only to find her two teammates, who had bewildered and suspicious looks on their faces. Dylan’s brow was furrowed and Ashley’s eyes were narrowed, the blonde obviously more dubious than him.

“What the actual fuck, Jenna?” she asked, voicing everybody’s thoughts.

“What?” the brunette replied as if she didn’t know.

“Don’t act all innocent! How are you so friendly with him?! This shit doesn’t add up!” Dylan nodded along to Ashley’s words. 

Jenna gave an exasperated sigh.

“Sorry, but that’s confidential information. NDA’s and all that, ya know?” She was trying everything she could to weasel her way out of it, but it was the first time she’d given her teammates a semi-straight answer, even if it wasn’t that revealing.

“Oh, come on, Jenna!” Dylan finally spoke up. “It can’t be anything that serious! Just tell us what’s going on?”

“I’m afraid that Ms. Locke is right, Mr. Hoffman. This is confidential information that Ms. Locke does not have the authority nor the necessity to reveal to you,” FRIDAY interrupted, garnering the attention of the people watching.

Jenna only shrugged under the intense gazes of her coworkers, but it still shut them up about it.

That was the fifth time Stark Industries employees saw Peter.

+1

It was relatively quiet for the next few weeks after the food court incident. While the suspicious glances remained, the questions had died down, though whispers still followed Jenna around as her coworkers spread rumors about how she knew Peter.

Speaking of the brunet, he hadn’t shown up since the incident, but he and Jenna had continued to exchange letters, becoming closer friends as time went on. The next time news about Peter came, it was only news for Jenna, as nobody else had any clue of how the young man was involved.

It had happened when Tony Stark had come to the R&D floor to talk to the employees there about the progress on the prosthetics line. Everybody had been trying extra hard to look busy as the man went around, all of them hoping to seem like they were valuable employees who actually did work.

Jenna’s team was the last that the billionaire came to, but as soon as he started talking to them, the brunette noticed something.

He had an engagement ring on.

The woman mentioned nothing, though she did freeze for a moment when she noticed it. Still, she pushed through and continued with the discussion about the progress they had been making.

When her boss later stepped away to answer a text, she quickly told her coworkers she had to use the restroom, rushing away and going down the hallway that Tony had gone down, which happened to lead to the bathrooms.

When she got there, she found him smiling down at his phone and typing quickly.

“Did you guys get . . .?” Jenna started, but trailed off at the end, startling the man a bit. He looked up at her, eyes a bit wide, but immediately recognized her. He looked confused at the question for a moment before realizing that her eyes were on his ring.

“Yeah, we did,” Tony answered, looking a bit sheepish as a blush painted his cheeks.

“How did it happen?” It was obvious that the girl was excited to find out.

“It’s actually pretty funny. I got down on one knee to propose and he looked so exasperated and I freaked out because I thought he was gonna break up with me or something. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring box. He was planning on proposing that night too.”

“That’s absolutely incredible!” Jenna told him excitedly, but still kept her voice quiet.

“When we told our friends, they all looked so unsurprised that something like that would happen for him and I.”

The two both laughed before the billionaire’s phone buzzed again.

“I’ve got a meeting in, like, five minutes, so I should probably go.”

The two said their goodbyes and he started to walk back out to the main area to head to the private elevator, but stopped and turned around before he could.

“Just do you know, you’re invited to the wedding.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving Jenna standing there in shock. A million thoughts were racing through her head and her eyes were still trained on the end of the hallway where the man had disappeared from.

“I’m invited to the wedding,” she whispered to herself. Taking a moment, she shook herself out of it and began walking back to her team’s table to get back to work.

Before she could get there, though, Ashley rushed at her and grabbed her arm, pulling her back the way she came. The blonde pulled her into the women’s restroom and checked every stall to make sure they were empty before turning back to her coworker.

“What the fuck it this?!” She held up a letter and  Jenna immediately knew who it was from. She snatched it from her co worker's hand and skimmed through it, praying to Thor that it wasn’t one of the letters that explicitly mentioned Peter dating Tony. She then proceeded to thank Thor when she realized that it was one one of the notes that mentioned a relationship, but not outright who it was with.

“Okay, Peter and I have been talking through letters. So what?” she replied, attempting to keep her voice steady so it sounded like she wasn’t fazed by the whole thing.

“Are you fucking with me?! You’re friends with this mysterious dude who’s all buddy-buddy with Tony fucking Stark and you’re expecting me to just let that go?! You’re out of your mind!” Ashley was obviously worked up about the whole thing and the brunette didn’t know what to say, but, luckily, her coworker started talking again before she could get a word out.

“You’ve been so secretive these past couple months and it’s been annoying as all hell! You’re not telling me anything and it feels like I’m so disconnected from you! Just tell me what’s going on!”

“I can’t! I can’t tell you what’s going on! I’m sorry that I don’t wanna lose my fucking job just so you can know every aspect of my life! Just let it go and leave me and my letters alone!” Jenna blew up, which was something she didn’t do very often.

Unsurprisingly, Ashley looked taken aback, shock written across her face. Jenna immediately regretted it.

“I’m sorry,” she told her friend softly. “I just can’t tell you.”

Jenna turned around and left the bathroom, the letter in her grasp. As soon as she was out, she went to her lab director and asked if she could leave a little early, giving the excuse of feeling sick. Of course, her lab director was understanding as always and let her go. She quickly gathered her stuff, ignoring the looks from Ashley and Dylan, and hightailed it out of there.

+++

“Dylan!” the R&D lab director, Kelsey, called from her office.

The man shot up from his team’s table, where the silence was as dense as molasses and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

“Yes?” Dylan asked as he made his way over and placed himself in the open doorway. The director stood up and handed him a couple files.

“I have to go to a meeting, but these files need to be turned in. Could you take them up to the boss’s office for me?”

“You- you want me to take these to Mr. Stark?” His voice was a bit shaky.

“It’s not that big of a deal. You go to floor 89, you find the office with his name on it, you knock on the door, you tell him that I sent you, you give him the files, and you leave. I promise it’s not as stressful as you think it is.” Kelsey’s tone was comforting, but it did little to ease his anxieties.

“Okay,” he muttered, turning around and heading towards the elevator.

When the doors opened and Dylan stepped in, he found himself alone in the elevator. The silence was filled up by his anxious thoughts about what could go wrong. He spent the entire ride up trying to take deep breaths and remember that it was a simple job; just go in, give him the files, and leave.

The elevator stopped and he stepped off onto the eerily quiet office floor. It seemed that nobody was there and it freaked him out; it felt like a horror movie. He crept along the halls until he made it to a door with his boss’s name on it. He raised his hand to knock until he heard voices coming from inside.

“I don’t get why it’s such a big deal.” That was Tony Stark’s voice, and Dylan recognized it immediately.

“It just is!” A voice replied. It took Dylan all of three seconds to realize that it was the mysterious Peter who seemed to show up at the most random of times.

Against his better judgment, Dylan peered through the semi-open blinds that covered the windows of the office. When he did so, he found Peter sitting on the edge of the desk and Tony a couple feet in front of him.

“It doesn’t seem like that hard of a decision. If you don’t like this guy, don’t invite him to the wedding! It’s so simple!” The billionaire looked confused at the dilemma at hand, though Dylan had no clue what they were talking about. He was getting married?

“But it’s not! I don’t want to invite him, but it would be rude if I didn’t!” Peter looked worked up about the whole thing, face slightly flushed and fiddling with his hands.

“It might be rude, but if you don’t want him there, then don’t invite him!”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Except that it is.”

“Maybe for you!” It wasn’t a yell, but it wasn’t quiet. Peter had stopped fiddling with his fingers and was now pulling slightly at his hair.

“What do you mean?” Tony spoke like he could accidentally shatter the young man in front of him if he wasn’t careful.

“I mean that you’re Tony Stark. You’re a famous billionaire that can do whatever you want. If you don’t want to invite somebody, you don’t invite them. You don’t care if it’s rude because you’re Tony fucking Stark and you can do anything you’d like. I’m not like that, I can’t just do whatever I want. I’m Peter Parker, an average guy from Queens, and I’ve always been just that. If I’m rude, there’s consequences and it can actually affect my life. I have to think things like this over, even if you see it as trivial.”

Tony paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Except you’re not just some average guy. You’re Peter fucking Parker. You’re incredible. You’re gonna change the entire world. Maybe I don’t get these kinds of things because I was raised in such a different world than you, but all I want is for you to be happy. Whatever choice you make here, I’ll be fine with, but that isn’t what I care about. I care about you, because you’re the most amazing person on this planet. You’re Peter Parker, the man I fell in love with.”

Dylan’s jaw dropped as he finally found the closure he’d been seeking for months. He knew what Peter’s last name was, he knew what relationship he had to Tony Stark, he knew who Peter was. He had never expected this, though. He cringed as his mind went back to that theory he had about Peter being Tony’s son.

He watched as the two shared a short kiss and finally moved back in front of the door, feeling the need to give his boss the files, run back down to his floor, and tell his teammates everything.

Dylan knocked on the door and he could almost feel the two men inside freeze in shock. It only took a second before the door opened, though, and revealed Peter Parker standing there with Tony Stark slightly behind him, both of them looking worried.

“Uh, I’m from R&D and my lab director, Kelsey, asked me to deliver these files,” Dylan stuttered out, failing at his attempt to remain casual.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, thanks,” Peter replied, seemingly relieved as he took the files.

“I, um, bye, I guess,” Dylan stammered before turning around and booking it out of there. He could feel the two men’s eyes on him as he left.

When Dylan got to the elevator, he pressed on the button a few times, praying for it to arrive faster, and jumped on the moment the doors had opened wide enough to get through. He then adamantly pressed the button for the R&D floor. The elevator ride down felt much longer than the one up.

When Dylan did get to his floor, he raced through the doors and to his teammates, grabbing each of them by the upper arm and dragging them into the men’s restroom. He checked every stall to make sure they were alone before locking the bathroom door and turning back to his teammates.

“You guys aren’t gonna believe this!” Dylan announced. “I found out some crazy shit!”

“Why am I here?” Jenna asked him in a deadpan voice. “Can I leave?”

“Jenna, you’ll actually wanna hear this! I found out who Peter is!”

Ashley and Jenna both froze, but for different reasons.

“You gotta tell us!” Ashley exclaimed excitedly.

“No, you better fucking not!” Jenna said over her.

“What?! Why?!” Dylan looked genuinely confused.

“Because we’re not supposed to know! It’s obvious he wants to keep his identity a secret! You can’t go around telling people! You need to tell him and Stark that you know so they can feel sure that his identity won’t get leaked!”

“God, you’re such a buzzkill, Jenna,” Ashley shot at her.

“No, I’m a good person.”

It made her teammates go silent, the words piercing through them like knives.

“If you wanna go and tell and lose your job, then go ahead, but I want no part of it.” Jenna turned around and started to leave.

“Do you know?” Dylan asked her, making the woman stop in her tracks.

“What?” Jenna slowly turned back to him.

“Do you know?” he repeated, voice cold and serious.

Jenna stayed silent for a few moments, mulling over what she could say.

“Not on purpose . . .”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Ashley questioned, betrayal written across her face.

“Sorry I respect their privacy!” It was obvious that she was very much not sorry.

“Wait . . . did you find out when you went back to get your jacket after the presentation?!” Dylan exclaimed, looking like he had put all the puzzle pieces together. When Jenna stayed quiet, he knew that he had gotten his answer. “Holy shit! What happened?! Did you, like, see them kiss or some shit?!”

“Kiss?!” Ashley shouted.

“Jesus Christ,” Jenna muttered, putting her head in her hands.

“No fucking way! They’re in a relationship?!”

“Yeah!”

“That’s it,” Jenna declared decisively and turned around.

“Where are you going?” Ashley asked her, bewilderment shining in her eyes.

“I’m going to go tell them that Dylan figured it out and that you know,” Jenna told the blonde, voice laced with venom.

Jenna unlocked the door and left, not letting her teammates get another word in, but the two followed her out and watched as she stormed past all her coworkers and to the elevator, disappearing as soon as the doors opened.

“I might lose my job,” Dylan muttered, eyes wide and trained on the now closed elevator doors.

“Is it true?” one of the other employees, Amelia, asked as she walked up to Dylan and Ashley.

“Is what true?” Ashley replied.

“That Peter and Stark are in a relationship? You guys were implying it in there, and you aren’t exactly good at being quiet.”

“I’m definitely gonna lose my job,” Dylan whispered, correcting his earlier statement.

“So it is true!” Eric, another employee, shouted.

Everybody started talking, the floor turning into a storm of chattering.

“We’re so fucked. We’re absolutely, completely, utterly fucked,” Ashley murmured, only loud enough so Dylan could hear, and the man only nodded in agreement.

The two slowly walked forwards, looking around at their gossiping coworkers as they made their way back to their desk. They looked completely horrified, and guilt was quickly eating away at Dylan.

Before they could sit down, the elevator doors opened and Jenna walked out with Tony and Peter in tow. Everybody stopped, staring at the three of them. Peter looked nervous and tears were glistening in his eyes, but Tony just looked furious, his expression mirroring Jenna’s.

“Okay, which of you knows?” Tony asked the room, his voice deadly calm. He didn’t yell or scream, but that steady tone was almost worse than him blowing up at them.

One employee raised their hand, and everybody else followed, the last people to put their hands up being Ashley and Dylan.

“All of you, go to the auditorium. Now. All the other employees will meet you there. Do not say a word of this to them before I get there to talk to them about it. Do I make myself clear?” 

If looks could kill, all of the R&D employees, minus Jenna, would be dead. All of them mumbled their confirmations or nodded and slowly shuffled off to the elevators, heading to the auditorium floor.

Ashley and Dylan had fallen into the back of the crowd and were the last to get onto an elevator, meaning they could see the floor before the door closed. The two watched as Tony turned back to Peter and Jenna, who were looking regretful and heartbroken respectfully. The last thing they saw before the elevator started moving was Peter beginning to cry and burying his face in Tony’s shoulder as the man embraced him and Jenna putting a comforting hand on his back.

By the time the R&D employees reached the auditorium and began to make their way into the seats, other employees were either already there or just getting there. There was chatter, a mix of people confused why they had been called there and those who knew praying that they wouldn’t be fired. The chatter seemed to die down a bit as everybody was seated, all of them waiting in anticipation for whatever was going to happen.

After a few minutes, the doors of one of the entrances to the auditorium, which had been closed, slammed open. Everybody turned, though plenty of them couldn’t see the doors, and watched as Tony Stark stormed down the aisle towards the stage, Jenna Locke behind him and looking slightly less, but still plenty, furious. The two made their way up the three stairs that led up to the stage.

All the employees gazed up at the two standing center stage, and they were glaring back at them with serious faces. After a moment of silence, Tony finally spoke.

“I’m sure the majority of you are wondering why I called everybody to the auditorium. Today, somebody found out something that they shouldn’t have about my private life and, instead of coming and talking to me about it in order to keep it confidential, they went and told somebody, and those people’s department overheard. That person who found out and told will be fired and the person who was first told and was complicit in revealing information about my life will be put on probation.”

In the back of the auditorium, Dylan and Ashley sank down in their seats.

“You may also be wondering why I have one of your coworkers up here with me today. If you weren’t already aware, this is Jenna Locke.”

Jenna gave the audience a curt nod.

“Jenna also found out about this information a couple months ago. Instead of telling anybody, she talked to us and promised to keep it to herself, and she has kept that promise. She was also the one who told me about the information leak.”

The employees, minus the R&D department, were on the edge of their seats, eager to find out the information but scared of their boss and what he could do to them if things got out.

“Seeing as nothing can seem to stay a secret here, I have elected to talk to you all about it. Keep in mind that what happened in terms of this information being revealed was a serious breach of confidentiality and disrespected not just my own privacy. Take this as a warning. If any of you are to tell anybody outside of this company about this, your employment will be terminated and my legal team will sue you to kingdom come. This is not a three strikes you’re out situation. Do not tell a soul about this. Keep in mind the fact that you all signed non-disclosure agreements when you took this job. This counts as a company secret, and you will treat it as one.”

Everybody seemed to nod or give a murmur of confirmation. It wasn’t much, but it appeared to satisfy the man.

“Moving on, I’m sure you’ve all either seen or heard about Peter. Only a select few of you know who he is, though without his consent, and others have seen us interact but never known who we are to each other. This information about our private lives was discovered and we have no choice but to let you all know in fear of rumors and gossip being spread around and taken outside the company. Everybody, please meet my fiancé, Peter Parker.”

The room was shocked into silence, the only sound being the clacking of Peter’s shoes as he softly walked out from the wings and to Tony’s side. None of the employees uttered even a sound as they looked up at the boy, whose eyes were still slightly red and puffy from when he had cried only ten minutes earlier.

“Hey, everybody. I’m Peter. You’ve all probably seen me around,” the young man introduced himself, voice only loud enough to hear. “Like Tony said, we weren’t planning on telling people yet, but we don’t get that choice anymore.”

They were still silent.

“Since this will be your only chance to do so, we’ll be answering questions about this,” Peter continued. Nobody spoke, until one person in the third row raised their hand and the young man motioned to them. “Yes, go ahead.”

“How, uh, how old are you?” the woman asked quietly, looking slightly concerned.

Peter sighed as Tony looked to him with a humorous smile.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he told the billionaire, who didn’t have a chance to respond before Jenna started laughing a bit. “You too?! I can’t believe you would betray me like this! This happens every fucking time!”

The employee who asked furrowed her eyebrows, seemingly mirroring the confusion of the rest of the audience.

“I’m twenty-one,” Peter told her. “Tony likes to make fun of me because I look like I’m not old enough to drive. Jenna’s laughing because she asked the same question when she found out.”

The woman nodded along with the explanation and everybody went silent again before another person raised their hand and Peter pointed to them.

+++

Eight Months Later

“And this is your team!” Kelsey told the new employees excitedly. “Meet Jenna and Ashley! They’ve been here for a while and are definitely excited to show you the ropes!”

“It’s nice to meet you!” Jenna greeted. “What’s your name?”

“I’m River,” the new guy replied quietly, cheeks flushed.

“I’m glad to have you on the team, River!” Ashley exclaimed.

“I’ll leave you all to it!” Kelsey gave River one last smile and walked off to talk to some teams about their projects.

“We’re finishing up some last touches on the update to the prosthetics line,” Jenna explained to the new recruit as he sat down. He nodded along as she began to explain the project.

Jenna was cut off by the elevator doors opening and Peter walking onto the floor.

“Excuse me for a second,” the woman told her team before jumping up and running over to the brunet.

“Who’s that?” River asked Ashely as he watched Jenna excitedly embrace the man and begin to talk to him.

“Have you signed all your NDAs?”

River nodded.

“Peter!” Ashely called. “Come meet the new kid!”

Peter bounded over eagerly, a large smile on his face as he approached the two employees, Jenna trailing him.

“Uh, hi, I’m River.”

“Nice to meet you, River! I’m Peter Parker. It’s always great to see new faces around here!”

“It’s great to be here,” he replied awkwardly.

Peter nodded and was off again, going around to teams and helping with projects, but, more importantly, just talking to the employees in general.

“Is he a director or something? Everybody seems to know him,” River questioned his team.

“He’s even better than a director,” Ashley told him with a grin. “He’s Tony’s Stark’s fiancé.”

Shock painted itself across River’s face.

“There’s no way that’s real!”

Ashley and Jenna glanced at each other before turning back to River. They didn’t say anything else to him, which was unnerving to the new employee.

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened once more and the Tony Stark walked out, a small smile adorning his face. Peter worked up from where he was helping a team and flitted over to the man happily. The two shared a short kiss before Peter turned back a bit.

“We still on for lunch on Friday, Jenna?”

“Of course!”

Peter shot her a smile and the couple entered the elevator, talking quietly as they disappeared behind the metal doors.

“Okay, so maybe it is real.”

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed):

@darkerstarker @dim-ships-johnlock @haylove5

#axiwrites #starker #starker fanfic #tony stark/peter parker #starker fluff #starker fanfiction #theres a little hint of angst but its barely there #this was an excuse to write cute scenes #anyways i hope yall like it

[frostedfaves]

Tactical Village

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N gets a little jealous on Tactical Village Day. Rewrite of 1x19.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: mentions of gun use

-

Tactical Village Day. A national holiday at the nine-nine, and everyone had a different reason for celebrating. Rosa was out for blood, simply because it was in her nature to be. Terry had the stress of raising twins locked, loaded and ready to be released. Amy wanted to prove her skill level to the captain and check out the new handguns (but good luck getting her to admit her obsession with 'finger feel'). Jake wanted "Coolest Kill" and a children's karate trophy. Truth be told, all I wanted this year was to want Jake less.

It's exhausting being friends with the person you're hiding your feelings from, even more so when his best friend Charles thinks everyone is in love with Jake and overthinks all of our interactions. I'd fully planned to spend the day perfecting my tactical skills while listening to Jake explain the extensive backstory of his character as a friend. Then fate decided to throw a monkey wrench into that plan, and unfortunately for me, she was attractive.

"I'm so sorry," Jake awkwardly laughed, letting go of her arms after saving her from falling. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! I...wait, Peralta? Jake Peralta, hi! How have you been?" I couldn't fight the rolling of my eyes as she flipped her hair over her shoulder with a tilt of her head, grinning.

