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roman-writing · 4 years ago

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no great revelation (8/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 9.012

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

read it below or read it here on AO3

VIII.

—

Getting to the planet’s surface was the easy part. Jane was told to wait in orbit, while they boarded Rebecca’s ship and flew down. They were all crammed into the tiny cockpit of Rebecca’s ship, where without enough seats to go around most of them had to simply hang onto whatever fixture they could find and pray. Jamie herself had been relegated the space at the very front, which in the event of a crash would’ve sent her hurtling straight through the reinforced glass windows. The Republic military feed they had cottoned onto earlier barked at them down the line, demanding their authorisation codes or threatening swift retribution. Rebecca acted quickly, keying in a sequence on her ship’s dash and sending it off with an expert flourish.

“Calm down, Sergeant,” she said in a cool tone, and her voice was run through a modulator so that it sounded low and raspy. “This is shuttle hotel charlie two five niner with the Third Fleet. I’ve been called from logistics as backup.”

A crackle of static followed, then, “Hotel charlie two five niner, you’re earlier than expected. You’re cleared for landing. Please proceed with caution. Do not engage hostiles until the rest of your squad arrives. I repeat: do not engage.”

Rebecca hit the button to respond. “Copy. Hotel charlie two five niner.”

And without further ado she began the sequence for final descent.

“Well,” said Owen. “That was efficient.”

Rebecca did not look up from where she was guiding the ship to the surface when she replied in a distracted tone, “I’m very good at my job.”

“Clearly,” Hannah said.

When they got within a certain distance from the planet, Dani straightened from her place jammed into Jamie’s side and tried to peer through the glass. The mountains of Alderaan were jagged caps of blue and grey and white. A rather dramatic landscape, if Jamie were being honest; she was far more interested in the way Dani pressed up against her seemingly without meaning to do so.

They swooped around a mountain peak, the spear-point parapets of House Thul coming into view. Below, people scurried about the ground like insects shooting pinpricks of red blaster fire at one another. The air was filled with enough smoke that it was difficult to make them out, but when Jamie squinted she could just see that the main doors had been breached and the attackers were attempting to push their way inside.

The ship was pinged by someone on the ground, and Rebecca accepted the transmission.

“Unidentified spacecraft,” growled a voice down the comm in an Imperial accent, “state your allegiance and business immediately, or we will not hesitate to shoot you from the sky.”

This time when Rebecca replied, she did not modulate her voice through the computer, though her tone was just as calm as before. Perhaps with a bit more of a bite. Definitely with a smoother Imperial accent that would’ve fooled Jamie herself if she hadn’t known what Rebecca really sounded like. “Corporal, this is Tau Gamma Three. If you delay my landing on the eastern high ground, I will report you to my Rear Admiral for contempt.”

The corporal responded very quickly, “My apologies, Commander. Your transponder code has just been confirmed. Please proceed with all haste. I will personally greet you on the ground and act as your escort.”

“Copy. Tau Gamma Three,” Rebecca said, then took her finger off the transmission button and whispered in her usual accent, “Fuck.”

“Think you over cooked it that time,” Jamie said.

Rebecca gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Damn boot-licking Imps.”

She guided the ship towards where Dani had indicated earlier, landing in a rumble and jerk before cutting the engines and unstrapping herself from the captain’s chair so she could be the first down the gangway.

“Let me handle this,” Rebecca told them.

She smacked the button to lower the gangway to the ground, while outside three people in Imperial grey strode up the hill towards the ship. One, the corporal, had a single red tab of rank on his chest, while the other two bore plasma rifles and shiny black chest plates. Jamie, Hannah, Owen, and Dani all squeezed themselves into a corner of the cockpit so they could peer out the side of the ship and watch.

The corporal saluted as Rebecca walked down the gangway, his mouth moving but his words unintelligible from where Jamie and the others watched. If Rebecca responded, they could not hear her. Without breaking stride, Rebecca unholstered the pistol at her waist and fired three shots. The corporal and one of the infantrymen dropped to the ground. The remaining infantryman fell, but turned over and tried to crawl towards where he had dropped his firearm. Rebecca stalked forward, stepped on his hand, and shot him in the back.

He stopped moving. A hole through his chest cavity smoked gently.

Turning back towards the ship, Rebecca saw them all gawking at her from the cockpit, and gestured for them to come out.

“Where did you meet her again?” Owen asked in a slow, slightly awed voice.

“Nar Shaddaa,” said Jamie.

“Huh.” Owen nodded. “You know, I don’t think you’re cool enough to be her friend.”

Jamie stepped on his foot and glared.

Rebecca was re-holstering her blaster pistol when they all emerged from the ship. “I did my job,” she said, then gave a nod to Dani. “Where to next?”

Dani pointed towards a building complex about five hundred meters away. “This way.”

Jamie made a gesture for her to lead, and Dani started off in the direction she had indicated. They walked briskly, and every time Jamie heard another blast in the distance — some Imperial or guardsman of House Thul throwing firepower at one another on the ground below — she winced and quickened her step. It was nice to see she wasn’t the only one, until the five of them were rushing into the guard complex, slightly out of breath.

When they reached the shut doors, Dani placed her hand on a panel. It scanned her biosignature and flashed green before the doors opened with a hiss of pressurised air. They ducked inside, and Jamie breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of fighting faded slightly through layers of metal.

“The checkpoint is just around the corner over -” Dani was saying as she led them further down a set of steps, but when she rounded the corner she froze.

Where before the entryway had been completely empty of people — signs of a great hurry evident, upended chairs and half eaten rations — now there was a single guardsman staring at them just down the hall. His face was white as a sheet, his livery of House Thul scuffed and scorched, and in his hands he clutched a blaster rifle, which he pointed at them.

“I don’t suppose you know him?” Owen asked in a low voice to Dani, who shook her head.

With raised hands, Jamie took a step forward and said, “We’re just here to -”

Before she could get more than a handful of syllables into a sentence however, the guard fired. Jamie flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, but the smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh never came. Instead there was only a strangely familiar buzzing sound. When she peeled open her eyes, one after the other, it was to find that Hannah had moved faster than the guard could pull the trigger. A dark scorch mark marred the floor beside her feet, and Hannah held the purple blade of her lightsabre extended at a perfect angle.

Hannah straightened, lowering her lightsabre but not sheathing the blade. The guard staggered back a step, hands trembling around his rifle.

He stared at them for a split second, and then fumbled for the comm unit strapped to his shoulder, pressing the transmit button. “This is Ardi in Post; I need -!”

Hannah waved her free hand, and his own hand suddenly wrenched away from the comm, both of his arms snapping to his side as though he were coming to attention. His wide panicked gaze dropped to his own arms, and he made a weak terrified noise when he could not move.

The comm at his shoulder crackled, and a voice said, “Come in, Ardi. What’s the problem?”

He opened his mouth, but Hannah spoke before he could do so much as squeak. Her voice was like a riptide, like a set of strings attached to a wooden frame. “You will not panic, and you will tell them nothing is wrong.”

The guardsman blinked at her, his eyes going fuzzy and unfocused, while his shoulders and jaw went strangely slack. Then his hand drifted up to the comm. He pushed the button and said in a flat tone, “Nothing is wrong.”

His hand dropped back to his side and he gazed blankly at Hannah for further instruction.

“You will go about your duty,” she said. “You did not see us.”

“I did not see you,” he mimicked in that same tone, then he strode forward, walking directly past them and continuing on his way. They turned to watch him go.

“Always creeps me out when you do that,” Jamie muttered.

Hannah sheathed her lightsabre, but kept the hilt at the ready. “Needs must. Miss Clayton, you were taking us inside?”

Dani snapped her mouth shut from where she had been gaping at the scene. “Oh,” she said, then started forward. “Right! Yes. We just need to go down this hall here.”

Thankfully, the next hall was completely empty. They jumped the barriers at the checkpoint and continued down another hallway leading to a set of armour-reinforced doors, which Dani opened with the press of her hand. The doors slid open, and suddenly they were face to face with a whole squad of Imperial soldiers.

Jamie didn’t know who was more shocked to see the other. Them. Or the Imperials. One member of the squad was kneeling down by the corner of the door, trying to hack his way through the system to get the doors open.

Jamie shot him, while at the same time Dani slammed her hand back down on the bioscanner to shut the doors before the Imperials could react.

“Right,” said Rebecca, who had also taken out her blaster pistol and was ready to fire at the next thing that moved. “Any other ways in?”

Dani shook her head.

“Front door?” Owen offered.

With a low groan, Jamie shifted her grip upon her blaster pistol and jerked her head at Owen and Hannah. “Knights up front.”

Sighing, Hannah and Owen nevertheless dutifully stepped forward and unsheathed their sabres, purple and blue blades between the two of them.

Dani hovered her hand over the bioscanner, but hadn’t unsheathed her own lightsabre. “Is this really the best idea?”

“Too late now,” Jamie grumbled.

“I told you,” said Rebecca.

“Shut it.”

“Open it,” Hannah said to Dani in an exasperated tone of voice.

Dani did so. All of the Imperials had retreated to find cover behind massive pillars and big statues that lined the great hall. The moment Jamie saw one of their stupid grey caps poking around a pillar, she took aim over Owen’s shoulder and fired. Bloody Imps fired back, and soon the air was filled with a volley of blaster fire ricocheting off stone pillars and archways, sending chips of stone spinning across the floor.

Hannah and Owen deflected anything coming their way with an almost lazy indifference, as though they were swatting a few pesky flies out of the sky. An Imperial soldier was hit by his own blaster fire and fell to the ground. Jamie nailed another one in the shoulder, and he swore loudly, crouching back behind cover.

Ducking down slightly, Rebecca nudged Hannah’s shoulder. “Can you two advance? Slowly?”

Owen nodded and the two of them walked forward in step with one another, deflecting incoming blaster fire as they went. Realising what was happening, the Imperial squadron began to panic. A handful tried to make a run for another pillar further along the hallway in an attempt to put ground between them and leaving behind a few of their injured peers in the process. Owen reached out his hand, made a pulling motion, and it were as though three of the fleeing soldiers were yanked back on wires. Hannah chucked her lightsabre — Jamie really couldn’t think of a more eloquent way to describe it apart from ‘chucked’ — and the blade went spinning forward through the air, slicing clean through the soldiers before returning straight to her hand in time for her to sweep aside another attack.

The only soldier left alive was the one Jamie had shot in the shoulder. He was pressing a hand to his wound, sitting on the ground with his legs sprawled and his back leaning against a pillar base. Rebecca rounded the pillar and cocked her blaster pistol.

“Please,” the soldier whimpered.

“Don’t try that shit with me,” Rebecca hissed. “I know what you do to POWs.”

When she raised her pistol as though to whip him with it, he flinched, but the blow never came. Hannah had reached out and the air seemed to solidify into a jelly that held back Rebecca’s arm.

“Miss Jessel,” said Hannah, “Forgive me, but I will not be complicit in the mistreatment of prisoners of war.”

The muscles stood out on Rebecca’s jaw, but she nodded and the sensation of being held underwater rushed from the air. Jamie felt at her own chest and cleared her throat.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” asked a distant voice.

With a frown Jamie turned to find that Dani had remained behind in the hallway, and her head was poking through the door, peering left and right for any sign of lingering danger. Jamie waved her over and Dani quickly crossed the room to stand beside her.

Meanwhile Rebecca shook her head and holstered her blaster pistol. “Last time I saw you, you made mince of seasoned soldiers.”

Ducking her head, Dani shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, her grip tight around the unlit hilt of her lightsabre. “I wasn’t really myself then.”

“Clearly.”

Jamie nudged the injured soldier with the toe of her boot. “Oi. Where’s the Sith gone?”

At the mere mention of the Sith, his face went pale, his dark eyes glancing between the five of them standing over him. His voice trembled when he spoke. “We - We were just supposed to hold ground behind him.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Owen assured him. “Just tell us which way he went.”

The Imperial soldier lifted a shaking hand and pointed at a door further along the hallway, branching to the left. Dani sucked in a sharp breath.

“What’s that way?” Jamie asked.

“Lord and Lady Wingrave’s quarters,” said Dani.

“There are others,” the soldier said. “My squad was just supposed to flush out any stragglers.”

“Any other way in?” asked Rebecca.

“Uh -” Dani bit her lower lip and glanced about the great hall. “That wing has been shut for years, but I think - I think so. Yes.”

Jamie made a shooing gesture. “Lead the way.”

“What about me?” said the Imperial soldier.

“Owen?” said Hannah.

“Right,” said Owen, and he leaned down to tap the soldier aside the head, upon which the soldier immediately slumped, head lolling to one side, fast asleep.

“Useful, that,” Jamie mused. “Can you do that to me next time I’ve had too much stimcaf late in the evening?”

“Only if you want a migraine when you wake up,” Owen said dryly.

“Mmm. On second thought -”

“Come on, you two,” Rebecca said in exasperation, already following closely after Dani and Hannah down another hallway.

Leaving the wreckage of the main hall, they hurried after their guide. Dani led them through twisting corridors and broad rooms, the house like a vast labyrinth of doors sprawling in all directions. At one point they passed through what was clearly a little girl’s room — at least, if all the dolls and the miniature estate were any indication. Jamie accidentally trod on something, and she glanced down.

It was a handmade doll. Pale-skinned. Grey-robed. Long and dark-haired. And completely faceless.

With a faint shudder, Jamie kicked the doll aside and continued after Dani who had taken them to — of all places — a walk in closet. At the far end of the closet was a floor-length mirror. Dani froze so suddenly that Jamie almost walked into the back of her.

“What’s -?” Jamie started to ask but never finished.

Looking over Dani’s shoulder, she could see all of them reflected in the glass, except Dani. In her stead, a grey-gowned shadow with a face worn smooth by time and memory.

“Dani,” Jamie murmured, staring at the reflection. When she touched the small of Dani’s back, Dani jolted and the apparition vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“It’s fine,” said Dani too quickly, her voice tight as a clenched fist.

“Is something wrong?” Owen asked, peering over the tops of their heads for a better look.

“No,” Dani insisted. “It’s nothing.”

Feeling vaguely sick, Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but Dani had already stepped forward, approaching the mirror with a trembling outstretched hand. A press of her fingers and the mirror swung forward on hidden hinges, revealing a dark passageway yawning beyond it. Inside there echoed the sounds of blaster fire, of grenades and men screaming in the distance.

“Yeah - uh - no offense,” said Rebecca, “but I do not want to go in there.”

Dani steeled herself and took a step inside. When she peered back at them, one of her eyes gleamed golden and owlish from the shadows. “It’s the only shortcut to the Lord and Lady’s wing. I discovered it by accident one day.”

And without further ado, she turned and vanished into the narrow warren. When the others all stepped forward to follow Dani into the darkness, Rebecca groaned and trailed after them. Jamie lost all sight when Rebecca shut the mirror behind them. Owen unsheathed his lightsabre, holding it up into the air to light the way as though he were carrying a blue torch. Dani was already far ahead, walking without the aid of light, a silhouette through the murk.

The sounds of battle grew louder the further they delved. At one point Jamie nearly jumped out of her skin when a bang made the wall to her immediate left vibrate and shed flecks of plaster.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jamie gasped, clutching her chest in one hand and her blaster pistol in the other. “Can we please get out of here? I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Dani walked a few more steps, then stopped before a section of wall that looked like all the other sections of wall. That was until Owen drew close enough that the light from his sabre revealed the faint outline of an old mechanical panel. Dani placed her hand upon it and glanced over her shoulder at the others.

“Ready?”

Hannah pushed the button to unsheathe her lightsabre, and she and Owen took up post on either side of Dani, while Rebecca and Jamie stood behind them, blasters at the ready. Dani gave Jamie a questioning look, waiting for a nod before she drew a deep breath and twisted the panel to a horizontal position.

The wall rumbled slightly, then swung outward with a groan of hinges. The room beyond was not, as Jamie had originally suspected, a bedroom. Instead it was a sprawling lounge. Once lush and wood-panelled, the walls lined with old paintings, now filled with smoke and blaster fire. Guardsmen in House Thul colours scrambled to hold ground in this last bastion of the manor, while Imperial soldiers crowded the only entrance chokepoint.

Neither side had yet noticed the ragtag group of Jedi, smugglers, a gardener and a governess that had walked through an enormous painting along the wall.

Jamie didn’t need to be told this time where the Sith had gone; it was clearly evident in the path of destruction in his wake. Dead guardsmen in various states of dismemberment. Great gouges raked along the floor and walls, the stone still simmering with the faint glow of embers. A pillar had been cut completely in half and was sprawled along the ground. The room was a scarred and smoking ruin barely clinging to life, leading up a set of sweeping stone staircases, and the path curving out of sight beyond a cavalcade of slashed portraits.

“Rebecca,” said Hannah in a brook-no-nonsense tone. “With me. We will hold off the Imperial troops. The rest of you -” She looked at the three of them, ending with a softer glance towards Owen. “Find the children. And come back to me.”

Owen nodded and his moustache twitched in a tell tale smile. Then he looked back at Jamie and Dani, jerking his head towards the staircase. “Follow me.”

Rebecca was already going through the motions of checking her blaster pistol to ensure it would shoot without error.

“Are you keen to kill a few Imperials, Miss Jessel?” Hannah asked, sounding amused.

Rebecca smiled and cocked the pistol. “Always.”

Hannah made a gesture towards the fight. “After you.”

And they were off to the races. Jamie shook her head after them, then followed Owen, who was already hurrying up the stairs with Dani. There were no soldiers here, neither Imperial nor Thulian. The door to the sleeping quarters was open, and the sound of muted conversation issued forth, as of two people discussing a mundane topic over a drink. Steeling herself, Jamie stepped into the room just behind Owen and Dani.

The room sprawled, as large and opulent as the rest of the estate. A four poster bed stood proudly at the far end. Portraits continued to dot the walls at all levels. There were a few armchairs and a plush couch, and in the centre of the very room, two men.

The Sith wore a black and fully self-contained suit, complete with a red-eyed mask and tubes that hooked over his neck and shoulder into some sort of apparatus at his back. Jamie had only ever seen someone wear an outfit like this once before, and it was to combat the Rakghoul plague on Taris. His speech was interspersed with sporadic coughing fits, but his movements were steady. He held up Lord Wingrave in the air with the Force as easily as though holding up a cup of tea.

“You cannot hide them forever,” he was saying, his voice altered through a respirator. “I will tear this manor apart, limb from limb. And that gift which to others hath been a boon shall to you be a very bane."

Owen hefted his lightsabre and said in a commanding tone, “Let him go.”

The Sith glanced over his shoulder and turned. The eyes of his mask were scarlet half-moons that gleamed through the darkly paneled space. Behind him Lord Wingrave continued to choke, face purpling.

The Sith tilted his head, sizing up his unexpected company. Then to Jamie’s shock and confusion, the Sith bowed to them — or, rather, to Dani.

"My Lady," he said, straightening. "Your presence humbles me. We shall find for you a more suitable host in due course."

Dani stared at him in absolute horror, saying nothing.

Owen stepped forward. “Your fight is with us, not him.” Owen gestured towards Lord Wingrave with his lightsabre, and he repeated, “Let him go.”

“But of course,” said the Sith. He unsheathed his lightsabre — red as a bloody dawn — and held it to the side so that when he released the Force, Lord Wingrave fell directly upon the blade.

Dani cried out, but Jamie held her back before she could move forward. Lord Wingrave slumped, his body pierced completely through the chest. He choked on an inhalation, and then the Sith deactivated the lightsabre, and Lord Wingrave crumpled to the floor.

The Sith stepped over his body, approaching them and coughing, a wet and sickly rattling of his lungs. When he spoke, he addressed Dani alone, as though she were the only person in the room. “The Force has brought you to my side. And I will not let such an opportunity slip between my fingers.”

At the front of the group, Owen kept looking between the approaching Sith and the man dying in his wake. He did not turn around to ask Jamie, “Think you handle this?”

Jamie glanced at Lord Wingrave. His chest was still rising and falling, but his breaths were shallow and growing weaker by the second.

“No,” said Jamie. “But go anyway. I’ll cover you.”

With a nod, Owen sprinted forward. Jamie fired several shots at the Sith, not aiming to hit, just to distract. The Sith, of course, deflected every blaster fire with his lightsabre as though batting aside a particularly irritable fly. However the cover fire served its purpose, and Owen was able to slip by without the Sith engaging him in combat directly.

