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huntertales · 4 years ago

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Part One: Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder. (Rock And A Hard Place S09E08)

Episode Summary: Sheriff Jody Mills enlists the help of Y/N and the Winchesters to help investigate multiple kidnappings that belonged to the same chastity group. The three decide to infiltrate the group for themselves. But things go wrong when Y/N and Dean disappear. Sam and Jody must rescue them before it’s too late. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,223.

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NOTE: Yes, this is a repost. I edited a few things around because I didn’t like it when I read it over. Took me a few days to actually get around to doing such thing. Sorry about that, but please enjoy!

Dean wasn’t sure if he should be concerned at the state he found you in when he walked into the kitchen this morning, or take a picture to tease you about this later. It seemed you were in the process of eating breakfast before you somehow fell asleep at the table, your head cradled in your arms as you quietly snored, notifying Dean that you were in a deep sleep. You hadn’t taken a hunt in the past couple of days since coming back from New York, giving you and the boys a chance to catch up on some sleep between looking for jobs and trying to figure out how to fix the mess Metatron made. While you helped when you could, your sleep hadn’t been disturbed all that much. Dean thought this might have been the first time since you started hunting you’ve gotten a healthy amount of sleep.

He could tell because you slept like the dead last night. Dean had to lovingly, but quite forcefully, push you off his chest so he could get a jump start on the day. Normally it was you who slipped out of bed first and Dean eventually got himself up. Instead you rolled over to your side of the bed and slept for another twenty minutes before you got up. You seemed your usual self when you woke up this morning, eyes half-shut and grumpy, signaling to him you forced yourself up against your own will. On mornings like this Dean learned to wait until your first cup of caffeine to speak a word to you. It seemed you had just done that from how the pot was still hot and plenty full for everyone else. But for some reason, you were still exhausted and in need of a little cat nap.

“Sweetheart?” Dean quietly spoke out to you, making sure to keep his voice at a soft enough level so he didn’t disturb you from your slumber. Normally you were a light sleeper on a good day. He made his way over to the table and leaned over to see your peacefully sleeping face. You were out cold. His lips twitched into a small smile at how adorable you looked. Dean knew he was going to get it from what he did next, but to hell with the consequences. He never got the chance to prank you like he did with Sam.

Dean made his way over to the table with a bowl in hand and a little too roughly dropped it down, causing you to wake up abruptly and with a rush of panic. The man snickered to himself behind his coffee cup as he watched you frantically look around the kitchen wondering where the noise came from. When you realized who was to blame for your rude awakening, there was a few second delayed reaction before you rolled your eyes.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Dean greeted you, smiling from the way you tried to fix your disheveled hair and smooth down your wrinkled top. “Did I disturb you?’

“What? No.” You mumbled. You rubbed your eyes like a tired child and forced yourself to keep a yawn from escaping your mouth. Sam happened to come into the kitchen right as you dropped your arms into your lap. The younger Winchester gave you a slightly confused reaction at your groggy demeanour. Your face scrunched up in annoyance from his lingering stare. “What are you looking at, Sasquatch?”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Sam asked you out of concern, wondering if a bad nightmare kept you up most of the hours. None of you were strangers to restless nights due to a wandering mind that went to dark places you traveled to. Your entire life was a living nightmare, your past troubles liked to come and haunt you when you tried to sleep. But it seemed that wasn’t the case for you.

“On the contrary, she slept like a drunk baby. I had to pry her off me this morning.” Dean answered his brother’s question for you on his behalf. “And I caught her napping on the table.”

“Before either one of you waste your breath, I’m fine. It’s just…I’m fine.” You reassured the younger Winchester before he could bombard you with his typical worried expression and a follow up question. Despite your lack of a proper answer to explain your exhaustion, you didn’t want them to worry. They liked to over exaggerate things when it came to you. It's always been that way. Lately you didn’t want them looming over your shoulder, asking you every few minutes if you were feeling okay. Before either one of the brothers could drag out this conservation farther, you quickly changed the subject. “How’s Kevin? Has he found anything yet?”

“Jack. He’s on about four days of no sleep.” Dean said. He grabbed the box of cereal and poured himself a bowl while Sam joined the both of you at the table after fixing himself a cup of coffee. “He looks worse than you.”

“Dean, please. You know Sammy doesn’t like it when you flirt with me out in the open like this.” You replied with a sarcastic remark with a little hope the boys might think you were in decent shape after all if you were able to keep up with the petty banter. Despite how you looked. Somehow you thought you might feel worse. “What about Crowley? Do you think he might be lying about the whole ‘Metatron spell being irreversible’ thing?”

“Crowley lie?” Dean pretended to sound shock at such a possibility, causing Sam to scoff between sips of his coffee. While the situation was grim, there was a small silver lining that you might be able to use to your advantage over the demon. “I do know one thing. Next time that junkie’s jonesing for a hit of blood, we got leverage.” You were about to agree with the plan, knowing it was better than anything you had, but the words failed to come out of your mouth. Instead a rather loud yawn escaped first. “Seriously, you want a pillow?”

You rolled your eyes from your boyfriend’s concern hidden behind his behavior. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look so good, Y/N.” Sam shared his concern along with his brother’s. He’d been silent for most of the conversation since settling beside you. It didn’t take much observations to see you weren’t looking that great as of lately. He was starting to grow uneasy with the possibility that there might be something wrong with you. Something deeper than you realized. “Do you feel like you’re getting sick?”

“I’m not sick. I just—I feel like my battery can’t recharge.” You admitted to them, trying to explain how you felt to the best of your ability to them. “I don’t know. It’s probably just stress or something.”

You reached for your bowl of soggy cereal when the room fell into a moment of silence. The brothers glanced over at one another from hearing how you felt. A string of unspoken words were said between them as they processed what you explained about your current situation. You were being held together from the inside out with duct tape and angel grace. Things weren’t moving quick or as efficient as they wanted. Despite wanting to talk about it, Ezekiel remained silent on a possible reassuring update, choosing to stay silent.

You scooped up a spoonful of flakes and stretched out your head to take a bite, only stopping at the sound of a cell phone going off. Dean reached a hand inside his pocket to pull out his phone after realizing it was his own and answered the call. The person on the other line was a familiar one to the boys, you however gave the older Winchester a slightly confused expression at hearing the name he greeted.

”Who’s Sheriff Mills?” You whispered to Sam, wondering why the name sounded a bit familiar, just not enough for you to put a face to a name.

“Jody Mills? The sheriff up in Sioux Falls? We worked on a case with her years back with all the dead people rising in town?” Sam tried refreshing your memory. You thought about it for a second before shaking your head, coming up blank. He tried to resist the urge to pass his brother a look of disbelief as he continued on to try and jog your memory. “She went on a blind date with Crowley and nearly died.”

“Oh.

Jody.” You finally figured out who was on the other line, your fingers snapping at your eureka moment before the call could be put on speaker for all of you to talk to the woman to see what she was calling about.

“Uh…I got a bit of an oddball to pitch your direction.” Jody said. You leaned forward to listen to the call better as you placed your elbow on the table to cradle your head. For a second you swore you heard a faint sound of something crashing in the distance. “A small town I cover outside of Sioux Falls—only crime to speak of being the occasional cow tipping. Then last week, four people go missing.”

“All right, so, what makes you think this is our kind of weird?” Dean asked the woman.

“I’ve got a witness who says he saw someone lift an S.U.V. to nab a girl last night.” She told you the key detail that made her think of the boys and call them for some extra help.

“Huh.” You glanced over at the boys with a rather intrigued expression as the possibility of another case for you to dig a little bit deeper into to see if it might be a hunt. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s definitely our kind of weird.”

+ + +

You and the boys packed up your things and made the drive up to South Dakota to visit the sheriff. You figured it wouldn't hurt to keep yourselves busy while Kevin worked himself to the bone with the tablet. All of you decided to meet at the latest crime scene and go from there while you caught up on details. You were happy to be out of the bunker and moving around. You hoped going back on another hunt might give you a second wind. There was nothing better than a couple of missing people to get the adrenaline pumping. You just wished you knew what was making you so damn tired. You bit back another yawn when the Impala pulled into the parking lot of some diner.

You were the last one to get out when Dean parked the car next to the sheriff’s truck, still moving a bit slower than you intended. The boys greeted Jody with wide smiles and tight hugs after seeing her again. You slammed the backseat door shut and smoothed out your outfit before approaching the woman, giving her a friendly smile. However it seemed she wasn’t expecting to see you. Your smile faltered slightly at the confused and startled expression that crossed her face. It seemed the boys failed to mention about your resurrection from the dead when they called to see how she was after everything that went down earlier this year with her blind date with the King of Hell.

“What’s wrong, Jody? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dean joked with the woman, finding her reaction at seeing someone who thought was dead was rather funny. She turned her head to look over at the man, demanding an explanation. “Yeah. We felt the same way when I saw her again. It’s a long, messy story.”

“I’m

a ghost. Or a zombie.” You reassured the woman before she could try and process how you were somehow alive. “It really is a messy story. Short version of it all: not really dead, just lost my memory and thought I was someone else for two years.”

“It never is easy with you boys, huh?” Jody felt the need to ask. You could hear the humor in her voice at the trouble that seemed to follow them. “Anyway, it’s nice to see you again, Y/N. Glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too.” You agreed with the woman, smiling at how her personality peeked through her words. From what you remembered about the woman all those years ago when Bobby was still alive, you liked her. And the things the boys mentioned about her during the drive here made you think she was going to be a good friend to have on your side. “Luckily, I’m back and ready to hunt down whatever is kidnapping these people.”