"I've been good, yeah!" He noticed her eyes flicker over to me and turned to introduce me. "Y/N, this is Nikki Becker. Nikki, this is Y/N L/N, my friend and fellow detective from the nine-nine."

"Pleased to meet you, Y/N." She shook my hand lightly before practically tossing it aside, never once taking her eyes off Jake. "I'm so glad we found each other again! We were best friends in the academy."

I glared at her as my arms found their way across my chest, locking together. "I thought Rosa was your academy BFF, Jake—"

"People can have more than one best friend," she quickly cut in, finally looking at me with a sickly sweet smile and eyes that could kill if they'd given us real bullets.

"Sure." I turned and walked over to where Rosa stood, smirking as I approached her. "Don't say anything," I quickly mumbled as I huffed out a frustrated breath and she chuckled.

"Why not? You were clearly winning."

"What?" I saw her eyes trained on something else and followed them to see Jake joining us.

"Hey, Y/N! Ready to check out those handguns now?" Before I could respond, we were also joined by Nikki.

"Jakey! They have this new gun that attacks through sound that's supposed to be really accurate. Come check it out with me!" she insisted, tugging on his arm as he looked to me with a raised eyebrow.

"It's fine, I'll go with Rosa." I held a smile as he finally let her drag him away until they were completely out of my sight, turning to Rosa with a sigh. "Let's not even talk about it. I don't want Charles to hear."

"He's gone to get a 'cafe con leche', so we've got about ten minutes. But if you really don't wanna talk about it we can draw some hair on the targets, grab some brand new weapons, and pretend we're damaging the vocal chords that produce that stupid voice of hers." I laughed and followed her outside.

-

The rest of our field testing and target practicing time went by smoothly...for Nikki, at least. She spent most of the time latched onto Jake like a long-haired leech while I spent my time shooting targets until they were covered with thick layers of paint, constantly running out of bullets every time I heard her vomit inducing giggle.

"Dude, are you alright?" Amy questioned when I slammed down an empty gun and reached for another one.

"Perfectly fine, Ames," I replied without looking at her as I shot five straight bullets into the poor target's head.

"Okay, I think you've had enough practice." She turned the safety on and took the gun from my hands, setting it back on the table I got it from. "What's going on with you?"

I parted my lips to answer her, quickly closing them again and turning to glare at giggly Nikki and oblivious Jake as he showed her how to handle a new assault rifle. Feeling sick to my stomach, I faced Amy again and tried hard to paint on a smile that she wasn't buying.

"Why don't you just save his and what's-her-face's time and tell him how you feel?"

I sputtered out a laugh. "Tell him how I—what? You're hilarious. No, I've decided to take a page from Rosa's book. Wait until I'm on my deathbed and then tell him how I feel...or felt. I don't know who I'm gonna like by then. Point is I can't get rejected when I'm dead."

"Y/N, that's ridiculous! You're really going to risk what could be the start of a great relationship? You and Jake talk about everything."

"This is different. There's a very real possibility that telling him how I feel could ruin the whole friendship and I'm just not ready for that, okay?"

She sighed. "Alright, I get it. But at least try to act like you're not imagining that girl's face every time you shoot a weapon." She gave me a quick pat on the shoulder and moved over a bit to work on her own target.

"No promises," I told her as I picked up the gun she took from me earlier.

-

We were now in our training simulation. Sneaky little Amy insisted that she should do perimeter security with Rosa and Charles because she thinks we would "kill at being the assault team, no pun intended". I think it was just her way of saying "tell Jake how you feel".

Luckily Jake was too involved with perfecting Rex Buckingham in all of his signature move and catchphrase glory to give me a chance to bring up any kind of feelings to him. I was especially thankful I had my back to him when he told me some little fact Nikki told him earlier, because I simply couldn't hide my grimace at the mere mention of her name.

We'd just approached the end of the hallway when shots rang out before I could react. I eyed the paint in my hair and on the wall by my head, frozen in place as Jake took the perp down.

"No one shoots a mate when Rex is around," he proudly stated in his accent with a grin, instantly letting it fall when he turned to me. "Hey, are you okay?"

I closed my eyes tightly before opening them and meeting his. "Okay, so I was going to save this for my deathbed someday but apparently I can die randomly in a hallway. So here goes. I like you. I have for a really long time and it sucks being friends with you and not being able to say anything because I don't want to ruin what we already have. But it sucks even more not being able to have more with you and definitely watching you and clingy Nikki together sucked the most."

He looked at me for a second with an unreadable expression, about to respond just as he was cut off by our radios.

"Peralta, L/N. Hostages in room 409, armed suspects."

"We'll talk later," he assured me with a small smile as he took off down the hall, and I couldn't tell if I should be worried or relieved. 

-

The excitement of a perfect run and setting the course record along with the odd situation of Jake using Scully's move kept the squad occupied all the way to Shaw's. I hadn't had a moment alone with him since my big hallway confession and I only grew more anxious with time.

"Three shots of Jack Daniels, please." I kept my eyes on the liquor bottles as I waited for the bartender to come back, aware of Amy coming to sit next to me.

"Celebrating or drowning your problems?" she joked and I simply rolled my eyes at her. "Okay I'm sorry for setting you up like that but I just didn't want to see you struggle so much."

"Well good news for you. I don't think I'll be able to struggle anymore if Jake never talks to me ever again. I've officially scared him off."

"I promise you haven't." I froze in place again as he slid onto the stool on my left. "Hey Santiago, can we get a moment alone?" He waited until Amy disappeared before speaking again. "About what you said earlier—"

"Jake, it's okay. Whether you wanna keep being friends with me or if knowing I like you is too much to handle, it's okay. Really. Whatever you decide, I'll find some way to—"

Warm lips landed on mine and I closed my eyes instantly. I waited until his arms wrapped around my waist and found a place to rest my hands on, wanting to confirm that I wasn't imagining a second of this. My eyes fell open again when he pulled away, a little wider this time because I was still slightly doubting what this means.

"I know that probably wasn't the clearest answer so I'll say this. I'm sorry that I let Nikki ruin what was supposed to be a fun time for us, but I can't say I regret it because she helped me find out something I was too scared to ask you on my own." He smiled and pushed his fingers through my left hand. "I'm also really glad you didn't wait till your deathbed to tell me because I would prefer to start being your boyfriend now."

I pulled my hand away and lightly shoved his shoulder. "Take me on a date first, clingy." I grinned and he laughed, quickly handing over some cash to the bartender and holding up one of the shots.

"To the start of something more."

I tapped my glass to his. "To something more."

"To something more," Charles added, grabbing the third shot and tapping it to ours. He downed the drink and pulled us both into a hug before we could react. "I can't wait to babysit your children."

Jake and I made eye contact and nodded, ducking out of the hug simultaneously and locking hands as we walked off. When we were far enough away, we toasted again and drank, staring at each other with possibilities of the future reflecting in our eyes.

#queue #jake peralta #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta imagine #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine x reader #b99 fic #b99 imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic

[themockingcrows]

Doki Doki Grist Panic Ch. 4

Another chapter of my Magical Boy fic, sorry for such a long wait while I got my brain in order!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/79562023

This chapter is sfw!

Soft, repetitive beeps were the first things Dave heard when he woke. The whirring of machinery, of a barely there fan spinning in a metal case. He’d know the sounds of technology anywhere, used to the hum and breath of his own computer tower in his room. Nothing was overheating, the room was a comfortable temperature, just warm enough to feel cozy where his skin touched itself at the crooks of his elbows and the backs of his legs. He was aware he was lying on his side, but it was so hard to wake up. Opening his eyes felt far too difficult, let alone moving his limbs. Dave settled for a fingertip stroking at what felt like a blanket or sheet beneath his body and sighed a breath exhaustedly.

It wasn’t fully dark in the room. He must have left his lamp on at the desk and taken a nap, or the door was open somewhat to let in light from the hallway and living room. He didn’t hear anything from the front room, Bro must be napping as well or doing something with his headphones on at his computer. Maybe dinner was cooking, or he was waiting for something to be delivered, indulging in his free time doing this or that. It was a comfortable silence. Dave blinked a few slow times before taking in the strange blue tone to the room’s light, cooler than his usual warm home light. Bulb change? Slowly he rubbed at his face and slid to his back, wanting to stare at the ceiling so he could come back to himself more and wake up properly.

This wasn’t his ceiling.

Instead of the textured white ceiling he was used to seeing for so many years, the ceiling was metallic and matte in color. The walls were matte as well, though at least they were white as his own were. Fat load of good it did him, considering the walls didn’t look familiar in the slightest either. Where WAS this place? This wasn’t his room, it wasn’t the living room for sure. Was it a friend’s house? A hospital?

Dave sat upright and lifted his hands to his throat, his face, a sudden feeling of breathlessness hitting him as he panicked. Breathless… It all came flooding back to him in a rush, mind swimming. The attack, the lack of air, choking, suffocating. But it still didn’t answer the question of where he was, nor what was happening. When he went to rock to his knees, Dave paused, feeling a tug of fabric at his waist and chest. That… didn’t make sense, his uniform wouldn’t do that, nor would his casual clothes. Instead of wearing either outfits, he was draped in a soft white material that was tied at the waist with a woven red cord, though he couldn’t guess what type of fabric it was. It was too soft to be linen, too sturdy to be cotton, and didn’t match anything he’d ever felt. Were it not such a mystery he’d probably even go to say it was quite comfortable.

… Where were his boxers?

Who had undressed him? Even the lack of transformation would be something of importance, he’d go back to his civilian clothes, not… whatever this was. When he finally managed to stand, the room span and he sank back down to sit for a moment on the edge of the bed with a grimace, taking it all in as his mind raced in circles like a penned dog. Dave realized that it wasn’t just the garment that was covering him either, but what looked and felt like strings of pearls and golden beads. They were settled around his neck as if wrapped specifically to make a draping effect over his chest and shoulders here and there, and clasped together at the ends behind his neck with what felt like a filigree hook. Someone had taken great care to dress him like this, but why? Who?

Panic rising in his throat like bitter bile, Dave stood slower this time and headed for the cracked doorway, surprised to find the room unguarded. Cameras? Or was there some other way he was being watched? Paranoia ate at him, but when he poked his head out into the blue toned hallway, he heard nothing but the same soft hum of machinery, felt the cool air blowing from unseen vents. Barefooted, he padded along down this hallway to the left of his room, prepared for any threat. ...Or. Well, as prepared as one could be while unarmed. Dave knew how to defend himself while unarmed well enough, but the desire to have a sword was strong. Maybe he should change before exploring further, get his powerup back and-

“You’re awake. I was wondering how long you were going to be unconscious for. So long as your brain waves were healthy and strong I wasn’t worried, at least. It’s fascinating how fragile humans are once you remove their air.”

Dave froze in place. He knew that voice, but the things it was saying weren’t making sense to his brain. John wouldn’t talk like that, but that was the first person that came to mind upon hearing that specific tone and cadence, the way it handled words as if they were fluid on one's tongue instead of just a thought. Swallowing and taking a deeper breath, he rolled his shoulders back and strode to the full end of the hallway and the room it opened into.

The space was massive. The hums were definitely computers, projecting screens and physical and digital keyboards everywhere, holograms and different moving charts and images dancing in the air. Each wall seemed to have some kind of a space background, stars and a moon, a view of the Earth like a peaceful screensaver. In the center of it all stood a figure with glowing eyes and gray skin, unfamiliar clothing and decoration adorning him, a serene look on his face. He looked calm, in control, but there was no hostility to be seen.

“You can come closer. I’m not interested in fighting you,” he said.

Dave frowned and strode closer, observing the different screens as he went, unable to read any of the angular text he saw. When he was a more reasonable distance from him, he finally talked.

“So you’re the one that brought me here.” It was John. Closer, he could see the shape of his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair sat on his head, his broad shoulders. The appearance had changed, but the core was definitely the same. His stomach churned sickly. He’d kissed this person. He’d been held by this person. He’d contemplated doing more with this person, and it was all a lie.

“You seem surprised and yet not surprised enough,” he said with a hint of a smile. It looked a little forced, stiff at the edges of his mouth as if the gesture were foreign to him. “Might I ask who you were expecting?”

“...Nobody specific,” Dave admitted, trying to keep his cool. “Where is here though? I assume you can at least tell me that.”

John lifted his foot and stomped downwards, forcing the ground to shimmer for a moment before it turned pitched black and then seemed to dissolve. The space pattern from the walls blended to the rest of the floor, leaving them seemingly free floating in space despite walking on solid ground.

“I’d thought it would be fairly obvious, but I suppose even someone like you might have been confused at first. Does this clarify things, then?”

Space. Dave knew Bro had gone before, he’d talked about it in the past, but never did he think he’d get to see it himself. Much less in a situation like this one. His fingers curled into the sides of the new draping clothing he wore, steeling himself as he stared directly down towards nothingness. If Earth was on the wall’s side, then they must be at an angle without even being able to feel it. Whatever technology was doing this was astounding.

A gray hand was suddenly touching his cheek, cold and lifeless feeling, and Dave jerked his head up and took a step backwards to put some distance between them again. The look in his eyes could peel paint, aggressively defiant as he’d been during battle, though this time with the added benefit of betrayal as well. This person had lied to him, led him on, played with his emotions. Made a fool of him. He was a moron. Of course he couldn’t have nice things like romance, they weren’t possible for someone with his kind of career. This just hammered that idea home even harder than before in a way that made tears sting in his eyes and threaten to show themselves.

He kept them down out of sheer spite.

“You hate me so much already,” John mused. “Not even a moment's hesitation before pulling back.”

“You’re not John.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not my John.”

“We are one in the same, Dave. Open your eyes to reality,” John said with a flourish of his arms, displaying himself in his entirety as if he hadn’t been seen properly before. “It doesn’t have to be so bad. Think of the possibilities you’re being afforded.”

“Possibilities? Don’t make me laugh,” he nearly spat. “My John might as well be dead now. I don’t care if you’re the same person, the John I gave a shit about wouldn’t be my enemy. I fell in love with a lie, but it was a wonderful lie, don’t even pretend to act like you’re remotely the same thing.”

John sighed a little and rolled his head on his neck to stretch it before rubbing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You’re really in denial, aren’t you. I’m the same John. I have the same feelings for you, those weren’t a lie. The only lie is that I’m not human. I’ve no intention of hurting you.”

“You fucking suffocated me!” Dave reminded him with a hiss.

“It was the quickest way to end the battle and sequester you away,” John shrugged. “Would you rather I have beaten you senseless with my hammer? It could be arranged now, if you’d prefer. But I’d dislike crushing your pretty face.”

Dave scowled and clenched his fists tight enough that he felt his nails cutting into his palms. “What do you want with me. Hurry this up, I’ve got places to be.”

“You talk as if you’re getting out of here easily,” John mused. “But since you’re here, I’ll go ahead and extend my offer formally.”

“Offer?”

“Yes,” John said, taking a step closer in an attempt to close the gap, though it renewed itself almost immediately when Dave backstepped again to keep distance between them. Frustrating, but fine, he’d deal with it. “I’d like for you to come back with me to my planet.”

“...Why.”

“Why? Because I like you, Dave. I enjoy your company. You are… special to me. I would enjoy keeping you by my side.”

“Cute words, but you still kidnapped my ass and dressed me up like some toy. You’re not exactly still on the boyfriend pedestal,” Dave pointed out. “Why not just find someone on your planet?”

“There’s nobody left for me there,” he said simply, flatly. “It’s why when I’m done here, I’d prefer to keep you with me. I’ve got the technology to make sure you adjust to our atmosphere once it’s restored, an-”

“Restored?”

John reached a practiced hand out to tap at a keyboard, bringing up a specific hologram of a ruined looking planet. Smaller screens lit up around it showing devastation, pollution, destruction both natural and man made. There was a distinct lack of life. “Restored. All it’ll take is enough grist, and my world can be restored to its former beauty. It’s not the same as Earth, there’s a lot different about it. But it’s beautiful in its own way, when it’s healthy and alive.”

“Why is it your job to fix your planet? If you’re the only one left, why not just live here? We have problems, yeah, but there’s plenty of roo-” Dave started, only to be interrupted.

“Because I’m it’s guardian,” John said simply. “I have a chance to save and restore it, to restore everything to how it was but better. I can fix things. I have that power, and I intend to use it. I just need grist from Earth, and my home will come back.”

“How much grist do you need…?” he asked, already having a sense before getting confirmation.

“All of it, preferably. I could work with less, but if I’m here already why not just drain the damned place and be done with it.”

Dave finally took a step forward aggressively.

“So that’s the entire plan? Destroy Earth, gain grist, revive a dead planet?”

“And have you at my side for the duration. You’d love my world, Dave. You’d be loved there. You wouldn’t have to risk your neck all the time as a guardian nobody is grateful to, either,” John explained, grin widening in an almost manic way. “Once I’m the one to restore things, everyone will realize they have a guardian with that power. That I’ll exist to them as more than a vague concept of right and wrong, that I’m a real person, and that I gave them their life back. It will be beautiful.”

The aggressive stance slackened somewhat as Dave shifted his weight back towards his heel.

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Or are you just not looking at the big picture clearly,” John said, pulling out his hammer from thin air with a shimmer. He was a guardian. They were the same, and yet, so obviously different in every way. John tossed the weapon easily in one hand, unbothered by its weight in the slightest, then pointed it at Dave before gesturing to the rest of the room. “I’m offering you a place by my side, an entire world. This is an easy choice, Dave. We were getting so close…”

“If I knew this side of you, I’d never have even called you a friend,” Dave said, trying not to flinch when the hammer swung down sharp enough it made stinging air snap against his face. “I’m a guardian of Earth, John. You know I’d never accept this kind of offer. I can’t let you do as you please. I’m offering you a hand again to join Earth, but that’s as far as this goes.”

“Fuck the Earth!” John shouted, eyes blazing. “It's time as the crown jewel of the milky way is over, Dave, open your eyes! Look at the writing on the wall! War, famine, pollution, greed. Your planet is going down the same path my planet did at first. It’s on its way out now. It’s dimming. Yet, it still has a chance to be useful. It can restart my planet, it can become a utopia, like it always had the potential to! A second chance!”

“And why the fuck should I let you kill my planet to restart yours? What makes all our lives inferior?” demanded Dave, jaw tense. This guy was crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy.

“It’s nothing personal, Dave. It’s just business. We can always work together to find another planet to restart yours the same way, another world chock full of grist for the taking. We could work together, even. Keep both our planets safe. It’d be great, it-”

“Isn’t going to ever happen.”

“Dave.”

“I’m not going to let you lay your fucking hands on anything of mine ever again. The Earth is off limits to your grist mining.”

“Dave, listen to me.”

“The offer to remain as a friend of the planet is on the table still, but from the sound of things you’re expecting more. It’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Dave,” John said again, sounding pained. The grip on his hammer tightened with every word, face desperate and tense.

“Not now, not ever. This planet is my responsibility.”

“Dave, listen!” John shouted.

“I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO A FUCKING THING YOU SAY WHEN YOU’RE TALKING SO NONCHALANTLY ABOUT KILLING ALL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY!” Dave shouted right back, raising his fists into a fighting stance defensively, prepared for what might be coming from their outbursts.

John lifted his hammer high, eyes flaring like electricity. A dark breeze rushed through the room, jerking Dave’s clothes left and right, whipping his hair wildly. He prepared for breathlessness, he prepared for the hammer. For what may come.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO AS I SAY?” John yelled, slamming the hammer Dave’s direction. It was a mistake. An accident, he’d try to tell himself. He would never hurt Dave, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, yet him talking back like this, him refusing him, him refusing him the chance of fixing his world… it was just too much to handle, and he’d done the first thing that came to mind with the darkness.

The hammer struck true, but not on Dave, much to John’s anger and relief. Instead, it was struck and currently straining against a sword that he hadn’t seen before. It was white as marble, with a strange, almost conical looking crossguard. Solid as anything, with a hum of vibrant energy as Dave held John’s strike at bay. Gone were the white clothes, the beads, the pearls, in its place the familiar uniform and white hair John had seen so many times. The flashy red, the gears ticking in the air as he stared with piercing red eyes directly into John’s. No sign of yielding.

He hated that look.

He loved that look.

They strained against each other for a moment before Dave made a move, gears spinning wildly behind him as he slowed things down and surged forwards, sliding the hammer along the edge of the sword till he could flip the balance and send it away from him. Quickly, he angled his body and struck a blow across John’s middle, though it was far from a kill strike. Even now, Dave hesitated to kill some of his enemies, something that he knew would come back to bite him in the future in one way or another. He hoped that, possibly, there would be some way to save John from himself. To clear his heart, his mind. Somehow.

Maybe he could ask Bro, call a favor in from Dirk. Anything. There had to be a way.

As time sped back up, however, Dave knew he was out of time, metaphorically. Instead of attacking again, or preparing to intercept a second hammer strike, he instead clenched his hand over his heart and focused as hard as he could on home. He could picture it in his mind, the futon with Bro’s legs dangling over the end, the television, the wires crisscrossing the floor, food on the counter, smuppets and swords everywhere. The moon from the rooftop, the faint hint of stars in the light polluted sky, the heat of midday sun on the treated surface, waves in the air bouncing off the metallic surfaces of the industrial air conditioners. He could feel it so intensely he could have drawn it with his eyes closed.