Indeed, the Sith seemed utterly uninterested in anything else in the room that wasn’t Dani. He continued to stride forward, steps slow and sure and steady as the tide. Behind him, Owen dragged Lord Wingrave into the far corner beside the bed, lightsabre sheathed, and began to tend his wounds. Jamie wasn’t well versed in the healing arts — never would be, truth be told — and honestly it seemed like all Owen was doing was meditating beside Lord Wingrave’s body. Must’ve done something, though. At least, she hoped it did.

And all the while, the Sith was striding towards them with singular intent.

"You can start shooting again now," Dani muttered to Jamie.

"Do you remember blaster fire being useful against you?" Jamie asked, incredulous, even as she holstered her pistol.

“No,” said Dani. Even so, she pulled out her lightsabre hilt, ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment’s notice.

The Sith stopped a few paces away. Close enough that Jamie could see the scars on his armour, the ragged hems of his robes, the piercing quality of his mask’s eyes. When he spoke, it was only to Dani, as though Jamie weren’t there at all.

“Your love for these people makes you weak. You are ruled by your own fear, rather than taking control of it. If only you had the stomach,” he hissed. “You could be so much more. But as you are, you’re not fit to play host to The Lady.”

Dani’s hands trembled around the hilt of the lightsabre, but her voice was steady and clear. “You know nothing about me.”

The Sith’s laughter was broken by coughing, his broad shoulders shaking, yet for all that he never appeared any less commanding a presence. “Your emotions betray you. Lay you bare. I can taste your fear, feel your anger.”

He circled round her with slow footsteps and Dani turned to follow him with the tip of her lightsabre. She shook her head, eyes unyielding, jaw tightly held.

“No?” he asked, his tone amused through the rasp of his respirator. “Then, prove me wrong.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamie said, low and warning. She could see the way Dani’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but otherwise Dani did nothing.

“What are you waiting for?” he growled, and in a motion too quick to follow he hefted his lightsabre — the blade a darker, muddier red beside the pure crimson of Dani’s kyber — and slashed at Dani’s feet with a snarl, making her leap back and leaving a smouldering furrow in the ground. “Strike me down!”

Dani regained her footing and brought her lightsabre back up into a defensive position.

“I will kill all you hold dear. I will make you watch as they die. I will take you to my master on Dromund Kaas as a prize, and you will know such suffering. Until we pry the soul from your lungs. Until the very end.” The Sith stalked to and fro like a great animal pacing its enclosure, dragging the tip of his lightsabre on the ground behind him so that sparks scattered at his footsteps. “Your name will be a blight on this house, a mark of its end. I will find these children and make them instruments of the Dark, and they will know that you were the reason why.”

Hands tightening around the hilt of her sabre, Dani’s eyes darted away from him and towards one of the paintings hung low on the far wall. The Sith paused, then followed her gaze.

“There you are,” he murmured.

He reached out a hand and the painting was ripped from its hidden hinges on the wall, revealing a small chamber beyond, just enough for people to hide objects of value. Except in this case, there were two children huddled and crouched. The elder of the two — a boy — saw Lord Wingrave sprawled on the ground, attended to by Owen, and he cried out, “Uncle Henry!”

“Miles, don’t -!” Dani shouted.

The Sith caught him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him close. Miles struggled and kicked, but the Sith’s grip was iron.

“My, look at you,” the Sith said, tilting his head as though appraising a piece of fine jewelry. “So wrathful for one so small.”

Miles tried to claw at the Sith’s respirator, and for this he was backhanded so hard he staggered and fell, clutching his cheek. Both Dani and Jamie took an abortive step forward. His sister raced forward to make sure he was all right.

The Sith gestured to the children behind him. “New apprentices for my master. Or perhaps, only one is needed.”

When he raised his lightsabre, Dani moved before Jamie could stop her. She caught the blade with her own, parrying it aside and putting herself between him and the children, lightsabre raised and ready, eyes hard. The Sith tested the edge of Dani’s blade, the sound of two lightsabres running against one another like nothing else, electrifying the very air, and they began to circle around one another like a pair of vultures over a carcass.

The Sith moved with the swiftness of a snake, striking with sure movements that Dani could barely deflect, her brow pinched in concentration. As they moved about the room, Jamie sprinted forward, avoiding the fight so she could crouch down beside the children.

Miles was fine, though addled and shaken. His breath came shallowly and he trembled more from fear than anything else. The girl meanwhile was putting on a brave face.

“Hey. Hi. I’m Jamie,” she said, slightly breathless. “Can you stand?” she asked Miles.

He nodded, but struggled to do so. She picked him up and half carried him towards a more sheltered corner, urging the young girl to follow her closely. Jamie checked Miles for any other wounds, but there was nothing but the bruise blooming across his cheek.

“You’ll be right,” she murmured, cupping said cheek and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Behind her, Dani was losing ground, giving ground, defending rather than attacking. The Sith seemed to be toying with her, darting his blade in various directions to see how she would react, testing the waters and thoroughly enjoying himself if his creepy fucking laughter was any indication.

“Stay here,” Jamie said in a low tone to the kids, eyes fixed upon the Sith.

Her blaster pistol was next to useless in a fight like this. Jamie patted herself down. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her slacks and withdrew the small mining laser. Its blade extended maybe only a few centimeters in length, bright green and hot.

Glancing up, Jamie watched as Dani and the Sith circled one another like two wary predators. She adjusted the mining laser in her grip and waited until the Sith’s back was to her. Then, drawing a deep steadying breath, she rushed forward before her courage could fail, and stabbed into his back. The laser’s tip pierced through one of the hoses wrapped around his neck and shoulder. Instead of oxygen leaking out, a billow of sickly yellow smoke streamed from the ruptured section of hose, smelling strongly of sulphur. With a snarl, the Sith turned and slashed his lightsabre in a raking blow. Jamie ducked to the side but not fast enough.

The last time Jamie had been on the wrong end of a lightsabre wound, it had burned a hole straight through her shoulder as though her bones were made of softened butter. This was a similar experience, and one she had hoped to never feel again. The tip of the lightsabre whipped up, missing her arm and torso, and instead scoring her face.

A flare of white-hot pain. Jamie flinched and scrambled away, nearly losing her footing and only managing to catch herself on the edge of an armchair. The mining laser clattered to the floor. One hand reached up to test the left side of her face, and she grit back a hiss through her teeth. She had shut her eyes reflexively and was now afraid to open them for fear that one might not work anymore. Tentatively she peeled them open — one after the other. Her left eye stung, unable to see through the curtain of blood dripping down her face. She blinked and tried to wipe the blood away, but stopped when she accidentally touched the wound slashed from brow to cheek.

“Are you okay?” asked a small voice through the din, close by.

The boy, Miles, had crawled over to check on her, his face pale. Jamie nodded and tried to stand up, but felt woozy. Flashes of red and animalistic snarls. With her right eye Jamie could just make out two figures fighting tooth and nail in the centre of the room.

Where before Dani had never attacked, now she never defended. Her lightsabre struck out, sharp and sweeping and reckless, always advancing, always taking ground, always seeking an opening, demanding an opening, finding an opening. The Sith stumbled back with a desperate parry, the air like a painting itself streaked with the red of their sabres and the yellow of sulphur and the bright, crucible gold of Dani’s gaze. And it was cold, a cold so deep Jamie could feel it congeal the blood on her face.

Dani thrust out her hand, a wave of the Force slamming into his chest and forcing the Sith back until he was cornered against the foot of the four-poster bed. He held his lightsabre up to deflect another attack, but could not move as Dani rained down blow after wailing blow. No art to it now. Just mad ferocity. Hacking at him as if with an axe, teeth-bared, hair wild, terrifying to behold.

“Shit.” Jamie kept a hand on Miles’ shoulder, putting herself between him and the scene unfolding even as she fought the urge to shrink back, to grab him and run for the exit.

Something darted just under Jamie’s sight, a flurry of movement past her bad eye. Before she could stop her, Flora raced over and jumped atop the bed, wide-eyed and terrified. “Stop it! Miss Clayton, Stop!”

Dani froze, panting, lightsabre lifted overhead, mid-swing. She blinked, her face slackened, and she slowly lowered the lightsabre with a small shake of her head. The Sith at her feet was wheezing, wracked with intermittent coughs as the gas in his suit bled out. And when her guard was lowered just fractionally too much, he let out a sound like a growl and stabbed.

Dani swept her lightsabre down in time to block the attack. What exchanged was a brief flurry of action so fast Jamie could scarcely follow it. Parry, riposte, and then they were poised in trembling finality, Dani’s lightsabre struck through his chest in a killing blow.

The Sith’s hand trembled. He reached forward to clutch her close by the shoulder and whisper something in Dani’s ear. Jamie couldn’t hear what he said. She could only see the way Dani’s eyes widened, the way Dani sheathed the lightsabre and caught him before his body could fall to the ground, lowering him gently into death.

Jamie let go of Miles, and he raced forward towards his uncle, kneeling beside him. Owen seemed to come from a trance, looking pale and exhausted. When Henry took a deep breath and sat up, Miles made a sound both choked and relieved, hugging him tight. Meanwhile, Lord Wingrave grimaced in pain, barely able to do more than wrap an arm around his nephew and send Owen a confused glance.

Mopping up the side of her face with the sleeve of her shirt, Jamie stepped forward. Dani was still kneeling on the ground, supporting the weight of the Sith with a dazed expression on her face. The young Wingrave girl sat crouched on the bed, trembling and frozen in place. Jamie touched Dani’s shoulder, feeling the tense of muscle there, and urge her to stand upright so she could bring her into a swift and fierce hug. Dani breathed harshly in her ear, sounding dazed, sounding thready and disbelieving.

“I’ve got you,” Jamie said. “I’ve got you. Well done.”

Dani reached out a hand and pulled the Wingrave girl into the hug until the three of them stood there in vaguely puzzled bliss, unsure of how exactly they had escaped, unscathed.

When Dani let go, the Wingrave girl jumped down from the bed to join her brother beside Owen, the three of them checking on her uncle. Dani’s gaze followed them, looking pained, even guilty.

“Hey,” Jamie said, drawing Dani’s attention. She pointed at her own face. “We match.”

For a moment Dani simply blinked at her in confusion until Jamie indicated her own fucked up eye. Then Dani laughed, shocked, brief, and belly-deep. She reached up and gently stroked the side of Jamie’s face, her expression pained. “I’m sorry.”

“Some things are more important,” said Jamie, lifting her hand to cover Dani’s. “Like: does it make me look dashing?”

With another incredulous laugh, Dani leaned forward instead of answering and kissed her. Jamie winced when Dani’s nose brushed against the burn on her cheek.

“Ow.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Dani pulled back and tried to pull her hand away as well, but Jamie held it where it was so she could press her lips to the centre of Dani’s palm.

Owen was urging Lord Wingrave to his feet when Hannah strode into the room. Her lightsabre was hooked back onto her belt. She had a few marks on her otherwise pristine burgundy robes, evidence of the fight she and Rebecca had endured on the front lines. Rebecca herself was in deep conversation with a Thulian guardsman near the exit.

Dani spared Jamie a rare smile before she rushed over to Henry and the others when Jamie let her go. Touching the wounded side of her face, Jamie blinked through a layer of crusted blood and was gratified to find she could, in fact, see through her left eye.

“How’d you get on?” she asked as Hannah stopped before her.

“All’s quiet on the front,” answered Hannah. “The Imperial invasion of House Thul has been thoroughly cast aside.”

“Happy fuckin’ days,” said Jamie, still exploring the wound on her face with a tentative press of her fingertips.

“You look a little worse for wear,” Hannah replied, cocking her head to one side. “Though you seem to have done the job.”

Lowering her hands, Jamie gave a bitter laugh. “Not me. All Dani. I just stood there like a muppet half the time. And got injured, to boot.”

Hannah made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Pasha and his Troopers were looking for a Sith assassin.” She nudged the dead Sith’s robes with the toe of her boot. “This looks like a Sith assassin to me.”

“Yeah, but they were looking for someone of Dani’s description.”

“Unfortunate that,” Hannah sighed. “How easy it is for innocent people to be pulled into the undertow of Sith machinations. Lord Wingrave will say nothing of her, I’m sure; his debt is too great. The children are young; they will forget. And the overwhelming evidence will say that Danielle Clayton was never here.”

Jamie stared down at the Sith corpse before her. She mused over the possibility of tearing off his mask and looking upon his face, before coming to the conclusion that she would rather not know. That he was better in her memories as this — the awful caricature that he wished to be perceived as. With a shake of her head, Jamie tore her gaze away in favour of watching Dani across the room.

Dani talking to the children. Dani talking with Owen. Dani tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and standing with hands clasped gently before her and an auspicious smile on her face.

"Such a small thing. Such a little thing to house the echo of a soul," Hannah mused beside her. "It's got me to wondering about our dear friend Miss Clayton."

Jamie made a noise to indicate she was listening, even while both their eyes remained training on Dani, watching her chat with Owen and Lord Wingrave.

"Holocrons, you see," continued Hannah, "wouldn't make for very good receptacles of secret knowledge if they could be opened by just anyone. To open one requires use of the Force. A great deal of it, I might add."

With a jerk, Jamie tore her gaze from Dani to stare at Hannah. Then she turned her head back towards Dani, who was now crouching down to talk to one of the children — the little girl. Jamie watched as the girl threw her arms around Dani’s neck and something flickered, gold and bright, in Dani’s eye, her expression unreadable before she relaxed and returned the hug with an easy warmth.

“Does she know?" Jamie asked.

Hannah shrugged. "I have hinted at it, but thought it best to leave it at that for now. She should come to this realisation on her own. I'm telling you, because in the future the two of you might want to explore what she is."

"And what is she?"

Hannah smiled. "Herself, of course."

Across the room, Rebecca gestured from the main entryway and called out. “Pubs incoming. We should get a move on.”

Dani straightened, hand lingering on the girl’s shoulder. She nudged Flora towards Owen, who was now talking directly to the Wingrave boy. Meanwhile Henry took the opportunity to pull Dani into a grateful hug of his own, making Dani go rigid all over then laugh nervously and pat his shoulder. As Jamie watched her, she felt something warm in her chest unspool.

Beside her there came a slight cough. Glancing at Hannah with a frown, Jamie said, “What?”

Looking like she was trying to bite back a smile, Hannah shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, one hand toying with a gold earring. “Just nice to see you so unsurly for once. She’s a good influence on you, that one.”

Jamie narrowed her eyes. She nudged Hannah’s elbow with her own and grumbled, “Shut it.”

Hannah chuckled, a low warm sound. When Jamie started towards the exit as well, Hannah did not follow.

Jamie stopped. “You coming?”

With an all-encompassing gesture towards their ruined surroundings, Hannah said, “Someone has to stay behind and spin a tale for the Republic Troopers. And doubtless there’ll be paperwork for Owen and I to fill out regarding our new Temple initiates.”

Jamie nodded. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You and I both know that’s not how this works, dear.”

“Right.” Jamie gave a rueful shake of her head and rubbed at the new scars on her face; they itched something fierce. “More Jedi bantha shit.”

Rather than take umbrage with Jamie’s word choice, Hannah simply made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “The fact you think that doesn’t apply to you after all these years -” Hannah trailed off and waved Jamie away. “Laughable. Really.”

Jamie backed away towards the door in lazy strides. “We’ll see you soon?”

“You had better,” Hannah replied in a warning tone. “Three years of nothing but pre-recorded postcards? The gall.”

With a laugh, Jamie blew Hannah a kiss — which earned her an exasperated roll of Hannah’s eyes — before finally turning and walking towards the exit, headlong. Dani stood just outside the doorway, waiting. When Jamie drew near enough, Dani tangled their fingers together and gave Jamie a tremulous smile.

“Okay?” Dani asked.

Jamie squeezed Dani’s hand. “Yeah. Perfect.”

Dani reached up but did not actually touch Jamie’s face. “We should probably get this looked at.”

“Later,” said Jamie with a dismissive shrug. “I bet Jane can’t wait to hold my head under a kolto tank until I drown.”

“Jane likes you,” Dani insisted, dragging Jamie along so that the two walked after Rebecca and out of House Thul.

“Do they, though?”

“Well,” said Dani, then she paused in consideration. “I think so, anyway.”

Guardsmen of House Thul scurried about. They were taking prisoners and speaking into comm units to — presumably — incoming Republic troops. Dani and Jamie slipped past them all, doing their best to avoid all and any notice. Nobody stopped them, just as nobody stopped Rebecca, until the three of them had left the manor and stood before Rebecca’s ship. The three Imperial soldiers were still sprawled on the ground from when Rebecca had shot them. The Corporal’s eyes were glassy, his muscles rigid in death.

When they had reached the ship proper, Rebecca holstered her pistol and turned. “Guess this is it,” she said.

Jamie stopped and squinted at her friend. "If I hug you, are you going to taser me again?"

"Depends on where you put your hands." With a laugh, Rebecca pulled her into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie returned the gesture, tucking her face into Rebecca’s shoulder before stepping away.

"I really need to dash before either the Pubs or Imps find out I've been here." Rebecca grasped Jamie's shoulder. "We even, now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, then. Wait -" Jamie said when Rebecca took a step back. "How are we supposed to get off the surface without you?"

Rebecca made a vague gesture to the sky. "Jane has a transport shuttle. Just call for it."

"Jane has a transport shuttle?"

"Good grief, Jamie. I gave you one of my favourite ships. The least you could do is talk to it."

"I'll think about it." Jamie grinned when Rebecca rolled her eyes. "We'll probably head off to -"

"Ah, ah!" Rebecca shook her head and mimed covering one ear. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

Her dark eyes drifted over Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie heard light footsteps approaching, and Dani stepped up beside her. She smiled at Rebecca. “Just thought I should say thank you, before you go.”

“My pleasure. Really.” Rebecca held out her hands. “Don’t suppose you want a hug, too?”

With a shake of her head, Dani nevertheless stepped forward, smiling into the hug. Rebecca patted Dani on the back, her hand getting tangled up in Dani’s nanosilk cloak.

Laughing, Rebecca stepped away, untangling her hand from Dani’s cloak. “How you manage to fight with that thing on is a miracle.”

Dani straightened the cloak around her shoulders, grinning broadly. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“From what I understand, luck has nothing to do with it.” Rebecca glanced between Dani and Jamie, her smile softening. Behind her, her ship lowered its gangway. Rebecca lifted her hand and touched her brow in a jaunty sort of salute. “Don’t be strangers.”

Dani waved as Rebecca turned and boarded her ship. The gangway retracted behind her and the ship sealed itself. Jamie watched through the transparisteel windows of the cockpit as Rebecca strapped herself into the captain’s chair. The engines revved to life and with a burn of fuel, the ship rose up into the air, and she was gone.

Jamie fished out a handheld transponder from her pocket. "Jane?"

The ship's computer spoke through the little speaker. "How may I be of assistance?"

"We need to get off the surface. Think you can help?"

"I am sending a transport shuttle now. Estimated time of arrival: two minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Please stand by."

Lowering the transponder, Jamie pocketed it right beside the small mining laser. Dani had her head tipped back to look at the sky to watch Rebecca’s ship go, shielding her face from the watery sunlight with the flat of her hand. With a smudge of dirt across her cheek and her hair a-tumble, standing amidst the rubble of a warzone, she was perfect.

"Do you think it's warm on Corsin?" Dani asked idly. When Jamie did not answer, Dani lowered her hand and tipped her chin back down to face her. She blinked in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

The cold mountain breeze toyed with the long curls of Dani's hair that had come loose during the fight. With a smile, Jamie gave a slow disbelieving shake of her head. Then she reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dani's ear.

“You,” she said. “Just you.”

—

The ship’s engines hummed steadily. Rebecca had set the computer to control autopilot, and now stood over a small table in what was supposed to be the dining area. She never used it for that. Only for storage. The place was littered with things most people would pass over with a sniff of disdain, but which years of experience had taught her could get her out of a bad scrap in a pinch.

The table was cleared of everything except the frame of a square object, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand and made of a black gold metal. Inscriptions had been carved into each triangular section, the pieces carefully assembled into a diminutive and unassuming box. Reaching into her pocket, Rebecca pulled out a final triangular piece. For a moment she turned it over between her fingers, then set it carefully into place, so that the holocron was once more complete.