“That’s the spirit. So, car was right over there, ass over teakettle.” Jody gestured over to the other side of the parking lot where the abduction took place, all that remained was the broken glass from the car that was currently being swept up by a maintenance worker. “Now, normally, if somebody would tell me that one guy lifted an S.U.V, I’d tell him to take a flying leap, but after what I’ve seen and now heard…”

“Nothing’s impossible.” You said. You opened up the case file to one of the missing people and skimmed through the information, wondering if there might be something important here to make note of while the boys went through the others. "How does this match up with other missing people?”

“Well, four abductions, strong evidence left at every scene—literally.” Jody said.

“So, the first vic was a pastor?” Sam asked, wondering if there was another more solid connection to the rest of the victims.

“Yeah. Door of his study was punched in. And the next two—an engaged couple.” Jody explained the case in better detail. You looked down at the case file Dean laid open on the trunk of the Impala and the black and white photograph attached. All of the victims appeared to be the small town folk who were innocent at first glance. Someone went out of their way to snatch them up.

“Locked bedroom window was ripped open.” Dean noted the similarly strange and destructive pattern between each kidnapping.

‘And then we have our waitress here with the topsy-turvy ride.” Jody added.

“Any other connection among them?” Sam wondered.

“Yeah. They were all members of Good Faith church here.” Jody said. You narrowed your eyes slightly while you thought of the possibility of what might be might be to blame for this if there was a religious connection to all of this. You and the boys dealt with something like this a little similar earlier in the year. “My church group back in Sioux Falls was in a tizzy over it.”

Dean hummed his response at hearing the sheriff and her new found spiritual faith. You tossed him a dirty look at his reaction to the woman’s faith to God. She had every right to believe in whatever she wanted, even if you didn’t feel the same way. Jody seemed to have picked up on the same feelings you had when she asked him what that was all about. “I didn’t peg you for churchy.”

“Yeah. You know…choking on the ladies’ room floor ‘cause of witchcraft kind of makes a higher power seem relevant.” Jody gave the man a truthful response to her sudden urge to join a church. You offered a weak smile when you saw her eyes direct over to you. “And seeing someone you were told was dead doesn’t help, either.”

“Jody, are you sure you’re ready to jump back into the fray?” Dean asked the woman in a concerned tone of voice, knowing all the things she witnessed last year and the passing of Bobby didn’t help the woman. But it seemed he underestimated her.

“This wackadoo stuff keeps coming. More I know, better armed I’ll be.” Jody gave an honest response to the man’s question. She was a sheriff, after all. If she wanted to protect her town from creatures that went bump in the night, she was going to have some practice in order to do that. You had a feeling from what Jody witnessed over the years, it was going to take a lot to scare the woman to the core.

“Okay, so, we have missing church folk and super strength.” Sam summarized what all of you knew at the moment so far about the case. He decided to take a shot in the dark, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to throw his theory out there. “Maybe angels harvesting vessels? Could be a Buddy Boyle type thing.”

“Wh—angels?” Jody repeated the creature the younger Winchester spoke out in the open like it was nothing. She looked at all of you with disbelief at how casual you were being. “You’re joking.”

“Don’t get your pants on fire.” Dean said, stopping the woman from becoming thrilled at hearing about creatures she thought only existed in the bible. “They suck.”

“You said there was a witness.” Sam said, circling back to what Jody mentioned earlier.

“Yeah, well…” Jody shrugged at the person who was waiting for you to talk to them. She didn’t seem too set on the idea they were going to be any help to you. “More or less.”

You and the boys decided to get a booth inside the restaurant while Jody rounded up the witness so you could speak to them. You sipped the coffee you ordered out of politeness and patiently waited. A few minutes later Jody arrived with your witness, a homeless man who most likely camped out near the place from the looks of him. You offered a friendly smile when the man's eyes scanned across the table to see what this was all about. Jody pulled up a chair while she ushered the man to take the seat in the booth next to you when you slid over to be close to the window. He set his coffee cup down to the table, seeming comfortable enough to give his side of the story.

“Okay, Slim.” Jody said. “My friends here want to talk to you about the missing girl.”

“Honor. Her name was Honor.” The man started off by giving the missing girl’s name, indicating that he knew her on some personal level. And it seemed he remembered her from the kind behavior given to someone like him. “Nice girl. Always left me meatloafs.”

“Slim, why don’t you tell us what you saw that night?’ Sam asked the man, hoping to get to the reason why he was here in the first place.

“I heard a big noise, got woke, and there’s somebody over there lifting a car up—like this.” Slim demonstrated what he witnessed last night, lifting up his arms the way he saw the stranger did to the car, as if the several ton machine weighed nothing.

“And did you happen to see who it was?” You asked him another question.

“I was too far. But I saw a light go off.” Slim made sure to add a small detail he thought was important enough to mention. Sam guessed it was a white light, “Blue. Blue like fire. But not. Then she was—she wasn’t there.”

“Could you think of anything else?” Dean hoped for a little bit more from the man, but Slim shook his head before he looked down to his cup of coffee. He was helpful enough for you and the boys at figuring out what you might be tracking. Dean pulled out a small wad of cash from his pocket and handed over a twenty dollar bill to Slim, hoping to give him a hot meal for his help. “Well Slim, thank you for your time.”

Slim happily pocketed the money and went on his way with the cup of coffee he came over with. You let out a quiet sigh from trying to figure out the proper direction you should be going to figure all of this out. While you didn’t have much at the moment, Slim’s description of the kidnapping might have been something for you and the boys to go off on.

“Okay. So, no white light. No angel.” Sam said, feeling confident enough to cross the creature off the list at the endless other monsters to blame.

“Has anybody talked to the victims’ families?’ Dean asked the sheriff.

“It’s next on my list.” Jody answered.

“Okay, and you said that they were all part of the same church?” Dean’s question was replied with a nod of the head from Jody. This connection, strong or weak as it might be, was the only one you had going for you as a possible hunting ground of where this monster was picking their victims. It was better than anything. Your lips stretched into a frown when Dean looked over at you. “Ready to get your worship on?”

+ + +

You and the boys decided to change out your clothes meant for posing as federal agents in favor of something more casual. The church all four of your victims seemed the usual run of the mill place of worship. You pretended to play along as the new people in town interested in joining to get a better understanding of how things worked. The woman who helped give you a tour of the place was a little too friendly and squeaky clean for your liking. She smiled in delight when you and Dean introduced yourselves as a happy couple "engaged to be engaged" with his little brother tagging along.

You roamed around the church hand in hand with Dean while Bonnie, your overly peppy tour guide, told you all the things Good Faith church offered to its members and the public. Usual things like Sunday school and charities for the homeless. You decided to have a little fun and play into the whole loving couple when Bonnie mentioned the church was perfect for weddings as well. You smiled at her when she occasionally turned to see you and Dean whispering to each other, acting like a couple of crazy kids in love with a religious ceremony in mind. It wasn't that far off from the truth. You did love Dean, and while you wanted to marry him someday, a church would be the last place you'd choose to do it.

After the tour was complete, the four of you made your way to Bonnie's office where she took a seat at her desk before gesturing for the rest of you to follow with the few chairs she had available. Sam missed out when his brother swiftly snatched the chair next to yours, causing Dean to smirk in victory while the younger man awkwardly looked around to find another seat and pulled it up next to the desk.

"We hope you enjoyed the tour." Bonnie said, the smile she greeted you with felt as if it never left her face. It was starting to make your cheeks hurt at the welcoming disposition she carried on. "Any questions before we get you all registered?"

"Yeah. Uh, look," You pretended to be apprehensive from the subject you were about to approach after she had been so kind to you. "Ms. Futchko—"

"Oh, please, dear." Bonnie quietly laughed at the formalities and corrected to you something more casual, wanting to treat this situation like you were among friends. "Bonnie will do just fine."

"We love the church. We do." You cushioned the strange questions you were about to ask her, deciding to pretend and act as if you were a concerned citizen wondering what you might be getting yourself into. "But...well, we've heard that a few members have gone missing. And while my boyfriend likes to think he's Superman," You flashed a quick smile as you reached out to squeeze Dean's hand before letting it rest there to continue milking the little performance on sharing your fake concerns. "We’ve been talking in private about it. And to be honest…that kind of scares us.”

"Let me assure you, with our increased security, Good Faith has never been safer." Bonnie told you, placing a hand to her chest to try and give all of you a better peace of mind. It seemed she was worried about her fellow churchgoer, just in the way a little too religious person thought was the best form of action. Leaving it up all to the chance God would intervene and save the day. "And those people who have gone missing, well, they are front and center in our prayers."

"What a relief." Dean let out a breath at the reassuring sounding news, making Bonnie's smile return after it disappeared shortly from the change in conversation. "Now, you must have been close to them."

"Well, we do share the A.P.U. bond." Bonnie. Dean pretended to be intrigued at hearing such a thing when he asked more about it. "Our chastity group. ‘Abstinence Purifies Us.’”

You pretended to turn your head to another direction when you scratched your nose, the easiest way to sneak an eye roll of frustration at hearing the new connection to the victims. Out of anything, you should’ve seen the virginity angle coming from where you were.

"Wow." Sam laughed and smiled, faking interest about such a group. "You mind if we sit in on that, maybe see if it's for us?"