Chest warm, Dave heard his heart ticking in his chest, the steady beat of the clock that he worked with. It ticked louder, louder, harder till it was all he could feel, all he could hear… and he was gone. John struck the empty space Dave had been standing in mere seconds after he flashed and disappeared from view. Growling in rage, dark wind wildly thrashing, he threw his head back and yelled wordlessly to the digital sea of stars above him.

This wasn’t over.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dave’s roof was exactly how he’d been imagining it. Comforting, welcoming, and entirely his own. Though relieved at his sudden arrival back on Earth, he couldn’t help but stare up at the sky to try and figure out which bright spot was a star and which might be John’s ship just beyond the atmosphere. He gripped his hand tight against his chest again, before finally glancing down towards his sword. This definitely was new, but what happened? Did he get gifted an upgrade, or had he unlocked it somehow on his own in a fit of panic? He gave it a twist swing, slicing the air cleanly with a vwip noise a few times before the door to the roof clanged open.

“Jesus fuck, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Where’ve you been? It’s like you disappeared!” Bro said, hurrying forward as Dave slowed his strikes to a halt. “I came soon as I felt it, but seriously, what gives?”

“Felt it? Felt what?” he asked, confused.

“The ping,” Bro said. At Dave’s continued look of confusion, he set a hand over his heart with a smirk. “I might not be a guardian anymore, but I’m sure as shit still tapped into the system somewhat, and just from bein’ who I am to you I’d feel it I’m sure. Felt when you disappeared… felt when you came back. Dirk no doubt felt it too, even if only a bit. Everyone must’ve felt somethin’, no matter how small, that changed.”

“Somethin’ sure as shit did change, did you see this thing?” Dave asked, hefting the sword up one handed to display to Bro lengthwise, offering it to him to hold and examine in the moonlight, white and all but glowing in its deadly way. “I don’t know what happened, one minute I was goin’ for my sword, the next this cropped out instead.”

“Nice. Solid as shit, too,” Bro judged by the weight. “This is a hell of an upgrade kid. ...I hope it didn’t cost you too much. You know how they are about their workers supplies.”

There was always a price. Be it in time, or be it in blood.

“I hope so too. I’ve got no idea, though. I didn’t hear Hephaestus at all, or see him or anything, just. New sword,” he explained as he took the weapon back, changing out of his uniform and into-

“What’s with the getup?” Bro asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Fucking-! Ugh. God damn creep changed my clothes while I was out cold. H- … Wait. Motherfucker, my phone!” he shouted, looking up towards the sky angrily. His phone was gone, his clothes, his everything was gone and it wasn’t like he could just ask for it back.

“There’s worse ways to lose a phone, kid. We’ll get you a new one,” Bro said with a shrug. “Come inside, already, before you get sucked back to space or wherever the fuck you were at. I’ll make Hot Pockets or somethin’ to celebrate.”

Dave smirked. “I survive a near death experience and you offer me Hot Pockets. My first time off-planet, and it’s Hot Pockets.”

“These are the garlic bread kind, and I’m willin’ to share.”

“...You drive a hard bargain.”

Bro clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “We’ll try puzzlin’ out your powerup and talk while you eat. You can even change out of your weird drapey dress if you want.”

Dave shot another look at the sky as if daring John to react while he stood there more vulnerable, while he was with his guardian, but nothing came. He’d need to finish this. Maybe the Hot Pocket talk could include more strategy than anything else, a second head with more experience fighting off-planet threats to help him think of different options.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

As they started walking, Bro chuckled. “If you wanna call your boyfriend I’ll lend you my phone for a bit if you ask real nice.”

Dave’s stomach churned as they headed through the door, mouth suddenly full of bitter spit. “No thanks. That’s. ...I’ll tell you while I eat.”

#johndave #homestuck #john egbert #dave strider #my fic #my fic writing

[agwitow]

Dead Impressions Ch. 4

This is the first chapter where I’ve really started to deviate from the original, thoughts and comments much appreciated!

Read Chapter 1 Here | Read Previous Chapter Here

****

Once Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister just how very much she admired him. “He is just what a young man ought to be—sensible, good-humoured, lively—and I never saw such happy manners!”

“He is also handsome,” replied Elizabeth. “Which a young man ought likewise to be, if he possibly can.”

“I did not expect him to ask me to dance more than once.”

“No? I did. What could be more natural than his asking you again? He could not help seeing that you were about five times as pretty as every other woman in the room. No thanks to his gallantry for that.”

Jane laughed and threw a pillow at her. Lizzy caught it with a grin and threw it back, saying:

“Well, he is certainly very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.”

“Lizzy!”

“You are a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes.”

“I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone.”

“And it makes you all the more lovely.”

They fell into bed, still chatting and laughing together as they recounted their various experiences of the evening. Their chatter had just begun to soften when Mrs. Bennet knocked on their door before stepping inside. One look at her face had both girls up and out of bed as quick as could be.

“Mama,” Jane cried. “Whatever is the matter?”

Mrs. Bennet tried to speak, but no sound came out. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then tried again. “Your Father. I—” She paused and took another deep breath. “I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and gestured for them to follow her. They went down to Mr. Bennet’s office where a small lantern cast quivering shadows over the room. A bitter, sickly sweet scent hung heavy in the air and the only sounds were the gentle settling of the house and the soft hush of their breaths. Mr. Bennet’s head lolled to the side, as it often did when he dozed off while trying to read, and his skin looked washed out, with a tinge of grey. A single sob escaped from Jane, breaking the deathly stillness that had fallen over them.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice small and afraid.

“Help me carry him out to the old stillroom. We… we will need to keep him in there until he is settled,” Mrs. Bennet said, her voice trembling only a little.

They wrapped him in his blanket before blowing out the lantern, then struggled to carry him out. It was not that Mr. Bennet had been a very large man, or that the three ladies were particularly frail, but supporting someone who could move at least a little under their own power made such a task significantly easier. And with each of them acutely aware of every noise they made, lest they wake someone, it was a slow process to move him out to the ramshackle little building that had been a stillroom until Mr. Bennet had had one built onto the kitchen shortly after he and Mrs. Bennet married.

Though the outside of the building was overgrown with ivy and in dire need of repair, the interior was surprisingly tidy. An old board-and-trestle table took up much of the space and looked to have been freshly waxed. The shelves along the walls were slightly crooked, but straight enough to keep the things carefully placed on them from sliding to the floor.

“What is all of this?” Elizabeth asked.

“Hopefully everything we will need,” Mrs. Bennet replied.

Once they had Mr. Bennet’s body settled on the table, she sighed. “What we have to do next is not going to be pleasant.”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

Mrs. Bennet rolled her sleeves up and took down a jar, some rags, and an old knife from the shelves. “We must prepare his body now—it will not be possible to do after he rises.”

“So he does have the virus,” Lizzy said.

“Of course. I would be very surprised if any of our generation did not.”

Jane frowned. “How can that be?”

“The walking virus is not just passed from being attacked by a ghoul. If it was, there would not be any risk of an outbreak starting from an improperly interred body. No. There is some other way the virus is transferred.”

“But is there not the possibility Father does not have it?” Jane persisted.

Mrs. Bennet shook her head and pulled open his shirt to reveal a faint, puckered scar on his shoulder. “He survived one of those outbreaks as a child. The parsonage in Meryton has kept a list of everyone in Heartforshire who has been directly exposed for many years now, in the hopes of preventing such incidents. And yet, here we are.”

“When…when will he rise?” Jane whispered.

“No sooner than three days. Five, if we are in luck.”

Elizabeth eyed the various things Mrs. Bennet had squirreled away in preparation for this very day. “What do we need to do?”

Mrs. Bennet drew in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment as she steeled herself. “His body must be washed, fluids drained, organs replaced with straw and sawdust and herbs, cuts sewn shut, and a special balm worked into his skin.”

“Oh, is that all?” Lizzy asked.

Mrs. Bennet glowered. “It is the minimum we must do. If there is time, it would be best if we could soak his body in a ghastly mix of spirits and oils after he is… is drained. And then a different mix before the balm is applied.”

Jane paled and sagged against the wall. “Oh, my.”

Lizzy shot her a worried frown. “What else needs to be done, beside tending to the body?”

“If we do not get the body treated, then he will begin to rot and this will all be for naught!”

“I know, Mama,” she said, pulling upon all of her patience. “But if people realize Father is… missing… then it will also be for naught. There are three of us. We do not all need to tend to his… to him.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Ah. Yes. Oh, how are we to keep everyone from suspecting? A fortnight is a long time for no one to see him! Oh, my dear Mr. Bennet, why must you have died now? You should still be here to vex me for many years more!”

Jane and Elizabeth wrapped her in a hug as tears spilled down her cheeks. Their own were hardly dry as they shared the grief of having lost someone so very dear to them. When they were able to compose themselves, they drew apart and each took several deep breaths to further calm themselves.

“Father regularly spent most of the day secluded in his office. That will help hide his absence,” Elizabeth said. “Mary might wonder, but Kitty and Lydia can easily enough be distracted by trips to Meryton, or attending teas with various acquaintances.”

“I can let a few know we wish for them to expand their circle of acquaintances,” Jane offered. “It will only take a few days for such news to spread and, I daresay, they will receive more invites than they will know what to do with. And I am sure we can prevail on Mary to accompany them.”

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “And I will pass on a similar desire to Mrs. Phillips. She is a devoted aunt and will surely enjoy introducing the girls to all who have not yet had the pleasure.”

“That is one part dealt with. What of Mr. Bingley? You invited him to dinner and even if he can be distracted by pleasant conversation, there are others of his party who will not.”

“Oh! What horrid timing! At least with so many at Netherfield with him, he is likely to forget that promise for a time, and we must not remind him,” she said. “Dearest Jane, if he favours you as I suspect he must—and it is not just from motherly affection—then you will surely be invited to Netherfield often. Pray, do your best to keep such invitations coming from their house with no expectation from ours.”

“Mama, it would be rude to not return an invitation of our own!” Jane protested.

“Oh, very well. Then invite them for a walk, or a picnic. Something they would not expect to see your Father at.”

“And the Lucases? The maids and cook?” Elizabeth prompted.

Mrs. Bennet frowned, wringing her hands. “I do not know. Oh, I do not know! What can we do? The charade will be over before it has even begun!”

“Calm, Mama,” Jane soothed. “We will think of something. Do not fret so.”

She nodded and gave her daughters a tremulous smile. “Thank you, my dears. You should get your rest—I will see to this first part myself.”

“You do not need to do this alone,” Jane said, though there was a decided sickly tinge to her complexion.

“Thank you, but it will give me a chance to say goodbye. I… it would be best you did not see.”

Lizzy nodded. Mrs. Bennet had a hollow in her heart that needed to be filled several times over with tears—a similar one nestled within Lizzy herself—and it was a pain that was hard to face with others nearby. She gave her Mother another hug before pulling Jane away to seek their beds. There would be more than enough to keep them busy in the following days. They could give Mrs. Bennet the space she needed this night.

#

Their sleep was fitful and oft interrupted by quiet bouts of crying. Elizabeth gave up any pretense of sleeping shortly before dawn and left Jane to gain whatever more rest she might. The house was mostly quiet, with the cook only have begun the day’s work. She slipped down to her parents’ room and knocked softly. No response greeted her so she eased the door open.

Mrs. Bennet lay curled atop the coverlet, her cheeks red and blotchy from her tears and her breath coming in little pants as if even in her sleep she were fighting back tears. Elizabeth fetched an extra blanket and tucked it around her mother, pausing to smooth some hair away from her face.

She gazed around the room, keenly feeling her father’s absence, even though she rarely intruded upon them there. An old jacket hung from a hook, ready for the next time Mr. Bennet had felt up to taking a walk. A walk that wouldn’t happen now. She bit her lip to keep her tears in check as she pulled the coat down and cradled it against her chest. The delicate scent of old books, candles, and a hint of the sweetmeats he’d liked best clung to the fabric. She swung the jacket around her shoulders and imagined she were sitting in his office with him.

“Mr. Bennet?” Lizzy turned to see her mother peering at her with red eyes. Upon realizing it wasn’t him, Mrs. Bennet slumped back against the pillows. “I thought for a moment he wasn’t gone.”

She moved to her Mother’s side and gave her a hug. “I am sorry for waking you, Mama.”

“Why are you wearing your Father’s jacket, Lizzy?”

“It reminded me of him,” she admitted.

Mrs. Bennet nodded. “It reminded me of him too.”

An idea lit inside Elizabeth and she stared down at the jacket covering her. It was a bit out of fashion, and certainly too long for her, dropping all the way to her ankles, but bulky enough to hide any shape beneath it. “Mama… if I hid my hair beneath a hat, would I look very much like Father?”

She frowned and pushed herself up until she were leaning against the headboard. “What nonsense are you talking about now, Lizzy?”

Giving the jacket a little shake, she turned her back to her Mother and asked, “Could I be mistaken for Father?”

A moment of silence followed the question as Mrs. Bennet realized what her second eldest was suggesting. “You are much shorter than your Father, but if we gave you a cane, perhaps others might simply think he is stooped.”

Lizzy nodded and fetched up a short hat with a brim that sagged ever-so-slightly. She twisted her hair atop her head and pulled the hat over, wriggling it until it was settled firmly.

“Turn up the jacket collar too, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet instructed as she searched the wardrobe for a cane that might be used. Once the cane was found, the two women studied the effect in the mirror. “It will not fool anyone who sees you up close, but I daresay it would be enough at a distance.”

“Gloves, Mama,” she suggested, wiggling her fingers. “I have no ink stains. It might not be noticed, but better to hide my hands regardless.”

Mrs. Bennet patted her cheek. “You are very clever, Lizzy dear.”

Finally dressed to meet both of their approvals, they left the bedroom together. Mrs. Bennet popped into the kitchen to fetch one of the previous day’s biscuits and give the cook a falsely cheerful declaration that Mr. Bennet was feeling up for a walk. With the biscuit in one hand and the cane in the other, Lizzy set off to wander down the least travelled roads of the neighbourhood, pausing to give an occasional wave to some person or other, before heading home again.

(Read Chapter 5)

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#writing #writeblr #pride and prejudice rewrite #zombies #fiction #long read #long post #historical fantasy

[the-slasher-files]

DIFFERENT PREDATORS - chapter 2 

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO

Literally the perfect pair in slasher heaven, or I guess hell. This chapter gives you just more Andrei backstory and a look into his strengths and weaknesses. This little kitten is breaking him down, slowly but surely. If you haven’t already, check out part one.... enjoy 🔪💕

Please go read the chapter from @horrorslashergirl oc: Xaviera’s perspective linked HERE

MASTERLIST

Andrei leaned his head against the wooden headboard, closing his eyes, trying to just still his always active mind. Breathing deeply in and out around his cigarette that hung lazily from his mouth, ashes threatening to fall and burn his naked chest. 

Turning his head to the window he just watched the snow fall hard, whipping around by the careless harsh mountain winds with sharp icy eyes. He could smell something good beyond the tabacco smoke littering the bedroom air; it was warm and hardy, something from home perhaps. 

With that the woman walked into the bedroom again, carrying a tray of food like she said she would bring him and putting it on the nightstand. Two bowls of stew, again one of his favorites. The little lady was tugging at his tough soul through his taste buds. To his surprise she grabbed one of the bowls and sat in the old arm chair near the end of the bed.   

Andrei took the bowl placing it in his lap, continuing to watch her as she spoke “It’s not poisonous if that’s what you’re wondering. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to the wild animals in the snow.” He gave a huff at her fierce personality, it was endearing, cute even.

Looking down at the bowl Andrei took a generous spoonful, closing his eyes savoring the rich flavors of the vegetables and rabbit meat; reminding him of home and his mothers recipes. 

“I’ve been through worse, myshka.” The wolf told her with a smirk. Letting silence fall, and just listening to the cold wind howl, and tree branches brushes along the windows. He didn’t often find having company nice, but there was something about the stranger across from him that he enjoyed.   

“Are you going to tell me now who you are and don’t play that stubborn game of telling me a false name, Andrei Kulokova. It’s not that hard to read your dog tags.” She spoke with confidence, not scared at all by him. Andrei’s icy blue eyes widened a little by having his full name called, he didn’t hear it often for no one really knew him, but it sounded so sweet coming from her lips even if her words were laced with venom.  

“If you know my name is only fair to know yours.” Andrei glared harshly, not wanting her to see a trace of his enjoyment, something he was skilled at.  

“Xaviera Lah-Mo.” She answered. Not an American name but something else, from somewhere that was unfamiliar to the mercenary. Andrei finished the warm stew, enjoying every last drop and placing the empty bowl on the nightstand. 

Huffing he decided to try out his bandaged and twisted ankle. The solider had been through some of Russia’s deadliest undercover missions, he had been shot, stabbed, you name it; a twisted ankle wasn’t going to hold him down. Sitting up letting his feet hit the cold hardwood, he felt a small gentle hand push on his broad scarred chest.

Looking at her he glared a stony cutting gaze but she challenged his perfectly back. “Your ankle is twisted, you need to rest.” her order made Andrei raise his brow.  

“What is it your business if I twist my neck?” Placing a big, rough hand on her arm gently, a silent warning for her not to pull a stupid stunt on him. “I know you care too much for me, but try not fall in love.” the wolf smirked flashing his canines, cockiness coating him like an armor. 

Xaviera just rolled her blue eyes, making him huff a silent laugh “Don’t get all high and mighty. I don’t want to drag your stubborn self upstairs…. again.” his hand tightened slightly on her small arm, eyes growing dark  “And don’t make me kick your ass out. There’s a blizzard outside and there are worse killers that I’m sure will love an injured prey.” 

The wolf laughed a sinister deep laugh, eyes devouring the small woman in front of him, inching his face closer with a deadly grin. The battle persisted between the leopard and the wolf. A dangerous game more so of mental strength, each predator wanting to conquer the other.  

“So much fire in such a little frame, darling…” he mused, lightening up his cigarette, blowing smoke in her face, making her venomous eyes intensify. “I like that” Andrei’s grasp becomes tighter on Xaviera’s arm, loose enough for her to escape but hard enough for her to still struggle. She became quietly flustered under his hand that oozed power, she tried to hide it but the solider was trained to read the smallest of body signals. 

“You know… Some of the deadliest animals are very small.” She whispers almost in a hiss, sounding like a cat ready to lunge. Andrei had experiences with small but deadly predators. He grew up with one, and she gave him his largest scar to prove it.  “Don’t make me scratch your eyes out.” the white-haired woman warned him, tugging her arm from his hold but without success.  

The cigarette from between his lips hangs lazily, while he smirks her way. “Come and try it, little kitten.” and there it was again, the slow blush creeping up her neck and onto her fair cheeks. He was breaking her slowly.

“I’m not little.” She spat back, making him raise his brow again, looking her up and down with a little disbelief.

“Have you looked in mirror?” Andrei huffs and pulls her closer to him, imagining a sick fantasy that plagues him daily. “Your neck will be so small under my hand as I squeeze… your trashing will be like nothing to me, little kitten.” He spoke in a deep growl, watching her face form into a snarl, making the Russian smile sickly, canines peaking through open lips once again.

“If you touch my neck I am gonna castrate you, doggie.” The wolf only mere inches away from her face, one of his large and rough hands moves to gingerly run along her thigh, watching her every movement. She was trying to control her breathing, trying not to show the predator any signs of weakness but it was failing. Andrei saw the kitten breaking and it made him only want her more.

“Oh, you would love to get that close to me, wouldn’t you… that intimate.” he moved his hand from her arm to run the back of it along her blushing hot cheek  “You don’t have to ask, baby girl, you know where to find me.” Andrei removes his hands with a little shove. Grabbing the hot earl grey tea from the nightstand, sipping it and holding eye contact. The wolf liked to play with his prey. Toy with it like throwing a mouse around by the tail.  

Xaviera snorted at his naturally sexual ways. She didn’t know just how much the desire was burned within him from his past. “Keep dreaming, asshole. One more of that and I am gonna kick your butt in the snow.”  

Andrei scoffed “Baby, I’m from Russia, the snow and cold is no bother to me.” he tells her with a cocky smirk. The wolf knew this was a different cold than the Russian tundra, and he would be stupid to be out in these mountains for too long, but it didn’t matter, he was winning this battle with the small woman.

“You’re infuriating.” Andrei smiles fully, a rare sight, as she just marched out of the room and he heard her go down stairs.  

The stew feeling warm in his belly and a win of a social battle under his belt, he decided to take a nap, aware that there was a predatory lurking in the cottage Andrei knew he was safe, even if she did grab one of his knives and decided to stab him he knew that wasn’t her style. She was a long range hunter by the fact she had a sniper rifle and her inability to ever get away from him. He could sleep now. Memories of trauma and delusions fell from his brain as the wolf closed his eyes relaxing fully.

------------------------------

Andrei had been awake for about an hour now, just tossing and turning, he was never a good sleeper but especially tonight. He couldn’t seem to get the girl out his mind. The wolf tried to push it off as she was just small, weak and kind of like his sister, so maybe it was his brotherly protection showing it’s head, but laying there longer, his icy cold stare burning in the ceiling above him, Andrei knew this was more. Xaviera seemed to seep into his tough core, a place for only two other women in his life, one that died by his own hands, while the other left him and would occasionally visit him only to almost kill him.  

Grunting and running his hands through his light brown hair and onto his scarred face, Andrei decided to retry his ankle without the small women being there to stop him. He hissed a little putting the full weight of the 200 plus pound predator on it, but he had been through much worse pain. Leaving the bedroom and making it down the stairs carefully, he saw her. She was curled up like a little kitten on a white fluffy blanket in front of the roaring fire. Walking over he quietly towered over her, a wolf watching the prey, watching every little scrunch of her face and every twitch of her hand. Xaviera was beautiful.