The holocron hummed, filled with a brief intense light, then went out like a snuffed candle.

“Well,” said Rebecca softly. “Shit.”

Behind her a light blinked at the terminal dash. With a grimace, Rebecca looked around before slinging a spare jacket over the holocron to hide it. When she touched it even through the fabric however, she could still feel a faint hum that tingled through her palm and all the way up her arm, an intense numbing itch. Shaking her hand free of the sensation, Rebecca turned around. She ran a hand over her hair and clothes to ensure her appearance was somewhat tidy. Then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and pressed a blinking button on the terminal. She tucked her hands smartly behind her back and lifted her chin as a holo flickered to life.

The projection was life-sized. A towering figure all in black. Black robes. Black hood. Face hidden utterly behind a black mask. Rebecca set her jaw and swallowed, tamping down the unsettling urge to look the figure in the eye, even though there were no eyes to look at. And though there were whole solar systems between them, she could not shake herself of the feeling that if the figure reached out, they could grab her by the neck and hoist her up into the air as easily as if she were a child’s toy doll.

When the figure spoke, their voice was deep and crackling through the speakers of their mask. “Have you recovered the holocron?”

Rebecca kept her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze kept straight ahead at a space just over the figure’s shoulder. “Yes, my Lord."

“And?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It seems to be inactive, now that The Lady no longer resides within it.”

“I find that disappointing,” said the figure.

A brief terrifying silence followed, during which Rebecca counted her heartbeats, wondering when they would stop. She squeezed her hands together behind her back when the figure started to speak again.

“Where is the host now?”

“I do not know,” Rebecca answered.

The figure tipped their head slightly to one side and a red light gleamed across the mask. “Are you lying to me, Agent Jessel?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Quint thought he was a good liar. You’re not under such delusions, are you?”

“No, my Lord,” she repeated.

Behind her, she swore she could feel the holocron hum. She had to dig her fingernails into the palm of the hand that had touched it through layers of cloth to ground herself. The figure’s head jerked towards the sensation, sightless gaze watching the space behind Rebecca as though they could see beyond the simple holo of herself she would have projected in return. Most days she was confident in the fact that she had coded her holo to not give away any of her surroundings, no matter where she was. Today, she was not so sure.

The figure looked back at her. “You will return to Drommund Kaas to receive further instruction.”

“And the Jedi?”

“Are none of your concern, Agent. Report back immediately for a full debrief.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The holo flickered out of view. Only once the light had stopped blinking on the dash did Rebecca allow herself to breathe properly again. She inhaled deeply and shook her head. Then she turned and pulled the jacket off of the holocron.

It was still unlit, but it hummed gently.

With one last look at it, Rebecca left the room and returned to the cockpit. She sat in the captain’s chair, keying in commands with practised ease.

The coordinates to Dromund Kaas were set, and she hit the jump command to hyperspace.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #dami #dani clayton/jamie #no great revelation #roman writes

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hurricanerin · 5 years ago

Text

Poise & Rationality Ch. 1: Chime

A profuse thank you to @hysteria87 for being a solid pal and beta and making me a bomb graphic. And shoutout to @liquor-belle for unintentionally signing on as my crisis management team and beta as well. Annnnd to both of them for handling my 7 week long neurosis featuring this story. Both of them are hardcore talented, please check them out.

Hi Dark!Steve Fandom! Thanks for your patience!

Pairing: HYDRA!Steve x OFC

Rating: Explicit. Always, always explicit.

Warnings: Rape/noncon/dubcon, smut, forced pregnancy, emotional manipulation, power imbalance.

Length: 5.5k.

Summary: Shield has fallen, leaving Eden at the feet of the villainous Steve Rogers, Hydra's newest recruit. She walks on eggshells, trying to survive in a new reality where she’s at the mercy of her closest friend, one where she can keep her heart locked away from this mess. The problem is that the ex-Captain’s flirting and gentle teasing has turned carnal and new intentions clear: she is his and he’s going to have her.

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Add yourself to my taglist.

It felt like a bad dream, really; the defunct Avengers held captive at the overtaken compound while the newly triumphant Hydra made themselves comfortable. Shock collars, laced with gamma radiation and programmed to trigger in the event of excessive exertion, kept the fallen heroes docile as their minds rotted with hate and failure. It would have been a kindness to use Loki’s scepter to cheat them into blissful unawareness as they knelt to their enemies.

The newest of whom was Steve Rogers.

Captain America was dead. The infamous shield rested amongst Hydra’s other freshly acquired treasures, his star spangled suit torn to shreds, and the righteous hero’s wholesome affect demolished beyond recognition. In his place stood a hardened, jaded man, lied to and taken advantage of ten times too many by the entity he had believed in with every ounce of his being. But, when government property and intelligence were held at a higher value than humanity again and again, when Shield repeatedly chose to prioritize the safety and preservation of weapons over the lives of civilians, Steve had finally walked away from everything: the scene, the victims’ bodies, Shield itself. Three days later, Hydra attacked the compound in upstate New York, led by the rogue First Avenger. All Avengers were taken alive and divided amongst the Hydra elite.

Some higher ups chose more practical uses for their new playthings. Hydra monitored Tony, even more volatile due to Pepper’s disappearance, with a team of twenty while they forced him to improve Hydra weapons tech. Bruce, clad in a collar unique to his makeup and under the watchful eye of fifty of Hydra’s finest, was stuck in the lab conducting heinous experiments on future super soldiers. Natasha, Clint and Thor also served in sectors reflective of their own talents. Steve stuffed down the guilt twisting in his stomach and instead focused on the satisfaction of knowing that Shield’s puppets were neutralized.

The Captain’s personal vendettas didn’t end with the five originals; he spread his bitter anger throughout the extended squad of heroes. Save for a smattering of team members he recruited, the Avengers as a whole suffered. He made certain that Eden, a recruit with only two years on the Avengers crew, endured a fate just as miserable as the rest. She was his protegee and had been attached to his side since her first day on the team. She deserved to be punished like the others, forced to watch the world they had worked so hard to protect fall to shambles.

Eden had had Steve wrapped so tightly around her little finger by the time he left for Hydra that when she refused to change sides, she had …wounded him. Badly. She deserved retribution, but Steve didn’t have time for petty discipline and the thought of anyone but himself marking or marring her skin made him see red. If someone were to physically punish Eden, it would be his fingers pressing bruises into her arms, his teeth leaving angry red imprints on her neck, his lips pulling purple marks to the surface of her chest.

No. The situation didn’t call for that. Not yet. For now, he was content humiliating her; keeping her close to his side, as she had been since her first day at the compound. Eden now served as his imprisoned assistant and glorified scullery maid. A combat-trained scullery maid capable of absorbing and neutralizing the energy of a nuclear bomb, but a maid nonetheless. Most importantly, she was his.

Of all the people in the world to be assigned, Steve Rogers was the last who required cleaning up after. Even as Hydra’s Captain, he kept his rooms immaculate. In doing so, he unintentionally maintained that air of humility that had made him Captain America, which infuriated Eden. He would be so much easier to hate if he weren’t still Steve.

Smoothing the surface of the flat sheet over his mattress, she exhaled softly. Like the disciplined soldier he was, Steve made his bed every morning, but he liked new sheets every other day. Changing his linens provided a brief reprieve from the boredom of being confined to his apartment all day, for which she was grateful. Humming absently to herself, she spread the slate-colored comforter over his bed. She honestly wasn’t sure which she preferred: solitude; time wasted alone in his giant space where she was plagued by listlessness, or suffering his company, in which she was tortured by watching the man she revered so ardently betray his own credo.

When a series of beeps and chirps sounded from the other room, followed by the thunk of reversing deadbolts, Eden’s heart pounded and she haphazardly dragged the bedspread over the mattress and tossed the remaining pillows onto the bed. Rushing from his bedroom, she didn’t bother with the lights as she hustled into the living room. Steve discovering her in his room rarely ended well. He would stare at her, pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates as he made no effort to conceal the erection growing in his trousers. He’d toy with her until the tension in the room grew unbearable, and then she’d break and find an excuse to flee. Though they hadn’t acted on their mutual attraction prior to his betrayal, the power dynamic between them was vastly different now. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to refuse his advances anymore, and she didn’t care to put herself in a position to find out. So far, he had been lenient.

Trotting straight to a cart filled with decanters of alcohol and snatching the scotch, she paid little mind as she nearly missed the tumbler, hastily pouring as the front door released and Steve strode into the room. Wiping her wet hand on the skirt of her dress, Eden silently approached him and held out the crystal glass, neglecting to make eye contact. Once in his grasp, she fled with as much subtlety as possible, taking refuge beside the antique cart.

A stack of papers muffled the clatter of his heavy P220 as he dropped them to the kitchen table. Gaze flicking over her, Steve took a long draw, disappointed, as always, at the alcohol’s lack of effect. Though Eden’s eyes refused to meet his, she did pay attention to the way his scruffy throat bobbed as he swallowed, which earned her a grin. Her attempts at feigned disinterest were endearing. Actually, at the present moment everything about her was endearing. Appealing. Fresh from a testosterone-filled debriefing meeting, an aching tension filled him from chest to groin, begging to be released. However, their tango wasn’t simple.

Licking a drop of liquor from his lip, he nodded in her direction. “How was your day, Eden?”

Her lip curled before she dropped her gaze to the ground, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face. The simple act caused a pleasant throb in his lower abdomen. The more she hated him, the more he wanted her. There had been a magnetism between them before the takeover, before his ultimate betrayal. Back when he was good. As his altruism had faded while hers remained, as his world had darkened and decayed, Eden had stayed a small beacon of… not light, but comfort. Someone he returned to at the compound and used to soothe the festering rage and simmering disappointment Shield fostered.

It was Eden who had coaxed him into sharing his doubts regarding Shield’s intentions and she had never judged him for it. She had listened, challenging him with the occasional question or opinion. He had never doubted her fidelity, but everything changed during the takeover. The expression on her face when she saw him flanked with Hydra soldiers that day of the attack made his stomach sink. Steve had trained her, made her what she was. She was his confidante. He thought Eden’s loyalty would survive something like his transition to Hydra, but he was sorely mistaken. She had turned on him, just like almost everyone else.

Eyes flicking over her body, clad in his designated 1940’s tea dress, Steve rested his hip against the leather sectional. His face hardened as he drained the tumbler and tried again.

“How was your day, Eden?”

Once more, ignored him.

“Respond, Eden.”

Focused on her hands, she picked at the cuticle of her thumb.

Pursing his lips, Steve sighed and reached into his pocket to retrieve a slim remote. He saw Eden freeze in his peripheral, but she still refused to look up. With an exasperated exhale, he pressed one of the buttons, frowning as the woman cried out and crumpled to her knees, tugging at the collar around her neck and leaning into the wall for support.

“Damnit,” she panted.

“I don’t like it when you ignore me, Eden.”

“I don’t like it when you betray your family, humiliate and hold us prisoner, but here we are,” she grit.

Steve’s face softened as his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see.

Family.

The Avengers were his family. Had been his family. Hydra would never fill that void. He knew that going in. For as much as Steve Rogers had changed, that basal, primal need to create a family he could protect and provide for still ate at him. It was the one thing in the world he wanted. He had given everything to defend the earth and its inhabitants. Was he not due what he desired most?

Eyes focusing, they honed in on the seething woman bracing the wall. Even incensed and in pain, Eden made his thick cock swell. Family. He had entertained the idea featuring her, of course. It was impossible not to when they spent so much time together. He had briefly substituted several of the women he worked with, but he always came back to Eden. She fit all his requirements; wide hips, a hearty body, strong maternal instincts, and more than capable of defending herself. How her superhuman talents would factor into her offspring had yet to be determined, but he doubted the results would be adverse.

Natasha would kill anything he planted inside her just to spite him. She was self-destructive. But Eden… Eden was flawed in a completely different manner, in harmless ways, such as stubbornly insisting she was always right or that her way was best, but he had sway over her. She was headstrong with a temper, but both were easily tamed. In training, she yielded beautifully to him. Sometimes it took him physically besting her to get a point across. If that carried over to their relationship, then so be it.

He knew Eden may try to escape with his baby because she feared for his or her safety, but that did not concern him. He would prove to her eventually that once she submitted to him, there was nothing to fear.

With a tired, distracted sigh, Steve collapsed onto the sofa, discarded his glass on the cocktail table and absently rubbed his chin with a thumb. Frowning, he tugged at the hair on his jaw, feeling the length. He turned and examined himself critically in the mirror mounted on the wall behind him, running his fingers through the heft of his beard. He could feel the odd stray hair and the undefined neckline bordered on untidy.

“I want this trimmed,” he said without facing Eden.

Biting her cheek to keep from scoffing, she crossed her arms and raised a brow, only to be met with an austere glance in the mirror’s reflection. Steve nodded in the direction of his bedroom.

“My shaving kit is in the bathroom, bottom left cabinet. Go get it.”

Releasing an irritated sigh, Eden dropped her arms to her sides.

“Yes, sir.”

Her voice was demure but the ire in her eyes gleamed with disdain. Pushing off the wall, she slipped into his bedroom and to the ensuite. She knelt and rummaged through the cabinet, retrieving the worn bag. Steve watched impatiently from a kitchen chair as she dropped her prize unceremoniously on his kitchen counter.

“What are you waiting for?”

Gritting her teeth, she unzipped the leather pouch, fishing out its contents and laying them on the table: a plastic comb, a few guards, clippers, beat up disposable razor, and a tube of shaving butter.

Eying the pile, the corner of her mouth pulled upwards. Forgetting herself, she couldn’t stop the jibe from tumbling out from between her lips, “The traditional Captain America doesn’t have a straight edge?”

Steve’s body stiffened. He inhaled sharply, releasing his breath through his nose. Forcing his corded muscles to relax, he shucked off his long sleeved tactical shirt and held it out for her to take. “I don’t have time for nostalgia.”

“Seriously?” Eden muttered to herself.

His movements froze and his gaze met hers. Heat bloomed across her face and chest at the invitation in his eyes to provoke him further. She held his stare for a moment longer before he called her bluff, and Eden looked away. Suddenly very busy folding his uniform, she focused on her task until he stretched his arms behind his head. With a loud, satisfied groan, he extended his hands into the air, then rubbed a palm against the skintight material of the thin, white cotton t-shirt plastered against his chest.

Aware of the nearly irresistible temptation to stare at Steve’s body, Eden set her jaw as she delicately placed his still-warm shirt on the counter. Planting a hand on her hip, her eyes flicked back and forth between Steve, his beard, and his array of tools. She motioned at the table.

“This is going to make a mess. There will be trimmings everywhere. Let’s do it over the sink.”

“Here is fine. My maid will sweep everything up later.”

Gritting her teeth, she marched to the table, snatched the clippers and comb in one hand and wrenched his chin upwards with the other.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. It may not be good,” she warned.

“I didn’t expect you to have done this at all. Whose beard have you trimmed?”

She hesitated, running the comb down through the scruff on his cheeks to wrangle unkempt hairs, then turned on the clippers. If his arched eyebrow wasn’t enough indication, Steve clearing his throat made his desire for a prompt answer abundantly clear.

“An ex owned a barbershop,” she said over the noise. “I wanted to know what he did all day, so he taught me.”

At the mention of her being with another man, Steve visibly bristled.

“I see.”

Using her fingertips to angle Steve’s jaw as needed, Eden couldn’t fight the blush staining her cheeks. His eyes followed her everywhere as she guided the guarded clippers down in the direction of the hair growth on his cheeks. His pensive gaze was overwhelming, and given the amusement in his eyes, he knew very well the effect he had on her. She opted to ignore him.

Confident that she had trimmed enough without taking away too much bulk, she flipped the switch off to change the guard. She needed one that would leave more length for his neck and chin.

Steve cleared his throat, breaking her concentration.

“Do you want kids, Eden?”

She froze, almost dropping the plastic piece in her hand. A deeply personal question from Captain America wouldn’t have warranted a second thought. But, since the takeover and her accused betrayal, Steve had been cold, withdrawing from her completely. Her heart ached at the naïve hope bubbling up in her chest that the inquiry was meant as an opportunity to connect. That man didn’t exist anymore. Giving herself a mental shake, she cleared her throat and frowned in thought.

“Um, well—I guess—I—”

“It’s not a difficult question.”

Shooting him a nasty glare, she snapped the guard onto the clippers and flicked the power switch. With a huff, she positioned herself in front of him, yanking his chin upwards and running the clipper comb through his beard.

Eden pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’d be a good mom,” she admitted. “My career is so much more violent than I expected, I don’t think a child should grow u—”

“You’ll be a good mom,” Steve interrupted.

The conviction in his voice caused her to falter. With an uncomfortable laugh, she shook her head.

“I don’t know anything. While my friends had babies, I spent my early twenties learning how to control myself around sources of energy so I didn’t accidentally blow up a city. I learned to fight and devise exit strategies and collaborate with a team. If I have been around them, the children I’ve seen have been victims of awful circumstances. I wouldn’t know what to say to a kid I haven’t rescued.”

Steve was contemplative as she removed the plastic guard. Her thoughtful reflection only made him desire her more. The urge to claim her, before another Hydra member did, before an opposing force banded together and stole her away, clouded his vision. There was only one solution: He’d plant his baby in her belly now and tie her to him forever. Eden would never allow her child to be taken from her and if she ran from him with the baby, he would find her. No matter where she went, he would find her. She would be his by right. They would be his by right. Mother and child tethered to father forever. His indestructible family. Untouchable, with two gifted parents that would do anything to protect their children.

Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair, tugging at his tactical pants as his erection grew at the thought of her swollen with their baby. For their first child, her movement would be restricted to the compound. She couldn’t be trusted, not yet. But by their second, he’ll have trained her by holding their firstborn over her as leverage to obey him.

Oblivious, Eden used the bare clipper to clean up his untidy neckline, neaten his scruffy cheeks, and trim around his lips. When she brushed away clippings littering his mouth with her fingers, he fought the urge to take them between his lips.

Eden started to hum, and it was clear her mind was deviating from their future.

“I’ve seen you with them,” he noted. “If you can handle traumatized kids during missions, you can handle your own. Practiced or not, you have maternal instinct.”

Eden’s ears glowed as she finished his sideburns. Whether Steve allied himself with Hydra or Shield, she knew he wanted a family. His approval of her ability as a mother was significant, she just couldn’t figure out where he was going with it. Opting to ignore his comment, she gingerly placed the clippers on the kitchen counter, as if doing so with little noise would allow her to slip away unnoticed.

“All done,” she said softly, casually brushing beard hairs off her dress as she backed away.

Eden yelped when he snatched her wrist. It took everything in her not to react instinctually, the way Captain America had relentlessly trained her body to respond when attacked.

“You’re not finished,” he said tersely, lifting his chin and rubbing the pads of his fingers along the short, prickly hair at his Adam’s apple. “There is still stubble.”

“I’m not using that rusty razor, I’ll give you tetanus,” she nodded at the disposable in his bag. Though Steve was correct, using a straight edge or razor would give an even closer shave than the clippers, she was not going to be responsible for infecting Hydra’s newest member.

Steve noiselessly raised his pant leg and slipped a black combat blade from a hidden ankle sheath, then handed it to Eden handle-first. Not a straightedge, but just as sharp.

“I just cleaned it,” he nodded at the weapon. “Don’t get it dirty.”

Don’t make him bleed. It was the most impassive threat she’d ever heard, but as deadly as if he’d held the blade to her own throat.

Eden fingered the knife handle, watching Steve’s face uneasily. How could he careen from thoughtful parent to menacing so effortlessly? Was this a challenge? Did he want her to attack him? He had trained her; Eden’s uncanny talent for disarming enemies in place of killing them had always made Steve proud. He knew her every tell and every strategy in her repertoire. Besides, he’d never actually kill her; he found too much satisfaction in toying with her. He’d hurt her though. He had the self-control to dominate her physically without causing her bodily harm. The toll it would take on her heart was another story. Whatever he was planning, she wanted no part of it.

She held the knife back out to him, shaking her head. “It’s too hard to get the right angle. I’ll cut you. Do it yourself.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. He patted his thigh. “Sit. You can do it from here.” He leaned back, arms spread along the back of the chair, lap open. The epitome of inviting.