“I’m afraid it’s members only. I'm sorry, but it can get pretty personal." Bonnie apologized for the inconvenience after offering so many things for you to join, but it seemed this one was off limits for obvious reasons. You, never being the one to miss an opportunity, jumped to it before either one of the boys could back out.

“Then count us in.” You said, lightly smacking your thigh as you grinned.

"Well, I'll be a squirrel in a skirt." Bonnie softly laughed in delight at hearing your eager enthusiasm to join a group, intidicating to her that the three of you were good Christians. You mirrored her behavior as you smiled over at Dean when he squeezed your hand a little too roughly, wondering what the hell you got yourselves into. "I'll be back in a jiff with the papers."

Bonnie wasted no time jumping up from her seat and heading to another room across the way, allowing you to watch what she was doing. She opened up a filing cabinet and shuffled around some papers to find what she was looking for. Your attention fell back to Dean when you felt him softly smack your arm.

“A chastity group?” Dean asked you, wondering if this was really how you wanted to spend your afternoon. And why you needed to drag him into your plan. You knew he would love to do anything else than listen to a bunch of horny virgins go on about temptations and sins brought on by the world.

"It's not a bad idea." Sam seemed to have agreed with your plan of action, figuring out the same possible pattern you had. If you knew who was in the group, you might have a better chance at saving others from going missing. "If all the members were in A.P.U., then maybe whatever took them is stalking virgins."

"And that Slim guy said he thought he saw fire." Dean added another little detail that went together with the virginity part. Something you've dealt with before. "So, what are you guys thinking, dragons?"

You never got the chance to finish the conversation when you saw Bonnie return back with the forms in hand. You cleared your throat and went back to acting casual as if that’s what you had been doing the entire time she was gone during the short period of time. You forced yourself to smile again when she handed you over a clipboard with a piece of paper attached.

"You can just sign here, and your purification can begin." Bonnie instructed you, letting you glance down at the piece of paper. You read the title of the paper and slowly your expression fell as to what you were about to promise. Something you lost several years ago. You bit your bottom lip when Sam mentioned the pledge, only to be taken by someone who had never had intercourse before. "It's a commitment to your virginity."

"I don't think we can really un-ring that bell." Dean thought he was funny with the innocent sounding joke, deciding to humor himself. Bonnie, however, stared at the man with a blank expression. It hadn't dawned on her just yet why you couldn't sign right away. "You know what I mean?"

A moment of silence fell across the room as Dean's smile faded away when Bonnie continued to stare at the man with eyes too wide for his personal comfort. Slowly, the wheels in her head started turning, making her realize the sins you've committed. "Oh. I see." Bonnie's gaze quickly darted away from you and Dean specifically, as if she was trying to hide her disappointment. However, like the good Chrisitan that she was, the woman offered you a chance at redemption. "Well...if you just ask for God's forgiveness for your sins and make a new vow of chastity, well, then you'll be born again as a virgin in His eyes."

"So, you just hit the 'virginity do-over' button, and all is good with the man upstairs?" Dean's question meant to come off as sincere and curious, but he had a way of coming off a little igorent at times. Sometimes he didn't understand the kind of people he was dealing with and how to adapt.

"It's not a button." Bonnie corrected the man. Her tone of voice fell into a softer, and yet slightly colder one as she defended her personal views in a way to make him better understand. "And...this isn't just a piece of paper. I mean, this is your clean slate, your chance to be a virgin until marriage. Isn't that something you want? To be pure for each other until your wedding night, the way God intended?”

You raised your brow slightly from the way Bonnie tried to guilt trip you for doing something thought of as a sin. Premarital sex was the least horrible thing someone could do. However, just to get yourself into this damn group, you decided to pretend and feel remorseful for a second. You looked over to Dean, the both of you nodding your head and shared matching smiles. "Well, you had me at 'clean slate.' Right, sweetheart?" Dean asked you, clicking his pen to be the first one to sign. "Let's do this."

You and the boys signed your names on the pledge and handed over the clipboards back to Bonnie's awaiting hands. She glanced down at the names you scribbled down and smiled in delight. "Congratulations Sam and Dean Winchester, and Y/N Y/L/N. You are all virgins."

You found yourself letting out a quiet laugh at hearing something you hadn't heard in a while. Sam faked his enthusiasm while Dean took it a smidge too far, grinning a little too wide and seeming excited at the news. At least making a show out of it for Bonnie. You knew one thing for certain: this was going to be one interesting afternoon.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha // @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink // @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans // @icantfindacreativeurl // @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat // @romanovanoffsstuff // @underthestarrsss // @lady-elena-adeline

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boys-from-santacarla · 3 years ago

Note

can I request a David X Michael smut? if you're not comfortable then I totally understand :)

Notes: Ok, so first off: thank you so much for your request🤍. Second: this is my very first time writing a one shot about these boys, so I came up with this because I'm sure David's kink is to watch Michael hunt, so I tried my best. I don't know if this is what you were expecting, but I really really hope you like it 🤞🏻❤️. I accept feedback, writing advices, constructive criticism 😂, and more comments you want to let me know! I'm sorry you had to wait so much, btw, but I'm new on editing long posts on Tumblr.

Word Count: 1461

Warnings: NSFW, cursing, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, blowjob, handjobs, and basically just gay vampires.

Fast Learner (David x Michael)

They were on their way back to the cave. It had been four months since his turning, so by now the things coming with being a vampire were already accepted by Michael. But the midnight killings were still hard to get used to.

"You were good tonight, Michael." David commented interrupting his moral dilemma and sliding his arm over his shoulders. He tried to smile kindly and accepted the embrace.

"He says that 'cause he wants to get in your pants!" Paul joked from behind.

Everyone laughed and David gave him the finger, only increasing the laughs from the others.

"But he's right, Mike." Dwayne's deep voice added "You were better this time." Michael only nodded.

They quickly walked down the stairs and everyone went separate ways to get ready to catch some rest. Mike had some plans to get clean and prepare to get back home, but before he could totally get away from David's grasp, the blonde applied more force to keep him in place.

"Where you think you're going?" He asked amused.

"The sun's getting out and I still need to go home." He reminded him in an obvious tone. It was hard to maintain his normal life and keep up with his nocturnal schedule.

David's eyebrows raised up "Don't you think you'll need to look more... Normal?" He said grinning referring to his blood-soaked clothes. "Mom Emerson never told you to get clean after going out to play?" He laughed a little.

Mike decided to play clown too "So that's the only reason I'll need to delay my fly back? Get decent to go out?" He snapped back and bit his lip watching the other's mouth. David's eyes sparkled in delight. Straight to the point was his thing. So It didn't took more than three seconds to place Michael between his cold body and the wall with his hungry lips ravishing him.

He kept his fists on Michael's shirt, grinding his hips against the other boy to give his cock some needed friction.

"You really did good out there tonight. Making those pricks scream..." He whispered, lightly brushing the other's lips with his words. He stucked his tongue out and marked a wet path from jaw to cheekbone, then made a trail to the lobe and bit it. "Gave me a memorable show". He would never admit it out loud, but seeing Michael participate so vividly in their huntings always turned him on.

"I think I've learned from the best." Whispered the brunette while sliding his hands from David's waist to his ass. Then he took possession of the exposed neck with his teeth and tried to place a mark. David moaned and took hold of Michael's clothed cock to control his body and switch places. Now with him in between the wall and Mike, their kissing got rapidly messy, with both nibbling and sucking any exposed area. And Michael swore if he wasn't his new self, he would now be hot all over.

"But still you make a mess of yourself" David separated his mouth from the collarboone in mid attack and yanked the blood stained shirt. Michael knew he was right; it was normal to get back from their hunting with some blood on them, but not this much. So he put some inches of separation between them to lift his shirt and tossed it aside.

"Better this way?" He asked smirking.

"Yeah." David breathed taking in sight the defined pecs and strong abdomen. Wasting no more time he took hold of Michael's right hand and pulled it to his bulge. "Your technique at sucking still needs improvement tho."

"And you're volunteering to let me practice?" Mike replied almost in awe.

"Always"

Michael have him one last hot kiss, roughly biting his mate's lower lip at the end, and began his way down. His cold hands roamed David's belly underneath his shirt, sensually caressing his abdomen. The only thing the newly turned vampire hated about giving David head was the struggle with so many layers of clothes.

"Why don't you ever take this fucking coat off anyway? You're too cold?" Michael grumbled half joking, never taking his hands off.

"You're testing your luck, you know that?" If he was someone else, he would definitely be far gone by now, David thought.

But at least he was doing a great job.

Settling on his knees, he got to his target. He pressed his face to the already fat bulge and wetly kissed the thick layer of fabric. Then he slowly unzipped it and took it out of its confines, earning a low moan and two hands starting to stroke his soft curls.

Before going any further he looked up and saw David's head leaned on the wall with his eyes half closed. He grinned in contentment, feeling a mix of amusement, excitement and happiness realizing the power he had over this creature in vulnerable moments like this.

He took in one hand the cock before him and David inahled a sharp breath when it was softly squeezed at the base. This was followed by a leisure lick from the bottom to the top. As if savouring it for the first time, Michael gave it a couple of more tastes to then take the crown in his mouth, smacking his lips when he pull it out.

"Fuck, Michael" David breathed.

"That can come later" Mike answered and resumed his work putting the crown in his mouth again, this time giving it shelter a few more seconds before taking it deeper in his mouth. To cover the part left behind he moved his hand to massage it in rhythm with his mouth, and with the other hand he fondle his balls to gently roll and weigh them.