The Russian man turned to walk to the maps he had seen displayed on the table but something stopped him, tilting his back to the girl just thinking. The wolf wanted to leave her there, suffering on the hardwood, but Andrei wanted something else. As if her soul knew Andrei was watching with caring ice blue eyes Xaviera let out a small whine. 

“Fuck” He groaned, the soft spot for women threatening to kill him once again. Andrei picked her sleeping frame up in his large arms with ease. She was like a doll to him.

So perfect.... One to take home...

Hobbling a little he made it upstairs, gently placing her in the bed that she let him use. Andrei observed her once more, the wolf nipping at his neck to grab the throat that was displaying her pluse to him, it was just so beautiful, the tendons, the muscles, but Andrei closed his eyes, balling his fists and clenching his jaw. He roughly turned and walked away closing the door behind him. 

Looking over the cottage he found her maps, with little notes written small within the margins, and her arrows pointing to potential hot spots for the poachers. Curiously he looked them over, seeing if she had more information than he did. The solider within him always focused on the hunt. Then he saw the glint of the familiar metal shining in the low light. Grinning Andrei picked up his favorite knives skillfully twirling them around in his hands, but something made him stop. He heard a soft wail coming from the bedroom, and his grasp on the knives turned into a white-knuckle grip instinctively.

The wolf moved quickly across the living room and up the stairs. Wails turned into screams and his heart started to pound against his chest, breathing picked up at the thought of someone else potentially being in the cottage, sneaking past the skilled solider. 

Barging into the bedroom scanning the surroundings, it was just him and the girl. No poachers or other hunters. Just the two predators, alone. 

The wolfs eyes were sharp and cutting, looking at Xaviera who was on the floor, cowering in the corner, just a girl, not a predator any longer. Reminding him of his sister, shaking and hyperventilating, eyes scared and broken. A look he knew all too well. What demons lurked in the night had come for her and it tugged on his cold heart to see anyone go through that. Everyone had a past. Everyone had trauma.

Andrei laid the knives down on the tangled sheets of the bed, walking slowly towards her “sssshh... sssh... myshka” he whispered, bending down in front of her. Eyes still wild he needed to pull her out of this. “hey, hey... sssh... you’re fine” Andrei didn’t reach for her but just waited, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. “Little one, sssh” observing her he settled on the floor and surprisingly Xaviera reached for Andrei, clutching his shirt and resting her forehead against his chest. 

His icy blue eyes widened at the sudden show of affection, but he welcomed it. Carefully placing unsure hands around her shaking frame, feeling her trying to even the breathing that was harshly stuck in her throat. This took him back to Russia, living in a dangerous home, comforting his sister under the moonlight from her night terrors, trying to desperately protect her from the brutal world they grew up in.  Xaviera pulled away suddenly, uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath in and closing her eyes.

“It was nothing.” Xaviera told him in a quiet voice, exiting the bedroom and going downstairs. 

Andrei sat there for a moment, breathing in deeply remembering the harsh reality of the world and how it twisted and fucked over the people within it, beating down even the strongest predators at times. He stood tall, grabbing the knives and sitting on the bed, absent-mindedly playing with them as he watched the snow fall in the night. 

Two predators broken within, made tough with claws and teeth to present and hide the vulnerability under the skin.                                

#THEYRE SOULMATES!!!! #Andrei Kulokova #Xaviera Lah-Mo #horror #slasher #oc #slasher fanfiction #Andrei x Xaviera #my writing

[shuahoonie]

you. [tom holland] - three.

PAIRING: tom holland x female!celebrity!reader

SUMMARY: ah, to be young and in love. it sounds great if only you and tom were actually dating out of pure love and not for the sheer reputation of your careers. it also should be great if you two actually got along, but life isn’t that easy.

WARNINGS: mostly swearing! mentions of alcohol! a bit of fluff, a bit of angst. it’s haters to lovers / fake dating au so take that information as you wish!

WORD COUNT: 1632

SONG INSPO: our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn’t get sued - fall out boy  

A/N: aaah, hello babes! i have been writing a lot since the new year ngl, it is so refreshing to just write and not stress about stuff. although that’ll change as i head back to university tomorrow [technically today lmao] and face a shit ton of papers and readings!!! anyways, happy reading and enjoy part three!

gif credits @peteparkrrs​

vanessa’s masterlist | preview | one | two | four | five | six | seven | eight | eight.5 [interview excerpt] 

“Why, I found a solution to your problems, my dears.” Zoë smiled, almost too sickly.

You were starting to get anxious. Is it your manager or is it because of the coffee? Probably both.

You waited for her to continue and what she said afterwards almost made you spat your drink.

“You and Tom will fake-date for damage control,” Zoë said as if it was the most obvious solution.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, practically choking on your drink. Has she gone mad?!

“You,” Your manager pointed at you “and Tom” She then gestured to the devil sitting beside you “will be acting as a fake couple.” 

“God, please tell me this is just a horrible dream.” You practically begged as you closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that you’re just asleep and this, whatever this is, will be over as soon as you open your eyes. 

“How did you two end up to this conclusion, may I ask?” Tom asked, equally appalled at the resolution that was dropped in front of you two. 

“It’s the only thing that made sense after the theatrics that you two pulled,” Matthew spoke up. “Setting the illusion that you two are secretly dating and got into a small fight last night, which ended up with Y/N pouring her drink on Tom.” 

“That was a small fight? What if we had a big one?” Tom scoffed “Will she kill me then?” 

You smirked at him. “Why, that’s the first thing that I liked from all of the nonsense you just said.” 

Tom rolled his eyes at you. “I still don’t see how dating for publicity solves what happened last night,” Tom spoke up, in which you had to agree. None of it made sense after all. 

“Then how exactly are you two going to explain the scene from last night?” Zoë asked with her arms crossed. 

“I’ll be glad to confirm to the world that Tom Holland is an asshole since he called me a leech,” You said almost nonchalantly. People were starting to paint Tom as the bad guy in the narrative, and all four you were aware of it. 

“No one will be telling anything,” Tom jeered. “No one will be telling anything because it’s none of their business. They shouldn’t care about these things in the first place.” 

“Hate to break it to ‘ya, bud, but see this?” You showed him your phone, the screen showing Twitter’s trending tab and there it showed over a hundred thousand tweets about you two. “People made it already their business.” 

Tom massaged his temples. “What, are you on board with this idea now?” 

“Fuck no,” You hissed. “As much as I hate to say this but Holland’s right, we don’t have to anything about this.” 

“You two don’t have a choice,” Matthew commented. “If you two chose to disregard this, the people wouldn’t let this go. It will always be asked in interviews, they would only speculate more.” 

“God, why did you even go to that specific club.” You grumbled at Tom. “Of all clubs in Los Angeles.” 

“Why are you putting this on me? None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you!” Tom argued. 

“I wouldn’t have done what I did if it wasn’t for your stupid mouth!” You were fuming. 

“Look, it’s a win-win for both of you. Tom will clear up his image by giving an impression of how your little couple’s argument escalated. As for Y/N, she’ll be receiving a lot of publicity for this. It’s good for a rising-star to have this much publicity.” Zoë proclaimed. 

“Jesus, you really are a leech,” Tom mumbled under his breath. However, you still caught it. 

“Call me that one more time and I swear you’ll be going home with not only ruined clothes but also with a bruise on your precious face.” You threatened, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“So it’s settled then?” Matthew asked, “You two are going to do it?” 

Tom just shrugged, probably defeated knowing he won’t stand a chance in this argument. He does have this reputation to uphold and he’s not going to let someone ruin it. 

You, however, felt too brave. You shook your head no and said, “You can’t make me.” 

Zoë raised her eyebrow at you, taking it as a challenge. “Try me.” 

“Remember to hold hands, kids!” Zoë said giddily as she waved goodbye. 

“I am going to kill her,” You gritted in between your teeth as you left the building with the devil quickly fixing his hair. 

“I might actually take you up on that and add my manager into the mix,” Tom grumbled and adjusted his shirt. Tom decided to leave his jacket at the office and figured that a white shirt paired with denim pants was enough. He claims that he looks toned down and his outfit is so casual that people might not notice him. 

You begged to differ. Even if he is just wearing a plain shirt and the most basic denim pants, Tom will still attract people’s attention. The fabric of his shirt clung to his body like second skin. It shows how fit he is and you weren’t one to deny that. 

No matter how little effort Tom puts in regards to dressing himself, he still looked good. That annoyed you. 

“Okay, so the first thing to get this ship sailing-” Zoë stopped and turned to Matthew, “Hah, get it, Matt? I learned it from the internet. Apparently, a ‘ship’ is slang for relationship.” She raved. 

“Oh, that’s sick.” Matthew agreed. 

You let out a huge groan. “God, it’s like watching my parents learn internet lingo all over again.” Not to mention having flashbacks of your early internet days, stumbling over Tumblr with ‘Destiel’ mentioned everywhere. What a time.

Tom, on the other hand, had his face buried in his hand. He seemed like he was equally embarrassed and frustrated with this entire situation. 

“You two are going to have lunch together at this newly opened restaurant. It’s not far from here, don’t worry.” Zoë stated. She mentioned the name of the place, also adding the fact that you and Tom had to walk there. 

“You want us to walk?! This whole area is crawling with paparazzi.” Tom noted. 

“You two will be fine, they can’t hurt you.” Zoë dismissed you two. 

“The restaurant is a couple of blocks away,” You pointed out after searching the place on Google maps. 

“See it as a quick exercise,” Matthew implored. “You two are young, you’ll manage.” 

So here are you both now. You were walking with a complete asshole, who’s apparently now your boyfriend, on the way to this restaurant and waiting to be devoured by paparazzi. 

It was a quiet walk if you two were being honest. You expected more irritating remarks from Tom and you were ready to give out your snarkiest replies, however, you two were now walking in silence. 

It was actually a nice day in Los Angeles. It wasn’t too hot and humid, unlike most days. It wasn’t also that busy in the streets, which is odd, you thought. The day was perfect-too perfect.

Well, it was until you saw a man with a camera hiding behind one of the parked cars along the street. 

Tom seemed to take notice of the figure you just saw and put on a neutral face. “It’s showtime,” Tom said under his breath, loud enough for you two to hear. 

You two were walking alongside each other with close proximity, yes, but you weren’t going to hold hands. As much as to Zoë’s dismay, you thought and restraining yourself from rolling your eyes. 

You could hear the clicks of the camera and with every step, it seemed like the number of clicks multiplied. It only made you feel uneasy, you felt your chest tightening. 

You suddenly wished that you never agreed to this, no matter how much they pressured you. You didn’t mind your state of fame before. A handful of people recognize you from the Sci-Fi Thriller, Alchemist. You were also known for your Twitter and how you absolutely gave no fucks with whatever you tweet. Zoë had a problem with that before, but she just let it go since your account says a lot about your personality. 

However, none of that bothered you. You liked that people recognized you but still managed to get on with your life without getting disrupted. 

Tom glanced at you, noticing how you seemed like you were out of it. He could sense that you were taking deeper breaths than you did before. He frowned, Is she not used to this? Tom wondered. He carefully thought of what to do and just mumbled “Oh, fuck it,” and reached for your hand. 

It caught you off-guard. Oh boy, did you react so rashly. 

“What the hell are you doing, Holland?” You asked as you yanked your hand back. 

“I’m trying to help you,” He grumbled as he took your hand again, holding it firmly this time. “You looked like you were about to have a panic attack. I figured you’d rather have your attention somewhere else.”

“What if people see and-” 

“And what?” Tom cut you off, “They assume that we’re dating? Aren’t we supposed to be, princess?”

You weren’t expecting Tom to wrap his hand around yours nor did you expect him to help you ease your nerves down, so you ended up staring at him. You were trying to figure out what kind of stunt is he trying to pull now. 

He turned his attention to you, his brows knitted slightly. “Why are you staring, princess?” He chuckled softly, amused at the confusion painted on your face. 

What are you trying to do, Holland? You thought. 

TAG LIST:  @thomasthetankson @autty0314 @marvelous-tswiftfan @averyfosterthoughts @theolwebshooter @jackiehollanderr @sltwins​ @herondalescecilys​ @notjustpenandpaper​ @ihopethatwemeetinanotherlife​  @sectusempried​ @gothicwidowsworld​ @heartofholland​ 

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #tom holland and reader #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and you #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

[bindi-the-skunk]

Son of Frankenstein

CHAPTER NINE: WHO AM I

"What did you all do!?" Robert called as he ran into the room and attempted to calm the other doctor down, who screamed as if he was being murdered.

"We did not do anything! He just started pitching a fit!" Miss Flowers defended, scowling a bit at the accusation.

Robert wanted to scream himself, with no doubt in his head that they dashed in here and shoved yet another blunt explanation bomb in his lap to deal with, and it was the final straw that broke the camels back into a fit of hysterics.

He had half a mind to deck every single one of them!

Henry felt as though there was a ringing in his ears that refused to stop...spots danced before his eyes, everything hurt as he thrashed, bones screaming as loudly as he was for it all to-just-stop, desperate to run but legs refusing to listen, just as broken as their owner's mind, his head pounding as if Hyde was tap dancing on it despite the fact the blond-haired hellion had gone scarily quiet.

Suddenly he was pressed against something sturdy and felt a soft pressure against his back, strong hands rubbing his back soothingly, hands that were obviously trying to be careful as to not cause the injured man any more pain as the smell of cinnamon and apples hit his nose.

"Do something useful and look in the cabinet for a mild sedative, I don't want to give it to him yet, just in case he calms down on his own, but I want it out just in case" Robert barely kept from snarling at the lodgers and was grateful when they slinked away to do as asked, looking properly guilty.

The chemist went limp in the other's hold like a puppet with the strings pulled clean out and left forgotten on the floor, and Robert checked a bit frantic for a pulse and calmed when there was a rapid but steady one under his fingertips.

Frankenstein watched the two, mild jealousy stirring in her gut at how easily her son relaxed in the grip of that little chipmunk and recoiled from her as if she bore fangs and a rattling tail, she knew it would be a bit of a chore getting him to see reason, but this was-

Then again, she had not exactly reacted well to things when she had been young either, Harry's skilled hand at caretaking and tending to her sickly body's whims had been part of what she loved about him, she had never, to him, been the one to inherit her family's title, she had just been a woman he loved, Victoria, now she was beloved by dozens of people breaking into the unknown and the one person who she should have been striving to get and give love to had been hurt by her actions.

Yet another whose personality had been soured because their life-giver chose to not consider the consequences...

Had she been too harsh? He was a grown man who did not need babying, he had given up far too much dignity in his circus for the 'normal' people, but he took pride in his work in alchemy.

What had she truly offered at this point besides being the one who spit him out? He got her tendency for melancholy and foul temper when pushed far enough, him hitting a nerve with her about Elizabeth had been a low blow, but she had not exactly had tact with him either and made several low blows herself.

Slut had been a harsh word...slave to the public might have been a bit more suited a phrase, in all honesty, she should not be surprised if the moment Henry became lucid again he threw the S-word at her since she and Harry had not been married before his conception.

Everything else was her Harry, gangly limbs that they magically never tripped over, the soft brown hair that was just slightly wavy, the eyes of passionate fire and smell of peppermint, perhaps that was another reason Victoria had been cruel on her arrival, angered that someone not only dared to try and sanitize mad science, but also who dared to look like someone she had loved and lost, like a specter trying to haunt her, striking out at his face the same way someone might attempt to destroy a bug on their window, buzzing in their ears and not allowing peace.

What did she hope to even get out of reaching out? Telling him, all of them, of her past?

A normal mother and son relationship? Ha! Victoria Frankenstein was far from a mother and she knew it! She did not do warm hugs and kisses, saying I love you's, and possessed no ability to cook, clean, or sew and her nose curled up at the idea of doing.

Ugh, but what possible harm could it do? Kill her faster? Climbing out a window and being grabbed by Creature had done her no lasting damage, cooking her own damn son something or giving him a peck on the head would not be the end of the world.

Now, where was the kitchen in this stupid building? --- Robert once again got the lodgers to leave the room as Henry started to become more aware, the freckle-faced man had no plans of telling him of his breakdown, if he remembered it, that was what happened, but he was not going to shove it back in his lovers face to re-live it.

Whining near the edge of the bed drew both their attention

Henry smiled tiredly at hearing the familiar sound "Zosi.."

Zosimos spun in circles beside the bed, whimpering till Robert scooped him up and settled him next to his master who hugged the pup close with his good arm and giggled when the grim licked at his face.

"I'm going to change the bandages again alright? Seems a few have..come loose" Robert said and was glad when he got a nod of consent and got to work replacing the bloodied or loose wrappings, trying his best to be gentle and feeling bad whenever he saw the other biting back a wince.

But it was the quick glances to the door that worried him the most.

"Don't worry about them, they won't bother you anymore" Robert tried to comfort but could tell that is not what the other wanted to hear.

"Robert, tell me honestly, does what...who...I am ....change how you feel about me? That I am a Frankenstein? The lodgers are all ...acting so...I don't want you to-"

A kiss cut him off

"I do not care if you are a Jekyll or a Frankenstein, all that matters is that you are my Henry, that is who you are, the others will see that too, they just have to get over the hero worship is all..." Robert chuckled cupping his lover's face, noting the still soaked cheeks.

"Like a child with a new toy..." Henry chuckled himself "I don't even know who I am anymore, the past few hours have just been...a blur of emotions I did not know I could feel"

"You are who you make yourself, it's your choice, not theirs," Robert said, feeling very much like those fortune cookies his mother used to bribe him with in order to get him to do his schoolwork, but also knowing that it was true, nothing he said would fix what happened, but, perhaps he could keep it from completely falling apart.

"Can I stay with you a few days? I know it is asking a lot, but I need to get out of ...here...for a while" Henry asked, perhaps stepping away from the society and all its madness would be able to bring a little clarity to his mind.

"Of course, just rest a while now, and I will make the arrangements,"

Had a bloody nose the past few days because of the change in seasons and just tonight I bought a new humidifier (the old one got ick all in it and would not register it had water in it) so hopefully it works ... Not sure if I should take my misery out on Henry or not...maybe save it for my serial!killer au I have planned...

#TGS #tgs jekyll #Tgs Hyde #Son of Frankenstein AU #Jekyon #Robert Lanyon X Henry Jekyll #tgs lanyon #Robert Lanyon #The glass scientists AU #the glass scientists

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 32: Dreams of Home

Dorian and Tristan fight their way through the demon’s defences to escape the nightmare they have found themselves in. Also, Cassandra is scary. Also, Dorian would very much like a hot bath and a nice drink just about now.

Read here or on AO3! [Read from the beginning]

**********************

Dorian stood at the stair landing a moment longer than perhaps he should.

During that moment, he was intensely aware of Trevelyan’s presence behind him. The smooth ebb and flow of his breath, the warmth of his body, so close to his. Neither of them knew what awaited beyond his quarters. It could be Inquisition soldiers, like the ones Dorian had encountered before. It could be their friends and companions, their forms used and twisted by the demon to attack them. Or, and that possibility chilled Dorian to the bone, it could be one more ploy the demon would use to lure Trevelyan back into its webs.

Dorian couldn’t blame that entity for wanting so viscerally to claim him. He hadn’t set eyes upon it, yet he could feel its intent permeating the space. And it was set on a single goal: keep Trevelyan firmly within its clutches. He wasn’t a mage, he couldn’t shape reality on a whim. Yet he possessed a power that no one else in the world did. He could rip apart the fabric of the world itself. Demons were attracted to power like bees to honey. And wielding a weapon such as the mark, who knew what he was capable of doing, should he fall in the wrong hands?

The thought gripped his stomach in a vice, and would not let it go.

He shook his head to brush the uneasiness away and took a step forward. Trevelyan’s hand slithered into his own, closing gently over it.

“Let me go ahead.” Without waiting for an answer, he walked past him, turning to give him a small smile over his shoulder. “You can watch my back.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Dorian replied, trying to keep a cheerful lilt to his voice. He didn’t want to admit that he was more scared for him than for himself. He wouldn’t insult Trevelyan by coddling him. Not any more than he absolutely had to. That Trevelyan often seemed to be doing the exact opposite, though, failed to seem that much of an annoyance to Dorian, like it usually did. If anything, a treacherous trickle of warmth pooled in his chest. He took a deep breath and straightened, gesturing for him to advance. “After you.”

The long, narrow corridor that separated his quarters from the throne room was empty, save for the torches that cast their trembling glow along the walls. The space beyond them seemed to be doused more in shadows than light.

Dorian fell in beside him, a touch closer to him than he would have normally stood. He was suddenly loath to leave him out of his sight, or stand further away from him than he absolutely had to. If he could fasten himself to his back, he would probably do it in a heartbeat.

He allowed himself a slow chuckle under his breath. That was an odd thought if he ever had any.

“Care to share the joke with me?” Trevelyan said as he walked to the door. “I wouldn’t say no to a good laugh just about now.”

Dorian’s smile widened before he could stop it. “I was just thinking about what a strapping back you have.” Trevelyan huffed a laugh, and Dorian grinned. “Literally! I could strap myself to your back and fight the demon from there. You could be my personal warsteed. I think it would be quite impressive. It would probably also give me a tactical advantage, don’t you think? Striking the enemy from above?”