Eden’s face warmed as she set her jaw. Hesitating, her eyes flashed before she abandoned the knife on the counter and stalked further back into the kitchen. Immediately Steve reached for the remote, his thumb on the button to activate her collar. About to press down for blatantly disobeying him, he stopped when all she did was snatch a hanging towel and meander to the sink to fill a bowl with hot water.

When she turned to face him her eyes widened, brows furrowing into an expression of saddened anger as she saw the device in his hand.

“Can I keep going? Or should I put these down so you can zap me?”

Though he only felt a tinge of guilt, it was more emotion than he could afford. Hardening his expression, Steve dropped the remote on the table and raised his hands in the air.

“My mistake.”

Again, he had to display that wretched humility that had made him Captain America. Why hadn’t Hydra purged him of it? Why couldn’t he just be bad? Breath stuttering as she exhaled, Eden stowed her items on the counter next to Steve’s shoulder, swapping them for the weapon.

Flipping the knife in her hand, she squeezed her fingers around the handle, inhaled and gingerly padded forward. Her breath caught as Steve’s iron grip cupped her ribcage and hip, lifting her to perch sideways on his thighs. She caught herself, one hand grasping at the thin white t-shirt he wore, the other plastered flat against his pectoral, the knife sandwiched between her palm and the solid wall of muscle.

Her fingers tensed when his chest rumbled beneath them with a laugh, goosebumps rising on her arms as his nose found its way against the hypersensitive skin of her neck. Steve made no effort to mask his groan as he inhaled the familiar fragrance of her jasmine shampoo, mingled with the scent that was intrinsically Eden. When she stiffened in his arms, he guided a warm palm up the expanse of her back, pulling her even closer as he used a knuckle to brush her hair from her face.

“Things have always been easy between us,” he mused. “It feels good to be this close, doesn’t it?

Swallowing hard, she kept her eyes lowered, focused on his chest.

“Of course,” she shrugged. “This is normal. It’s no different than training,” she all but whispered.

Shit.

Between his voice in his ear and his hands on her body, her brain wasn’t functioning. Eden needed space. She hadn’t smelled his familiar Old Spice deodorant, that faint note of sweat, or the pure musk of Steve since before the takeover. Her sole mission had been to convince her brain that the man working for Hydra who looked like Steve wasn’t Steve, at least not her Steve, so she could make it through each day. If she did that, Eden could maintain emotional distance while interacting with his imposter. She doubted sleep would ever come easily again, not with him in the next room, but she could at least survive the daylight hours without a complete breakdown. But now he was touching her, talking to her like nothing had happened and she couldn’t ignore who he really was.

Steve’s thumb nudged her chin upwards to expose the underside of her jaw. Eden was caught so off-guard by act that the emotion bubbling in her throat froze and she sobered. She swallowed hard as she felt him lazily trace the tip of his nose along her jawline, before creeping lower and pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of her throat. She couldn’t breathe properly, but her head was painfully clear as his scruff burned her delicate flesh and his lips pulled gently against the tender skin of her neck, leaving a purple mark.

The sound of her breath hitching was deafening, and in case she weren’t positive that it was, feeling his lips morph into a triumphant smile against her throat confirmed it. Steve easily pried Eden’s clenched fist from his shirt and looped her arm around his shoulder. She was putty in his hands.

Neither of them missed how the position brought them closer yet, pressing her breast firmly against his sculpted chest. Aside from the minor shiver that racked through her, Eden ignored the sensation of her pebbled nipple rubbing against his solid mass. Steve, however, did not let it go unnoticed. He released a pleased grunt and nodded at the knife in her hand.

“You have a job to do, Eden.”

She hated when he said her name. All it took was hearing those two syllables and her lower belly tightened, flooding with heat. She clenched her teeth with enough pressure that something in her jaw popped. Taking a deep breath, she regrouped, then studied his face, analyzing the best way to proceed.

Truly, she did her best to maneuver herself with as little friction as possible. But in reaching to drag the shaving butter, steaming bowl and rag closer, she shifted and her bottom ground against the existing bulge beneath her, eliciting a hiss from Steve.

Eden froze in a mixture of terror, embarrassment, and arousal. When Steve repositioned himself beneath her, it was her turn to stifle a moan. She was fairly certain the way he ground his erection against her ass was payback. Unprepared for the retribution, the quiet gasp she uttered echoed in the silent kitchen. Eden swallowed back a whimper, closed her eyes as she collected herself. Straightening with mock confidence, she wrung out the steaming washcloth, smeared a dollop of shaving butter on the back of her hand and turned back to Steve with the utmost delicacy.

His harsh exhale puffed against her cheeks and she disregarded his smoldering gaze, stubbornly setting to work. It was impossible, however, to ignore the warmth radiating off his body. The contrast in their body temperature beneath her cool palms sent goosebumps rising up her arms as she twisted to face him. Keeping her face blank, she wet his cheeks, upper neck, and sideburns with the cloth, then worked the butter between her palms and applied it using as little bodily contact as possible. Unfortunately, she could only limit so much. Her task required her to run her fingers along his Adam’s apple, cheeks and the neckline of his beard to massage the product into his skin, ensuring there was a lubricating layer of cream between his flesh and the knife.

By all accounts, her hands should have trembled too badly to wield the weapon. She followed Steve’s gaze to the steady knife as she directed his chin once again with her hand. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were trying not to smirk, but he couldn’t quell the regard in his eyes. She realized he was proud that she had stayed as composed as she had. Her lower half throbbed, trained like a dog to respond to pleasing him. At this point, it was a visceral reaction.

Cold blue irises tracked her every move as she lifted the blade, frowning at it before pausing to study his face. She had no more reason to dawdle. It was time to use the knife. Taking a sharp breath and holding it, she gently pulled the skin of his neck taut and dragged the edge of the knife through the layer of cream, only just scraping the surface of his flesh. It slid easily against his skin, slicing away the rough stubble until it met the edge of his carefully shaped beard.

Eden looked to him for permission to continue, but he only raised an expectant brow. Pursing her lips, she said a prayer to whoever was out there, thanking them for the fact that he was letting her work for the moment. She moved an inch to the left, and repeated the act. Mechanically she shaved Steve’s neck and jaw, moving towards his chin. As she reached the center of his neck, she scraped the knife across his skin, and he swallowed. The unexpected, fluid roll of his Adam’s apple beneath the weapon at an exaggerated degree hit the blade at just the right angle. The skin split, blood welling at the shallow broken seam. Steve didn’t so much as flinch, but Eden’s entire body froze, her breath leaving her lungs. Her brain felt like a fuzzy TV channel. She couldn’t think. Only her eyes moved, darting towards Steve’s face as she tried to gauge whether or not she had just signed her own death sentence.

When his only response was to clear his throat impatiently, she shook her head. Her thoughts were so loud her head was about to burst and her frantic inhalations sounded like those of an overheated dog.

“I can’t do this,” she said breathlessly. “I can’t. Please.”

He moved without warning, fortunate that she had the training to keep the knife steady this time. In a blink, she straddled him full on, her hands once again bracing his shoulders in confusion as he settled her body over his lap chest-to-chest, this time with her core positioned over the bulging hardness in his pants.

“Oh,” she gasped as his erection aligned with the soft cleft of her center, her eyes glazing over.

Steve groaned, his head tipping back and exposing his neck even further. At some level, Eden registered the dribble of crimson gathered at the site of the miniscule cut, but out of fear for her life, she only watched it gather idly.

After a determined exhale, Steve swiped at it, distractedly glancing at his thumb after he swept the blood away before refocusing his gaze on Eden. Unfazed, he confidently settled his hands on her hips, squeezing to gain her attention.

“Now, your angle is better. Finish the job.”

She started to position herself towards him, then stilled. Even the slightest pressure forward pressed her center against him. Fighting the urge to whine, she squeezed her eyes shut. With an uneasy breath, Eden shook herself. He wasn’t just going to allow her to leave his lap without finishing. Whether she was willing or not, he would make her complete the task.

Refreshing the used dish cloth in the bowl of water, she used it to dab at his wound and clean the knife of stubble and excess shaving cream. She hesitated for a moment before adjusting the tension of his skin, then launched back into her chore quickly, more concerned with finishing promptly than the risk of inflicting another nick or two. Her physical position was beyond precarious; the intimacy of touching his face was already overwhelming, but the feeling of his cock exactly where she wanted it when they were separated by mere barriers of fabric and fundamental ideological differences was unbearable.

Eden didn’t want to think anymore. Retreating into her mind, she went on auto-pilot. Scraping and wiping, she worked methodically until her assignment was nearly completed. It wasn’t until then she that realized that once she did finish, she would be left straddling Steve’s lap without an easy way down and no work to occupy her. Torn between the incentive of not having to endure the intimacy of touching his face and the dread of the unknown, Steve forced her hand when he started rubbing his thumbs back and forth against her thighs, buffered by the cloth of her dress. She stiffened, unable to squirm away in fear of upsetting or further arousing him, but incapable of staying stationary due to the threat of his wandering hands.

The look of amused satisfaction that came over Steve’s face frightened her. It also made her slick center throb. Certain she resembled a panicked deer with wide, leery eyes, she wet her lip, eyes flicking to the weapon in her hand.

“This needs to stop,” she warned.

Silently he dared her to break his gaze as his fingers traced the hem of her dress. Eden was keyed up on adrenaline, so focused on Steve and his predatory gaze that when his palms confidently made their way under the skirt of her dress and up her warm thighs, her reaction was instant. Clutching Steve’s knife in her fist, she made a lightning-quick move to hold the weapon to his throat. The clap of his palm catching her arm sounded before she felt his grip on her.

“Eden,” he sighed. “I’m disappointed.”

Ch. 2 What a Shame >>

Tag list: @whatsitgonnabeangelina @kakakatey @patzammit @maynay43 @readermia @the-kinky-friend @monarchofallisurvey @averyrogers83 @atthediscowithoutpanic @smollest-soybean @alexakeyloveloki @theofficialwifeeeofpietro @rania @suzieqsez @liquor-belle @sophiria @titty-teetee @mcudarklibrary

#dark!steve #dark steve x ofc #dark!steve x ofc #dark steve rogers x ofc #dark!steve rogers x ofc #mcudarklibrary

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shitfuckerspostapprovalservice · 3 years ago

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TSR Gameplay: haha approve posts on tumblr and stuff

TSR lore:

It all starts in August 2nd, 2021. A small milk business in Brazil is opened. Turns out, the business works to preserve milk as if it were an endangered species. This marks the beginning for The Milk Society (TMS for short) and thus marks the start of our story.

One day, while delivering milk to a home willing to protect it, a TMS driver is ambushed at shot at. Some kind of terrorist with an old, poorly maintained AK shot him. An Apache attack helicopter flies overhead, surveying the area. The Soda Committee is introduced, and so is their ally, the US military. TSC (The Soda Committee) are hell-bent on making any soda the most popular liquid in the known universe, so much so, that they're willing to commit acts of terrorism with US military funding to attack TMS.

Problem is, TMS has acquired a lot of money already. They form a low budget yet powerful team of of soldiers to fight for them, known as the MSSFD. (Milk Society Special Forces Division) An MI-24D helicopter is acquired with such funding, and used to decimate TSC and US Military forces in the area surrounding the ambush's location.

After a long, hard fought time battling the TSC and US Military, TMS was victorious... or so they thought. In secret, TSC and the US were plotting a massive comeback.. as if it was going to work, anyway. TMS already knew they'd want revenge, so they funded even more money into their MSSFD forces, eventually renaming them to MSDF and MSAF. (Milk Society Defense Force and Milk Society Assault Force)

After a long time in the shadows, TSC and the US start artillery striking a secured base of TMS. Of course, another MI-24D is sent and rains hell onto those who had the balls to fire artillery at their base. Another long, hard fought battle ended with another TMS victory, getting them a reputation for being pretty much unbeatable. Like trying to invade Russia in the winter, don't try to take down the Milk Society. It will only end in your defeat and a lot of military funding down the drain.

But, a new player enters the scene. The WIGS (Watah Is Good Society) (I didn't choose their name, some other guy did.) has formed. And they've started with a powerful military force already. They are kept under a very watchful eye by TMS. Eventually, after a good long while of the WIGS building up power and might, both TMS and WIGS formed an alliance to quite literally "Fuck up any enemy beyond repair".

The two had worked together for a long time now, occasional disputes resolved by reminding themselves it could be a plot by US/TSC to crumble them from within. They both knew that TMS and WIGS had to work together just in case of any US/TSC attack. And so, things were fine for a while, helping one another grow in strength.

Until, of course, US/TSC decided "I'm sick of the TMS/WIGS being able to just.. squash our might." and so, they sent an old Davy Crockett atom bomb towards one of the TMS primary operation bases. That wasn't taken too well... The bomb was successfully shot down (dont ask how) and a brand new era of *ASS WHOOPING* had begun. TMS basically went "WIGS, hold my beer." and bombed the everloving christ out of US/TSC. Not just artillery strikes, low power nuclear weapons too. Nothing but radiation and rubble was left of the targetted primary US/TSC bases. The remainder of the US/TSC surrendered after truly feeling how powerful the TMS/WIGS alliance really was. Remember, WIGS didn't actually do any of that shelling. It was all TMS. They just said "hold my beer WIGS imma whoop their asses" and just.. ended their decades long conflict.

Eventually, ANOTHER faction forms. That's us, baby! The TSR! The TSR began out rating tumblr posts and trying to entertain the userbase of that hellsite. TMS made contact with TSR, in the form of a heavily guarded convoy at the first primary base of operations for the TSR. Eventually, the three, WIGS, TMS, and TSR joined together. TSR discovered something fresh and new to the scene... A life-size red shiny plastic toy soldier with an M249. It was completely resistant to conventional weaponry, and it's weapon never ran dry and didn't even have to eject empty shells. A strange entity, it was captured in an airtight metal and reinforced glass container. It was designated 'TSR-01'. Somehow it was knocked unconcious, able to be suspended in a deep sleep state. It was stored like this at TSR Tertiary Operating Base 0.12 Gamma, until it eventually woke from it's sleep and stared at the researchers, with a stare that could cut through reinforced sheet metal. That same day, it was released into the public to go on a killing spree as part of 'Protocol Poopshit Shitfuck 74', authorised by WIGS, TMS, and NATO.

The killing spree lasted 3 days, and by the end, very few survivors were left. Roughly 53 buildings had collapsed from sustained damage. It's impressive was a bullet-resistant shiny red toy army man with a magical M249 that never runs out of ammo can do. Nobody gave it any extra help, just TSR-01 against the world.

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qvid-pro-qvo · 5 years ago

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doesn’t this feel like deja vu?

aos!leonard mccoy x female!reader, who’s a nurse on the starship enterprise.

word count: 2767

rating: explicit (sex on the rougher side, aftercare included)

part four of more than a game, you and me.

You and Leonard get some quality time alone, as well as the chance to explore what the first meeting could’ve looked like if you’d had a little more privacy.

You were thankful there wasn’t a shift to go to, as your eyes were only barely open, your fingers tracing along Leonard’s hand. “You’re crushing me, Len,” you told him, but the returning grumble wasn’t promising. Thankfully, his body weight was something like a comfort, an arm and a leg and half of his body draped over you. “Leonard.”

“Mmm,” he groaned out, and he slowly rolled back off of you, letting you move off of your stomach and onto your side. He used your new position to curl up next to you, arm once again around you so he could stroke along your back.

“Leonard…” you whispered with a grin, smiling at the lazy look on his face, the way his hair flopped on his forehead, the slightest hint of a smile that seemed to light up his features.

“Let me hold ya,” he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. You smiled at the peck, leaning forward to kiss him properly, and he could only grin back when you pulled away. His hand began to wander, slowly gliding his fingers up and down your side. “I didn’t get to see you before we got back to our quarters.”

You huffed. “You saw me this morning, right here, just like this.”

His response was a raised brow. “And then I had a shift and you got to lounge here, darlin’. You denyin’ that you missed me when I had to get up to go to work?”

“I’m not denying anything,” you returned, smirking before curling up under his chin. He seemed to preen at the movement, proceeding to wrap you completely in his arms, mouth pressing soft little kisses against your forehead, your temple. “Just that I’m not exactly someplace you can’t find me. Half the week I’m waiting for you, right here.”

“And half the week you’re gone before I even get back.” There was frustration in his voice, and you knew where he was coming from. Even though the sick bay wasn’t a full hospital, it still worked pretty much like one. Alpha shifts – day – and beta and gamma shifts – nights – for the nurses, the doctors. It was staffed with dozens of nurses and a good amount of attendings and fellows, but even with the personnel, shit happened. Sickness happened, personal leave happened, reassignments happened. And the latest shift meant that while Leonard got the joy of getting called it at 0630, you got shuffled around to the dreaded 01830 call time, twelve hours working while Leonard forced himself to snooze, and vice versa.

“So, the other half of the week, we compromise, like today,” you reassured him, readjusting so that your hand could cup his cheek.

“And when you can come back to mornings?”

You pulled back to smile at him.

“I’ll be yours once again, and we’ll have all the evenings we want.”

The satisfied curl of his lips wasn’t seen, only felt against you as he wrapped you up again, and your eyes traced what they could see – the gray of his temples, the freckles on his shoulders.

“Computer,” you called out, reaching to pull your blankets up over your bare skin. “Lights, please.” Slowly the room fell into a deep darkness, only illuminated by the occasional button and screen.

“Y’know, I don’t have to go to bed right now,” he murmured. “I’ve got time.”

It was with a raised brow you noticed his voice was… more alert, lower. Felt those fingers that had been stroking your side begin to tease along your hip.

Realization dawned on you, and you pulled back from his embrace, something bright in your grin and wicked in your eyes.

“Computer, lights to 15%,” you called, and the darkness faded to a soft glow, Leonard’s gaze piercing you, his eyes every so often glancing down to your chest before tracing upward towards your lips, your own sharp gaze. “So this is what you were missing?”

“I missed you,” he emphasized, and when he kissed you it was received with glee, with your own hands beginning to wander. “Every damn inch of you.”

“How much?” you teased, and that’s when he rolled you to your back, hands and knees holding himself above you.

“I’ll show you.”

It was after mere moments of play that the familiar chirp of the communicator sounded through your shared quarters. It was loud, meant to get attention, but Leonard summarily ignored it, even while your brows raised, and you pulled away from his lips to glance at the bedside table. But his eyes didn’t even glance up, and his lips moved to a closer target, specifically your neck, your shoulder.

After all, with you naked and below him, there were other things on his mind.

“We should answer it,” you muttered as it rang out again, pulling away to grab the device with an outstretched hand. “Could be Christine. Could need me for this shift.”

“Oh, no,” he retorted, and his hand reached out to grab your wrist, smirking as he pinned your arms to the bed. Your chuckle was muffled by his own lips, and his mouth did its best to distract you, leaving a train of fire down your neck before teasing his way across your breasts. “We’re off shift, darlin’, and you’re not on call. All complaints go to a different doc, and all needs go to a different nurse.”

“Leonard,” you chided before your voice tapered off into a moan, eyes fluttering as he took your nipple in his mouth, flicking across it with his tongue. “Could be – could be an emergency.”

“We’d be hearing a code if it was, sweetheart, not a beep on my comm,” he whispered between your breasts, making his way to the other side. You could see his wheels turning anyway, even as he took the liberty of giving your other nipple the same treatment. No matter how much he tried, he was often a doctor first, and these days it seemed he was called in for something or other every damn day. However, he seemed satisfied with his own reasoning, because his mouth was once again moving, inching downward, and heat was pooling low in your belly.

“We’ve got all…”

A kiss.

“Night…”

A nip of teeth.

“Long.” His tone made you giggle, and his ministrations made you moan, and when you glanced down to watch him, he smirked up at you. “And you and I have been apart for too damn long, don’t y’think?”

“Len,” you hummed, but this time it wasn’t to scold him, your hand reaching down to fist in his hair as he lowered again. “Fuck, yes.”

His little laugh made your toes curl. “God, you’re beautiful,” you heard, his voice rough with desire. His fingers traced over your thigh, his breath ghosting over your skin. But he didn’t push closer, not until your own fingers tightened their grip, and then his mouth was on you, tongue running over your folds, a finger moving slowly around your clit in a maddening circle.

That was how you came the first time – Leonard’s mouth on your clit, working his way up to fucking three fingers deep inside of you, pushing you to the edge until you couldn’t take it anymore.