David kept moaning in appreciation, putting some pressure on Mike's skull and tugging at some strands to keep control of the pace, bobbing the head at his pleasure.

Without any more control in himself, David cradled the head with his palms pressing both cheeks and began to frantically fuck Michael's mouth.

"Shit. I love you can handle this" he praised while moving his thump to open more the wet cavity. His panting went wild as well as his movements, causing Michael to give up and just relax his throat to take as much as David gave him.

"Michael you keep it like that and I'm coming soon." David said and then stopped his fucking. He whined and pulled out dripping cock. "Get up" he ordered. Michael obligued and tried to gain some balance putting his hands on David's waist.

"You got big hands, babe." David mentioned "Why don't you work them on us." He commanded unbuckling Michael's jeans while Mike himself spitted on his palm to add slickness. When Michael's dick sprung free, he brought their hardnesses together. The touch made them both gasp, but in search for more Mike took both cocks more firmly in his right hand and changed his angle a bit to fit them correctly in the grasp.

Both moaned feeling their swelled dicks move together, and David said, controlling his tone to not sound pleading "Move."

And Michael began the strokes. At first he struggled to keep both cocks in his hand, so he adjusted his fingers to handle them better and began to catch velocity.

Michael started to feel dizzy with pleasure. With the adrenaline from the hunting still flowing through his veins, the sexual act felt even more powerful. So he put his head on David shoulders and moaned louder. "Damnit." He squeezed harder on their cocks.

"Yes. Yes. Just like that, babe." David panted in his ear. He then took hold of his neck with one hand and licked the other to lubricate it before moving it down to help make a better hold on themselves. They both began trusting in matched tempo, seeking their mutual release. They keep thrusting as brutally as they could.

Moments past before Michael whined, signaling his closeness "Oh, god. God, Im gonna come! I'm gonna-" he groaned and lost control of himself, spurting his load, getting both their hands and bellies sticky. The excitement making his body loose made his fangs come out, biting David's shoulder while spasming.

With Michael's hand reflexing involuntarily, and David's hand milking the last of him with hard strokes, David came too, sighing satisfied with relief. After a few recovering moments he noticed Michael's hand had fallen, breaking the contact on the now resting organs, but still felt the fangs cutting through his rough skin. Albeit not hurt, he protested the injury trying to catch his lover's attention clearing his throat. When Michael didn't respond, he tried again taking a deep breath and speaking "I still need to teach you to control those." He then smiled

Michael chuckled.

#the lost boys oneshot #the lost boys imagine #the lost boys michael x david #michael emerson #michael the lost boys #david the lost boys #gays being vamps #my writings

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kitaychan · 3 years ago

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We need to talk

Summary: After a breakup, Ivan realizes his life was not as fullfilling as he had thought. Reaching out to old friends might prove to be a slow task with interesting outcomes.

Chapter preview: Yao sighed, peering over to the kitchen, he gasped and hurried inside. “How did you set my teapot on fire?”

Ivan could hear Arthur’s alarmed voice and the water tap running. “I don’t know.”

He approached the kitchen, the smell of smoke was stronger and he found Arthur frowning alongside Yao inspecting the blackened teapot.

The brown haired man huffed, leaving the teapot on the sink. “Stop burning things, Alfred is not around, so you can quit gaining his attention.”

“It was an accident and I asked for help, neither of you seemed to notice, are you deaf?”

“You are banned from my kitchen, now. Go and commit arson on your boyfriend’s house, he can manage the fires quickly.”

Ivan let out a laugh. “I am totally going to tell Alfred about this.”

Scrolling down memes on his phone, Ivan glanced at the hour, he had spent at least half an hour just looking at his phone, on the back of his head, deep inside, he knew that he was delaying the inevitable.

He typed out a simple ‘hello’ before erasing it, why was it so hard to start a conversation? Alfred would just send him a random picture and they would talk about it or start a string of random pictures, but now, Ivan found it difficult to send a simple greeting to Yao. What should he say? What if he was busy?

He managed to gather enough words to form a coherent greeting alongside the question of ‘What are you up to?’

Dread invaded him instantly after he sent it. Perhaps that was too vague, or too informal. He sighed, setting the phone aside, it was done and he couldn’t take the message back, that was better, he’d be overthinking the whole day anyways.

This day, he was less worried about the nonexistent alarm that set off in his mind in the mornings, and more focused on the little pang of guilt that told him that he was wasting his time.

He took a breath, reminding himself that he was on vacation, he had nothing to worry about besides his cat and trying not to be a burden to Katya, whom unlike him, had left earlier to give off her classes.

He played for a while with his cat, the entertainment was short as Boris decided it was better to lie on his side instead of hunting the toy, Ivan poked a bit at the fluffy cat to make him move again but it didn’t budge, wiggling its tail.

The day passed rather slowly, Ivan had tried not to go out, not wanting to spend the time by himself in the park again, though the prospect of finding Yao again crossed his mind, he figured the man would be working just as Katya was.

Of course he was, that was probably why he couldn’t answer. Ivan sighed, why did he have to keep worrying about it? this was what he hated about being alone, his thoughts would be nagging at him, he had to find something to do or he would be anxious about a message the whole day.

He sighed, focusing on the lonely plant by the window, he searched around the house, finding some paints. It was time to stop delaying his task and deliver that child’s project.

The base was fairly easy if he remembered well, the background was mostly blue with some clouds around. What worried him was the boat, as he wasn’t used to painting at all, and well, he’d never made a decent boat.

He left the pot aside so the blue paint could dry, perhaps he could ask for help with it later.

Ivan glanced at the clock again, time had passed and Katya would probably arrive soon but he couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed at the passiveness of his day.

His phone buzzed, taking him out of his thoughts. The short message displayed made him pause.

“Hi, sorry, I forgot my phone, I’ve just headed back from work. Do you want to come to my house?”

Ivan had to double check his phone.Firstly, to make sure that it was in fact a message coming from Yao, and secondly, to process the question.

Another message appeared.

“Are you busy?”

Ivan smiled, it’s not like he had anything better to do and at this point he’d be delighted to busy himself with anything.

Feeling less awkward he replied. “Not really, I was trying to paint the boat on the flower pot but I am failing at it. Anyway, yeah it’d be nice to talk”

“In that case, bring it with you, I’ll help. Let’s meet at the park, I have to see Arthur there.”

Ivan pondered for a moment giving out an affirmative reply, he wrote a note to Katya so she wouldn’t worry, grabbed a coat, the flower pot and left.

Once in the park, he went to buy some pastries, it would be mean to present himself empty handed, right? He even got another bottle of wine, to replace the one from yesterday. The cashier handed him everything on a paper bag that he carried quite difficulty.

He sat outside on the same bench, it was indeed a nice place. He could see Arthur and Yao approaching, both of them were wrapped with scarves and heavy coats, the latter was holding two cups of hot coffee.

Yao handed him one of the cups. “I’m so sorry, How long have you been waiting?”

Ivan shrugged, taking the beverage. “Not much.”

“For real, you can be as petty as you want, it was Arthur’s fault that we were held back.”

Arthur, groaned, taking a sip of his own drink. “I only said that they didn’t know how to make iced tea, I thought it was obvious.”

“The barista didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“If they want to make iced tea, they have to make tea, let it cool and add the ice. Not use that horrible mix with water.” The Englishman frowned, observing his drink. “At least they make good coffee.”

“Not really.” Yao let off a huff, ushering them to follow. “Anyway, let’s go upstairs, it is freezing down here. Aren’t you cold, Ivan?”

“I’m a bit used to it, it’s more chilly where I live.” Ivan paused, the englishman seemed to notice his hesitation, taking the paper bag and allowing him to finish his coffee and carry the plant.

Ivan walked with them, taking short steps. They questioned him about the city, about his work, his coworkers, Ivan had to suppress his frown at the last topic.

Yao’s apartment was warm, Arthur stepped in casually, making a beeline to the table while Yao took the flower pot from him so he could take off his coat.

Ivan fumbled a bit with his scarf, leaving it on and approaching the table. There were a few stocks of papers and books scattered on it.

Yao laughed nervously. “Sorry for the mess, I was revising some exams last night.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, setting the bag on the table, the Englishman raised an eyebrow and stared at him. “Yao, did you cook Francis’ recipe yesterday?”

The brown haired man nodded, placing the plant on the table. "Yeah, it took me some time and I had to buy wine because he would not leave me alone until I did."

"You let the frog get away with his quirks, he drinks wine with everything. I hope the dish was worth the expensive wine."

"It totally was." Ivan said, regretting his words as Arthur's expression changed into amusement.

Yao retrieved the books from the table, shaking his head. "Stop staring like that, we met at the store and I invited him."

"Sure… that's why you still have exams to grade, right?" The Englishman taunted, holding out one of the papers.

Yao hummed, fumbling with the papers. “You have delayed exams too.”

"True but why did he bring wine?” Arthur smiled, turning his stare at Ivan. “Are you following Francis’ advice or something?"

Ivan tensed a bit, at this point everything he'd say would be used by Arthur to tease them. “It is polite to bring a present when you visit someone’s house.”

“How dare you speak to me about proper manners,” Arthur chuckled, collecting papers from the table. "Yao has a good collection of books and I need to complain about it, you will help me out, right?"

"Not my fault that you burnt yours to get a date." Yao retorted, laying some brushes and paints on the table and taking a seat beside Ivan.

Arthur gasped. "If you keep that cocky grin on your face, I will kick you out."