“Go ahead,” Trevelyan replied, grinning back. “The least we could do is give this demon a show for its trouble. How much worse can things get? ”

Dorian bumped his shoulder against his and laughed, the knot of tension in his stomach dissolving. And just like that, they were both themselves again. Laughing and joking when perilous danger loomed, probably, just paces away from them. He’d missed this.

“I missed you,” he said suddenly, lowering his voice. Trevelyan turned to glance at him, and he hastily added, “I know that technically I only saw you but a couple hours before in the waking world, but still. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Trevelyan caught his hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “A moment away from my beloved is an eternity to me, and drowns my heart in sorrow.” He glanced up, peering at Dorian through his eyelashes, and Dorian could see the glint of mischief in his eyes. Two seas at storm under moonlight, the glow of the torches above them crowning him in gold.

His lover. His man. His.

“Hopeless,” Dorian said, just a touch breathless, brushing Trevelyan’s cheek with his thumb. “Utterly hopeless.”

The edges of Trevelyan’s lips curled upwards as he kissed his hand one last time and brought it back down. At that very moment, the door at the end of the corridor swung open, the sound of footsteps echoing along the walls. Trevelyan let Dorian’s hand go, his hands instantly flying to his daggers.

“Blondie!” Varric exclaimed, advancing towards them. A group of four armed men marched behind him, hands placed on the hilts of their swords. The intruder was exactly how Varric should be; light footed, the light catching in his red hair, a wide smile crossing his face. Even the scar on his nose was exactly as Dorian remembered. It made his skin crawl. “What’s up? You’ve been gone for ages and everyone’s looking for you, and then there’s smoke coming out of your quarters? What are you two up to? I hope Sparkler didn’t get you into any trouble. You’d better go explain that one to Lady Josephine-”

He hadn’t quite finished his sentence before his eyes widened, his smile frozen on his lips. A bright red slash coloured his neck, and the crimson stream flowed freely down his vest. He looked down, then back up at him. He gurgled for a moment before falling face down before them.

The men didn’t hesitate a moment before drawing their swords. Dorian froze two of the soldiers in place, while Trevelyan wove through them, slashing and cutting wherever their skin was exposed. The first man fell just seconds after he had pulled his sword, the second after Dorian summoned a bolt of lightning, zapping him where he stood. Trevelyan made quick work of the others, frozen in place as they were. After their bodies had hit the ground, he took a step back, sheathing his blade. His hands were trembling slightly on his daggers, his breath quick and shallow. It had all happened so fast, Dorian had barely had time to think. Small pools of blood were gathering around Varric’s and the guards’ bodies, reaching the tips of Dorian’s boots.

“That wasn’t Varric,” Trevelyan said quietly beside him. His fingers curled and flexed at his sides. His face had taken on a sickly pallor. “It wasn’t him.”

Dorian reached out, placing his hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t. It was just another figment of this dream. He wasn’t real. None of this is.”

With his lips pressed in a line, Trevelyan nodded sharply, pushing his hair off his face. He took in a sharp breath, then stepped over Varric’s- or not Varric’s- lifeless body, advancing towards the door.

The music from the band on the dais stopped abruptly when they walked out. Everyone turned to look at them, at the blood on Trevelyan’s hands, the bodies that lay just beyond the door. A second passed, then another. A woman in a light blue dress fainted before them.

As soon as her body hit the ground, it was chaos.

The people in the hall started screaming all at once, running about like headless chickens. They fell one on top of the other as they all ran for the nearest exits, stumbling over tables and fallen chairs. Dorian could barely make out a face or two amidst the commotion.

“What is happening?” he asked Trevelyan, who was watching them all impassively. “I was expecting more enemies, not this.”

“First, the unarmed will try to get to safety,” he said calmly. “Then, the soldiers will show up.” At Dorian’s confused stare, he shook his head. “The demon locked me here, but this is my dream. I can predict some of the things that are about to happen. Like where the soldiers are going to come from.” He nodded towards the end of the throne room.

The clank of armour and the thunder of bootsteps soon filled the room, breastplates and drawn swords standing out amidst the fleeing crowd as they advanced towards them.

“Put down your weapons,” a familiar voice called to them. Cassandra’s dark brown eyes gleamed threateningly from beneath the shadow of her helm. Her sword was already in her hands, her shoulders hunched, ready to lunge forward and cut them down if need be. “Put them down, right this instant.”

“I also know,” Trevelyan continued, his fingers tightening on his daggers, “that this doesn’t bode well.”

“I am inclined to agree with you.” Dorian swallowed thickly, drawing forth more mana and readying his next spell as he watched the enemy force coming closer. Had Cassandra always been this tall? Had her arms always been this muscular? She was a strong woman, to be sure, but this version of her was distinctly different to how he remembered her.

“Tell me something,” he said, turning to Trevelyan, “exactly how powerful do you consider the Seeker to be?”

He gave him a quick glance, then looked back at the fast approaching warrior, shrugging helplessly. “She’s… quite strong. Isn’t she? She tossed me over her shoulder once when I passed out after a fight, then carried me through the woods for half an hour until we reached our camp. And she did manage to wrestle me to the ground the other day while we were training. Her hands are like pincers,” he grumbled. “They simply don’t let go once they catch you.”

Dorian scoffed dismissively, casting a barrier around both of them. “I wrestled you to the ground too, only moments before. It’s not that difficult.”

“Yes, yes, I’m well aware.” Trevelyan rolled his eyes, his body melting into a defensive stance. “Cover me.” He produced a small vial from his belt pouch, and when it struck the ground, he disappeared in a thick cloud of smoke. The soldiers looked about them in confusion, engulfed by the smoke, blades brandished. Dorian only caught a passing glimpse of Trevelyan’s drawn hood before he melted in the shadows again.

Two bodies hit the floor, one after the other. Dorian took advantage of the soldiers’ disorientation to cast a fireball, felling another one before he knew where it had come from. Trevelyan was moving too quickly for Dorian to make out his position through the crowd, but the trail of dead bodies he left behind was enough to let Dorian know where he was.

“Inquisitor,” he heard Cassandra growling from the center of the formation, “stand down. If you don’t cooperate, we will have to restrain you.”

Good luck with that, Dorian thought ruefully, preparing another fireball. He released it, and it burst in a small explosion. It missed Cassandra by a hair, but not the soldiers. They were pushed back, losing their balance. With the enemies fallen to the ground, Dorian didn’t waste a breath before cutting them down. He cast as quickly as he could, zapping and burning anyone that struggled to get to his feet. Soon, only charred and twitching bodies remained, sprawled on the stone floor before him. Except for the Seeker, and the dark cloud that moved and fought like Trevelyan.

Dorian was just finishing off the last of the soldiers when he saw a blade flashing next to Cassandra’s ear. Trevelyan lunged for her, but she was too fast. She dodged, parrying his attack and swerving his blade to the side with her own. He jumped a few feet away from her to avoid her sword, but even Dorian could see it was a close one. He was panting from the exertion, his chest rising and falling swiftly with his breaths.

“I won’t ask you again, Inquisitor,” Cassandra said, her voice sharp as steel. “Stand. Down.”

Trevelyan scowled at her, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “Bite. Me.”

Cassandra growled under her breath before charging at him, sword raised over her head. Dorian watched carefully as she and Trevelyan danced around each other, looking for any opportunity to unleash another spell at her. There were no openings that he could see; with Trevelyan so close to her, he could injure both him and her if he cast. So, he waited, biding his time.

Trevelyan slashed at her when she got close to him, aiming for the gap under her breastplate. She parried, then attacked, her blade hissing just a hair away from him. He lunged again, for her throat this time, but, as if she knew where he would attack, she knocked his dagger aside, sending it flying right out of his hand. Trevelyan cursed and stepped to the side, safely out of her reach. He frowned as he gripped his remaining dagger, taking another step back.

“Dorian,” he said, never taking his eyes off her. “I think I might need some help here.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” Dorian flicked his wrist, summoning a bolt of lightning. With all that plate she was wearing, she was sure to cook up in her armour. To his dismay, she brought her shield up over her head instead, power flooding her and making her eyes glow. She deflected the spell easily, sending the bolt flying to the far end of the room and crashing against the wall. Her features were stony and expressionless, her jaw set in determination as she took another step towards Trevelyan, sword at the ready.

“Well, well.” Dorian quirked a brow at Trevelyan, who was slowly backing away from her. “Someone’s rather intimidated by our beloved Seeker, it seems. I confess, I never believed her capable of deflecting my spells. Now that I think about it, I’m quite certain she isn’t. She would be flattered if she found out just how highly you regard her martial prowess.”

Trevelyan barely had time to respond as Cassandra charged for him again. “Can you blame me?” he grunted, rolling deftly to the side and landing on his feet like a cat. “Look at her! She’s built like a bloody tree. And that sword arm of hers- Void and ashes-” He gritted his teeth, picking up a fallen shield to cower behind as she dealt blow after blow at him. “Ah, fuck, this can’t be happening.”

Dorian summoned another lightning spell, which slid off her like water off oiled leather. “Indeed. This really can’t be happening. You have quite the inflated image of her in your head, I have to say.”

“Well- what do you want me to do about it? I can’t exactly help it, can I?” Trevelyan growled in frustration as he was slowly pushed back against the wall by Cassandra’s blows. The sound of more soldiers ascending the stairs to the throne room echoed around them.

Kaffas. Kaffas, kaffas- “Alright. Alright. No reason to panic. We’ve got this.”

“Do we? Really?” Trevelyan’s head peaked over the edge of the shield, only to hide again when Cassandra lunged at him with a fierce battle cry.

“Of course we do! If someone’s got this, it’s us.” His mind worked at a feverish pace, his gaze flicking between Cassandra and Trevelyan, and the soldiers that were fast approaching. The way they were going, they would soon be backed in a corner with nowhere to go. This was hardly an even fight. They had to use the situation to their advantage, somehow. Which seemed hardly possible at that moment…

Dorian’s eyes went wide when the idea crossed his mind. He cast another protective shield about them both to buy them some time. “Amatus,” he said decisively, “take us out of here.”

“What?” Trevelyan shot him a confused grimace before his face disappeared behind his shield. He jumped behind a pillar just as Cassandra slashed at him with her sword. “What do you mean?”

“You said it yourself! You control this dream as much as the demon does. You can change it, if you so choose, yes?” Dorian’s pulse buzzed with excitement. “So, simply take us somewhere else!”

“How exactly would I do that ? I don’t-” He grunted, pushing his shield against Cassandra’s chest, making her stagger backwards. “I’m not a mage. I can’t manipulate the Fade.”

“Yes, clearly, but you still control your own dream. To an extent.” Dorian’s brows gathered in a frown. He could only hope his theory was correct at that point. “Just think of something else. Some other place.”

“What other place?”

“Anything! Anything at all! What about- a field? No, don’t think of fields. A tavern perhaps? An inn? Oh! How about a spa? You’ve been to a spa, haven’t you?”

“A spa?” Trevelyan wrinkled his nose and shot him an incredulous look before ducking out of Cassandra’s reach once more.

Dorian bit his lip, keeping an eye on the ever advancing guards. What was it that Cole kept telling him? “Oh! I know!” he exclaimed, gripping the hilt of his staff. “Water! Think of water! Just-”

The rest of Dorian’s words were drowned out as cold salt water flooded his mouth and nose. He gasped in shock, gulping down more water, thrashing against the currents that suddenly gripped and pulled him. He couldn’t tell which way was up or down, and his sodden robes kept getting tangled around his arms and legs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t-

Something grabbed his coat collar, tugging him sharply upwards. Dorian took a gasping breath as soon as his head broke the surface, scrunching his nose in a grimace when a wave curled over him. Trevelyan’s arm wrapped around his waist as he swam towards the shore.

“When I said- think of water-” Dorian croaked and coughed, his lungs burning, his eyes stinging, “this was not- what I meant-”

Trevelyan grunted in response, his grip on Dorian tightening. After what felt like an eternity, Dorian’s boots sank in soft sand. He pushed himself up, regaining his balance somewhat as he let Trevelyan help him out of the water. They both collapsed on the sand, panting like hounds in the summer heat.

Dorian let out a long sigh, rubbing salt water from his eyes. “Remind me never to get in your head again.”

Trevelyan laughed weakly, sitting up. “Duly noted.” He peeled his soaked coat off, tossing it on the ground beside him. His white shirt clung to his skin, transparent, his ribs expanding and contracting with his breaths. “I wouldn’t want to be here either if I were you. It’s quite grim as far as places go, I’m afraid.”

Dorian watched him as he ran his fingers through his strands, fat droplets of water falling on his shoulders and his chest. He pushed himself up, sitting beside him. “I think it’s rather fascinating, actually,” he said with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t mind spending some more time here. If only there weren’t so many demons. Or fields. Or water. Or incredibly overpowered versions of Cassandra.”

Trevelyan chuckled, leaning against him. “I wish I could take you somewhere more pleasant. I remember there being a lovely little tea shop down by the village, not very far from here. It had this wonderful backyard with a lemon tree in the middle. And they served the best tea I’ve ever tried. That blueberry tea in particular-”

“Blueberry tea?” Dorian gasped, feigning shock. “My good man, if we get out of this, I expect something far stronger than tea.” He followed his gaze, looking around the empty beach. It stretched as far as the eye could see, the dark brown, almost black, sand glittering in the soft morning light. High cliffs loomed above them, and seagulls crowed as they flew in circles over their heads. It all seemed very familiar, somehow. “Is this Ostwick?” he asked curiously. “Where you grew up?”

“Yes. Well, no, not exactly. It’s about an hour by carriage out of Ostwick Proper, but it’s still considered Ostwick by many.” He squinted against the sun when he looked up at the sky. “It’s called Crandock. I used to spend my summers here as a child.”

“Oh.” A wave of nostalgia rushed through Dorian, and just a hint of sadness. It was the Fade, he reminded himself- it was easier for his emotions to get mixed up with Trevelyan’s. He knew that, yet he still couldn’t quite shake the tightness that settled around his heart when he thought of the memories that must be hidden away in Trevelyan’s mind. All his life, his childhood dreams, his goals. Those he had achieved, those he had not. All the times he’d laughed, all the times he’d ached. Dorian burnt with curiosity, but at the same time a deep fear tugged at him. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted to know. Knowing too much could prove dangerous.

“Did you like it here?” he asked, his fingers idly brushing up Trevelyan’s forearm. He could allow himself one more question.

“I did. Some of my happier memories are here, actually.” He turned to Dorian, smiling softly as he leaned closer. “Barring my memories of you, of course.”

“Sweet talker,” Dorian whispered, his pulse thumping softly as his lips parted readily under Trevelyan’s. His tongue was crisp and fresh from the seawater; Dorian lapped at it eagerly, shifting closer to him. They were safe, for the moment. No harm in taking a minute to catch their breaths.

He reached up, pushing a strand of soaked hair behind Trevelyan’s ear. “You dream about this place a lot,” he said quietly, looking up into his eyes. “About… home.”

Trevelyan returned his look with a curious frown. “Do I?”

“I believe so.” Dorian swallowed uneasily, holding his gaze. “In fact, I have something to confess. While Cole and I were trying to find you, we had to… sift through some of your memories. Well. Quite a lot of them, actually.”

Trevelyan’s brows shot up. “Oh?”

“Yes. Most of those I saw were of you and me, but…  I did catch a glimpse of your life before… before we met.” His heart clenched at the memory of him lying on that dock in the rain, alone, cold and injured. He attempted a weak smile, then let it disappear when Trevelyan kept peering at him silently. “I wouldn’t have done it if I had any other choice. These are your memories, I am aware, and they’re private. Very private.”

Trevelyan stayed silent for another moment, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s alright.”

“I did my best not to linger,” Dorian continued hastily. “I wouldn’t want to invade, or-”

“Dorian.” Trevelyan put his hand on his, holding his gaze. “It’s alright. I understand.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I don’t mind. You did what you had to do to get to me. And if you were fine with what you saw… then I’m fine, too. Really.” He smiled, quick, his eyes darting away. “And you’re right. I do dream of Ostwick a lot.”

Dorian nodded and smiled back, letting him change the subject. If he didn’t want to talk about his past, Dorian wouldn’t press him. Maker knew he wasn’t the only one there.

“It’s odd, you know,” Trevelyan continued, gazing at the sea before them. “When I left, I swore I’d never come back. I didn’t even consider it home anymore. Yet, in my dreams, I always come back here.” He absently tapped his finger against the back of Dorian’s hand. “Do you ever dream of home?”

Dorian watched Trevelyan’s hand on his, his mouth feeling a bit dry. A strong breeze blew past them, chilling his damp clothes. Without thinking, he huddled just a bit closer to Trevelyan, seeking his warmth. The press of his body against his own was a subtle, steady reassurance. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I often dream of Minrathous. Asariel, too. A beautiful place. Alexius’ estate had the most wonderful view of the harbour. There’s a tiny island there, just half a mile off the coast, with the remains of an old fortress from Archon Parthenius’ time. Felix and I used to boat there sometimes when the weather was good, whenever he came back from Val Royeaux. The fort was remarkably well preserved. Even the murals and the wall hangings. I even found an old book on Dwarven runes there, hidden under a fallen plank- but I digress.” He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a soft sigh. “To answer your question, I’m… not sure I ever had a home to speak of. I never spent too long anywhere, at least not long enough to call it a home. Not even my family house. It never really felt much of a home, anyway. Not with my parents always breathing down my neck. I never truly fit in anywhere, I suppose. Which is more than fine with me,” he added quickly. “Why would I want to fit in when I can stand out instead, after all?” He laughed, but it was forced. A wave of bitterness rushed through him, yet it was staved off when Trevelyan pressed his lips to his temple.

“I understand,” he said softly, his breath warm against his skin. He brought his arm around his shoulders, pressing his cheek against the top of Dorian’s head. “I really do.”

They stayed silent after this, gazing at the waves that crashed against the shore. Dorian opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he found that there was nothing else he needed to say. Trevelyan was not a man of many words, and although that infuriated Dorian at times, he couldn’t bring himself to mind too much right then. In fact, he welcomed it. The world was quiet and peaceful for a change, and Dorian let his eyes fall closed, resting his head on Trevelyan’s shoulder.

“Asariel sounds like a lovely place.”

Dorian let out a soft sigh. “It is.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“You would?” He cracked open one eyelid to peek at him.

Trevelyan nodded, his fingers tapping a rhythm against Dorian’s hand. “I’ve never been to Tevinter. I’d like to go one day.”

Dorian lifted his head, blinking at him. He didn’t think there was anyone in the South that would willingly go to his homeland, let alone suggest it. For most people, it was a place out of some particularly scary children’s book. Most people, in fact, outright hated it, and would gladly see it burn to the ground. He squinted at Trevelyan, studying him. “Go to Tevinter? As in, travel there? Stay there?”

Trevelyan returned his look levelly. “Yes. I would like to see the places you grew up and lived in.” The corners of his mouth curled in a small smile. “After all this is over, we should go there. Together.”

Together. The word rang oddly, jarringly in Dorian’s ears. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember when he’d last made plans like this with anyone else. He didn’t think he ever had. Especially not at a time like this, when everything could fall apart in their hands at any moment. What place was there for hopes and dreams in the times they lived in?

Perhaps, he thought, this was the time when hopes and dreams were needed the most.

His heart thumped as he held Trevelyan’s gaze, threading his fingers through his. “Yes,” he said softly. “We should. Once this is over, I’ll take you there.”

Trevelyan’s smile widened. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Dorian replied. He meant it.

Trevelyan nodded, gently squeezing his hand. “Alright,” he whispered. “It’s settled, then.” His eyes lingered on Dorian’s for a moment, warm and gentle, before he glanced away. A somberness washed over him, sudden as the tide. He let out a soft sigh, his fingers flexing and curling in a fist. “You think we have a chance against this demon?” he asked quietly.

“Of course we do. We’ll beat it, you and I. Besides, what else can it do? It’s done its worst already.”

“It has not.” Trevelyan turned to look at him, and Dorian took on his meaning before he had even uttered a word. “What if it uses you against me? What if it tries to hurt you to get to me?”

“It won’t,” Dorian replied resolutely. “I won’t let it.”

“What if you’re not given a choice?”

Dorian scoffed. “Please. You know me better than that.”

Trevelyan didn’t speak for a long moment, his features pale and drawn. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not because of me. I don’t-” he paused. “I don’t think I could bear it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if against unspeakable horrors. When he opened them again, there was a steely determination to them that had not been there a moment before. He fixed his gaze on Dorian, unblinking. “You can still get out of this. Right?”

“What?” Dorian stared, then narrowed his eyes. “I am not leaving. Forget it.”

“You might have to.” Trevelyan shifted his body to face him, his expression growing as grim as his words. “If bad comes to worst, find Cole and get out of here. Before it is too late.”

“You think I’d simply leave you here, just to avoid getting hurt?”

“You should.”

“So I should let you get hurt, or possessed, or worse, to save my own skin?” He crossed his arms before his chest, quirking a brow. “I thought you’d have realised by now how unlikely that is.”