As your breath came back to you, his mouth moved up your body again, and when he kissed you, you tasted yourself. Suddenly a memory swam to the surface, one that came back with the taste on your mouth, the look in Leonard’s eye.

“This is déjà vu,” you laughed into his mouth, still a little breathless, more than a little flushed. “Our first time?” As you looked up at him, you saw the memory flash across his face.

“A good day,” he rumbled out, and your hands cupped his face as he hovered over you, pulling him in for another kiss. When he pulled away, the fondness in his eyes felt like a tidal wave, made your heart thud in your chest. “Remember it very fondly.”

“One that didn’t end there,” you reminded him, feeling the weight of his cock against your hip. “You wanna lay down?”

Like a kid on Christmas his eyes lit up, and when he rolled, his back rested on the sheets. You chose not to follow him immediately, however. Your hands were rummaging around your bedside table, and the urgency knocked the communicator to the floor in your eager haste.

“Today’s going to go a little bit differently,” you told him, and as you stood up tall, you heard his breath catch. His eyes didn’t leave you, not once, as you slowly walked around the bed to the side he was on, two fingers holding a little square.

“How’s that, Y/N?” His voice was heavy, thick, as if just watching you move was enough to make him struggle to breathe. Maybe it was. You wouldn’t judge, especially as his hand reached out to rest on your hip, the pads of his fingers running over the skin. As he pulled you a little closer, your thighs hit the bed, and his hand reached around, resting on the small of your back.

“Because we don’t have a shift to rush off to.” You grinned, and you moved to straddle the man, knees on either side of his body. “Don’t have any reason to look presentable in a moment’s notice. And so I can tell you what I wanted you to do that first day.” You rolled your hips, slowly, and let the wrapped condom fall onto his chest.

“Tell me,” Leonard whispered, and you leaned forward to do just that, mouth against his ear.

When you came the second time, it was with Leonard’s hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be marks. It was with his mouth at the back your neck, marking just beneath where your uniform would be. It was with his breath hot against your skin, his cock inside of you, and his hips snapping forward to meet where his hands were pulling you closer.

“L-Len, Len,” you gasped, and his teeth bit at your shoulder, his hips driving his cock deep into you. “Please, please, h-harder.”

“What do you need, baby?” he whispered in your ear, and you let out a whimper. His pace, frantic, frenetic, suddenly slowed. He pulled out of you, teasing you with the feeling of the tip against your folds, and you whined again. “Tell me, tell me.”

You couldn’t think. His fingers moved to start teasing your clit, and when you glanced over your shoulder to look at him he was smirking, watching the way your mouth fell open, the urgency with which you tried to roll your hips against his, to get some more of that fucking incredible friction. “Leonard, please, you know what I want,” you begged, but that wicked curl of his lips didn’t falter. Your gaze had to drop, dropping from your hands to your forearms as his fingers let up again, as all touch seemed to vanish.

“Tell me, darlin’.”

Leonard’s eyes met yours, and his raised brow ran a thrill through you. But you saw the way he was breathing, the way his eyes roamed your body, traced every damn curve you had. You wanted him, and he wanted you. Just as much as he did that first encounter.

Suddenly, an idea sprang to life, that first meeting and this one combining into a glorious picture.

“Doctor,” you purred, and you saw a flush of color on Leonard’s cheeks, felt the way his breath left him. His hand on you stilled. “Doctor McCoy, sir, you know I need you. I need your cock, I need you to fuck me.”

It seemed he needed a moment. A moment to compose himself, to push past the way his cock seemed to twitch against your folds at your words. Finally, his jaw set, and he leaned down.

“I don’t think I can hear you, nurse. Gonna need that a little louder,” he whispered, and you could hear the tremble in his voice, the restraint as he looked at you. “Went through all this trouble to get you right here, and… I can’t hear what you want.” His hips rolled lightly, and you felt his cock line up against you once again, kisses dotting along your spine. “You were mouthin’ off earlier today, weren’t you? You gonna use that mouth of yours to tell me what you’re so damn desperate for?”

“Please, sir,” you begged. “Please, I need you, and I need you now, I need you to fuck me, I need you to take me, fuck, Dr. McCoy, please!” Your voice had cracked, your pitch entering another stratosphere, your fingers curling into the sheets, pulling at them.

A warm huff of air, a soft chuckle, and then you felt him straighten behind you, felt one hand leave your hips so he could position himself.

“Well, nurse… since you said please,” he rumbled out, and a shiver ran down your spine.

With a thrust forward, he filled you again, and you could only gasp, your forehead pressing down into the pillows. He was fucking you, brutal, honest, and what you’d craved that first day you’d met, knowing that when you looked in the mirror, you’d see his touch on your skin clear as day.

But this wasn’t that first day. He knew you now. Knew that the hand he used to position himself could tease along your folds as he fucked you, make you cry out with the stimulation as his fingers ran circles around your clit. Knew that the sound of his voice, telling you that you were made just for him, the overwhelming feeling of Leonard all around you, would make you moan so loud your cheeks would flush the next time you left your quarters. You were hurtling toward the edge, and before you could reach it he pulled his fingers back, halted his thrusts again so he could whisper against your ear. You couldn’t think, couldn’t dream of anything other than his cock inside of you, and he knew it.

“You want me to take you? I’ve already got you. You’re mine,” he growled out, and he knew it’d make you nod, frantically, would make one hand reach back to cover the one that was engraving his fingerprints into your skin. “You’ll always be mine, y’hear me, Y/N? And you’re gonna come all over my cock.”

“Y-Yours… yours, Len,” you sobbed. “I’m yours, always yours, I love you, Leonard,” you panted out, and you felt his hand squeeze your hips, felt his own stutter out of their steady, pounding rhythm. Felt him bend forward again, the softest kiss against your skin.

“Come for me, darlin’,” he whispered.

When you came the second time, he came, too.

The dust settled, and your breath was still coming in soft pants. Your eyes fluttered as you felt him gently pull out.

“Gone so soon,” you managed, but you felt his hands immediately begin caressing your skin, felt his lips soothe the places every bruise would be. You could’ve spent an eternity like that, feeling his gentle touches, hearing his soft affirmations. When it stopped, you felt a protest spring to your lips.

“Not goin’ anywhere besides the bathroom,” he assured you. “Let me get us some washcloths, clean up.”

You shook your head. “Too far. Weren’t you the one complaining about time away?”

You knew he was smiling, biting his lower lip, maybe even shaking his head. You didn’t even have to look.

Because you knew him, too. You knew that he’d press those soft kisses to your forehead, that he’d smooth your hair before stepping away. That he’d do good on his promise to clean up and come right back to your side. You knew his hands would fret over the bruises, that his eyes would scan every inch. Knew that he’d get to work, then, massage out the soreness, curl around you once again, wrapping you up tight. You knew the blankets would just be that perfect extra layer, and the warmth you settled into would stay with you that whole night, those fingers once again stroking your side as he spooned you from behind.

And most of all, you knew that his voice would be in your ear as the two of you drifted off, promising that he loved you, he loved you, he loved you as you settled to sleep.

“… Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Did ya see… what the comm said?”

“Christine. Overscheduled tomorrow.”

“So… what’s that mean?”

“That means that I’m all yours.”

#reader-insert #leonard mccoy x reader #bones x reader #female!reader #leonard mccoy #bones #fanfic #my fic #star trek: aos

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mcatmemoranda · 4 years ago

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Reviewing questions:

Starting at age 30, FEV1 declines. Smoking causes COPD, which increases the rate of the decline. Smoking cessation slows the rate of decline in FEV1, but the gradual decline in FEV1 won't return to the way it would've been if the pt had never started smoking in the first place.

Bronchiolitis obliterans = obstruction of small airways (bronchioles); occurs in chronic lung transplant rejection. You get fibrosis of bronchioles.

Avitaminosis A (vitamin A deficiency)-> squamous metaplasia of the epithelium of the eyes, urinary, pancreatic, and respiratory tracts to a keratinizing epithelium. This can occur in pts with cystic fibrosis because the inspissated secretions block the pancreatic ducts, so you can't release the digestive enzymes necessary to absorb fat-soluble vitamins (A, D, E, and K).

Cigarette smoke leads to inflammation, leukocyte infiltration, protease-antiprotease (i.e., elastase-alpha 1 antitrypsin) imbalance, and oxidative stress, which lead to emphysema. Specifically, the smoke triggers alveolar macrophages to release TNF, which activates CD8+ T cells. Cells that cause inflammation (neutrophils) release elastase, which breaks down the elastin in the alveoli.

Aspiration pneumonia tx = clindamycin or beta-lactam and beta lactamase inhibitor.

Sarcoidosis = bilateral hilar lymphadenopathy; cough, night sweats. I remember learning in a lecture a long time ago that if the hilar LAD is not B/L, then you should be more worried about cancer. I thought this question was giving me B symptoms (weight loss, fever, night sweats), which are seen in B cell lymphoma (Hodgkin lymphoma) and it also mentioned supraclavicular nodes, which made me think cancer. The question also menitioned that the pt worked as a respiratory therapist, so I thought TB. Whatever. The answer was sarcoidosis. Non-caseating granulmonas are seen in sarcoidosis. It wasn't B cell lymphoma because B cell lymphoma would show Reed-Sternberg cells on biopsy, not granulomas.

In response to mycobacterium tuberculosis, Th1 cells relase interferon-gamma, which activates macrophages. Activated macrophages can then kill mycobacterium in phagolysosomes and become epithelioid and Langhans giant cells, which wall off the bacteria, forming granulomas.

Macrophages infected with M. tuberculosis present antigen to CD4+ Th0 cells. Macrophages also release IL-12 to Th0 cells. This triggers Th0 cells to become Th1 cells, which release interferon-gamma, which activates macrophages to kill M. tuberculosis intracellularly and to transform into epitheliod and Langhans giant cells to wall off the tuberculosis, creating granulomas. I've gotten questions on this several times now, so I better not forget it! Th1 cells also release TNF-alpha, which leads to more macrophages being recruited. You have to know what the epitheliod histiocytes and multinucleated giant cells look like on histology too.

Most cystic fibrosis pts die from cor pulmonale, bronchiectasis, or pneumonia. Makes sense since the inspissated secretions prevent proper alveolar ventilation-> pulmonary vasoconstriction-> pulmonary HTN.

The tendency of the lungs to collapse and the tendency of the chest wall to expand is balanced at functional residual capacity, which generates the negative intrapleural pressure that makes the chest wall and lung move together. A pneumothorax gets rid of the negative intrapleural pressure, and as a result, the chest wall expands to a new point of equilibrium. The hemithorax has a larger volume at the new equilibrium. The lung will collapse to the new equilibrium. Ok, I think I get it. The lungs want to collapse at all lung volumes. The chest wall wants to expand until large lung volumes. A PTX eliminates the intrapleural pressure that keeps the lungs and chest wall moving together, so then the chest wall expands. Compliance is change in volume/change in pressure. The pressure volume curve slope represents compliance; steep slop = high compliance. Hysteresis = lung compliance differs with inspiration and expiration because of alveolar surface tension. I remember one of the lecturers going over the pressure volume curves and he made a mistake or got confused trying to explain it. I think I get it.

Eosinophils have bi-lobed nuclei and granules that contain major basic protein. They attack parasites. Major basic protein can damage endo- and epithelial cells-> lung damage-> asthma.

If it's not strep pneumo, it's haemophilus influenzae or moraxella catarrhalis causing pneumonia. Infection with one of these bugs triggers COPD exacerbation (increased sputum production, dyspnea, cough, change in color of sputum). If it's viral, the most common cause is rhinovirus.

Sudden onset dyspnea = pulmonary embolism-> hypoxemia and hyperventilation. Hyperventilation causes respiratory alkalosis.

Small cell carcinoma is a neuroendocrine tumor (markers are Nueral Cell Adhesion Molecule [NCAM], neuron-specific enolase, chromagranin, and synaptophysin). Paraneoplastic syndromes are SIADH, Lambert-Eaton syndrome, and Cushing's syndrome. SIADH-> hypnatremia-> neuro symptoms. Histology shows sheets of small blue cells with little cytoplasm.

Once again, pulmonary arterial hypertension can be treated with endothelin receptor antagonists like bosentan. This prevents vasoconstriction and proliferation of vascular smooth muscle. In PAH, small arteries have proliferation of smooth muscle (hypertrophy of the tunica media) and fibrosis of the tunica intima (onion skinning). You also get capillary tufts, which are plexus-like lesions. The lumen of arteries decreases-> increased resistance-> pulmonary HTN. If it's familial PAH, it's due to inactivating mutations of BMPR2-> increased endothelin. The definitive treatment is lung transplant.

Intravenous drug abusers can get tricuspid valve endocarditis (using IV drugs-> introduction of staph aureus). The vegetations on the tricuspid valve can embolize and cause pulmonary infarcts, which are hemorrhagic. Specifically, these are septic pulmonary emboli, which cause wedge-shaped hemorrhagic infarcts in the lungs.

High altitude sickness can cause pulmonary edema (HAPE = High Altitude Pulmonary Edema) a few days after being at high altitude. Since there is less oxygen in the air at high altitudes, the less ventilated areas of lung have vasoconstriction, which is what the lungs do to divert blood flow to better ventilated areas of the lungs. But if enough of the lung vasoconstricts, then you get increased resistance to flow from the right heart to the pulmonary vasculature, so fluid backs up and can go into the lungs due to increased intravascular hydrostatic pressure. Pts present with dyspnea, cough, patchy alveolar infiltrates, crackles. They improve with supplemental oxygen. High altitude sickness doesn't just present as pulmonary edema. It can also cause acute mountain sickness (fatigue, nausea, HA) and cerebral edema (because decreased PaO2 causes increased cerebral flow; pts will be confused, lethargic, and have gait disturbance).

In COPD, FEV1 decreases more so than FVC, so the FEV1/FVC will be decreased. Reduced FEV1/FVC = obstructive lung disease.

A complication of pneumonia is an abscess, which occurs due to the release of granules by neutrophils. The granules kill bacteria, but also cause liquefactive necrosis of the lung tissue.

Electrical stimulation of the hypoglossal nerve (CN XII) can help improve obstructive sleep apnea, which I didn't know. But I guessed and got the question right. Stimulation of CN XII increases diameter of the oropharyngeal airway. Oh yeah, when I was listening to OnlineMedEd, Dustyn mentioned muscular weakness causing sleep apnea, like MS or something like that. So neuromuscular weakness can contribute to sleep apnea. The muscles relax when you sleep, so the airway can become obstructed.

When standing upright, ventilation is lowest at the apex of the lungs because gravity pulls the alveoli open, so when you inhale, the alveoli at the apex don't expand as much as the alveoli at the base of the lung. Basically, the alveoli at the apex already have the weight of the rest of the lung pulling the alveoli open, so they are already almost as expanded as they can get. The alveoli at the base of the lung don't have additional lung weight to pull them open, so they have more potential space to open. Thus, ventilation is greater at the base than the apex. When you inhale, since the alveoli at the base of the lung are not as expanded from the start of inhalation, they can expand more than the alveoli at the apex, thus they are better ventilated. I guess that's what this explanation was saying. But I remember learning that the apex is better ventilated whereas the base is better perfused. Idk. The base of the upright lung has better perfusion than the apex of the lung. The V/Q ratio is low at the base of the lung and high at the apex of the lung.

Theophylline is a bronchodilator that works like beta 2 agonists--it caueses increased cAMP-> smooth muscle relaxation. It is metabolized by the CYP450 system, so CYP450 inhibitors increase theophylline concentration-> theophylline toxicity (tremor, agitation, seizures, GI sxs, tachycardia, cardiac arrhythmias). Theophylline has a narrow therapeutic index and is not used much anymore. But it can be used for COPD or asthma. It's an adenosine receptor antagonist (similar to caffeine) and phosphodiesterase inhibitor. Infection with a fever can also cause theophylline toxicity.

Mucicarmine staining of BAL will show cryptococcus neoformans. The polysaccharide capsule of cryptococcus looks red with mucicarmine stain. India ink also shows the capsule. From Wikipedia: Mucicarmine stain is a staining procedure used for different purposes. In microbiology the stain aids in the identification of a variety of microorganisms based on whether or not the cell wall stains intensely red. Generally this is limited to microorganisms with a cell wall that is composed, at least in part, of a polysaccharide component. One of the organisms that is identified using this staining technique is Cryptococcus neoformans.

#aging #smoking #bronciolitis obliterans #sarcoidosis #tuberculosis #pneumonia #interferon gamma #IL 12 #pneumothorax #PTX #pulmonary physiology #pulmonary #mountain sickness #high altitude sickness #theophylline #mucicarmine

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years ago

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Night of the Living Greeks

Pitch Perfect Horror Week Day 1 - Costumes come to life.

Summary: Chloe has a great idea for a group costume-Greek gods and goddesses. Everything is fine, at least, until the costumes come to life. For Horror Week 2019 Day 1 - Costumes come to life.

Word Count: 7.5k

Rating: T

AO3 and FFN

A little cheat sheet:

Zeus - God of the air, uses lightning bolts as weapons. Ruler of the gods and doesn’t let anyone forget it. Cheats on his wife Hera, like, a lot. Poseidon - God of the seas and water. Controls water. Often is annoyed with Zeus. Feuds with Athena a lot because of a whole thing with Ancient Athens. Hades - God of the underworld. Creepy dude. Generally not one of the 12 Olympians and an outcast. Hera - Goddess of marriage. Queen of the gods. Married to Zeus and knows about his infidelity, which is ironic. Athena - Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy. Often takes leadership role. Feuds with Poseidon because of the Athens thing. Artemis - Maiden goddess of the Hunt. Great archer. Apollo - God of poetry, music, and the sun (sort of). Ares - God of war and battle. Tends to be blustering and violent. Aphrodite - Goddess of love. Often meddles in places she isn’t welcome. Demeter - Goddess of agriculture. Her daughter was Persephone. Dionysus - God of wine, parties, theater, and madness/insanity. Often drunk. Hermes - God of trade, messages, and trickery. Hephaestus - God of fire, metalworking, and stone work. Is one of the 12 Olympians, so that’s why he’s on this list, but he isn’t talked about in this fic.

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

It started the way these things always start in books and movies: with a curse, a Halloween party, and a writer who doesn’t otherwise know how to start.

More than that, though, it started with a call from Chloe.

“Do you want to come back to Barden for a Halloween party?”

Aubrey blinked, trying to fend off the whiplash Chloe tended to give her. “Hello to you, too.”

“Yeah, hi,” Chloe said in a rush, and Aubrey could picture her impatient wave. “What do you say? Halloween back here?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose in thought, Aubrey rose from the armchair in her lodge and began to pace the floor, glancing out the window to where her camp counselors were coaching the latest Fortune 500 company employees over the tire swings.

“Uh, isn’t it on a week night this year?” Aubrey asked, mentally counting out the few remaining days to Halloween.

Chloe’s sigh made the phone crackle in Aubrey’s ear. “Yeah, but it’s Halloween! You could be a little late to the Lodge the next morning, right? No one would blame you. And you’re the boss, so it’s fine, right?”

“I don’t know…” Aubrey mused slowly. “This is kind of prime time for corporations to rent us out as a horror camp…”

The horror camp had been her idea, and business boomed around Halloween.

“Can’t someone cover for you? Please? Aubrey, it’s been months since you’ve been here.”

Aubrey fought against the smile she could feel threatening to take over. “If by months, you mean three weeks, then—”

“Look, you don’t even need a costume! The Bellas are doing a group one, and I already picked your part out.”

“Do I get to know what the group theme is?”

“It’ll be a surprise,” Chloe said, voice gleeful.

“I… you said on Halloween? As in, Halloween night?” Aubrey asked, pivoting in place as something occurred to her.

“Yeah!”

“Isn’t that the same night as Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon’s usual party?”

“Oh, is it?” The innocence in Chloe’s voice could not have been more falsified.

“Chloe!” Aubrey hissed through the phone, gripping it more tightly than necessary. “You know how those psycho sorority girls get about their annual Halloween party.”

Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon had had a monopoly on Barden Halloween parties for as long as anyone could remember. Which was insane, really, because it was Halloween, but that was Barden tradition; no one else dared to host wild parties that night. If they did, the sorority would find some way to either stop it before it started or shut it down within minutes.