Ivan watched in awe as Yao took a pencil, tracing swiftly the sketch of a small boat on the flower pot. "This is my house, you can't kick me out. What books do you need?"

The Englishman stood up, observing the books displayed on the shelf. He turned around with a serious expression on his face “Ivan, have you read ´War and peace’?”

“Uh not really, I have a copy laying around but I don’t think I ever finished it.” Ivan shrugged, toying with a brush.

“What keeps you from reading it? Is it the french parts of it?”

“I am actually fluent in french so...” Ivan saw how Arthur’s smile changed into a grimace, had he said something wrong? He quickly added. “I just hadn’t taken the time to actually read it.”

Arthur grabbed a couple of books, taking a seat. “I remember you once delivered a paper about The great Gatsby, it was very interesting though quite weak at the end.”

Ivan glanced at Yao in an attempt to ask for help but the grin the brown haired man held on his face told him that he wouldn’t get any. He laughed nervously. “I barely remember what I ate for breakfast, I don’t think I will recall something I wrote on highschool.”

Yao’s laughter filled the room, Ivan couldn’t help but stare at him, it was not rare to see the chinese smile, but it was certainly pleasant to hear his laugh, he found himself laughing too, Arthur joining as well.

They shared a glass of wine and devoured the pastries, Ivan painted slowly the small boat and answered more of Arthur’s questions, Yao praised his patience every now and then until Arthur left him alone in order to make some tea.

Ivan watched closely as Yao traced details on the little boat skillfully, silence enveloped them as he finished.

Turning back, he could hear Arthur pacing around in the kitchen but he could not see him.

He took a long breath before leaning over the table, just a bit, in order to gain Yao’s attention, the brown haired man set aside the brush, arching an eyebrow.

“When you invited me over, I didn’t think it would end up like this.” Ivan admitted, smiling sheepishly.

Yao tilted his head, a small smirk gracing his face. “Why?”

Ivan fidgeted with his scarf, he didn’t know how he was able to hold his gaze, he felt his face almost burning with embarrassment but he had already dug his grave so he might as well just die on it already, he reached out to take Yao’s hand, and lowered his voice. “Well… for starters, I didn’t think that Arthur would be acompaining us.”

Ivan considered the idea of not coming back to the town when Yao retreated his hand and chuckled, this was like highschool all over again but perhaps ten times worse because he had hoped to be on the right track just once, and now, he dreaded his sole existence.

No matter how much he tried to shrink on himself, to hide under his scarf, he would not disappear from the situation.

His train of thought was stopped or more accurately, smacked back to reality by a soft hand caressing his cheek. He could barely register Yao’s words. “You are fun to tease.”

Ivan nodded slowly, he was doomed, wasn’t he? He wanted nothing but melt on this man’s hands, he knew he was blushing, but this time, he didn’t mind it.

He gathered enough courage to lean forward, barely brushing his lips with the other, Yao’s hand moved to the back of his head, pushing him lightly so their lips met.

“Bloody hell!”

They both flinched back, Ivan had forgotten about Arthur’s existence, a sense of self awareness flared up in him but it didn’t manage to overcome the annoyance he felt. The Englishman was nowhere to be seen.

Yao sighed, peering over to the kitchen, he gasped and hurried inside. “How did you set my teapot on fire?”

Ivan could hear Arthur’s alarmed voice and the water tap running. “I don’t know.”

He approached the kitchen, the smell of smoke was stronger and he found Arthur frowning alongside Yao inspecting the blackened teapot.

The brown haired man huffed, leaving the teapot on the sink. “Stop burning things, Alfred is not around so you can quit gaining his attention.”

“It was an accident and I asked for help, neither of you seemed to notice, are you deaf?”

“You are banned from my kitchen, now. Go and commit arson on your boyfriend’s house, he can manage the fires quickly.”

Ivan let out a laugh. “I am totally going to tell Alfred about this.”

Arthur groaned. “From everyone you could have chosen to embarrass me in front of, it has to be with the one person Alfred has a direct line with, you are the best of friends, Yao.”

Sending pictures of a burnt teapot to Alfred wasn’t the way Ivan thought his night would end but he was delighted by today’s happenings.

Not only could he get another kiss from Yao before leaving, he had asked him out on an actual date, much to the Englishman's amusement, the remarks the latter made after they left Yao’s house weren’t embarrassing anymore.

Ivan had entered a state of sheepish acceptance, if he had to take on Arthur’s teasing in order to date Yao, then so be it.

#hetalia fanfiction #hws russia #hws china #hws england #rochu #hws rochu #my writing #hetalia

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its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years ago

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Omg omg omg i love ur writing its just amazinngg. I was wondering like maybe a continuation of ur story where chrollo's s/o gets preggo. But its like 10 yrs later n chrollo comes to visit n he sees his kid and he looks EXACTLY like him. Even better if his ex s/o is dating someone else who helped raise the kid and the kid calls them dad n chrollo gets jealous. Its totally cool if u dont wanna do it, i still love u xx

Wooooo what a doozy 😂😂 sure baby I gotchu~ (I know I already used this gif before but the absolute despair fits it kind of)

10 years. It had been 10 years since he'd seen you. He knew when you were having your child, Adeline. He knew he couldn't make it to the hospital. He was in a different country at the time, on a job he had planned for a while. He couldn't go out of his way to see you either. Too much was going on, what with Hisoka coming back to life after their fight, killing his companions, and then hunting him. Chrollo had no time to see you and it broke him. He was desperate to see you, and now, he had the chance.

The troupe had gone out in their own jobs for the month and he was left alone to his own business, able to move freely in schedule to see you. He'd been ready to meet Adeline forever, honestly afraid of what she'd think of him. What had you told her? What stories had you come up with to keep him safe, if you even bothered to do so? Would he show up and his own daughter have hatred for him? Would she shut him out immediately? He never thought this day would come, that these thoughts would ever bother him, but now, they did.

He didn't know if he was ready.

The drive there was a long one, you had agreed to meet up with him at your new house a few towns away since that was what Chrollo thought was safest for you. Away from him. Away from everyone. Surprisingly, no traffic had delayed him, and for that he was born grateful and resentful. He didn't know what he'd even say to you, or to Adeline.

"Turn left, your destination will be on the right." the mechanical voice of the GPS lulled him out of his thoughts, forcing him back into reality. He flicked on his turn signal, turning left and onto your street. Your house was the very first one in the right.

He pulled into the driveway, parking in it and getting out. He tried to look decent, sporting his usual jeans and a t shirt he found in a store somewhere off in town. His breathing sped up and his heart raced. He was about to see you again. His heart managed to swell, though it didn't show on his face.

He rapped at the door and almost immediately, his world shattered. A tall man with blonde curly locks and oceanic blue eyes stared back at him, his chest puffed out for dominance. Chrollo wasn't afraid of him, though the sight filled him with agony. You'd found another.

He figured this would happen. No, he knew this would happen. However ready he thought he'd be though, he was still unprepared.

"Hey, you Chrollo?" the man asked, his voice deep, resonating in his chest.

"I am." Chrollo spoke with a confidence that threw the man off. His eyes widened.

"Y/N! Your ex is here!" the guy boomed down the living room. Your small figure came rushing forward, but slowed once you were in sight of the new guy. Your eyes fell onto Chrollo. His eyes met yours. You were just as gorgeous as he'd left you. Sparkling in jewels and finery. The necklace he stole for your 21st birthday still dangling around your neck.

"Hello, nice to see you again..." you sounded so small. Delicate. Chrollo's hands fell into his pockets, smiling at you.

"Same to you." he smiled with his whole face. He missed you. Your arms crossed over your chest to soothe yourself from something. Your new boyfriend didn't leave the door.

"Honey you can move..." you spoke up to him. He didn't take his eyes off of Chrollo, wary of something.

"Yeah. Sorry about that..." he faked an apology for your sake, turning to the dining room. Chrollo couldn't take his eyes off of you. He couldn't help it. You were just so beautiful, standing before him like you were before. Memories of you leaving, screaming at him not to make you go, flooded his brain. They pained him. He could have kept you. He could have still been with you. There was too much to think about now, too much to remember. You were here. In front of him.

You returned his smiled kindly.

"Come in, we're just watching some shows and Dan is cooking dinner." you offered, moving to the side so Chrollo could enter. He bowed in kind, a gesture he hadn't done in a while. His foot steps felt unsteady as he entered your home, his breathing even more labored. This Dan guy was seen in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. Thumping could be heard upstairs. Adeline must of been running around.

"Can I see her?" he asked finally. You stopped in your tracks of shutting the door. You looked at him.

"Uh... Yeah. Yeah you can..."

"Does she know who I am?"

You didn't answer. He suspected that the answer was no. His heart sank a little again. He had hoped that you would have at least tips the little girl who her real father was.

"Adeline! Come see Chrollo!" you yelled up the stairs, crossing your arms again to soothe yourself. More footsteps thundered down the stairs as a chubby young girl huffed her way down. When Chrollo laid eyes on her, he swelled. She looked just like him.

Black hair pulled back into a ponytail, a small, pale face with full lips and a structured nose. And the eyes. Gunpowder grey, just like his. Adeline stared back at him.

"Hello Mr. Chrollo!" she waved at him. He raised his hand in greeting.

"Hello Adeline." he replied, keeping his voice low to stray from cracking. The little girl smiled up at him, running over to Dan in the kitchen.

"Daddy, Chrollo is here!" she yelped excitedly, jumping around him.