Trevelyan didn’t respond to that. He let out a long exhale through his nose instead, glancing away from him. “We should go,” he grunted. “We can’t stay here any longer.” When he stood up, his back was stiff, his expression stony. “There’s a path that leads up the cliff, not far from here.” His strides were steady and purposeful as he started walking towards the tall rocks that lay behind them. Dorian followed him wordlessly, his heart tightening more and more with each step. He was loath to leave that quiet, empty beach behind, but he knew there was no other way. They would have to face that demon, sooner or later. The sooner the better. That fact, however, did not stop his stomach from twisting in knots. Neither did the grim set of Trevelyan’s jaw.

Trevelyan stopped at the bottom of the cliff, peering up at a narrow trail that seemed carved into the stone. He didn’t look back as he latched onto a jagged rock, pulling himself up.

“This… does not look like a path,” Dorian remarked, squinting at the steep ascend. “You’re sure there isn’t a better way? Or at least, can you not think one up?”

Trevelyan let out a breathy chuckle, climbing deftly up the rocks like a monkey. “Do you want to find yourself in the middle of the sea again? I definitely don’t.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Dorian sighed. He followed him grudgingly, cursing every time his palms got scraped on the sharp rocks, or every time he almost lost his grip. It felt like an eternity later that they reached the top of the cliff. He looked around him and… froze.

The cliff, the rocks, the wine dark sea with its frothing waves far below had all disappeared. They were both standing in the middle of a white stone paved street that extended long before and behind them. Tall buildings surrounded them, with peaked roofs and white washed stone, the flashy colours on the merchant store signs standing out against the light coloured walls. Gilded windows stared down at them, like wide, gaping eyes, and the light of the street lamps were flickering above them, the flames within them shivering and casting trembling shadows around them. Dorian could only barely make out a wide square in the distance where the street ended, sporting a large, lavish fountain in its middle.

“Is this… Val Royeaux?” he asked, confused.

“Yes. I think so. But it isn’t a part of it that I’ve seen before.” Trevelyan’s jaw clenched, worry creasing his brow. “I’ve never been to this part of town. Have you?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Dorian took a step forward, the heels of his boots clicking against the hard pavement. There was not a voice to be heard, not a sound, not the slightest sign of life to be seen. “It’s… like a ghost town. Isn’t it?”

“It is.” Trevelyan followed him, walking slowly beside him. His footfalls fell much more quietly than Dorian’s, barely making a sound. “This isn’t one of my memories. I don’t know whose it is.”

Dorian took a deep breath, carefully unhinging his staff from his back. “Something tells me we’re about to find out very soon.”

#dorian pavus #dorian x trevelyan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian/trevelyan #dorian/inquisitor #pavelyan #dorian x tristan trevelyan #tristan trevelyan #a world with you #johaerys writes

[thecleverdame]

This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Seven (finale)

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta:  ilikaicalie  

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-

Three Weeks Later...

You feel Sam before you even open your eyes, the heat of his body pressed against your back. The pads of his fingers are tracing the raised, pink scars that will be a permanent reminder of life before him.

“Good morning, wife,” he murmurs, lips hot and wet on your shoulder.

You smile to yourself, eyes fluttering open. He’s right, you are his wife. This is the first morning you’ve woken up next to your husband.

-

Yesterday’s ceremony was small, or at least that’s the impression Mary gave you. She kept assuring you that there would only be the closest friends and family in attendance. So you were unprepared for the room of a hundred people who rose to their feet as you walked down the aisle.

The only saving grace was the petite redhead who approached your table during the feast. Rowena stepped forward and you squealed in excitement, dashing to her and holding her tight.

“Thank you,” you whispered, watching as her eyes teared up. “I’ll be forever grateful.”

“It was my pleasure,” she smiled, taking your hands in hers. “If you never need me, all you have to do is say the words. I’ll be able to hear you.”

You watched as your fairy God-mother disappeared into the crowd, wondering if you’d ever see her again.

“Who was she?” Sam’s hands curled around your waist, dipping down to kiss your cheek from behind.

“She’s family I didn’t know I had.” You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “She was kind to me when no one else was. And now I have you, and my world has been turned upside down.”

“In a good way, I hope.”

If there’s one thing you’ve come to learn about Sam in these weeks together it’s that he’s always touching you. A hand at the small of your back, squeezing your shoulders, or a leg under the table, pressed against yours. He seeks constant physical connection and you couldn’t be more happy to oblige.

-

“How does it feel to be married?” he asks as you shift onto your back. The heavy curtains are still closed, leaving only a small sliver of light. It’s enough to see his face, the darkness all around you making the moment feel all the more intimate.

You think for a moment, tracing fingers along his jaw.

“Safe. I feel safe and secure,” you confess. “Is that a terribly strange thing of me to say? My heart is just so full.”

“No, not after the life you’ve had.” He dips down for a kiss, his lips linger for a sweet moment before propping himself up on an arm to get a good look at you. “You’re my favorite like this, in the morning when you’re barely awake.”

“Why,” you laugh, trailing a finger down his chest. “I can hardly think when I’ve just woken up.”

“That’s part of it. When I ask you a question you answer with your first thought. Later in the day, you have your wits about you. But right now your hair is wild, all around your face...and your skin is warm from sleep. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“Sam,” you blush, grinning from ear to ear as he kisses you again.

There’s a knock and you both look toward the door as a servant calls out the time and a reminder that your attendance has been requested in the main hall.

“Do we have to go? Can’t we stay here all day?” You offer a pout, looking up at your husband who’s grinning wildly.

“Perhaps we have just enough time to enjoy each other.” He kisses you with an open mouth, hot breath and teeth scraping over your lips.

“If you had the self-control to keep from knotting me, perhaps we would have time.” You chuckle as his fingers run up your side and you squirm underneath him. “I don’t think we should keep your parents waiting, my Alpha.”

He grunts when you use his title, dipping his face to kiss your neck.

“I’ll be quick.”

-

You knew this day was coming, but you had hoped by some miracle you’d be able to avoid this part.

You sit next to Sam, who’s seated to the right of his parents. There are senior advisors flanking either side but the public has been barred from these hearings. With the exception of your wedding guests and the few servants who attended to you, no one knows of your existence. There’s an official announcement planned for tomorrow morning and after that, your new life will truly begin.

“Don’t be nervous.” Sam takes your hands, squeezing your fingers so hard you think he might break them.

King John looks from you to Sam, offering a nod and then looks to the guard in the back of the room.  

“Bring him in!”

The Duke is a far cry from the man who asserted his ownership only weeks before. He’s in tattered clothing with shackles around his wrists and ankles. Breathing fast, his head darts from side to side looking at the King and Queen, then the princes....and then his eyes fall on you seated next to Sam. He has a physical reaction, looking at King John and pleading before the inquiry has begun.

“Please, your majesty, you have to understand. I didn’t know!”

“Silence!” John booms. “Please read the charges.”

A magistrate stands up, unrolling parchment and clearing his throat before reading.

“Duke Archibald, you are charged with attempting to subvert the crown, intimidation of the King’s guard and kidnapping of the prince’s Omega. How do you respond to these charges?”

“I had no idea who she was,” he sputters, reaching out with both hands. “I would never, ever have touched her had I known.”

“You were aware she was claimed, were you not?” Mary inquires, low and even as she inspects the man in front of her.

“Yes, but I was told that it was a stable hand that claimed her. If I had known she belonged to the crown I would have never entertained the thought of-”

“Did you ask her?” Sam asks, already seething in anger. You glance sideways at him, watching his jaw clench. He already knows the answer, you’ve told him every detail you can remember.

“What?” The Duke looks from Sam to you in horror. “I was told that-”

“That is not my question. I don’t care what you were told. Did you ask her about her claim?”

“No,” he grumbles, indignation overtaking his fear of the situation and that angers you. While you’ve always been a forgiving person, his self-importance disgusts you.

“I tried to tell him,” you speak up. “He had already spoken to my step-mother. She told him that I was prone to wild tales. I was informed that if I spoke of Sam I would have my tongue cut out as a punishment.”

There’s a low murmur throughout the room. Sam’s fist curls into a ball and Mary swallows hard, maintaining her composure.

“How was I to know?” The Duke retorts, looking to you in evident disdain.

“You didn’t find it odd that an Omega of her age suddenly became available? You came into our kingdom to retrieve her, but you had to know she’d been kept a secret from us. An Omega living in a country cottage? Have you ever heard of such a thing?” The King poses these questions and the court erupts in laughter at the absurdity of it.

You are rare and had anyone known of your existence you would have been snapped up as soon as you presented. Most likely for Sam’s brother; a thought that makes you uncomfortable to think on.

“We’ve heard enough.” John waves his hand. The Duke begins to protest but two soldiers take each of his arms and he falls silent. “Does anyone have anything they would like to add.”

He looks down at you, but you shake your head, thankful this is nearly over.

“I find you guilty on all counts and hereby sentence you to death.”

You close your eyes, feeling Sam’s hand take yours again. The Duke is no doubt a terrible man and you’re glad he’ll never be able to mistreat another living soul, but a death sentence is hard to make peace with.

The Duke is dragged from the hall, screaming and pleading for his life and everyone resets, preparing the next accused.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” you whisper. Sweat breaks out from head to toe at the thought of seeing Naomi face-to-face one last time.

“We need you here,” Sam leans toward you. “But if it truly becomes too much, tell me and we’ll leave.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him as the doors at the end of the hall open and three women scuttle forward.

They have no idea what’s coming, While you’ve been recovering, Naomi and your stepsisters have been none the wiser. They’re under the impression that the Duke whisked you off and now they’ve been summoned to the castle so that Sam and Claire can become formally acquainted.

Alex spots you first. She goes wide-eyed, stopping in the middle of the aisle and Naomi chastises her.

“What are you doing?” your step-mother hisses, grabbing Alex by the arm.

“Come on!” Claire flashes a sickly smile at Sam and then her gaze ticks to you, and the color drains from her face.

“What’s wrong with both of you?” Naomi, forces a laugh, addressing John and Mary. “I am so sorry. My girls seem to have lost their manners.”  

“Mother.” Claire grabs her wrists, looking at you and Naomi finally realizes the extent of the situation.

You want to crawl under your chair, to fade into the background. While you know none of them can hurt you any longer, you’re still fearful. A fear that you are certain will last a lifetime.

“You have been summoned to face the following charges,” John explains, nodding toward the magistrate.

“All three parties are charged with conspiracy against the crown, kidnapping, unlawful detention of an Omega, and assault of a member of the royal family.”

“What?” Naomi panics, stepping forward. “I’ve never-”

“You beat and tortured my wife.” Sam takes over staring down the evil woman in front of him. He’s collected now, his emotions under check as he inspects her in silent judgment.

“Your wife,” she repeats. Claire reaches out to take Alex’s hand as they stand there like lambs being led to the slaughter. “You married her?”

“What did you think my claim meant?” Sam looks to you.

“She thought she got away with it.” Dean chimes in for the first time, chuckling to himself. “This must be a rude awakening.”

“Let’s get to the matter at hand.” John knocks on the arm of the throne Two loud wooden pops reverberate off the walls and quiet the room instantly. “We already have testimony from Y/N. She’s informed us of the treatment she has endured throughout the years she was in your care. And your reaction to Sam’s claim and her subsequent, albeit short-lived sale to the Duke. This is not a trial. This is your sentencing.”

“You will not allow us the opportunity to defend ourselves?” Naomi looks in shock at the court.

“No.” Mary leans forward, gesturing to you. “I believe the only person we’re interested in hearing from is you, my dear.”

You take a breath, looking at each of them in the eyes. Alex...Claire...Naomi.

“None of you have ever shown me mercy,” you begin, voice wavering. You take a moment to compose yourself, drawing on the strength of the Alpha beside you. You’re not alone anymore, you have Sam to give you courage. “I thought I would die chained up in that basement. I wanted to die when you beat me, every time I prayed it would be the last. And when you gave me to the Duke, I was sure I would live out my life in agony, separated from my mate and enduring any manner of unspeakable horrors. All three of you took joy in my pain. But I wish to extend something to you that you never saw fit to offer me. Mercy. My father loved you, Naomi. I have no idea what he saw in you, but he loved you and your daughters as if they were his own. It is for this reason alone I ask for your leniency, my king.” You look to John, whose face is locked in a deadpan expression as he listens intently. “In the memory of my father, I beg you to spare their lives.”

“Thank you for speaking.” He sits back and Sam’s hand once again curls around your knuckles. “Taking into account the wishes of my daughter-in-law, I condemn each of you to a life sentence in the dungeons.”

Alex cries out, sobbing into her hands. Claire faints, her body crumbling onto the floor and Naomi just stares at you, her eyes daggers. She would kill you here and now if she could.

“You’ll pay for this you ungrateful girl,” she spits as her wrists are shackled.

“No. I will live a happy life. And you will pay for your sins,” you reply, turning to your husband. “May we go now, please. I don’t wish to see her for another second.”

-

Sam stands behind you as the sun sets over the horizon. The breeze is blowing in from the west, bringing with it the smell of honeysuckle. You stand on the balcony overlooking the city as Sam wraps his arms around your belly, pulling you back against him.

“How does it feel to have a new life?” he asks softly.

“Like a fairy tale,” you admit, resting your head against his chest. “But this is not a fairy tale. It’s my life. I can scarcely believe it.”

“Perhaps it’s both.” He turns in you in his arms, both hands cupping your jaw. You look up into those wonderful eyes. The face of your husband and Alpha, the man who’ll remain beside you for the rest of your life. “Come inside. Let’s have a glass of wine and you can tell me about your father. I’d like to hear more of what sort of man he was.”

You smile, letting out a breath and with it all the sorrow of the past. Sam is your future. Only love and family lie ahead.

“Well,” you take his hand walking back inside. “He could be a bit cranky from time to time, but he was a wonderful man….”

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction

[vtscasefiles]

Case File 762-4

Trigger warnings: Isolation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, depression, animal bites, animal injury, cops, racism, homophobia, conversion therapy mention

A note before reading: I am unsure if I have tagged all potential triggers properly. 

Case Begun: 2/07/20**

Case Concluded: 2/12/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Washington

Marked as Closed, Payment Declined

This is one of the rare occasions where I am perfectly happy not to receive payment for a job. The value of a life always beats cash, period. 

It started a bit...underwhelming, to be honest. There’s a secret message board for Eliminators. It’s not easily accessed, and there’s a rigorous vetting process to even be allowed to view the posts. I was well into my sixth year working before I received an email invite. Since then, it’s become a welcome resource.

The first post on my feed was addressed to me, personally. This wasn’t new, I’ve built up something of a name for myself. I get regular work, but I still can’t afford to get out of this shithole apartment. I mean the door doesn’t even fucking lock. And the fucking “landlord” is so strung out on cocaine that -- 

[Editor’s note: Personal information revealing where VT lives followed. I have removed it for her safety.]

Anyway, the post was simple enough: a werewolf gone berserk. It’s not an uncommon thing, a new werewolf can take to the wolf too much. The wolf takes over and, feeding off of the human’s anger or indignation, attacks. First, it’s everyone who hurt them. Second, they attack their family. After that...it’s a bloody free-for-all.

Let me preface by saying I hate these hunts. It’s no different than putting down a rabid dog, honestly...the human is too far gone and the wolf operates entirely off of the residual rage. Even so, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t like killing anything living, even if it’s lost it’s mind. 

I read the post three times before I sighed and closed my laptop. “This is why I like dealing with the dead.” I said, frowning. I’d be needing silver. Which meant spending money. The reward was good, though...so it’d cover any expenses. I packed up my gear (a wolf’s bane lotion, a femur from a dead wolf and a silver knife) and headed for my first stop: Ramona’s.

Ramona Torrez has been my best friend since...ever. She was born in the states to Mexican parents who’d settled here in the nineties. They’ve both returned to Mexico since, but they come to visit fairly often. Mama Torrez was more a mother to me than my own was, and she’s one terrifying lady. A powerful witch in her own right, she’d made her then boyfriend her familiar through a series of spells and incantations that bordered on the black. His physiology changed, as a result. Despite being in his mid sixties, the man’s barely aged. He’s stronger, faster and has more stamina than any human I’ve ever met...not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Ramona is possibly the most gifted witch I’ve ever met. If there’s a spell she can’t do, I’ll eat my boots. Her shop is a little hidden place. Right on the corner of [REDACTED], she’s very open about what she does. A small sign dangles over the door reading “Bruja” . I pulled open the door, hearing the cheerful jingle of the bell (despite there not being one in sight. Or a motion tracker.) “Welcome!” she called from the back. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” I said nothing, opting only to pick up my friend’s familiar and give her a stroke.

It always makes me laugh, honestly. A witch with a black cat as a familiar. How cliché can you get? Issy’s a sweet thing, though. Purrs like an engine if you so much as scratch her ears. “VT!” Ramona appeared with a wide grin on her freckled face. “Why didn’t you say it was you, dummy?”

I’ll preface that, despite my father being Hispanic, I never had the opportunity to learn Spanish. He was always busy on one hunt or another. Ramona’s tried to teach me, so that I could get in touch with my roots...but languages never came natural to me. Hell, I barely speak English.

Ramona rattled off her usual rapid Spanish, taking Issy from my arms. “You know I can’t understand a word.” I said as she turned to lead me into the back room. Her shoulders shook and she looked over her shoulder with a coy grin.

“Oh, I know. Payaso.” 

If Ramona hadn’t been my best friend, I’d likely be trying to get under her dress. She’s a curvy thing, with a heart shaped face and big brown eyes that’d melt even the coldest of hearts. She dimples when she smiles (something I’m immediately weak to) and does this adorable thing with her nose when she’s irritated. Her hair tends toward bushiness, framing her face like moss on a tree. (To my knowledge she doesn’t dye it, it’s just...green.)

“So, darling.” she chirped, stopping next to her cauldron to let Issy dash off through the fabric drapery that led into her kitchen. “What is the illustrious VT hunting today?”

“Berserk werewolf. Probably recently turned...and probably not by a pack. I’m thinking boyfriend or girlfriend. Which means -- “ She cut me off with an uttered curse.

“Which means that you’ll have to get in touch with the local werewolf pack.” she finished with a grimace. “Where’s the contract taking you?”

“Washington state. Little town called [REDACTED].” I answered, not expecting any miracles. I was granted one, none the less.

“Ah. That’s a Native American pack. I met their um...I’m not sure what the proper vernacular is, so I’ll just call her a witch, if that’s okay?” she said, worrying with her lower lip. Ramona’s always been very big on calling people their proper titles, and felt terrible guilt when she messed it up.

“She the Alpha? Or an elder?” I asked, seizing upon the thread before Ramona fell into self-deprecation.

“Well...yes and no.” she said, pouring something into the burbling cauldron and turning it a sickly puce. “She’s something of a Seer. She led them to an old, abandoned ghost town. They asked for witches from all over the continent for assistance in warding and rebuilding. Naturally -- “ “Naturally, Bleeding Heart Torrez helped.” I cut her off, again. She frowned and nodded. “Hey, Ramona, I ain’t saying you did the wrong thing. I’d have done the same. Are they friendly to outsiders?”

“Kind of.” she said, her frown relenting for a thoughtful expression. “You’ll likely be met by an envoy before you make it to the town line. I can call ahead, if you’d like. Let them know that I trust you so they won’t be on full alert.” she smiled, slightly. “Just don’t...shoot anyone that you don’t have to. Okay?”

“I’m not in the business of killing people just trying to live their lives, Ramona.” I said, pulling a frown of my own. “I might be trigger happy, but I’ve never shot anyone who didn’t come after me, first.”

“I know, I know...they can just be a little wary with outsiders. You can hardly blame them.” she said, carefully. I agreed with her, but I didn’t like the implication that I just ran in like some idiot waving my gun around and shooting at everything that moved.

I only do that sometimes.

I stayed long enough to catch up and have some lunch. Ramona’s cooking was always amazing. Her carnitas is to die for, full stop. With my belly full and my paranoia subsiding, I made for Ellie’s. It was time to see if the corpse had any silver.

Elinor Lyktor is a lich. She “died” at some point during the eighteen hundreds. Stomach cancer. She was already a necromancer by then, so when she felt her end approaching...she made a bargain with Death. The way she speaks about the “Lady of the Void” is how some people speak about their chosen deity. But how many of them have actually spoken with their god? Or had her over for tea? 

Elinor’s shop was in the dead center of town. The signboard above her shop proudly proclaimed “Ellie’s Emporium”. Her front was an antique shop (all her possessions from when she was alive litter the front of the store). When I entered, her bespectacled gaze caught mine. Even indoors, if she was minding the shop, she wore sunglasses.

“Valerica.” she greeted, pushing from her stool and smiling, marginally. “Lock the door.” I obeyed. What else do you do in the face of a being that could force your skeleton to come clawing out of your body?

“Elinor.” I responded with a nod. “I’m looking for silver ordinance. .44 if you got it.”

“I do. Got a werewolf problem?” she pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were pitch black. The only light in them came from the faintly glowing, multicolored runes that slid across them like leaves on a still pond.

“Not a problem.” I responded, coolly. “Ramona’s got me an in. I just don’t have the identity, yet.” I paused, thinking that maybe I should be a little warmer to my primary ordinance merchant. “How’s the lady?”

“Which lady to you speak of?” she asked, grinning cattily. “The woman I will make my wife, or the Great Lady of Dusk?”

Fuck, she loved her puffery.

“Do you just make up these titles or did Death give you a list?” I asked, grinning. It got a laugh, so I’d say that Operation Butter Up the Lich was a success. 

“No, I only use them to annoy her. She’s teaching me a lot, VT. I’d love for you to come over and meet her someday. Isali is a rather sweet woman, if you can get past the fact she’s Death.” she said, earnestly. “Did you know she has a son? And he has children, too? I wasn’t even aware she could reproduce.”