Chloe made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a tsk. “They’ll be fine. Besides, it’s my last year, so, really, we’ll never get this chance again… so…”

Even as Chloe trailed off, Aubrey let her head fall back in defeat. She knew perfectly well that the only reason it was Chloe’s last year is because it was also a certain brunette goblin’s last year, but that didn’t change the fact that Chloe was right and they should live for the moment.

“Fine!” she said, cutting off further begging. “I’ll do it.”

“Awes!” Chloe squealed her victory, loudly enough for Aubrey to jerk the phone from her ear. “It’s going to be amazing, I promise.”

Aubrey hummed. “Still, watch out for the sorority sisters. They’re a bunch of bitches, you know.”

As she spoke, a loud voice yelled from the background on Chloe’s line. Aubrey immediately identified the voice as Amy’s, and needed no further explanation.

“Sorry, what’d you say?” Chloe asked once Amy had quieted down.

“I said they’re a bunch of bitches.”

“Oh, for a second I thought you said ‘witches,’” Chloe laughed, but Aubrey’s mood only darkened.

“That too,” she said, returning to her armchair.

Chloe scoffed again. “It’ll be fine! See you on Halloween!”

And without giving Aubrey the chance to argue further, she ended the call.

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

When Aubrey stepped into the Bella house on Halloween, she wasn’t surprised to stumble directly into Bella chaos. Most of the Bellas were in the sitting room, getting dressed in costume and showering her with a chorus of greetings as soon as she walked in the front door. She was positive that some, if not all, of them had skipped classes that day for the celebration. What did surprise her, though, was the costume choice; each of the Bellas seemed to be dressing in…

“Sheets?” Aubrey asked dumbly, staring. “Uh, what exactly—”

“Happy Halloween!” a familiar voice called, and Aubrey turned almost directly into Chloe’s tackle of an embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Aubrey returned the hug automatically, trying her best to keep red strands of hair from her mouth; Chloe’s curls seemed much more wild and unruly than usual, and the powerful scent of hairspray that followed half a second later told Aubrey the style was on purpose.

“Happy Halloween!” Aubrey replied as the hug ended and Chloe stepped back. “Um, Chloe, what is all…” Aubrey trailed off, gesturing to the sitting room at large and the flurry of Bellas.

“Costumes!” Chloe chirped, picking up a bundle of the sheet-like garments from the couch and shoving them into Aubrey’s arms. “Here’s yours! We’ve already got everyone figured out, so you’ve got Athena. Not bad, honestly.”

“Oh…” Aubrey said, comprehension dawning slowly as she examined the bundle; what she’d taken to be sheets was actually a Greek-style toga. “Athena? Like, the Greek goddess Athena?”

From across the room, Stacie called out, “She’s doing a theme to piss off the sorority.”

Ignoring the slight flutter of her stomach, Aubrey nodded once. “Ah.”

“That’s not the reason!” Chloe protested, but then almost immediately started to look guilty. “Well… not originally. I was thinking about it already and… well, it’s an added bonus,” she said with a wink.

“Mmm.”

At that moment, Amy extracted herself from the throng of Bellas in the sitting room with a huff, straightening her toga. “Question,” she directed to Chloe, then glanced at Aubrey. “And, yeah, hey, um… Aubrey?”

“Yes?” Aubrey asked, expecting a question.

Instead, the confusion on Amy’s face cleared instantly. “Great, just checking. Aubrey. Got it this time.”

“Uh—”

“I do actually get wine with this, right?” Amy continued, turning back to Chloe. “Because I’m the lord of wine, so I feel like that should be included. For authenticity purposes,” she added, her voice half an octave higher than usual.

Chloe winced delicately. “Dionysus is the god of wine, winemaking, grapes, theater, madness, and—”

Amy’s eyebrows lifted. “Sooooo is there a Chardonnay or something I could—”

“Fridge,” Chloe sighed, waving vaguely toward the kitchen.

“Authenticity, right?” Amy repeated, already making a beeline for the kitchen.

Chloe sighed again, but before she could say anything, Cynthia Rose’s voice called out “Has anyone seen my lightning bolt?”

Aubrey looked to where Cynthia Rose stood in the middle of the sitting room, scanning the floor for something. She wore a toga like everyone else, but was set apart from the others by a gold circlet resting atop her head.

“Lightning bolt?” Aubrey asked slowly. “So she’s…”

Chloe beamed at her, apparently pleased she was catching on. “Oh, yeah, she wanted to be—”

“I’m Zeus,” Cynthia Rose declared loudly. “King of all you aca-bitches.”

Aubrey stared in disbelief until a movement from the corner of her eye startled her and she gasped; what she’d originally taken as a lump of black fabric on the couch rose, and Lilly’s face loomed into view under the dark hood of her costume.

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe said softly, following Aubrey’s gaze. “Lilly’s been pretty into—”

“Chloe, I really don’t think this is my style,” another voice—the complaining tone of which made Aubrey smile in recognition—said, and Aubrey looked past Chloe to see Beca descending the staircase. She was in costume, holding a blue plastic trident that was about as tall as she was, with her hair in braided with blue streaks that perfectly matched the color of her eyes. Aubrey instantly knew why Chloe had chosen that particular Greek god for Beca; sure enough, when Aubrey glanced over, Chloe was staring at Beca very unsubtly.

Aubrey cleared her throat.

Chloe jumped back to life. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Poseidon is so you.”

Beca rolled her eyes, reaching the ground floor. “Aubrey,” she deadpanned by way of greeting.

“Beca,” Aubrey replied just as stiffly, not missing the little smile Beca gave her, the only crack in their cold exchange. Aubrey returned it; she was happy to see Beca, too.

Beca looked back at Chloe, her eyebrows drawing together. “Chlo, I don’t even really like water, or swimming, or the ocean, or—”

“But your eyes are so blue,” Chloe interrupted, then looked horrified with herself.

Beca’s mouth opened, then closed. She blinked several times rapidly and muttered, “Have you seen your eyes?”

Chloe’s cheeks reddened, though she looked pleased.

Aubrey shifted in place, pointedly clearing her throat once again. She didn’t know how the other Bellas survived if it was like this all the time, because honestly.

“Oh, uh, um,” Beca stammered, her own blush forming as she seemed to remember Aubrey’s presence. “Who are you gonna be, then? Chloe kind of assigned—”

“She’s Athena,” Chloe interrupted, surveying Aubrey with a kind of satisfaction. “She’s perfect for it.”

“Athena, yep,” Aubrey nodded. “The, um… wisdom goddess?” It had been a while since she’d taken any kind of mythology class.

“Wisdom and battle strategy,” Chloe clarified.

Aubrey wondered why Chloe knew so much about all this.

“Right,” she said. “So who exactly is…everyone?” she asked, gesturing broadly to the sitting room at large, where the rest of the Bellas continued to ready their costumes.

“Totes!” Chloe actually clapped her hands together in excitement. Beside her, Beca gave Aubrey a look of the deepest sympathy. “Ok, Beca is Poseidon, god of the sea. Lilly is Hades, god of the underworld.” Chloe leaned in conspiratorially, and Aubrey mirrored her unconsciously. “Hades isn’t technically one of the twelve Olympians, but it was him or Hephaestus, and she really, really wanted to be Hades. It’s Lilly. And, um, Cynthia Rose is Zeus, god of the skies and technically the one in charge of the rest. Um, then…”

Chloe craned her neck, pointing out more of the individual costumes. “Over there, Jessica—I think that’s Jessica—is Demeter, who is all about agriculture. Then Ashley—or, maybe Jessica—is Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Flo—”

“The hunt?” Aubrey asked, confused. Behind Chloe, Beca just shrugged.

“Think archery and running,” Chloe clarified.

“Gotcha.” That explained Ashely’s cheap fake bow and arrow props.

“So anyway, Flo is Hera, goddess of marriage. And she’s also married to Zeus, even though he cheats on her a lot. Amy, as you know, is Dionysus, Emily is Aries, god of war, and—”

An arm wound itself over Aubrey’s shoulders at the same time a familiar perfume filled her nose. “And I’m Aphrodite, goddess of love,” Stacie said, close enough to Aubrey’s ear that it made her shiver. “So if you need anything love-related, let me know,” she added with a wink before strutting back into the sitting room to join the others.

Aubrey blinked, voice lost somewhere in the depths of her chest. It wasn’t until she felt Beca’s smirk and an unusual warmth in her cheeks that she regained any sort of brain power. With Herculean effort, she managed, “Um, did you say Emily is the god of…”

“War, yeah,” Chloe answered nonchalantly. “She’s actually taking to it really well.”

In the sitting room, Emily waved around a plastic sword, pretending to slice and dice Flo, who was doing a great job of ignoring her.

“Maybe a little too well,” mused Beca, watching her.

Aubrey was about to agree when Amy wandered past, arms full with a bottle of wine and a second bottle of something that looked suspiciously like tequila.

“Amy, that’s not wine,” Chloe said, her tone sharp. “What happened to authenticity, exactly?”

“Umm. Ummmmm.” Amy’s eyes darted between the three of them. “Well, you know. Um, I’m also god of madness, and tequila is basically the same thing?”

Chloe closed her eyes. “Fine.”

Aubrey almost felt bad for her. Almost. “And you are?” she asked, giving Amy the chance to make her escape and bringing Chloe’s mood back up.

“Oh! I’m Apollo,” Chloe smiled. “The god of the sun, music, and poetry.”

Beca’s face twitched, struggling to hold back a smile.

Aubrey nodded, fighting against her own amusement. “I could see that.” The role fit Chloe perfectly. She did a quick mental count, trying to pair each of the Bellas with an Olympian. “But doesn’t that leave—”

“Chloe, what does the messenger god actually do?”

Aubrey’s heart sank at the impassive mask that came over Chloe’s face; Jesse thumped down the stairs, looking fairly ridiculous in his own costume. He was holding a long staff with what looked like little fake snakes winding around it. It reminded Aubrey of something she’d seen on ambulances or associated with doctors, but it wasn’t exactly the same design.

“Deliver messages?” Beca answered Jesse’s question with a single raised eyebrow.

“Hermes?” Aubrey asked as Jesse reaches them, wrapping his arm around Beca’s waist.

Chloe nodded, not looking entirely pleased as she tore her eyes from Beca’s direction to meet Aubrey’s. “We needed a twelfth, and Beca said Jesse could do it.”

“The Trebles didn’t have their own group costume?”

Jesse shook his head, the standard boyish grin in place. “Guys don’t really do that. Besides, Benji really, really just wanted to be Houdini again, so our hands were tied.”

“Such fragile masculinity,” Beca said sardonically, patting Jesse’s stomach and pulling him closer.

Chloe shifted next to Aubrey.

Jesse puffed out his chest in indignation. “Hey, I wanted a movie theme, but—”

A loud thud echoed against the front door, cutting Jesse off and startling everyone; Aubrey spun, staring at the door with sudden trepidation.

“What was that?” Flo asked.

“Was it a bird again?” Amy muttered.

“Poor little guy,” Emily said softly.

Once again, movement from the corner of her eye caught Aubrey’s attention; she looked over in time to see Lilly pulling out a fork from nowhere. She shuddered.

“I’ll look,” Jesse volunteered, and, taking his arm from around Beca, moved over to the door and glanced through the peephole before opening it slowly.

Around Aubrey, the Bellas had fallen quiet.

Jesse opened the door wider, then made a small sound of surprise.

“What is it?” Chloe asked sharply, her tone suddenly tense.

“Well, uh…” Jesse trailed off and stooped for a moment, reaching for something outside. He picked up whatever it was, rose and closed the door, bringing it inside. Chloe’s breath caught audibly when they realized what it was: a brick with a note tied around it.

“What the…”

“Oh shit, that could’ve taken out a window,” Beca said. “We got lucky.”

“Um, here,” Jesse said, untying the note and handing it to Chloe. “I think it might be for you.”

Eyebrows drawn together, Chloe took the note and unfolded it, her expression darkening as she read what it said.

“What is it?” Aubrey heard herself ask. Around them, the Bellas drew closer, all trying to get a closer look.

As soon as she sees the words—letters cut out of a magazine and pasted on the paper—Aubrey’s stomach dropped.

Chloe read the message out loud, her voice tight. “‘You should have moved your party. Now you’ll feel our curse.’”

It was signed “Alpha Gamma Omega Epsilon.”

Amy spoke first. “Why do people keep signing hate mail they write with magazine letters?”

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

“Okay, you can look,” Aubrey said, examining her reflection in Chloe’s floor-length mirror.

Behind her, Chloe opened her eyes, the mirror displaying her every reaction. “Aubrey!” she said happily, entire face lighting up. “You make a great Athena!

Aubrey readjusted her toga for maybe the eleventh time even as she double-checked her braids. “I don’t think Athena was blonde, but it’ll work.”

Chloe shrugged with indifference. “None of us really fit the profile of Ancient Greek gods and goddesses, so it’ll be fine.”

Before she could stop herself, Aubrey fired back, “Well, none of us except for Beca’s eyes, right?”

In response, Chloe gave a wry smile. “Stacie seems to have missed you,” she said, and Aubrey pursed her lips.

“Are you really okay with Jesse being here?” she asked. It was a deflection, and they both knew it, but it worked.

Chloe’s smile faded and sunlight seemed to leave the room. “It’s... fine,” she sighed. “We did need twelve, so, I guess.”

A twinge of sympathy shot through Aubrey’s chest. “The numbers work out, so focus on that. Strategy for the overall plan, right? Great group costumes? Make the sorority mad?”

“Right,” Chloe said, seeming to steel herself. “It’s fine. And forget the sorority, they’re not my priority.”

“Even though they’re throwing bricks at the house?”

“A cheap scare tactic. It won’t work.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Chloe said firmly, setting her shoulders. “Now, where did I put your owl? Some guests should be getting here soon, we should be totally ready.”

As soon as the stuffed owl Chloe had bought Aubrey as a prop—”Owls are the most famous symbol of wisdom! You have to have one!”—was located and secured safely in Aubrey’s arms, Chloe declared her party-ready.

“Okay, now all we have to do is go downstairs and—”

A huge boom sounded from the floor below, shaking the house and making Aubrey stumble. Screams followed, tearing through her like a knife; she met Chloe’s eyes, which were filled with alarm that Aubrey was sure was mirrored in her own.

Without a word, they seemed to reach the same conclusion.

Chloe strode to her door and flung it open, and they raced down the steps to find the source of the noise.

They stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring into the sitting room where the rest of the Bellas were gathered. Every one of them stood staring at a blackened, slightly smoldering spot on one of the walls. The air around Aubrey felt dry, crackling almost, and the room smelled like ozone.

“What happened?” Chloe gasped into the stunned silence.

Aubrey did a quick survey of the Bellas, doing a headcount: Stacie and Cynthia Rose were inspecting the wall, Amy had opened the bottle of wine and was drinking directly from it, Flo was glaring at something but looked unhurt, Ashley and Jessica were accounted for (though for some reason Jessica was holding what looked like a container of oats with Stacie’s name written in Sharpie on the outside and Ashley held a real bow and set of arrows).

Aubrey did a double-take, certain that Ashley’s Artemis weapons had been fake earlier.

“What in the world—”

“It’s a curse!” Emily burst out suddenly, hands balled into fists at her side. “The sorority put a curse on us!”

“Curses aren’t real,” Aubrey said slowly, shocked at Emily’s uncharacteristic anger.

“Yeah, that’s crazy, right?” Beca’s voice floated in from the kitchen, where she stood leaning against the sink and sipping from a plastic cup of water. “Just, like, chill.”

“Then what just happened with my lightning?” Cynthia Rose asked loudly, gesturing to the wall.

“Your… what?” Chloe asked slowly, expression filled with confusion.

“My lighting!” Cynthia Rose repeated, becoming agitated. “It got all hot and sizzly and then blew into that wall!”

“I… but wasn’t it just tin foil?”

“I thought so, but it was—it was like it became real!” Cynthia Rose exclaimed, and Stacie nodded.

“It’s true,” she said. “It started glowing, and it… well. You can see the wall.”

Flo stepped closer to Cynthia Rose, her eyes flicking between her and Stacie in what Aubrey would guess was suspicion.

“But that’s not possible…” Chloe said quietly, looking more confused than ever.

A chill ran down Aubrey’s spine and she shivered, instinctively glancing to the corners of the room. There, the cloud of darkness that was Lilly in her Hades costume was creepier than ever, seeming to emanate a strange chill. Aubrey noticed that the rest of the Bellas seemed to be giving her a wide berth, as if they also sensed something off.

Aubrey dragged her attention back to the char mark—lightning strike?—on the wall, only for her stomach to flip and roll when she met Stacie’s eyes.

Stacie was positively staring, gazing at Aubrey as though she was trying to memorize her.

“Um, what—”

A loud screech echoed around Aubrey’s mind, scaring her half to death. The stuffed owl in her arms suddenly became much heavier and started to shift. Aubrey wondered if she was about to drop it, until, with another shifting weight, a live owl threw itself from her with another angry screech as it unfurled its wings and started to fly around the sitting room.

Several of the Bellas started screaming again, ducking and covering their heads. Emily started jumping up and down, waving her hands as if trying to catch the owl as it flew madly around them. Aubrey pulled Chloe out of the way as the owl circled back, confused in the confined space. Through the chaos, Aubrey glimpsed Ashley nocking an arrow into her bow and pulling the string back to fire—

The sound of shattering glass filled the room, and cool air rushed in from outside through the newly broken window. The owl immediately changed its flight path and made for the escape route that Ashley had created with her fired arrow. Within another second, the owl made its exit, soaring through the broken window pane with ease and off into the evening sky.

Silence fell.

Aubrey stared uncomprehendingly at her empty hands, brain refusing to connect the stuffed owl—a toy—Chloe had given her with the live owl that had just flown out the window.

“How…”

“You saw that, right?” Cynthia Rose asked sharply. “You all saw that?”

“Yeah, I… and the lightning…” Jessica murmured.

Chloe stared at nothing.

A horrible idea struck Aubrey then, one that sent her stomach rolling yet again with molten anxiety. “Beca,” she started, “do you want to go surfing?”

“I’d love to!” Beca answered immediately, then paused. “Um,” she frowned. “I’ve never been surfing, but that sounds awesome.”

Aubrey took one deep breath, then another. “I think… I think we are becoming our costumes. Like our costumes are coming to life.”

Chloe’s eyes snapped around to meet hers. “Costumes don’t do that! Curses are not real, okay? It’s ridiculous.”

Aubrey hesitated. “You do realize that was a haiku, right? Poetry god?”

Chloe blinked in shock, the reality of the situation apparently hitting her.

“Listen,” Emily said angrily, beginning to pace, “if it is this stupid curse, let’s just go to the sorority house and beat a solution out of them!”

“Woah, there, we need to think, we need to plan—”

Stacie interrupted, plopping herself down on the couch, “Yeah, why fight when we can love?”

Jessica shook the container of Stacie’s oats in her hands, the sound getting everyone’s attention. “All this negative energy is clouding the atmosphere,” she scolded. “We should really have more air-cleansing plants in this room, guys.”

“Focus!” Aubrey exclaimed, hands flying to her temples.

“You’re so shrill, Aubrey,” Amy protested, emerging from the kitchen with a bunch of grapes. Aubrey hadn’t seen her leave the sitting room. “It’s giving me a headache.”

Beca made a disapproving noise. “Yeah, okay, while you guys do whatever, I think I’m gonna go for a swim.”

Aubrey rounded on Chloe, desperate for someone to have sense. “We have to cancel the party.”

“What? Noooooo,” Amy drew out, alternating taking sips of wine with popping grapes into her mouth.

Chloe held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Aubrey, I know it looks bad, but let’s not jump the gun. I think, you know, it could still be really fun.”

“Are you insane?” Aubrey argued, stunned at the reaction. “Chloe, if more people come in more costumes, they might turn into their costumes, too! Do we really need actual werewolves and—and real slutty nurses running around?”

“Yes,” Stacie and Cynthia Rose said simultaneously.

Flo snorted in annoyance. “For someone who is supposedly married to the goddess of marriage—”

“The costumes could be worse, right?” Ashley said. “At least none of us were in hideous monster masks or anything.”

“Well, Legacy still turned out looking like—” Amy began meanly, but Aubrey had heard enough.