"I know Adeline, why don't you go sure with your mother for a while." Dan replied harshly, Adeline recoiling slightly. The word "daddy" coming out of her mouth, directed at a man that was not in fact her father. It hurt. You must have noticed it, because a hand rested on his shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry, I do plan to tell her. She's just so young right now. I didn't want to confuse her." you admitted. Chrollo understood, but that didn't dull the pain any less when Adeline came rushing back over to him, holding her arms out.

"I know this is awkward and that we just met, but can I have a hug Mr. Chrollo?" she asked, raising her arms a little. Dan stopped slicing whatever he was cutting and set his knife down.

"Adeline, what did I tell you-"

"She's fine." you asserted yourself quickly, shaking lightly in your finger tips. The tone of the room shifted, thought Adeline didn't seem to take notice. Her hands closed and opened adorably. Chrollo smiled.

"Sure sweetheart." He kneeled down and opened his arms. Adeline gasped excitedly and jumped onto him. Chrollo huffed at her weight. What were you feeding her? He laughed nonetheless, squeezing Adeline tightly but not too hard to hurt her.

Dan seemed enraged by this, bothered that this new man was in his house, hugging his daughter. This in and of itself prided Chrollo with the fact that Adeline looked just like him. This big grey eyes happy as could be.

(I had no idea how to end this and when it posted itself it literally wasn't even finished so I added the last few sentences, anyway, hope you enjoy~

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #cute #fluff #hxh #hunter x hunter #angst?#writing #my work

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queentargary3n · 4 years ago

Text

unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M FF.net AO3

Chapter 7

“So, where are we going?” She whispered on his ear, getting on the back of his Harley, holding her ball gown up her thighs, arms wrapped around his middle, before she pressed a mischievous kiss on his cheek.

“Party’s over, I’m going home” He responded, with a hint of seriousness in his tone she hadn’t heard in quite some time.

“I’m coming with!” she chirped, then continued on a mocked seductive voice, “you know what they say about graduation”

He scoffed at her implication, “We’ve already had sex before, Sakura” He explained, trying to rid himself of any feelings she was bringing up in him, to get out of going home with her, to remember his plans. Knowing if he waited longer, she’d end up changing his mind and making him stay. That just wouldn’t do.

“Yes, but it’s expected! we might have lost our virginities a loooong long time ago” She explained between drunken giggles, taking another sip of the small flask of alcohol they sneaked into their graduation party. “Still, expected it is, and we shall not disappoint! Come on, my parents are not expecting me tonight”

“Fine, let’s go” He relented. He would have to do this the hard way.

She didn’t even question him when he took roads that lead nowhere near his home or hers, assuming, since it was a special night, they were heading to a hotel or something. But when he pulled over the side of the empty highway, and held her hand into his shaky one, she finally wondered, “Sasuke-kun… what’s going on?”

“I’m leaving” He said sternly.

“Where… why?” She asked, shivering when the cold wind caressed her bare shoulders.

He took off the blazer she had forced him to wear to the party over his jeans and t-shirt, since he’d refused to wear a tux, and wrapped it around her, taking one last selfish moment to kiss her forehead, before getting back on his bike and revving it up to speed away.

“Sasuke-kun wait! please don’t leave…” She screamed behind him. Watching as the lights of his motorcycle faded in the distance, her tears felt cold against her face, clouding her vision from the last glance he gave to her. To the beautiful girl, in a bright shinny gown, whose heart he’d just broken.

She felt lost, scared, and alone in the highway that promised nothing more than a long way home, with no one to come back to her. She didn’t know how much time it passed before she started making her way back, nor did she know how long she walked before she reached the corner of their street, where Sasuke’s now abandoned house stood, dark and imposing as the boy himself.

It was then, as she looked into the former Uchiha household that her sadness turned to anger. The numbness that masked the pain she felt from her bleeding blisters, started to fade away. She took off her heels in anger and threw them at the front facing window of his house.

The sound of shattering glass was so loud, it echoed in her ears even as she woke up from her vivid nightmare. She almost thought someone had broken into her apartment as the sound felt so real, the dream so convincing she actually felt as if she was walked all those hours to reach her home.

Her ability to remember details and facts always surprised other people. Sakura always had a knack for memorizing. But this didn’t feel like remembering, this dream felt as if she was reliving one of the most traumatic events of her life, she thought it must be some kind of karmic punishment.

She was fully awake then, much too early for her liking on that Saturday morning, considering the sun wasn’t even up by then, still she was unable, as much a she tried, to go back to sleep, she thought she might as well take advantage of the early start, thinking of the mountain of documents she had procrastinated in completing during the week, on account of all the drama she had to deal with her new employer.

She also remembered she had pending work in the case Naruto had assigned her to. After her glorious day at court, she received a ridiculous settlement offer for her client, so pathetic it must’ve definably be a delay tactic by prosecutors office, she denied it without consulting either Sasuke or the defendant, still she had to draft a counter proposal, which she had also postponed.

So, she decided to take a run before that, to get rid of the jitters that had her practically bouncing up and down. She put on her sneakers and took off as fast as she could, trying to leave her anxieties behind with every step. She continued until she felt breathless, and her lungs ached in the wake of that cold morning, she noticed was closer to the building where the firm was located than to her apartment, by that point she decided it made no sense to go back, if the documents she needed were only a few miles away.

She was covered in sweat by the time she reached the office building, her pink tresses sticking uncomfortably to her neck, she had really pushed herself this time, her legs felt unpleasantly numb, lungs practically burning, she wondered how unprofessional it would be if someone were to see her like that.

Ino had explained to her that the office was mostly empty during the weekends, with the exception of the whichever assistant was scheduled to keep watch. So, she pushed the thought of her disheveled appearance out of her mind, it’s still so early and I’ll definitely just be in and out in a flash, she thought.

The offices were open, but every light was off, and no one was at the front desk, since the clocks were barely hitting 6:30am she paid no mind to it. Turning all the lights on as she stepped in, she made a mental note to bring in some flowers and plants to brighten her office up a little, the minimalistic style was much too sterile for her liking.

She threw herself into her pending work, typing almost furiously a much more decent amount for the settlement of her proposal, being a doctor herself, she knew reputation was very important for a surgeon, so she factored in a public apology from the hospital board to Dr. Senju. She was in the zone, although having to wear business attire and heels every day instead of comfortable shoes and scrubs was annoying, she couldn’t deny the fact that negotiations made being an attorney almost as exciting as performing surgery.

Her flow was interrupted by the sudden appearance of red hair behind her laptop, one hand at her hip, the other one holding her expensive purse, Karin stood right in front of her desk, “What are YOU doing here?” she asked. The way she enunciated YOU brought only one word to Sakura’s head. Vicious.

“Sorry Uchiha-san” Sakura said. “I just had some work to do, I didn’t think anyone was in, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“You don’t scare me” Karin replied, although pleased at how Sakura addressed her by her husband’s last name, she couldn’t help when her insecurities towards the pinkette bubbled up inside of her.

It was Karin’s turn to man the office, and although she usually didn’t, she decided to show up that weekend. She woke up before Sasuke did, her actions keeping her up during the night. She couldn’t bear to look at him, knowing that without an actual reason, she had rat him out and without having anywhere else to go at that time, she showed up at the office on whim. She didn’t expect to see Sakura already at the office, typing away with self-satisfied smile on her face.

“Ah… that’s not what I meant…” Sakura said, a drop of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Whatever just turn off the lights before you leave” Karin answered before she continued, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, no worries, say hi to Sasuke for me” Sakura told her.

That riled her up. That seemingly innocent comment hit her like a slap to the face, she knew what she was doing, Karin was sure. She was going to destroy everything she had work to build with Sasuke Did she even know what she was doing to her and her husband? She pursed her lips and turned to walked away in anger, the clacking of her heels loud in the empty space.

It occurred to Karin then, that she hadn’t had the opportunity to give Sakura the keys to the office. Of course, for security, the entrance to the practice was controlled by card access with their badges. But if the doors were to be locked from the outside… well.

She only hoped that would send Sakura the message, I know what you’re doing, stay away from my husband or I’ll make your life a living hell. She locked the front glass gate that stood between the lobby and the elevator, where the badge reader was located. Of course, she could still take the back stairs and get out of the building, but with it being a weekend the lights of the staircase would be off, lite only by the red glow of the emergency exit signs. The thought of a scared Pinkette, running down 20 flights of stairs in the dark amused her, reminiscent of the days she worked for Orochimaru. Terrifying people to do one’s bidding was a habit she never quite got rid of.

Sakura continued her work, trying to get the image of Karin practically storming off on her. Was it something I said? She wondered. Once she completed the official counteroffer, she emailed it to Sasuke, Naruto, and Dr. Senju, along with the original proposal, explaining in the body of the email, how insulting the offer was, and that she had, of course, rejected it a soon as it came her way, listing in detail why it was unacceptable in the first place. She only hoped, Sasuke and Naruto wouldn’t be upset at her taking the initiative, being a newly hired employee of the firm.

She then immersed herself into the documents that were required of her, as a newly hired attorney, thousands of pages of contracts, and confidentiality agreements, non-compete clauses that she had to read carefully and sign, and date, and initial, over and over again. Sakura continued up to the point that when raising her eyes, she saw lines of letters ingrained into her sight. The sunset disconcerted her, how many hours had she actually spent reading boring contracts if she arrived even before the sun had risen in the first place? This was supposed to be an in and out thing!