That was enough to get my attention. “Death...has a kid. Okay, I’ll bite: what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. She only refers to him as “my darling boy”. The only thing I’ve figured out is there has to have been a point in history in which no one died. The only way I think she could have had a child is if she took on mortal guise and -- are you even listening?”

I was. Oh, I was. I admit that I was wrapped up in the thought of how DEATH had a SON. He must be one terrifying, austere motherfucker, that’s for damn sure. “Sorry, I was just thinking about what kind of man her son has to be. Gotta be some kind of...demigod or something. Having a mother like Death.”

Elinor shrugged “She described him as being an absolute goof. Dotes on his kids, overtly friendly. I’d like to meet him, someday. It looks like I’ll go wanting, though. He lives in a world beyond ours. An extra dimensional being.”

Now it made sense. I wanted to follow that rabbit hole down to the end. I still want to. But business beckoned and I had no choice but to end this intriguing line of thought. “As interesting as this all is, I still need bullets for something more mundane. Can you cut me a deal?”

“Depends on the volume, Valerica. If you want an armory’s worth, I can’t help you...but if you’re just looking for a few boxes, well...” she smiled. “How does fifteen bucks a box suit you?”

“It doesn’t.” I responded immediately. “I’ll give you five.”

I left her store after securing my ammunition. She drove a hard bargain, but I managed to talk her down to ten dollars a box. I had five boxes, each containing twelve bullets. If I couldn’t finish the job with that, then I was in the wrong line of work. 

Now, it’s a little known fact that a werewolf and a rugaru are two separate entities. They both conjure the vision of this half-wolf, half-man meat tank that tears through the opposition like so much wet paper. That particular creature is a rugaru. Not all werewolves are rugaru, but all rugaru are werewolves. The rugaru transformation is only possible under two circumstances: complete acceptance of the wolf that dwells within, or the complete degeneration of the werewolf’s human mind due to unchecked homicidal urges. It isn’t a fine line or any of that bullshit that other people have perpetuated. It’s a simple matter of willpower. If I was dealing with a rugaru, it’d mean real trouble. I could only hope this werewolf was still on four legs.

As Ramona had promised me, I was barely five miles down the dirt road that led into our little werewolf commune before I was stopped. He was a tall, impressive specimen. Fine bone structure, inky black hair brushed neatly into two, thick braids that were decorated with beads and feathers...what really threw me was his smile. It was welcoming. Not a normal sight for me. I killed the engine and stepped out into the morning air, then man walked forward and extended a hand “You must be VT. It’s a pleasure, truly.”

I took his hand and shook it. I felt the tell tale calluses on his palm in the shape of paw pads and smiled, this was the right place. “Glad to be of help. I hear there’s a berserk wolf on the loose.” his smile faded.

“Yes.” he replied, simply. “My son’s boyfriend.”

Swish. Called it.

“That’s unfortunate.” I said, bowing my head in respect. “Is there no hope of helping him cope?”

“I’m unsure.” he responded, looking thoughtfully at the thick forest that shadowed the road. “We’ve tried, but...he’s so angry.” he paused, his gaze returning to me. “I apologize, VT. I haven’t even given you my name: folks around here call me Thunder. You’re welcome to do the same.”

I nodded and smiled “Anything you say, Thunder. If you have another name that you’d prefer to go by, I’ll do my best not to butcher it.” he’d laughed, a booming sound like his namesake.

“Thunder suits me just fine.” he said, kindly. “We can continue our discussion back at the compound. Would you mind if I rode with you? I can tell you about our lifestyle while we ride.”

I gathered that Thunder was the Alpha of this particular pack, given how he spoke about his friends and family. The pack had started on a reservation, but wanted a place of their own. The reservation was abandoned in favor of the Seer’s word there was a place of their own. They all turned in the dead of night and disappeared. No one knew where they’d gotten to, save for the SC. They were completely self sufficient. Hunting and fishing for food, growing their crops in soil blessed by their spirits and making their own clothing. Back to basics, he’d said. I could see the appeal.

“You got a free house I can post up in or...” he’d laughed at me.

“We don’t have internet, power or running water. You might get sick of it pretty fast, hm?” he’d nudged me and broke into that same booming laughter that caused my eardrums to ache.

He’d stopped me just outside of town, where two, tall totems stood on either side of the road. “Stop here. Your car will die if you cross.” he said, stepping out of the car. “I’ll introduce you to my son, VT.”

I killed the engine and stepped out, reaching behind the seat to sling my backpack over my shoulder. One of the two totems stood out. Each of them was carved with delicate care and beautiful in their own right, but the one on the left was the most interesting to me. It was Ramona’s work, I knew the feel of that anywhere. “Torrez did this, didn’t she?” I asked, brushing my fingers against the carvings. “Not the design, but the ward.”

“You’re close to Miss Torrez?” Thunder asked, pausing to look at the totem. “Yes. Spent a week solid working on it. She even refused payment, only asked for one of my wife’s blankets in return.”

“Do you...deal with cash?” I asked, feeling the slightest bit insensitive.

“Rarely.” he responded, eyes still on the totem. “Some of us have work in a town nearby, certainly...there are a few things that trading can’t get us. Gasoline. Generators.”

That threw me and I frowned “Thought you said you didn’t have power.”

“We don’t.” he responded, simply. “The generators are for the Elders who didn’t leave the reservation.”

Well, good to know I’d been here all of twenty seconds and already taken a big bite of foot pie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think -- “ “You don’t live like us. Why would you?” he responded with a somewhat bitter smile. “No reason for me to take offense or for you to feel guilt, VT. Though your apology is...appreciated.” the last word felt forced, but I said no more.

The town was pretty enough, each house painted in accordance to the occupant’s taste. Designs swirled and jerked in eye catching beauty across the wood or brick. Thunder led me to a single-story ranch type home and beckoned me inside. He called for his son in his native tongue and a beanpole of a boy appeared. I say boy, but he was at least eighteen or nineteen. “Introduce yourself.” Thunder said, sternly. “You’re the cause of this mess.”

“Thunder.” I broke in, sensing the tension between father and son. “You know better than anyone that the change is unpredictable...it isn’t his fault.”

Thunder’s stare turned on me, and that friendly gaze was gone. If I’d been made of gentler stuff, I might’ve even backed away. “I’m not upset he changed his lover, VT. I’m upset because his lover is giving us a bad name, and he doesn’t seem to care.”

“Excuse me for caring about my boyfriend, Father.” the boy spat. Even in children, or teenagers...there’s always respect for the Alpha Wolf. To hear the vitriol in the young man’s voice told me one thing: there was going to be a power struggle here one day. “VT, I heard about you from Ramona Torrez.” he said, with much less anger in his voice. “Please...Dorian never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t even know what I was doing and...please, don’t kill him!” tears were welling in this young man’s eyes. I couldn’t help but be sympathetic...but I still had a job to do.

“Dorian’s his name?” I asked, humming beneath my breath. “I might be able to call him out using that information. But I’ll need your name too, kid.”

Thunder’s son puffed up “I am no child! I am a man grown!” he said, indignantly. 

“A grown man doesn’t make decisions for his loved ones.” I shot back. “He makes decisions with his loved ones.”

He deflated marginally. “My name is...Crow Flies. He called me Crow...” he said, no longer able to meet my eyeline. “Please, VT...I...”

“I get it, kid.” I said, softly. “I won’t kill him if I don’t have to. I promise.”

Thunder took me from his home and introduced me to the rest of the pack. They were a kindly people, if a little wary of an outsider like myself. Thunder’s presence helped with their misgivings, but only slightly. “You did well with Crow Flies.” he said, softly. “Miss Torrez had described you as a hot head, but even so...you were very patient. And there was wisdom in your speech.”

Despite myself, I flushed. “Well, ah...I’ve had good teachers.” I said, trying not to grin. “Say, Thunder. After all this unpleasantness is done, could I come back? Just to visit. I like it here.”

That seemed to surprise the Alpha, he looked at me and then smiled “I think that I would like that. I think the pack would, too. Once they see that you are here to help, of course.”

I had dinner with the pack, as they all dined together in the center of town (or the old town hall, when the weather was foul). It was a raucous affair, full of song and laughter...Crow sat off by himself. Alone. I thought it best to leave him be. The boy was going through all kinds of heartbreak. The last thing he needed was another lecture.

It was late by the time dinner wrapped up, and I’d gathered a bit more information about Dorian. He’d been cast out by his family due to his sexuality, and taken in by the pack. They’d kept their lycanthropy secret from him...that is until Crow Flies turned him. Thunder had even had a family portrait taken of the three of them. Dorian had to have been at least Crow Flies’ age, if not a bit older. He was dark skinned, his hair styled into a small afro. What struck me the most was his smile...there was such...kindness. Love. It twisted my stomach into tight knots.

I made a promise to myself then and there: there were enough gay, Black men dead. I was not going to contribute to that number.

Even if it killed me.

No one “hunts” a werewolf. You see these self-styled vampire/werewolf hunters enough these days...and they’re all absolute pricks. Worse than that, they’re murderers. I’ve had to kill a couple of them, to save an innocent life...but when you murder someone just for their differences, you’re the monster. The point is, no matter how many berserk werewolves you’ve encountered it all boils down the the same fact: they’re the hunter, you’re the prey.

I applied a thick layer of the wolfsbane lotion to my skin. It wasn’t going to stop a werewolf as much as it would overwhelm their sense of smell and taste. Silver weaponry only works because of a simple fact.

Have you ever heard of a tulpa? It’s...a sort of group hallucination made real. The basic principle is if you believe enough in something, it manifests as reality. The more people who believe, the more stable a tulpa is. Silver is a sort of pseudo-tulpa. A mass belief of silver being a weapon against lycanthropy has made it reality. That’s the power of belief.

Problem being is I didn’t know whether the mass belief here was that silver kills...or simply incapacitates or weakens. I had to be careful. I had to leave Peace behind. If I wanted to save Dorian, I couldn’t rely on firepower to do it.

[Editor’s Note: A rarity for VT. Coherent thought.]

Dorian’s hunting ground had been, as of late, his own home town. His first victims were his parents...hardly a surprise. Poor guy had to have felt betrayed, and was angry for it. Researching the case, they hadn’t been eaten. They’d only had their throats ripped out. That was a good thing and a bad thing. If Dorian wasn’t eating his victims yet, that meant there was humanity left in him...but he’d tasted blood, and he’d want more. I didn’t have time to dally, I had to act.

I drove straight to his former home.

The house had been cordoned off by police tape. As anyone sane does, I ignored the warnings put forth by the police and ventured inside. The carpets were stained with blood...it meant there was a struggle. A vicious one from the looks of things. Dorian might not have even been in wolf form when it started.

I ventured deeper into the house, searching for any kind of clue. There was Christian iconography all over the house, which explained why he was thrown out. It was getting harder and harder to feel anything but repulsion for the dead, sanctimonious pricks. Throwing their own son out just because he’s gay...I related entirely too much.

I found Dorian’s bedroom without much struggle. Posters of his favorite sports teams hung on the walls, along with musicians and actors. I felt a creak in the floorboard beneath my foot, so I crouched and tried to pull on it. It came up effortlessly.

Hidden within was a notebook, a small bag of cosmetics and a pressed flower. Probably from Crow, I thought. I didn’t read a lot of the journal, but from what I did read it was a chronicle of his self discovery. I admired him for the bravery he showed in facing who he truly was, but the thoughts were private. I closed the journal and replaced it, along with the other items. Those were his and not mine to take. If...things went badly, I’d come back and give them to Crow.

I approached the bed, and got a deep whiff of wet dog for my trouble. He’d been here. Recently. I pulled the sheets back and found what I’d expected: fur. He’d even been sleeping in his own bed. This was good. This was very, very good. If he still sought out human comfort, he was still in there.

A sudden creak and the sound of footsteps sent my heart into my throat. I had no weapon, no way of defending myself against a hungry werewolf. The air was probably thick with the scent of wolfsbane by now...I did the only thing I thought I could.

I stood and waited.

It wasn’t Dorian. It wasn’t even a werewolf. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes as a uniformed police officer appeared, flashlight in hand. “Who the fuck are you? This is a police investigation zone, bitch.”

My hackles raised, but I raised my hands, showing I was unarmed. “I’m a Private Investigator. My license is in my jacket pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but clearly this pig thought I was being belligerent. 

“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!” he snarled and approached, stepping forward to shove his hand into my jacket. Thankfully, he went straight for the pocket instead of feeling me up, like I’d been dreading. He looked at the fake license with his mean, piggy little eyes. “They hand these out to anyone, huh?” he said, pure malicious glee in his voice.

I said nothing, keeping my hands raised and waiting for an actual question. “So, you think you can do this job better than us?”

“No, sir.” I responded, shaking my head. “I’m only looking for their son. He has a right to know, even if he hasn’t been living here. I was hoping to find a clue and didn’t want to trouble the police department for something that’d only take a few minutes.”

He laughed, cruelly “Well, that’s earned you an arrest, Valerica Torianna.” he said, gleefully. “For interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain -- “

The next thing I heard from the officer was a scream. I hadn’t even heard the wolf enter. The wolf, lean and black as pitch, leapt atop the cop and dug his fangs in. Blood sprayed my face as the pig’s throat was torn from his neck. The wolf didn’t chew. Didn’t swallow. Just spat the flesh and sinew clean out. Then it turned it’s eyes on me.

“Dorian?” I asked, softly. It’s hackles raised. “Dorian, I’m a friend of Crow Flies. You know who Crow Flies is, don’t you?” it backed away, and I took a step towards it. “Dorian, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to help...Crow asked me to help you. Please.”

It snarled...and it lunged.

For anyone wondering if I’ve turned lycan: no. It’s not as...simple as just a bite. I don’t quite understand it, but it has to be an actual, conscious thought. Dorian would have had wanted to make me a werewolf. It didn’t seem he was quite accustom to the change to be able to make conscious decisions. He was only defending himself from a perceived threat.

That didn’t stop his fangs from tearing my forearm open, though.

“Fuck!”, I yelled as it’s teeth dug in deep and ripped my flesh. I had my fair number of scars, but this one would be a doozy. That’s alright. Girls dig scars...well, my type does. Not trying to generalize or anything. Anyways, I was bleeding. A lot.

“Dorian, let go!” I yelled, feeling my bones practically screaming in his jaws. “You’re gonna break my fuckin’ arm!” I balled my fist and started to hammer on his nose with all my might. Nothing. “Dorian, brother, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about this!” I grabbed onto his throat with three fingers and squeezed. He started to choke.

I released him the second his jaws released me. “Sorry.” I croaked, holding my arm against my chest as the wolf wheezed. “Will you -- “ he was gone. I’d blinked and looked at my arm for a half second and he’d up and bolted...leaving me with a dead cop, and his blood all over my face. It wouldn’t matter that he had lupine saliva in his wound, it’d mattered that his corpse would be discovered next to me. So, I bolted.

I returned to the pack’s commune and staggered past the totems. Blood loss was already making my head spin, and I needed medical assistance. Problem was I still had cop blood all over me...so a hospital was out.

I passed out before I could even get to Thunder’s door.

When I woke up it was still night...or night, again. Ramona’s heart-shaped face, her hair sticking up all over the place was looking down at me. “Ah. An angel.” I wheezed. “So, I’m dead.”

Ramona flushed and slapped my chest “Idiota!” she squeaked. I laughed weakly. “You scared me! Thunder called and said Crow Flies found you half-dead! Your veins were torn to shit, VT! You could have died!”

“So just another day at the office then?” I sat up and my head immediately began to swim. “Shit.”

“Lie down, VT. I did what I could, but you still lost a lot of blood. I’ve dealt with your clothes, and Issy brought back your fake PI license. Sloppy, Valerica. Very sloppy. You would’ve been caught if not for us.” she said, standing from my bedside and straightening her dress. “You owe me.”

“Add it to the tab.” I said, pushing to my feet, doing my best to ignore just how sick I felt. “Dorian’s still out there. I can’t let him succumb, I can’t. The world has enough murdered Black men...let alone gay Black men.” my conviction was strong, but my body...

I was wrecked. I could barely stand, let alone run or fight.

“The pack is dealing with him, now. He’s...becoming unstable. I’m sorry, VT, but there’s nothing left for you to do.” Ramona said, hanging her head. “He’ll be killed before sunup.”

Like. Hell. I knew where he was nesting, now. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back. I had to beat them to Dorian’s old home. “Ramona. Think you can drive really, really fast?”

“VT...”

“I’m not taking an L on this one, Ramona. I won’t. I know how Dorian feels, I’ve lived his life. I won’t let it end like this.” Ramona looked at me, tears in her eyes. “What? What is it?”

She smiled and wiped her eyes on her forearm “Who’s the bleeding heart, now?”

Ramona broke just about every traffic law in existence getting me back to Dorian’s home. I’d been unconscious for two days. During that time the pack had met and decided that the only way they could stop Dorian was to kill him. He’d gotten more violent, more reckless. His kills were happening in broad daylight, now. Three cops, a high school teacher and a pastor. None were eaten, but all were killed, viciously.

“He’s attacking those that wronged him.” Ramona said, softly. “He has the power to fight back...he’s losing himself in it. I’m afraid the pack might be right...if he keeps going like this...”

“He won’t.” I snapped shut the cylinder on my weapon. “Crow will never be able to look his father in the eye, let alone forgive him, if the pack kills Dorian. If there’s going to blood spilt...I’d rather be the one hated.” I said, softly. “But I’m going to try, one last time, to get through to him.”

I didn’t go beneath the cordon tape, this time. I went through it. Thunder didn’t know where Dorian lived, thankfully, only the town he lived in. Ramona had agreed to go and ask them to give me my last chance. I had to make it count.

“Dorian!” I bellowed, the instant I rammed through the tape “Dorian! My name is Valerica Torianna! I’m like you! My mother cast me out on my own when I came out to her!” I shouted as I sprinted towards his bedroom. “I know you’re angry! You deserve to be! You deserve your revenge, but you’re going to be killed if you don’t -- “

There he was. Eight feet tall, jaws dripping with blood. He’d lost the plot. He’d lost his humanity. He was a berserk rugaru, now.

“Shit.” I cursed as lupine eyes met mine “Dorian? Dorian, please...I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. Please.” 

I was thrown, bodily, through the drywall. Luckily, I didn’t hit a stud or wiring...but I could feel shards of something embedded in my back. Peace was still in her holster, so I pulled her free as I struggled to my knees. The rugaru kool-aid’d through the wall after me, eyes full of bloodlust and rage. I aimed my weapon and pulled the hammer back.

A second rugaru exploded through a window and slammed Dorian bodily to the floor. The pair rolled, biting and snarling and clawing across the floor. More than once I had to scurry out of the way of the battle to avoid catching a flying claw or misplaced bite.

Who the fuck was the second rugaru!? Was he a friendly? Was *he* enraged? Fuck me sideways, I had no idea what was going on anymore! All I knew is I was suffering from blood loss and losing energy by the second.

CRRRRRRRACK.

I turned, just in time to see the second rugaru, deep brown fur covered in blood and wounds, ripping Dorian’s jaws apart and ripping his heart from his chest. “NO!” I screamed, feeling tears streaking my face. “Goddammit, no! Fuck!”

When a werewolf dies in lupine form, it’s body shrinks. The wolf leaves its body, free to roam the great hereafter, while the human husk remains. All that was left of Dorian was a pale skinned...wait. Dorian was(?) Black...this mutilated corpse was white.

What the fuck.

The second rugaru threw it’s head back and howled in victory...and turned on me. “Who the fuck are you?” I said, voice trembling. “And who the fuck did you just kill?”

The rugaru was shrinking, but collapsed before the change was through. I tore my jacket off and draped it over him. When you lose mass that rapidly, you lose body heat, too. If a werewolf doesn’t have something to warm them after a rugaru transformation, they could easily suffer from hypothermia. I rubbed the dark skin that was rapidly loosing fur. “Dorian? Dorian, is that you?”

“Yeah.” came the soft rasp. “Yeah...my name’s Dorian. Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s VT. I was hired to -- “

“Kill me?” he cut me off and glowered at me with hate filled eyes. “Just like my parents wanted?”

“No! Fuck, no! I was thrown out by my mother after coming out. Like hell I’d kill someone suffering from my same pain.” I said, quickly. “I was hired to try to help you. By Crow Flies’ dad.”

Dorian stared at me, untrusting...but soon looked back to the corpse. There was such hatred in his eyes...it made the glare he aimed at me look positively tame in comparison. “That thing was a pastor. A pastor at one of those...those...” he wretched.

“Conversion therapy...” I hissed beneath my breath. Suddenly, I was hoping the corpse would get up, again. Just so I could have the pleasure of killing him, myself. “You gave him what he deserved.”

I successfully returned Dorian to the pack. He wasn’t ostracized, but welcomed. He had gone berserk, just as the job posting had claimed. He’d killed his parents and their pastor, but no one else. After he’d had his vengeance, he regained himself. He hid, feeling such guilt in his heart that he never wanted to see anyone again. 

Poor kid.

His reunion with Crow was a sweet one, they’d wept and kissed and held each other so tightly I was sure I could hear joints cracking. I couldn’t help but feel accomplished for what I’d done. The rugaru he’d killed, one Peter Edwards, had been a werewolf for years. Hiding in plain sight...and killing those that couldn’t be “saved”. He couldn’t nail down Dorian, so he tried to frame him. He’d be martyred...if not for one, little thing.