“We need to cancel the party, Chloe,” Aubrey insisted again, more firmly.

Ashley plucked aimlessly at her bowstring, making it vibrate. “They’re picking us off like this. If we have more people here, who knows what might happen.”

Chloe hesitated, but eventually gave a single, glum looking nod that seemed to darken the entire house.

“I’ll make the calls!” Jesse volunteered, jumping up from the couch and surprising Aubrey. She’d forgotten he was even there, quiet has he had been. “Guest list?” he asked Chloe.

“Eager beaver.” Beca muttered darkly from the kitchen, but Jesse didn’t seem to hear.

Stacie and Flo watched the interaction closely, their eyes flicking between Jesse and Beca as if they were engaged in a tennis match.

“Here, just use the list in my phone,” Chloe agreed, unlocking it and handing it over. “And, Jesse, don’t go anywhere alone!” she added abruptly.

“I’ll go with,” Jessica volunteered, moving to stand beside Jesse. “I need to do a pantry check for cereal anyway.”

Another silence fell as everyone stared at her.

Beca took a sip of water.

“Okay, so, how do we fix this?” Ashley eventually asked, breaking the spell as Jesse and Jessica went into the kitchen together. The question was directed at Aubrey, but before she could say anything, Cynthia Rose cleared her throat.

“Woah woah, why are you asking her?” she asked indignantly. “I’m the ruler of this whole thing.”

“Calm down, Zappy,” Beca said sharply. “Though, yeah, I really don’t like Aubrey being in charge right now either.”

“What?” Aubrey gaped. “Beca, Athena is the goddess of strategy. It makes sense for me to plan.”

“More like the god of talking too much,” Beca quipped.

Even as Aubrey tried to contain her sudden annoyance, Stacie half-rose from the couch and glared at Beca. “Hey, just because you and Chloe aren’t—”

“Why don’t we just… go with the flow?” Beca interrupted, her eyes flicking quickly in Chloe’s direction and then away again.

“Flowing wine, what?” Amy perked up immediately.

Emily growled in frustration, running a hand through her hair. “Why can’t we just storm in there and start punching?”

“We don’t even know if we have powers!” Aubrey protested. “Don’t you see, we have no idea what we can even—”

A weird rushing noise filled her ears, and the next thing she knew, she was somehow absolutely drenched with water that had seemed to come out of nowhere. She sputtered, disoriented and gasping.

“Looks like we do have powers,” Beca said, and Aubrey whirled to see her smirk.

Anger coiled in Aubrey’s chest, though she knew she was being unreasonable. “Beca, I swear—”

“Don’t fight!” Chloe said quickly. “It’s only making it worse! We need to work together to break the curse.”

Beca’s eyes flicked in her direction and her expression softened. “Fine,” she muttered and, with a wave of her hand in Aubrey’s direction, Aubrey was miraculously completely dry again.

“Okay,” she managed, attempting to control her impatience. “So it seems like we have powers, but what about the physical form? I mean—okay, Emily, you might want to punch people but I bet you’re limited by your body.”

“What?” Emily looked at her blankly.

“Try doing something strong,” Aubrey suggested. “See what happens.”

“Alright then,” Emily said grimly, and strode toward the nearest wall, fist raised and ready to punch it.

“Woah there!” Flo said quickly, and together she and Cynthia Rose were able to haul Emily back from the wall. “We don’t need any more wall damage! We need the security deposit when we move out.”

“But—”

“I meant, like, lift something heavy,” Aubrey said quickly, diffusing the situation.

“Oh. Um, sure.” Emily strode over to the couch that Stacie still sprawled on. She kneeled down, slid her hands under it and tried to lift it; nothing happened besides a fair amount of strain and mumbled curses, and a moment later, Emily stopped trying with a huff. “Stupid couch.”

“That’s what I thought,” Aubrey murmured, a grim determination filling her. “We can’t rely on strength because we’re still us with our regular bodies. We need wits.”

“And our powers,” Beca mumbled audibly. “Just saying.”

“We don’t all have magic water-bending,” Flo snapped.

“Yeah, I really think we should get to know the sorority girls before attacking,” Stacie suggested. “If we know how they love, we can take them down.”

Cynthia Rose wiggled her eyebrows. “I like that plan.”

Flo scoffed angrily, but before she could start yelling, a paper airplane soared through the air and knocked directly into Chloe’s temple.

“Ouch! What’s this? Were you trying to miss?” she asked, holding up the paper airplane and glaring in the direction it came from.

“Nope,” Jesse said, returning from the kitchen with Jessica, who now carries Amy’s Shredded Wheat along with Stacie’s oats. “It’s a message, letting you know that everyone on your list has been texted or called, and the party is officially off.”

“Miss anything?” Jessica asked, returning to her place next to Ashley, who laughed a little.

“Nope,” she said, “just the usual fighting. Kind of like there are only three main characters here.”

“Great.”

“Right!” Aubrey jumped in, clasping her hands together as she tried to think of a plan. “Okay, what we’re gonna do is, um… think Trojan Horse?” she asked the room.

Stacie leaned forward, interested: “I haven’t tried that variety before, is it any good?”

Aubrey cringed. “Ignoring that. So, basically, we—”

Amy raised her hand. “By saying ‘ignoring that,’ you’re not really ignoring it, are you?”

“Basically,” Aubrey plowed on, very intentionally avoiding eye contact with Stacie or Chloe. “We make it look like we’re sending them a peace offering, maybe, like—”

“Doves in a box?” Flo suggested.

“Um, something like that,” Aubrey replied. “I was thinking more—”

“Wine box,” Amy said.

“Mailbox,” Jesse added.

“We can think about that later!” Aubrey cut them off, feeling a headache starting to form behind her eyes. “The point is, we set up a gift of some kind and then infiltrate the sorority house.”

“And then we pulverize them! Yes!” Emily cheered, pounding a fist into her palm. “Excellent.”

Aubrey tried to backtrack. “Or we just have a diplomatic meeting—”

“I want to add to my collection,” Lilly rasped from the corner, making nearly everyone jump. Jessica, who was closest to her, moved several inches away.

“You guys,” Chloe cut in abruptly. “Beca’s missing! Do you think she and Jesse are—”

“I’m right here!” Jesse said, and for some reason, Stacie and Flo glared at him venomously.

“Unfortunately,” Stacie mumbled.

Jesse tilted his head, “What? Didn’t catch that.”

Without missing a beat, Stacie answered, “She can’t find Beca.”

Aubrey glanced to where Beca had been leaning against the counter. Her empty cup was set down, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe the sorority got her?” Cynthia Rose suggested fearfully.

The room seemed to darken.

Ashley stepped forward, shouldering her bow. “No, they didn’t. I’d have noticed if they were after her.”

Aubrey stared at her, confused.

“Um, hunting, remember?” Ashley said. “I know these things.”

“Oooo-kay,” Emily said, drawing out the vowel.

“She’s probably swimming,” Amy slurred from the couch. The bottle of wine next to her was empty, and she’d started on the tequila.

“What?” Aubrey asked, confused.

“Well she said she wanted to go about five times. You guys suck at listening,” Amy pointed out. “She’s probably just in the Treble Pool.”

Some of the light returned to the room, renewing Aubrey’s hope. “I bet she went to swim on a whim!” Chloe exclaimed happily.

Aubrey straightened her spine. “We have to go get her and tell her about the plan. You guys do agree to the plan?”

Emily winced. “Well—”

Flo waved her off. “Yes, already, goddess of strategy, stop asking. Let’s go.”

Aubrey led the march out of the Bella house and across the yard, aiming for the bushes that separated their house from the Treble’s. She could hear the heavy bass from the sorority party just down the block, and was certain that if she looked in that direction, she’d see the glow of the party lights hanging above the house like a fog.

Stacie walked next to her, staying closer than probably necessary. Aubrey didn’t mind, though, not when Stacie’s Aphrodite powers somehow made Stacie’s presence even warmer and more welcoming than usual.

“You know,” Stacie said quietly, “I’m not sure why the sorority girls even care if we had a Halloween party. We have different friends anyway, so it isn’t like we’d steal their guests.”

It wasn’t what Aubrey was expecting her to say, and she tried to hide her disappointment while she started picking her way through the bushes separating the properties.

“No idea,” she said. “Maybe just a pride thing.”

Stacie hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything else.

When they’d finally pushed through the foliage and spilled out into the Treble yard, Aubrey caught sight of Beca immediately. She was floating on her back in the pool, fully clothed, as currents pushed her along slowly in some sort of lazy river that Aubrey was sure had to be of Beca’s own design.

“Oh hey, guys, jump in,” Beca said, picking up her head to look at the group. “I bet I can make a wave pool.”

“Do you know how bad pool chlorine is for local plants?” Jessica asked.

Aubrey clicked her tongue impatiently. “Beca, get out of the water.”

“What for, brainiac?”

Cynthia Rose leaned in. “How about you get out of the pool before I electrocute it with lightning?”

Beca raised an eyebrow. “Would you do that?”

“I can try.”

“Neat,” Beca said, sounding bored, but the currents carried her to the edge of the pool. She sat up, resting on top of the water rather than sinking in, and stepped out casually. Her clothes and hair remained perfectly dry. “This water thing is so cool,” she grinned. “Why exactly do you want to change back?”

“Because Emily wants to murder people, Lilly is scarier than usual, Jessica has pack-bonded with whole grain, and Chloe can’t stop rhyming,” Aubrey reeled off.

“I can stop!...Pop,” Chloe said sadly.

Beca pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I assume you aca-nerds came up with a plan?”

Amy swayed on the spot. “We’re gonna Trojan Horse it. Classy stuff,” she slurred, hiccupping.

Beca stared. “You’re kidding,” she deadpanned.

A paper plane cut through the air, hitting Beca directly on the forehead. Growling, she unfolded it and read out loud, “‘Nope. Trojan Horse.’ Really?” she glared at Jesse. “You had to send this?”

Jesse winced. “Message received,” he said sadly.

“Listen, Aubrey,” Beca began, her tone tight and controlled. “Trojan Horse worked back then, but it’s tired.”

Aubrey shook her head. “No. It’s the best strategy.”

“That strategy isn’t even from this millennium! Can’t we come up with something new and original?”

Chloe ran a hand through her hair. “Aubrey, maybe Beca’s right. There might be a better way to fight,” she suggested.

“Yeah, like using our fists!” Emily said.

“Or our powers,” Cynthia Rose cut in, sounding impatient. “I could try feeding them rocks or something. Or blasting them with more lightning.”

“I can summon an army from the dead,” Lilly murmured.

“I can set booby-traps?” Jesse suggested.

“I can make them drunk,” Amy said, stumbling over nothing and nearly toppling into the pool.

Aubrey lifted her hands, cutting them all off. “Woah, okay, hang on, let me think,” she said. “I can come up with something.”

The seconds dragged by as Aubrey struggled to come up with any alternative plan. Her mind felt cluttered, filled with too many potential plans and strategies, and her thoughts raced around and around, until they became more like the owl flying aimlessly inside the house than like anything remotely resembling a plan.

While she struggled to think of anything, Ashley fired an arrow through a birdhouse, using it as target practice.

After a long moment during which Aubrey had come up with nothing better than their current options, Chloe stepped forward and brushed her fingers lightly along Aubrey’s arm. “You know, Aubrey,” she said quietly, “part of being wise is knowing when to use your team. And if I don’t stop rhyming, I’m going to scream.”

Aubrey took a deep breath, expelling it through her nose slowly. “Alright. Let’s do this. Bellas, huddle! And Beca?”

“Yeah?”

“Get in here. Let’s plan.”

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

“Just so you know, Jesse and Beca aren’t meant for marriage.”

Aubrey almost fell from her perch in the tree.

“What?”

“It’s true,” Stacie echoed Flo’s sentiments with authority. “No chemistry there. Make your move, Ginger,” she said, glancing up at Chloe, who was on a higher branch concealed in the tree.

“I have no idea what you mean, jelly bean,” Chloe insisted with as much dignity as she could muster. Which was not much.

“I can’t wait until her curse wears off, good lord,” Jessica muttered, snacking on the Shredded Wheat.

“I know these things,” Flo said imperiously, twisting around on her own branch to look at Chloe. “Goddess of marriage. It’s not gonna happen.”

“And as the goddess of love, I gotta say, Chloe and Beca really—”

“Look who’s talking,” Flo muttered.

“Shh!” Aubrey cut everyone off, her phone having conveniently chosen that moment to beep with a notification. “Text from Jesse,” she said, and the others fell quiet.

They’d collectively decided that if they were going to use their newly-acquired Greek powers, only a few of the Bellas would actually be heading the attack on the sorority. Because Beca, Cynthia Rose, Amy, and Lilly all had the most active powers, they had decided to enter the building. Emily and Ashley had also gone in to act as the muscle. That left Aubrey, Chloe, Flo, Stacie, and Jessica keeping surveillance from within a tree (Ashley’s idea) because it allowed them to watch the sorority house while remaining hidden. Jesse, then, had taken a strategic position in between the two groups so that he could act as messenger and pass along news to either group. Thankfully, he’d exchanged his paper planes for texting.

“‘Friendlies have entered the building. Hold your position,’” Aubrey read out loud to the others, internally approving of Jesse’s insistence on using militaristic language. Her father would be proud. “Okay, this is it. Time to see what happens.”

Another text followed shortly after, reading simply, “Phase 1.”

“It’s starting,” Aubrey said to the others just in time for the first roll of thunder to reach their ears. The plan was for Cynthia Rose and Beca to work together and use their godly powers to create a storm inside the sorority house, disrupting the party with a slew of thunder, lightning, rain, and wind.

The thunder continued, building to a constant roll that shook the very tree branch beneath Aubrey. Under the noise of that, though, came the distinct sound of many voices whooping and cheering.

Aubrey turned to Chloe, confused. “Are they… celebrating?”

“Probably think it’s part of the show for the party,” Stacie mumbled, sounding irritated.

Sure enough, another text from Jesse arrived: “Moving to Phase 2.”

Aubrey shuddered; they’d been hoping that a little indoor storm would be enough to get the sorority sisters to reverse the curse, but apparently not. That’s why they’d sent in Lilly.

Seconds later, the cheers turned to screams of pure terror.

“Holy shit,” Jessica breathed, and Flo crossed herself; Aubrey privately agreed. She wouldn’t even imagine what the inside of that house would look like with Lilly raising her dead army inside it.

Aubrey expected to feel it at any second—the lift of the curse, which would rid the Bellas of their powers as soon as the sorority witches crumpled under the onslaught, but nothing happened. She exchanged another look with Chloe, full of grim uncertainty, when something almost imperceptible changed in the air, the smallest shockwave traveling through her chest.

Then the sound from the sorority party crescendoed, a rising cacophony of screams now mingled with an unnatural laughter that sent unease firing down Aubrey’s spine, interwoven with garbled shouting and rising music, thudding with heavy bass and erratic electric threads that grated against the inside of Aubrey’s skull, pressing outward from within so that it felt like there was something trying to escape from within Aubrey’s own mind, and no matter how tightly she pressed her hands against her ears, the terrible sounds fed off one another and grew until—snap!

Silence.

Aubrey’s hands fell from her ears. She looked at each of the Bellas in the tree with her, their expressions mirroring the blatant confusion and fear she felt.

Whatever that was, it hadn’t been part of their original plan.

Aubrey’s phone chimed. “Phase... 3???” Jesse had sent, apparently as uncertain as they all were.

“What happened?” Stacie breathed, but Aubrey just shook her head.

“No idea,” she said, but then something changed inside her chest.

It was like an object inside her had fallen away, leaving her empty and confused. She felt different, suddenly uncertain about their plan or any sort of strategy. The sunshine around them dimmed, and Aubrey caught Jessica staring at the oats and cereal in her hands in confusion.

“I think—”

“Did it work?” Chloe asked. “Is it over?”

“You didn’t rhyme,” Aubrey pointed out, growing excited. “Flo! What are the odds of Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds staying together forever?”

“Hmm?” Flo looked over skeptically. “They’re fine, but celebrity marriages, you never know.”

“Chloe, say something else.”

“Like what? Just anything?”

“I hate Shredded Wheat,” Jessica mumbled, still staring at the box in her hands.

“I think we’re good!” Aubrey exclaimed happily. “Ladies, we can get out of this tree now.”

They slid off their respective branches, climbing down carefully. At one point, a branch snarled itself in Aubrey’s hair and she had to work to free herself, but eventually, her feet touched the grass and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“But I don’t feel different?” Stacie said once they were all on the ground. She patted herself up and down, spending far too much time adjusting her boobs.

“That’s probably okay,” Chloe said with a grin, her eyes flashing to Aubrey.

The sound of pounding footsteps rushing toward them made Aubrey turn; Jesse sprinted toward them, panting and out of breath.

“Hey!” he managed between gasps for air. “I don’t know what happened over there. Things got really…”

“Weird?” Aubrey suggested.

“Yeah. I think I’m back to normal, though,” Jesse added, also patting himself down for whatever reason. “No more urges to send messages.”

“We’re good here, too,” Aubrey said with a glance at the others.

“Nice! So that means—”

“No more curse, aca-bitches!” Amy’s loud voice startled everyone as she reappeared at the end of their driveway. “I saved the day!”

Behind her, Beca, Cynthia Rose, Lilly, Emily, and Ashley all straggled into the Bella yard. They looked a little worse for wear, and Aubrey noticed that they all seemed to eye Amy wearily. Even Lilly was sure to keep her distance.

“You’re okay!” Chloe said in relief, rushing toward Beca. At the last minute, she performed a weird little jerking motion, as if stopping herself from flinging her arms around Beca’s neck.

“Yeah, no, we’re good,” Beca muttered, talking mostly to Chloe. “The curse they put on us is broken.”

“Those bleach-blondes won’t be bothering us anymore. Crushed it,” Amy said proudly.

Aubrey stared. “What happened?”

“Uh…” Beca hesitated.

“Yeah?”

“Well,” she began, eyes again flicking to Amy. “Cynthia Rose and I made a little hurricane. I made the sinks burst and then made it rain, and Cynthia Rose made it lighting and get stormy, but everyone there thought it was a theme thing.”

“Cool theme, though,” Emily added. “And yeah, that wasn’t working, so then Lilly summoned, like… dead people. Lots and lots of dead people,” she shivered, looking uncomfortable. Aubrey hoped she wasn’t going to have nightmares. “Ashley and I rounded up as many of the sorority girls as we could. They knew what we wanted, but kept laughing at us, even though their guests were seriously scared.”

“So how…?” Aubrey asked, still confused.

Each of the Bellas shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Beca spoke up. “Amy,” she said with finality and a little awe. “It was Amy.”

Amy bowed grandly. “Thank you, thank you, hold the applause. Actually, no, just applaud.”

“What did she do?” Stacie asked.

“She… broke them,” Ashley answered slowly.

Aubrey blinked.

“God of wine and madness, remember? Insanity?” Amy reminded them. “I just made everyone go on a little trip. Laughing at nothing, talking to walls, running in circles, dancing on tables. Even made a few do mermaid dancing, thank you.”

“It was scary,” Emily admitted.

Aubrey recalled the wall of noise that had hit her in the tree and made her cover her ears. She winced, unable to imagine what the snapping of all those minds must have been like to witness up close.

“And then the sorority girls got scared and agreed to end the curse,” Beca finished the story. “When they saw what Amy could do, well… they ended it, and everyone went back to normal. I think their guests left, though.”

“Just like that?” Aubrey asked.

“Well, they should have thought before cursing us with godly powers,” Amy said proudly. “Should have checked to see what our costumes were before making them come to life.”

Aubrey had to hand it to Amy; she was impressed. With all of them, really.

“So…” Chloe hedged. “Party back on?”

Aubrey hesitated. “Chloe, I don’t think—”

“Hell yeah!” Beca interrupted.

“Let’s do it!” Amy agreed.

Jesse plucked Chloe’s phone from her hands. “Already back on alerting the guest list.”

Aubrey shook her head, laughing as she recognized defeat. “Fine!” she said, throwing her hands into the air and accidently catching Stacie’s eye. Stacie winked, and once again, Aubrey’s chest fluttered.

What a weird way to spend Halloween. But there was nowhere she’d rather be.