She saved her documents and shut down her computer, finally making her way home from her long and unexpected work hours. She dreaded the fact that she would have to walk back all the way to her apartment, deciding instead to call for a ride. She patted her body in search for her phone, freaking out for a millisecond before she remembered where it was, at home in the purse she failed to grab before going for a run. She sighed at her own forgetfulness, how she could memorize complete volumes of law and medical books but forget to do simple things like bringing her phone with her and locking doors was beyond her.

Turning off the lights, Sakura walked over to the elevator and tried to push open the glass panel doors that separated it from the lobby. It wouldn’t bulge. What’s going on?!

She walked over to the emergency exit to the stairs, resenting the additional physical activity on her already exhausted body. She tried to push the door open, and again it didn’t move. What the actual FUCK! Emergency exits should never be bloqued!! She thought. What am I going to do? Great day to forget you phone Sakura.

Sasuke woke up to a killer hangover, lips parched painfully, eyes refusing to adjust to the sunlight, his usual migraine amplified to the thousandth. He stood up from the living room couch where he had passed out the night before, his neck was sore from having slept in a weird position, as nice as the black leather couch was, an expensive purchase made by Karin, it didn’t actually made a comfortable seat, let alone makeshift bed.

He marched to the kitchen, dragging his bare feet on the cherrywood floors, and drank as much water as he could stomach to soothe his hangover thirst. The apartment seemed eerily quiet. Although the flat was large enough for both of them to do their respective activities without interrupting the other’s, he always managed to catch some kind of noise from his wife, be it the tv from her bedroom, or the inessive buzzing from her always incoming text messages and calls, still the apartment was completely silent, which meant she was not home.

Downing a couple aspirin for his headache and grabbing pajamas and fresh sheets from the linen closet, he went into his home office and laid down on the couch in there, much softer and comfortable than the living room’s, but still not a bed. He thought it was about time he purchased a bed for himself, given they almost never sleep in the same one, even less willing now that he found out about her bedroom activities. He always thought it disrespectful, buying a second bed when his wife expected him on the same room, but he figured it didn’t matter much now.

He looked up at the ceiling, trying and failing to close his eyes and go back to sleep. He remembered the night before with the kind of accuracy he could expect from how drunk he was. Still, a couple of things stood up, the soft touch of Sakura’s fingers coating his cheek with ointment, the shy look in her eyes as she very unexpectedly apologized, her so very beautiful laugh when he, much to his own sober embarrassment, requested her to call him ‘Sasuke-kun’.

She made him feel as if the last 10 years hadn’t happened, like no time had passed and they were just two teenagers together. The feeling of a thousand birds in his stomach, brought by thinking of her, prevented him from relaxing and going to sleep like he initially wanted.

So, he undressed again, putting on a pair of jeans and t-shirt and made plans for his day, go out and get something to eat, call his trainer and get some much needed time at the gym, and then if he had the energy for it, get some work done. He grabbed his training bag and headed out from the apartment. The sun at its highest point indicated that he had sleep past noon, despite of how tired he actually felt.

By the time he was done training, martial arts being the only thing that ever truly relaxed him, he sat in the parking smoking a cigarette, the clock marking already 7 pm, and for the first time in the day looked over at his phone. Lot’s text messages from Naruto, as he expected, mostly containing things like pictures from his baby boy doing something cute, an email from Sakura titled settlement offer and counteroffer and missed call from the office.

She must have some problem with the proposal and finally decided to get help… he thought. It wouldn’t hurt to go into the office now and catch up with the case.

He didn’t like to be out of the loop, especially considering how public this case already was. He drove to the building, expecting to find it dark and empty as it usually was during the weekends.

He nodded in greeting to the only security guard on site and made his way toward the firm. Walking out of the elevator and opening the locked glass gate, he noted how the only light on was coming from his own office, he didn’t give it much thought before he went over and encountered a sight, he was sure to never forget.

Sakura was on the floor of his office, dressed in tight leggings and a lose shirt that hung loosely around her chest and revealed her stomach and tiny sports bra. She was bent over, pink locks hanging above her head and reaching the floor, legs straight displaying her backside to him, in a position he vaguely recognized as a yoga pose.

He almost choked on his own saliva at the sight. He coughed to clear his throat, causing the pinkette to lose balance and drop to the floor startled.

“Sasuke-kun!! I’m so glad you’re here!” She yelled, jumping back to her feet and readjusting her shirt, before she practically threw herself at him, hugging him in excitement, to which he only froze. He could feel the heat spreading to the back of his neck, needless to mention the heat in other areas at the contact.

“Sa.. sa… Sakura, what are you doing…” He stuttered, unable to gather his thoughts.

“Sorry, I took a nap and your office is the only one that has a couch, but it was so uncomfortable, I was just stretching now” She answered taking a step back in embarrassment at her own reaction. She was just so relieved to be saved from actually spending the night in.

Still unclear with that explanation, he asked, “But why are you here?”

“Am… I came over to do some work, but I was locked in… I couldn’t leave… The emergency exit is locked too! Such a hazard by the way!” She offered in return.

“The front door doesn’t lock from the inside” He asked in confusion, someone else had to lock the door from the outside for her to become trapped in.

“Yeah… Karin was here, she must have locked the door by mistake” Sakura explained, since it had happened to her a couple of times, locking doors by mistake when your head is somewhere else, was something that happened to Sakura all too often, especially on her car. Even so, she couldn’t shake the feeling she had pissed off Karin for some reason, maybe Sasuke told her about how she punched him right in the face a couple of days ago, maybe she was annoyed because she was expecting an apology too.

Sasuke only sighed in response. He pinched the bridged of his nose in annoyance. Why his wife felt the need the need to do things like this he never knew.

“And you’re okay?” He asked, bringing the subject back to the matter at hand. “Why didn’t you call anyone?”

“I did! I called the security office, no one answered, it’s terrible by the way if this were a real emergency, someone could’ve gotten hurt, lawsuit waiting to happen!” She responded, causing a confused look from Sasuke. “I called anyone whose phone I have memorized, but no answers, and I forgot my phone at home too”

Sasuke pulled out his phone, remembering the missed call he had from the office earlier. “You called me too?” He asked her.

“Yeah… I didn’t actually have your cellphone so….” She said, and Sasuke noticed how her face went blue all of the sudden, sweat dropping off her forehead. “I found your card in one of your drawers” Sakura told him, pointing at his desk.

“You went through my desk?” Sasuke asked her, a small smile playing on his face that betrayed the annoyed tone he was trying to portray. She must have not noticed thought, since her cheeks blushed scarlet red as she fiddled with her thumbs and started to explain.

“Yes… Sorry I was desperate! I didn’t know what else to do! It was the only thing I saw I promise!”

Sasuke was amused at her embarrassment, he couldn’t look at her with a straight face as she was muttering excuses about how his business card was the first thing she saw when opening the desk drawer, and how she didn’t look into anyone else’s. It made him glad, since while it would’ve made much more sense to look into Yamanaka’s desk for phone numbers, she only thought of him when she needed help, but he didn’t voice those thoughts, instead he asked, “How long have you been here?”

“Since 6am… I didn’t actually notice I was locked in until a few of hours ago thought, I was reading over some materials and got distracted”

It was so like Sakura to get engrossed in reading and forget about everything else. He couldn’t remember how many times she was late to see him back in the day, because she forgot to get ready while reading some romantic novel she was so engaged in.

“Let’s go then” He said, noticing how late it was.

“Yeah, yup, sure” She stuttered, walking out by his side, staying quiet to avoid embarrassing herself again. She always did say too much when she was with him. His presence completely intimidating as always.

Walking out to the parking lot, he looked around trying to find Sakura’s car among the few left in the building. “How did you get here?” He asked her, already informed that she didn’t bring her phone to call herself a ride.

“Am… I ran” She explained. “I was trying to get some exercise this morning, and I was closer here than to my apartment so…”

“You’ve had quite day” He said, trying to sound as uninterested as he could manage.

“Yeah, no, it wasn’t so bad… I wasn’t” Sakura began, but was interrupted by the loud growling of her empty stomach.

Sasuke chuckled quietly at the sound. “You haven’t eaten” He said, again a statement not a question. He pulled her by the arm, taking her hostage to his car. “Let’s go get you something to eat” He insisted when his pull met resistance.

“I’m fine! I had like 8 cups of coffee” She said.

“Sakura, you’re a doctor, you know skipping meals isn’t healthy” He reprimanded, speaking as if to a small child.

Sakura pouted her lips, she didn’t like to be talked down to. Still she relented, walking over to the passenger side of Sasuke’s car, before that last sentence really resonated in her head. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?” Sasuke asked, already getting inside of his car.

She got inside too, and continued in return, “That… I’m a doctor?”

“Oh… Naruto told me” He mentioned awkwardly. He didn’t want to tell her that most of his conversations with Naruto, and late-night internet searches of late involved only a certain aggressive Pinkette. “When you got hired, for background proposes”

And that was the end of that conversation, with Sakura strangely engrossed in her thoughts while Sasuke mostly basked in the comfortable silent they fell in.

He took her to a fancy restaurant in the middle of downtown, with people mostly dressed in expensive looking dresses and suits. She felt terribly underdressed, with her leggings and lose shirt, that had not too long ago been drenched in sweat. She looked over at Sasuke, who just stood waiting for the maître d to get them to their seats, he was dressed casually in a white v neck shirt and jeans, but he looked stunning, like he someone you would see in the cover of some magazine.