“Oh, I burned his corpse with the rest of the house.” Ramona said, forcing a cup of coffee into my hands. “What went on there was no one’s business, anyway. No one’s but the pack’s. And yours, I guess.” she’d said, cheerfully. “Thanks.” I sipped the coffee. Possibly the best tasting coffee I’d ever had. “Dorian saved my life. I don’t think I can accept payment for this one.” I said, smiling. “I’m happy it turned out the way it did...still...it’s impressive that a new werewolf found the rugaru so easy to control.”

Dorian broke away from Crow and approached me. “Miss VT?” he said, timidly. “I just...I wanted to say thank you. Crow said that...that you wouldn’t kill me. That you were against it from the outset.” he stuck out his hand “I...thank you.”

I took his hand, feeling those same calluses I’d felt on Thunder’s. “I should be thanking you, Dorian. You saved my ass.” I grinned and squeezed his hand. “You have a family now, brother. You’ll never have to feel alone again.” he smiled that same smile, so full of kindness and love, that was in the portrait. “Take care of yourself, Dorian.”

Thunder caught me as I was climbing into my car. “You forgot your payment, VT.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ramona said you wouldn’t accept, but...” “But nothing. All I did was run around in circles. Dorian’s the hero here, Thunder.” I said, pushing my sunglasses onto my face. “But hey...if you really wanna give me something...this job ruined my jacket.”

I received a gorgeous, handmade jacket in the mail a few weeks after. My initials emblazoned on the back in golden thread. I wouldn’t be wearing this thing on jobs, but...maybe I can get it framed.

Yeah. That’d be pretty killer.

Case closed.

#tw: isolation #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: depression #tw: animal bite #tw: animal bites #tw: animal injury #tw: cops #tw: racism #tw: homophobia #tw: conversion therapy mention #VTverse #OC #writing #horror

[ourladytamara]

Dry Wine

Tamara - @_ourladytamara - 1.9k words - March 02 2021

CWs: blood, graphic blood drinking scene, death/undeath, cnc, cannibalism, forced intox, meat, dacryphilia

With a huff the Duchess returns the cup to her table.

“Thrall! Here, now.”

You begin quaking instantly. Despite all of your training and harrowing previous run-ins you’ve still managed to upset your most valuable guest, the Duchess of Shadow Piedmont. First you burned her veal fillet, managed to bring her a Beuajolais in place of her Barbera – the tavern-keepers really grilled you over that one – and then you had the audacity to begin clearing her table before she’d adequately sucked the marrow from her various leftover bones!

But you needed this job and you knew how the pale-blooded were when not given proper reverence. Disobeying the lead weights that were your feet, you turned away from the counter you were wiping and towards the tavern’s sole, remaining occupant.

She was a demure woman beyond description, but you liked to try your best at things. Short black hair, cut into one of those stylish new bobs, adorned her alabaster face, garnished with a circlet as pale as her veiny skin and ran down into her equally-black cocktail dress. Age marked her, but in a way unlike that of other women; her wrinkles seemed almost finely-crafted, as if by a sculptor, none of them random; equally sculpted was the pair of pendulous, heavy breasts which hung head-sized from her chest. They strained the fabric with each of her subtle motions, her cleavage pressed out and almost swallowing your vision whole. Despite her seated position, too, you’d seen her to her seat more than enough times to know what a thick, lewd ass she was sitting on; just thinking about it rippling made you almost start to drool.

You caught yourself the moment her eyes met yours. Piercing, angry red filled your very being – you’d seen a demonstration of Edison’s wicked direct electrical currents on animals and knew the feeling must’ve been similar. Even with the lure of her breasts it was nigh-impossible to break her fixated gaze.

You approach cautiously, leery to make any sudden movements as the Duchess smiles with her razor-sharp teeth and syringe-like canines; you set the rag into your apron pocket and assume a position beside her table. In proper manner, you bow your head and place your hands at your lap, as the tavern-owners had shown you so many times before in excruciating, personal detail. With a black-nailed hand she gingerly grips the flute of her glass, swirling the deep red liquid within and watching it with  intense interest.

“Thrall, I know I’ve spoken to you before about this,” says the Duchess, her voice sickly-sweet like poisoned vin santo, “but you know I am a woman of taste, yes?”

She still hasn’t told you what you’ve done, but you nod your head quickly. “Y-Yes, Duchess, I’m well-aware.”

Without hesitation she grips you by the throat with a powerful hand, pulling you closer. Her skin is frigid, almost clammy.

“And I believe I specifically asked you for a Barbaresco with my meal, yes?

Every hair on the back of your neck stands at full attention. The tavern-keepers – they must’ve moved the bottles when they were cleaning, and…

She forces the glass to your lips and forces your neck back, the still-swirling liquid within rushing through your lips. It’s rich, dry, decadent, coating your tongue in stinging alcohol; you’d tried to explain before that the tavern-keepers don’t let you drink for free but she didn’t listen.

“This is Montefalco Rosso.”

She can clearly feel how hard you shiver and responds with a cruel expression.

“Oh, sad that I hold you to standards? Please, save me the tears – you know what you did and you’ve done it before.”

You rub your thighs together in a mix of anticipation and fear, opening your mouth to speak before your lips are silenced by the glass again. She forces down another sip before rising from her seat, delighting your terrified eyes with her bosom, leering dominantly above you. God, she was tall – a full head above you left your eyes tit-height with her, adding to the humiliation you can already feel burning your cheeks.

“I’m really not the kind of woman who should be putting up with repeatedly-disappointing servants. Honestly, I’ll have to have a word with your employers about you,” she spat, forcing the last of the wine down your gullet and dropping the glass to the floor with a loud shatter, “because I would’ve assumed women of their pedigree would know how to properly train their thralls.”

You make a move to apologize and grovel but she tightens her grip. She’s… never done that before – typically she was happy with warning you and getting her long-desired praise and submission, but now she seemed… hungrier. Her eyes regarded you like a lamb lured to the slaughter, inspecting you carnally with a cold hand. In your stupor you notice that three of her fingers lack claws – cut to a smooth, flawless size.

“And to tell you the truth, I’ve had enough lackluster service.”

Still gripping your throat she begins to pull you away, off of the tavern floor and down to her side. She holds you like a limp ragdoll, your neck straining; she begins to walk a moment later, wide hips swaying with every high-heeled footstep she takes across the marble floor and towards the dimly-lit corner concealing the washrooms.

You hit the ground with a slam and choke up instantly. Wind enters your lungs for seconds at a time, your hyperventilation keeping it away while the Duchess looms above your crumpled, uniformed body. Colors spin in your vision, all swirling into the pale white glow emanating from her skin in the overhead light.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago, honestly. Look at you – like a little piece of refuse! How long have you worked here, again? Three years? Five? So many hours sold for no gain – you lack drive!”

She grabs you by the throat off the floor once again and slaps you firmly across the cheek. The squeal you make only pisses her off further, enticing her to follow it with a second on the opposite side. By now, you feel the wine; the warmth clouds your higher judgment and makes your arms sluggish. The Duchess lifts your drunken form with little effort and pins you to the wall – throwing your skirt up and her free hand, the one which lacked three of her claws, beneath it.

You could put up little resistance, melting in her frozen grip; your hot legs continue to writhe in anticipation as her digits crawl up and between your thighs, brushing your locked-up cock and eliciting a twitch. They dive between your cheeks a moment later as she fucks you open with her hand. They’re long, powerful, clearly trained in hundreds of other, equally-pathetic holes; your mewling is silenced by her lips in turn, the muffled sounds barely trickling out between you.

Her tongue is long, forked, and as cold as the rest of her. It presses between your lips and probes even deeper, practically throat-fucking you like the knobbiest, angriest cock you’ve ever taken. There’s little in her eyes save for malice and a hunger far deeper than her dinnertime peckishness; her fingers work in tandem, mirroring her inner animal now breaking out before you, ruining the hole your superiors so graciously demand you keep clean and lubed every shift.

She’s filling you up and there’s little room in your wine-soaked mind for thought. Whenever you feel an opening in your mental haze it fogs right back over, clouded by your prostate being hammered or a tongue triggering your gag reflex. Everything’s… swimming – it’s like you’re underwater, a feeling made all the more intense pressed into the warmth and unreal plushness of her breasts. You fall into them head-first, mind drowning in her cleavage while your body refused to move – she breaks the kiss, a carmine glow in her eyes.

“You’d do better without agency, anyways – not like that stupid little brain of yours does much, does it?”

And with a cackle she slams her mouth against your throat. Instantly the haze is shattered, rended, obliterated like targets at a firing range before your very mind itself follows the same fate. Her fangs slide into your jugular like oversized needles, the unnerving feeling of slurping almost overriding the mind-shattering pain. You thrash, writhe, twitch into her bosom, grabbing her voluptuous body with panicked movements in a vain effort to find purchase, to find escape – but it never comes.

Stars flood your vision and the world begins to fade. Everything feels cool, empty, hollow; you barely notice her soft lips and ravenous tongue retracting from your throat, fangs gouging dime-thick holes in your neck as she releases them with a meaty pop. The last of your blood gushes out of the holes, coating both of you; it spatters against her pale cheek, prompting her to lick it up and smear it even further. Your mind can take precious little more; with a final triumphant thrust, you cum all over her fingers, clenching up like a whore around them and feeling her shove them deeper, ramming your vulnerable g-spot with the same lack of mercy she gave your throat. Translucent slick dribbles from the tip and gets smeared all over the white frills of your skirt.

You hit the ground a second later with a thump, head as drained as your undead heart. None of your limbs respond, your eyes fading to black and your ears ringing and ringing until, finally, you give out.

She leaves you there to wallow in it. Cum, blood, and sweat stick to your skin as the color rapidly fades. It’s impossible to say for how long she left you there, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.

A snap, and a firm command.

“Up, poppet, you’re making a fool of yourself.”

Suddenly your eyes pop open, and as if compelled, you begin to rise; trembling arms support trembling legs as you re-learn how to move, but eventually you manage to stand, with considerable help from the wall behind you – it’s good enough for the Duchess, thankfully, and she lifts your chin up with a clawed nail.

You aren’t thinking. You… can’t think, actually – whatever thought is still inside you was put there by her, instructed by her, and supported by her. It’s all in service of making you stand up, the command echoeing in your head infinitely. Everything… tingles? It’s not painful, not unpleasant – you begin to wonder if you actually kind of like it.

“Much better. Now, my thrall, I assume you won’t disappoint me any further. Is that correct?”

You try to speak and find it difficult to do much beyond moaning whorishly, so you nod your head instead. It brings you instant relief, like the release of orgasm but entirely within your mind – and out of all of your senses it remains the least-dulled, enticing you like nothing else would anymore. The Duchess’s eyes fade to the low light of a reddish campfire, yet remain the most vibrant thing your undead vision can detect.

“Then fetch me my Barbaresco.” says the Duchess, a coy smile on her bloodstained lips. “We’ll see how you’ve improved.”

You nod your head with rapt enthusiasm and begin your shuffle back to the wine cellar.

#subscriber stories

[find-your-sunspot]

Chapter I - 3:30 PM

Chieko opened her eyes in a groan of fatigue. Oh, I fell asleep ... I wonder how much time has passed. The realization that someone had come in her sleep to light another incense made her blood run cold. A thousand and one scenarios swirled around in her head, as she straightened up to look around. What  happened ?? What did they come to do ? After spending several minutes frantically touching her body, she finally calmed down with a sigh. Nothing had been done to her in her sleep ; and that was enough to reassure her.

The sky, which was still very pale before, had seen itself covered with a veil of cerulean blue, dotted here and there with clouds. Surprisingly gray clouds for the season ; the month of June had been mild and pleasant. Maybe a summer rain will fall soon. I hope, it is always enjoyable. The landscape is so stunning afterwards !

Without letting her smile fade, Chieko retrieved her phone, which she had left on the nightstand, to open the RFA app. It was three-thirty, and the Minister was hungry. The thought of a good snack made her stomach growl ; and even more so when she began to smell a faint smell of strawberry cake. I don't think it's in their best interests to poison me. I should go and see where the smell is coming from. I can't remember the last time I ate.

No sooner had she left her room than she found herself in a hallway decorated like a castle. Marble floors, fresh peonies, thick curtains tied with pretty golden ribbons, but most of all chandeliers hanging on the wall at equal distance from each other. While in awe of all the decorations, she took some time before noticing a young man with blackish hair waving to her. He doesn't seem mean, just... a little funny ? I don't know, he looks nice. Well, that doesn't mean I'm going to trust him.

<< ...Yes ?

-If you want some cake, you better wait in your room for them to come and give them to you ! >>

And, without saying anything more, this funny young man gave her another wave before disappearing at the junction of the hallways, chasing someone running. But what is their problem, anyway ? Why are they behaving like this with me ?

Still, Chieko decided to trust him on this one and reluctantly returned to his room. He is probably right. It's not a good idea for me to get out of here. I'm pretty sure this Saeran would kill me if he found out. However, I remain convinced that it is not him who is in charge of this place.

Back in her princess bedroom, she pulled one of the two armchairs around the pedestal table and sat down in silence. Thinking about how to get out of here, she remembered the information she had obtained about this place, as Minister of Justice. I am probably in the headquarters of this cult called "Mint Eye". Obviously, I was kidnapped here, but not because of my research. And judging the reactions of the members of the RFA, no announcement concerning my disappearance was made… But I should have expected it. I can only count on myself to get out of this.

As she was about to continue torturing her mind with those, her phone vibrated and a notification popped up on her screen. "New Chatroom" ! A slight smile curved around the corner of her lips, and she finally opened the app.

Yoosung 🌟 : Oh, hi, Jaehee, Chieko !!

Jaehee Kang : Hello, both of you.

Chieko : Hi ! :) How are you ?

Yoosung 🌟: Good ! Finally, I’m super restless. I couldn't concentrate at all in class. Too excited !

Jaehee Kang : Is it because of the Minister coming to our chatroom ?

Yoosung 🌟 : Yes ! I mean… Someone who knew Rika that we weren't aware of ?? It gives me so much hope to know more about her..!!

Jaehee Kang : Ah, theoretically, Mr. Han knows her. And from what I could understand, Luciel and V do too.

Chieko : Yes, that's right… I knew Luciel when he was younger, and I had the opportunity to meet V before I parted ways with Rika.

Jaehee Kang : If you are comfortable enough, would you mind telling us how you got to know Rika ?

Yoosung 🌟 : Oh, I was going to ask the same question ! She never told us about you.

Chieko : Of course. We left each other on… Bad terms ? Well. We got to know each other at church. We lived there for a few months.

Yoosung 🌟 : Living there ??

Jaehee Kang : I heard that homeless people can take refuge in church, yes.

Chieko : That's right. Oh, now that I think about it, I probably got the photos back on my phone. Just a second, please..

Jaehee Kang : I didn't know Rika had lived in church, to be honest.

Yoosung 🌟 : Me neither… I thought she had moved from her parents' place to V's directly.

After searching for a few moments in her phone's gallery, Chieko finally found the photo she was looking for. She, Rika, and another girl, holding hands right outside the church door. All three looked tired, but mostly they wore shy smiles. Nothing of the Rika that the RFA knew ; but also nothing of the Chieko that South Korea knew. Rika kept her hair plaited, and played nervously with one of her locks, while Chieko struggled to stand up because she was too skinny. And she, who always made a point of keeping her hair maintained, had let it go, in such a messy way, but also and above all as white as her sickly skin. The other girl, meanwhile, was also not in great physical shape, and wore a poorly executed bob cut.

Chieko : No, she stayed… Almost a year there before she met V and left.

Jaehee Kang : … Wow, this photo is odd to look at…

Yoosung 🌟 : How come Rika is like that ?? She does not look alike ....

Chieko : That's what I told you, she was such a strong woman. She has changed so much since the last time I saw her.

Jaehee Kang : … So you too, I think. I don’t know more about you, but... If you went from being a refugee in the church to being a justice minister, you had to work a lot.

Yoosung 🌟 : It is true that it is impressive !! You are a role model for a lot of people here!

Chieko : Ah, really ? I tend to see what the people blame me for...

Jaehee Kang : Ah, I can relate. ;-;;

Yoosung 🌟 : Waaah, you scare me for the future life.

Chieko : Don't worry, you'll be fine ! You seem like a young boy with lots of potential.

Yoosung 🌟 :… Oh, that's super flattering from you ! ^//^

Jaehee Kang : It is true that you can feel honored, Yoosung... It is very gratifying.

Chieko :  Ha, it's no big deal... That is just my opinion. I don’t have any special qualifications to say that, I’m just telling you how I feel seeing you. :)

Yoosung 🌟 : Thank you then ! :D

Jaehee Kang : Well, having that cleared up ... Yoosung, you said you couldn't concentrate in class, is that right ?

Yoosung 🌟 : Yes… I'm spending time on my phone, hoping not to get caught. QwQ

Jaehee Kang : Yoosung, it's a bit... ;-;;

Chieko : Ha, even if you need to follow your class, feeling low one afternoon isn’t going to fail your schooling. Try to drink some water and get out for some fresh air ! It looks like it's going to rain soon. I don't know about you, but I find the summer rains soothing. :)

Jaehee Kang : … It is going to rain, you say ? However, the sky is perfectly clear in Seoul.

Yoosung 🌟 : That's right, the sun is burning my eyes and my teacher won't close the shutters ;-;

Chieko : … Oh, that's weird then. Excuse me. Either way, the intent remains the same. Just hanging out in your school grounds might relax you a bit, Yoosung.

Jaehee Kang : It is true that just for an afternoon it'll be fine… You obviously won't be able to concentrate today, so you should at least pay attention to your sanity. :)

Chieko : And I'll try to answer as many of your questions as possible so that you can concentrate in class tomorrow !

Jaehee Kang : It is true that it would help us a lot... Even if you already have the trust of Mr. Han, I would like us to be able to get rid of all the suspicions about you as soon as possible.

Yoosung 🌟 :… I was going to say something about V, but I think I'll take your advice and hang out for a bit ! ;-;;

Chieko : That's the spirit, Yoosung ! Don't think about what hurts you, and take some quality time for yourself.

Yoosung 🌟 : Thank you girls… have a nice day ! :D

Yoosung has left the chatroom.

Jaehee Kang : It is nice to see Yoosung active again… He had been in a lethargic state since Rika's death.

Chieko : Were they that close?

Jaehee Kang : Yes… Rika was her cousin, and I think he was the person she was closest to, after V, of course.

Chieko : … I imagine the distress he must have felt, indeed. But as tragic as her death is... We have to help him move forward. We cannot let him lock himself in mourning. Neither do you, either.

Jaehee Kang : … It is nice to want to do such a thing, but it's also very daring. We were all greatly impacted by her death, but it's nothing compared to V… Well, time is the answer, I guess.

Chieko : Time doesn't cure everything. Sometimes you have to agree to get help.

Jaehee Kang : … That is probably true. Thanks, Chieko.

Chieko : Thanks to you, Jaehee ! I enjoyed our conversation. :)

Jaehee Kang : I enjoyed it as well. If you will excuse me...

Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom.

Chieko has left the chatroom.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a knock on her door. Chieko then turned her curious eyes in the direction of the noise ; and  discovered a frail young girl advancing to the pedestal table. Without saying a word, she carefully came to deposit a piece of an appetizing strawberry shortcake in front of the Minister. But it was with even more special care that she made sure not to meet Chieko's gaze.

Still, what beautiful eyes she had. Mint blue, just like Saeran. Maybe it's his little sister ? They look a lot alike, and it's not her white hair that makes me think otherwise. What struck the little Minister the most, however, was the young lady's thinness, which was still apparent, despite the loose tunic she wore.

<< … Miss ? >>

After what seemed like an eternity to both of them, the young girl finally raised her head to stare Chieko straight in the eyes. A gaze so deep it almost seemed to be probing the entirety of her soul. And this sensation made her shiver all the more ; definitely, she felt helpless in front of such an unsettling pair of eyes. But ironically, she didn't think them as threatening, on the contrary. They were just blessed with disarming sincerity.

<<… You are in danger here. I will come back as soon as possible. In the meantime, do not accept food or drink from anyone other than me.

- ... Wait, why is that ? >> Chieko felt her throat tighten into a lump that choked her own voice. << Why would I believe you, anyway ?

- ... I can't take any longer than that now. I will come back at night. I count on your discretion. >>

Chieko thought she could discern, for a fraction of a second, a sympathetic smile burning the lips of the young girl. No, I must be dreaming. I'd better wait to find out more before rushing to conclusions. A poorly mastered curtsy and a brief wave later, she had already left her room, going out of sight, even from the hallway.

Who was she ? How many are there here ? Were my sources about  this cult reliable ? Or are they well over a thousand ? These questions danced in a loop in her head. Like a three-beat waltz. Calculated, repeated, endless movements. Movements that would continue indefinitely if she did not end them herself. Which she finally did, firmly planting her spoon in the cake. Yes, maybe this cake is poisoned. But if I ask myself too many questions, I will not eat, and I will starve sooner or later. 

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger jihyun #mysme #mysme v #mystic messenger jaehee #mystic messenger yoosung #mysme jaehee #mysme yoosung #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #estherocs #chieko konomi #meiimai #fanfiction #jihyun kim #v x cmc #find your sunspot