#pitch perfect horror week 2019 #HW191 #bechloe #staubrey #aubrey posen #chloe beale #beca mitchell #okay listen this is basically satire #more comedy than horror #greek mythology

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diamondwinters · 4 years ago

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A Worthy Opponent

by DiamondWinters

Chapter 8

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou/Todoroki Shouto Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Todoroki Shouto, the rest of the class is mentioned, Original Characters, Pro Heroes are mentioned Additional Tags: BNHA Omegaverse Week, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Alpha/Omega, Gamma - Freeform, Gamma/Half Alpha Half Omega, Alpha Bakugou Katsuki, Omega Midoriya Izuku, Alpha Kirishima Eijirou, Gamma Todoroki, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pampering, Nesting, Alpha House - Freeform, omega house, courting, courting gifts, Secret Admirer, Mating Run/Hunting, Flashbacks, bakugo has no chill, Heat/rut, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, eating ass, Enthusiastic Consent, AMAB Omegas, Normal size dicks for Omegas, Alphas are HUNG, Alpha/Gamma, Arranged Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Territorial Behavior, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, revenge is a dish best served cold, Bonding, bonding bite, Soulmates, truemates, Happily Ever After, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Bonds are formed, and also promised for the future.

Notes:

This is the last official chapter. The next will be an epilogue and after that will be a profile sheet for my OCs. (You're more than welcome to skip that one.)

Day Six: Truemate/Soulmate (keywords: Mating/Bonding.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25550047/chapters/62390251

#BnHAOmegaverseweek #BnHA #My Hero Academia #Omegaverse

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 6 years ago

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The Art of Love (Part 2) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU

A/N 10/17/2020: Formerly algorithm knows best and companion to cupid’s code. Whether an updated version of Cupid’s Code will be a companion is TBD.

: Hello my lovelies! So my muse decided she wanted to wrok on this and Cupid’s Code. And my hope was to have both finished before I released but I’m impatient and wanted to share. But it looks like this will be my main focus over the next few weeks. Not to worry I’m still working on Queer Eye for the Cap Guy but I want it to be really good so it’s taking a bit more time than I planned. So I hope you can enjoy this in its place this week.

Summary: You and Steve have been best friends since sophomore year. Everyone thinks you should be more, but neither of you believe it. That is until Tony Stark’s infallible dating algorithm matches you up.

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader (Platonic - for now), Wanda, Bucky

Rating: K+

Warnings: None really. Maybe language?

Word Count: 1165

Main Masterlist | The Art of Love Masterlist | Broken Hearts and Robot Parts Masterlist (Companion Fic)

Y/N POV

“Well, well, well,” Wanda grinned from the couch as you walked into your apartment Saturday afternoon still wearing Steve’s clothes. “Looks like somebody’s date went well last night. Once he got there. You didn’t even bring your dress home.”

You looked down at your hands in confusion and realized that your dress was still on the floor of Steve’s bedroom. Well actually, knowing him it was hanging on his closet door.

“Not exactly,” you grimaced.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t spend the night with him. I didn’t even order food.”

“Then whose clothes are those?”

“Steve’s,” you sighed.

“Should’ve known.” She patted the spot next to her on the couch. “Tell me all about it.”

“It was terrible, Wanda,” you groaned as you flopped down next to her. “He was thirty minutes late. And then he spent the twenty minutes I was there trying to get into the waitress’ pants. And then he suggested a threesome. Twenty minutes in! I bailed and went to the studio to work on my midterm. Steve happened to be working too and so we went back to his place and ate Chinese food and watched the Good Place.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s just so frustrating. I don’t know why I bother. This is the fifth failed date in a month. Maybe I should give up on love and just focus on my dancing.”

“Don’t give up on love, y/n. Maybe it’s closer than you think,” she murmured, eyeing the Henley you were wearing.

“Don’t start that again, Wan. You know Steve doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Because Steve let’s so many girls wear his clothes and sleep in his bed.”

“I didn’t…”

She cut you off with a stern look.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You sighed as you thought about waking up this morning, Steve’s soft snore and the weight of his arm around your waist. It was hardly the first time.

“Still, it’s not that weird for two best friends to sleep in the same bed together.”

“Really? Then how come you and Loki never share a bed when he stays over.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh really? Why?”

Damn it. She had you and she knew it.

“Look, all I’m saying is. What really went through your head when you went out with that guy last night?”

“I’d rather be with Steve,” you admitted, playing with the hem of the shirt. “But it’s not possible. He only sees me as a friend. He made that very clear. Very early on.”

“People can change their mind.”

“Yeah. But they usually don’t.”

“Well, if that’s actually what you believe. Why don’t you come with me tonight? I have to go to Pietro’s fundraiser thing.”

“Somehow I don’t think going to a frat event is going to help my love life. Besides aren’t they co-hosting with Gamma?”

“Yeah,” Wanda sighed. “I’m not thrilled about that part, but I promised Pietro.”

“I’m sure it will be fun. But I really need to go back to the studio. Choreographing to Loki’s music is proving harder than I expected. I’m just not sure what he’s trying to say with this one.”

Wanda nodded understandingly.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out and it’ll be beautiful.”

“I hope so.”

Steve’s POV

Steve was sitting out on his fire escape attempting to sketch when his front door banged open.

“Hey, punk, you home? Ooh cinnamon rolls.”

Steve rolled his eyes and crawled back in through the open window.

“You know you don’t live here anymore, right?”

“Did Smudge have another shitty date?” Bucky asked ignoring Steve’s comment as he plopped down on the couch with his second pastry.

“Yeah.”

“She knows she could’ve skipped the shitty date bit and gone straight to your bed right?”

“We didn’t sleep together.” Steve snapped, putting his notebook down on the end table and grabbing his own cinnamon roll. “I found her in the studio. We got take out and watched TV.”

“And then she fell asleep. You carried her to bed and she pouted at you to stay with her.”

Steve’s jaw clenched at Bucky’s description. It was entirely too accurate.

“What do you have cameras in here or somethin’?”

“No, punk. But I lived with you for three years. I’ve watched that same scenario play out a dozen different times. And every time there’s some sort of baked good as a thank you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Every shitty date she has ends up with her in your arms. Maybe she should just start there,” he remarked pointedly.

“Don’t start with that again. We’re not in love with each other.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” Bucky argued with a smug smirk. “But you can’t honestly tell me you don’t wish that it was you she was going out with.”

Steve glared but Bucky simply stared right back with his quirked eyebrow.

“Fine. Of course I wish it was me. But she’ll never see me like that. I was in the right place at the right time to put myself firmly in the best friend zone. And I’m okay with that. I’m not going to throw away three years of friendship because I went and fell in love with her like an idiot.”

“Steve.”

“Just don’t, Buck. Please,” he sighed. “Today sucks enough already.”

That comment was enough to derail him from the familiar argument.

“What’s going on?”

“I’ve been trying to work on my midterm for weeks and I can’t find any inspiration. This is all I’ve gotten out of a three hour session,” he huffed picking up the sketchpad and tossing it in Bucky’s lap.

“This is a blank sheet of paper,” Bucky observed.

“Exactly. I’m completely blocked. And my collection is due in two months.”

“What are you supposed to be painting?”

“Contentment,” Steve sighed. “But apparently I don’t know what that looks like. And I’m supposed to come up with four different paintings.”

“Why don’t you go for a run? Clear your mind a little. You always get your best ideas when you’re running.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea.”

“I’ve been known to have them,” he quipped. “And then you should take your mind off of it. You could come to the fundraiser tonight.”

“Not my scene, Buck. Besides I really need to at least get started. Phil will kill me if I don’t have any progress when we meet on Tuesday."

“Yeah right. That man worships the ground you walk on. If he had it his your stuff would already be on display at the Met.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s a little true. Well, if you change your mind. It’s at Triskellion at seven. I’ve got to head over there now and give them the approved drinks list.”

“Who’s bartending tonight?” Steve asked in a knowing tone.

“Shut up.”

“Just don’t be an ass to her. She’s working it’s not fair.”

“Yes, mom,” he muttered as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see you man.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Welp say hello to my new favorite idiots. I’m very much in love with them and I hope you will be too!

xoxo

Naynay

Tag Lists are Open! (Please send an ask)

Update 3/15/2021: Hello, Lovelies. As some of you may have seen on the blog I have decided to suspend tag lists. If you would like to receive updates about new content please follow @naynay-writes and turn on notifications. Thank you! Xoxo, Naynay

Steve/Chris Tag List @isaxhorror @peachykeen3502 @patzammit @wordlesscaptain @coffeebooksandfandom @hereisanapplepie @mywinterwolf

Marvel Tag List @hdthdthdt @sophiatomlinson23 @misty-panther @supermusicallee @scarlettsoldier @acupofhotlatte @slender--spirit @petitesmate @libbymouse

Permanent Tag List @iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @captainsamwlsn @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15 @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb @whiskey2011 @averyrogers83 @lovingpeterparker @buckybarneshairpullingkink @beansparker @coralphantomninja @xxashy999xx @thisismysecrethappyplace @ravennightingaleandavatempus @paintballkid711 @whosmarisaaarw @silverkitten547 @yknott81 @mmmmmmmmmchicken @thefridgeismybestie @crispy-kitten @isabelcrichards

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Part 2 #College!AU

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fandom-monium · 7 years ago

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In Your Eyes - Episode 4

Soulmates - Heterochromatic Eyes AU: In which the soulmate system isn’t everything it seems and Shouto could be the only one who sees it.

Previously in Episode 3

You frown as you feel the ground vibrate with someone’s quiet footsteps. You prepare to confront whoever’s behind you, but you jolt in surprise upon hearing ice crackle like thunder. Then a high pitched yelp and an audible thud. You turn to see Mineta laying flat on the ground behind you. He sits up and rubs the back of his head, groaning in pain. You notice the gleam of the sheet of ice he sits under and your eyes follow the trail to a boot clad foot.

You gawk, catching a glimpse of Shouto’s grimace just as he turns and briskly walks away. Your lips part to call out to him, but he’s surrounded by his friends before you could say anything.

Shouto avoids your every attempt to get him alone after that. Hide in the crowd. Use a different route to class. He’d gone so far as to skip any class he had with you. You huff. For someone with red and white hair, you begrudgingly admit he made a good pavement artist.

But why wouldn't he talk to you?

You replay your last encounters with Shouto several times, checking if you'd done something to upset him. You pull your hair in frustration. You've only talked to the guy like twice. What could you have done in that time to upset him? Knowing that the boy was ignoring you made your chest ache. You don't understand why and you brush it off, but the faint ache in your chest only grows stronger each day he avoids you. Defeated, you run a hand over your face and sigh. Forget it. There’s more important things to do. The feeling will fade eventually.

It isn't till a full week after the Mineta incident that you find him.

It's late. Soft beams of light seep through the windows, revealing charred spots and puddles of water. Shouto stands at the center of Gamma Gym, hair disarray and his t-shirt stained with burns. He breathes heavily, body hunched over and eyes unfocused as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

He knows you’re smart. Smart enough to track him. To avoid you in and out of class meant he had to stay away from places he usually hung out like the library. But all that had taken time away from lessons and training. He had to make up for it somehow. Managing to get permission to use the indoor arena for tonight, he worked to catch up on training.

“Why are you avoiding (Your name)?” The silence of the arena snarls at him, and the shadows seem to pulsate with life.

He takes another deep breath and straightens up, pushing his bangs back with one hand.

“Why are you avoiding (Your name)?”

He gets into a fighting stance and digs his heel into the concrete floor.

“Why-”

Shouto grits his teeth.

“-are you-”

Eyes narrow in concentration.

“-avoiding-”

Fists clench, muscles taught.

“-(Your Name)?”

His left side flares to life, illuminating the arena in shades of orange and red.

The question plaguing his mind. Shouto hates it. Hates thinking about it. So he distracts himself, continues to go through his usual training routine and drills. He goes through the motions again and again, until the only thing he thinks about is his next move and not your whereabouts or what you must be doing now. Were you still looking for him? Do you really care? About him? Enough to pursue him?

But even as he throws a jab at an imaginary opponent or roundhouse kicks at the air like it insulted his mother, the question lingers in the back of his mind like a tiny insect. Annoying. Unfortunately, you can't squash thoughts like a bug. If only it was that easy.

So, why is he avoiding you?

He knows part of the reason is because you relentlessly attack him. It’s become so bad, it’s been noticeably affecting him in and out of class, which is the reason he’s started avoiding his classes recently. He’d be speechless when called upon to answer a question, or during afternoon classes, he’d still beat opponents and complete the activities, but his performance wouldn’t be as efficient or quick as usual. It didn’t even matter if you had the same classes anymore! You’d still manage to catch him with your quirk, the effect somehow feeling more suffocating than before. Still aggravating. In hopes to remedy the issue, he opted to self study in the dorms or practice after school, even if it cost him a couple hours of sleep. The distance dulled the effects but didn’t stop it. How can he stop you? No. The real question was: Why do you use your stupid quirk on him when he hasn’t done anything to you?

Your quirk: To adjust someone’s heart rate. But during the Hero License exam... how can you manipulate the ground too? Do you have two quirks? No, that’s not it. He’s missing something. He’s sure of it.

Shouto recalls the few times you two encountered each other, but he can’t remember what he did to be on the receiving end of your wrath. Since then, your ability to mess with him has only gotten stronger. He needs to continue keeping himself out of range. Avoid your “Heart-Quake” quirk. Avoid the unusual pull of it. Just keep avoiding you.

So, why does that hurt more than what your quirk ever did to him?

You didn’t seem to realize it, but forcing you at bay seemed to do more damage than good to Shouto. Being ill near you. In pain away from you. So, if he can’t be near you or far from you, what is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to fix this… this mess?

Should he report you? No, that’d seem as if he’s whining like a toddler. Like he’s weak. Maybe find a doctor? Yeah, a professional. Perhaps they could fix him. Cure him of this illness. Wait, no that wouldn’t work. These were the effects of your quirk. Not a disease. Consulting a medical specialist would do more harm than good. Then that means...

Shouto pauses in the middle of his training, laying a hand flat against his heaving chest.

“Shouto?”

His heart jumps, flinching both in surprise and the familiarity in the voice. Even so, he turns away from you. A bead of sweat runs down his temple. Stay calm. Don’t let (Your Name) get to you.

“What are you doing here, (Your Name)?” Shouto questions over his shoulder. His eyes barely find your murky outline in the darkness.

“Um, I saw lights flashing from the windows-”

Ba-bump.

Shouto grits his teeth the second you speak. He clenches his hand over his heart. Deep breath. Deep breath. Don’t lose your cool.

“-I just thought I’d come check out what’s going on-”

Shouto hears you shift from across the ground floor. You’re near to the doors, and he knows he had shut them when he arrived earlier. He wonders how he didn’t hear you come in.

Ba-bump.

His chest - no - his heart? It aches. It’s being pulled again. However, this feels different than when you encountered each other over summer. It feels more like the first time he saw you. Shouto suppresses a groan. Yeah, that’s it. Almost like then. Almost. His heartstrings are being pulled, and it’s even stronger. The feeling similar but not entirely the same. It’s not urgent like before.

“-but I see you’re just training-” Shouto hears you step towards the door. Panic spikes in his chest.

It’s…

“-So, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

Desperate.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Another tug and Shouto grunts. He hopes you didn’t hear that.

But you did. Shouto curses as you pause, turning back to him. He can almost clearly imagine your brow furrow with worry. Your tone is laced in genuine concern as you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, (Your Name).” Shouto cringes at his own hoarse tone, but it can’t be helped. You need to get away. He needs to get away. You’re a dangerous opponent, and you’ll kill him at this rate. With a shaky breath, he turns towards you and demands, “Just leave.”

Despite the dark gym, you seem to manage to locate him just fine as you take careful steps in his direction. Shouto flinches, backing further into the shadows reflexively.

You stop, huffing, “I will not. You’re voice sounds strained. Did you injure yourself?”

Tug. It jerks his body and he nearly falls forward. Toward you. In a panic, he steps back, gripping both of his hands over his heart almost protectively. “No,” Shouto gasps, breathes ragged. Another step back.

“You’re lying,” You scoff. Another step towards him. “Here, let me see. Maybe I can-”

Shouto's head shoots up at hearing your footsteps again, closer this time. He throws a hand out to stop you. “No!” He clears his throat. “No, just-just stay right there.”

To his relief, you listen. A faint beam of light pouring from the window catches you, making you visible enough. All he can see is your form from the nose down, but he now clearly sees the frown on your lips.

“(Your Name)... why are you here?”

Taken aback, you cock your head to the side in confusion. “What do you mean? I already told you.”

“No, I mean: why are you here?” Shouto emphasizes, gritting his teeth. Bu-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. He ignores the aching thrum of his heart and his eyes narrow. “The Shiketsu exchange students haven’t had classes here yet, so you can’t have known where this gym is. Assuming someone outside of the class could have shown you, that still doesn’t explain why you’re out passed curfew.

“Aside from that, the guest dormitory isn't anywhere near here, so you couldn’t have seen any flashing lights from the dorm windows. Which means you voluntarily left, but I doubt you were granted permission to be here at this hour.”

Shouto presses his lips together. “So, I will reiterate. Why are you here, (Your Name)?”

Your tongue pokes out and it catches his eye. He follows the movement as you swipe it over your lips. Then you bite your bottom lip and he stares. And stares and stares and stares, and Shouto tells himself to stop staring at your lips.

He’s still staring. Damn it. What the hell is wrong with him?

“I don’t know,” you mutter.

Shouto snaps his attention away from your lips, his eyes searching for yours through the darkness. “What?”

You swallow, stammering, “I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He mimics, grimacing.

Your hands twitch at your sides. You can feel his his scrutinizing gaze, making you fidget. You stare at your shoes. “I don’t.”

“You don’t have a reason for wandering all the way over here at this hour? All the way across campus?”

“No, okay?” You snap, glaring at Shouto’s murky figure outlined in the shadows. “What is this, an interrogation?”

Your eyes barely catch him as he shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You snarl, gaping at him incredulously.

Shouto blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you are not excused,” Hidden in shadows, your eyes narrow at his dark silhouette. “First, we were getting along great last summer. Now you've been ignoring me since I got here. If anyone should be interrogated, it should be you.” You sneer, “Don't even try to deny it. You aren't exactly subtle.”

For a second, Shouto doesn't respond, clenching his jaw so he doesn't say something he might regret. A flash of guilt makes his heart twinge as you bristle with indignation, but he’s quick to convert it to anger. Why is he feeling guilty? You’re the one attacking him with your “Heart-Quake” quirk! But he wonders…

Bu-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Bu-bump.

“Why do you care?”

You frown. “Hm?”

“Why do you care?” Shouto shouts, his lips curling. His heartbeat roars loud in his ears, and he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he embraces it. For once, he lets his normally calm expression twist, his fury at you and what you do to him flowing like a dam that burst. His grip over his heart turn his knuckles white. “Why do you care so much about what I think of you? We barely spoken to each other twice, and you don’t strike me as the type of person to pursue others that don’t give you their time willingly.”

“Shut up, you don't know me. Like you said, we've spoken twice-three times now. You don't have the right to ask me anything,” You growl in return, fists clenched.

“Then I guess we both have some unanswered questions.”

You bare your teeth and your nostrils flare, quieting for a moment. Shouto feels your eyes on him despite them obscured by shadows. He notes the way your body tenses as you begin to lean your body slightly towards him. It’s anything but amiable. He expects you’re about to give him a real shouting match. You roll your shoulders.

“Fight me.”

Okay, he didn’t expect that.

“What?” He exclaims, bewildered.

Your tone somber, you angle your body vertical to him as you crouch low. “You heard me.”

TO BE CONTINUED

oml, I’ve been getting comments on Wattpad (obv I also published Soulmate AU there) and this person commented that they wanted to be Mineta’s soulmate and reasoned “boys will be boys” and now other readers started up an argument? A debate?? It’s not a big deal, but I sat looking at the comments either cringing or gagging. I don’t have to give reasons for why Mineta can be a piece of shit because I’m sure majority of you are mature enough to understand why.

Oh, and another person (again on Wattpad) commented on “Episode 4 coming soon”, saying that it’s “taken a while”. So, now I’m salty and now withholding from publishing this on Wattpad for “a while” because this hoe is being impatient and doesn’t understand I will take as much time as I need and want because I’m the bitch that wrote it.

So, shit’s about to go down. Both in this episode and maybe on Wattpad??

Check out my other works

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