The maître d and waitress definitely noticed, eyeing him down every chance they got, hearts practically shinning in their eyes, as they were handed the menu, which Sasuke took from her hands and returned it to the waitress without letting her look.

“The house steak and cherry tomato salad for the both of us, then the anmitsu for her” He told the waitress without ever looking at her.

“Yes sir” The waitress said, but not before over at Sakura with disgust on her face. Definitely wondering what I’m doing in the presence of someone as handsome as he. Sakura thought.

“Don’t you think I might have wanted to order something different?” She told Sasuke in reproach.

“Do you not like what I ordered…?” He asked, his face completely bank of emotion. He specifically remembered anmitsu being her favorite food, if you could call a bunch of sugar actual food.

“That’s not what I said… just why are you so… bossy?”

“Do you not like it that I’m bossy?” He asked in teasing, flashing her a dashing smirk that made her skin feel tingle. “Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always calling me Boss?”

“Well yeah…” She said, confused by Sasuke’s actions. One day he is amicable but professional, the next day he’s all angry and quiet, frankly an asshole, calling her names and accusing her of sleeping with Naruto, and then seems concerned about her, taking her out to eat and teasing her, some may even call it flirty.

“Have you been diagnosed with bipolar disorder?” Sakura asked suddenly, amazed at her own boldness.

“You’re really annoying you know that?” He told her, “And rude, why would you even ask that”

“Well… because I’m a doctor, and your displaying symptoms commonly associated with multiple personalities” She explained, admittedly she was rude in asking, still his changes in mood definitely gave her whiplash.

“No” Sasuke answered seriously, then stop as the waitress brought down their meal, and asked in a much too friendly manner if there was anything else she could bring him, which he turned down without a pause.

“Eat” He ordered.

“Thanks…” She muttered taking a bite of a small piece of meat, before she glanced over at Sasuke starting with his salad.

“Here, let me” She took his plate from in front of him, and started to cut down the steak for him. She didn’t even know why he’d order something he would have a hard time eating without even asking the waitress to bring it already cut.

“I can do that on my own” He protested but made no move to take the plate back from her.

“I know” She answered non chillingly. “But I want to help”

“Hn” was the only sound he made in return as she handed his plate back.

“So… how did you lose it?” Sakura asked quietly, busying her hands with her salad.

“Lose what?” Sasuke asked, expecting some snarky comment like ‘your mind’, he was well aware of how he’d treated her on the last few days.

“Your arm… I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I was just curious” She said, waving her hand dismissively, noticing the change in Sasuke’s expression.

He took a moment to consider if he wanted her know the whole story about his arm. Deciding instead to spear her the gory details of his tainted past, he said, “Motorcycle accident, 8 years ago”

Sakura figured that’s all he wanted to say in the matter, so she didn’t press. They continued eating in silence until they finished their dinner, with Sasuke observing Sakura attentively while she made pleasing faces and sounds at the taste of her desert.

Sasuke requested the check, which was promptly brought by the heart-eyed waitress. Sakura look at him with a smile on her face, sugar did put her in a much better mood, he noticed, and extended her hand to take the bill, Sasuke handed it without saying anything but still handed the waitress his credit card.

Sakura only shook her head in disapproval, she opened the check, mentally noting how much she owed for her meal, fully intending to pay Sasuke back for it, when she noted the phone number written down by the waitress. Bold she thought, took the piece of paper and placed in her pocket.

They both got back in the Sasuke’s car and drove away to Sakura’s place.

“You didn’t have to do that you know” She said, trying to look at the road instead of looking at his handsome face.

“It’s nothing” He muttered.

“You didn’t even look at the bill… even after the waitress put so much thought in it” Sakura said in between giggles and placing the check in his hand.

“What?” Sasuke asked in confusion, parking in front of Sakura’s building, taking the paper she was offering and looking at the loopy handwritten phone number. “Bold” He commented.

“Hahaha that’s what I thought too… You’re as popular as always” Sakura said, hand in her face trying to cover her giggles.

“I guess you would know” He told her, sporting his trademark smirk.

“You’re right, maybe I should go back there and give her the link to your fan girl website, wouldn’t want to leave her without the pleasure of your godly image”

He chuckled at her joke, Sasuke’s laughs where rare and infrequent even when he was younger, and they never failed in giving Sakura goosebumps and butterflies in her stomach.

“I really like your laugh” She confessed. “It always does things to my stomach, maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to forget about you”

He instinctively reached out for her arm, pulling her in and clashing his lips against hers. Sakura was stunned for a second before she returned his kiss, pressing gently against his lower lip, her mouth slightly open.

He took advantage to the parting of her lips to begin to kiss her more assertively, his tongue fighting hers for dominance. She reached to grab a handful of inky locks at the nape of Sasuke’s neck and pulled, her kiss almost as aggressive as his.

It was as if he awoke a hunger that she didn’t know still existed inside of her. She needed to get closer, closer until there was no more space between them. She bit his lower lip playfully, to which Sasuke responded only with a predatory growl.

He moved down to the crook of her neck, kissing and biting the tender skin, leaving his mark on her, encouraged by the pleasured gasps that escaped her lips.

“Sakura…” He whispered in her ear before leaving another love bite under it.

That brought her back to reality. She pushed him as hard as she could after she reprimanded with a strong “NO” and got down from the car, slamming the door loudly and running away to the protection of her apartment.

#sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku #sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #sakura haruno #sakura uchiha #ssfanfic

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carbrakes-and-stakes · 5 years ago

Text

Supper Trooper - Margot, Nora, Simon, Alain

Alain just got out of the police station and goes home to join Simon and Nora for dinner.

Supper Trooper happens right after this (x)

Alain’s anger did not seem to go away, and for a good enough reason : he did not know who he should have been directing it toward. His train of thoughts went back and forth between blaming himself, the police, or Nora and Simon, or even the damn squid and his fishy diet. Having a Mexican standoff in your head was really far from pleasant, as one could easily imagine. He had stopped at the supermarket to get a shirt, grabbed the first one he could find. Actually it was the second one he could find. The first one read: I love mimes, and even in such times, he would never have bought that. Even then, he felt as if he still reeked of fish, and feared that the smell would never leave his nostrils. “Putain,” having arrived at the garage, he saw a person waiting at the entrance. That’s when he remembered. Margot. Showing her around. He glanced at his watch. Yep. 45 minutes late. “Rooh, et merde,” stepping out of his car, he rubbed his face and approached the door, and Margot. “I’m really, really sorry,” looking more worn out than if he had spent the night hunting, he sighed. “How about we do this tomorrow. I’m really not in the mood,” which probably made him sound like an enormous pile of shit, but this was the truth. He entered the garage to get his cellphone from the counter, some paperwork, and walked back to Margot. “Can I offer you dinner? I feel bad enough to have kept you waiting like that.”

Margot would never consider herself one to arrive fashionably late to anything. Not that she was one of those people who showed up half-an-hour before an appointment, either. No, she was usually right on time. And had been… until about fifteen minutes had passed, and she glanced down at her phone to reassure herself that yes, this was the time Alain had told her to come. Maybe he was just running late? She simply left it at that in lieu of texting him, not wanting to seem impatient. However, when his absence bordered on an hour, she was beginning to feel more concerned than anything else. Being here reminded her of… many things she would have rather not thought about, and the potential for something bad to happen churned uncomfortably in her gut. Her thumb hovered just over his phone number when she heard someone pull up to the garage, twitching her head up and trying to gauge if it was indeed him. When he finally appeared, Margot immediately shook her head and waved off the apology. “It’s alright, really. I’m just glad you’re alright, you had me… really worried, not gonna lie,” She tried to cover up her nerves with a tight laugh, and perked up a bit at the mention of dinner. “Oh, are you sure? I mean yeah, I’d definitely be down but, you… You look pretty tired,”

Hours ago Nora had been throwing fish in a lake with Simon and Alain. After that fun, but all together disappointing experience, Simon and Nora had gone back to Alains house. They’d expected Alain to be right behind him. He never showed up. So Nora had done what any great friend would have done. She got the spare key and let them in. “I’m going to take a shower.” She had declared and was now, hours later, dressed in Alains clothes, sitting on his counters and eating his food. Without Alain there to tell her no, she’d decided to heat up everything she’d found. The countertops were currently sorted into two sections, already heated and to be heated. The closet, having already gone through its brand new organization, was sorted into four piles. Clothes Nora would never wear, clothes Nora could maybe wear, clothes Nora was trying to convince Simon to change into so all of them didn’t have to keep smelling like dead fish and clothes Nora thought Alain should go ahead and get rid of. “What do you eat first?” Nora asked Simon, shoving another course into the microwave and setting a timer. “Alain is a very good cook.” Hours ago, Simon had been throwing fish in a lake with Nora and Alain. He had a little less fun and his arms were sore now after the labour but he didn’t quite regret it - after all, it was what Nora wanted to do and she was his first friend in town so he couldn’t say no. Then followed a quiet drive down the open roads to Alain’s house only to find that not only was he not following them, he seemed to be delayed by something. Simon, setting his fish-slime-covered jacket in the grass next to the path that led to the door, was considerably more apprehensive about entering someone else’s house, especially if the owner himself wasn’t there so Nora almost literally dragged him in despite his body seeming to stiffen in protest and fear at the sound of two large dogs whining in the back. Now, after awkwardly loitering at the entryway of the house for what seemed like quite a while while Nora presumably moved about the house as though it was hers, he found himself standing in the corner of the kitchen furthest from the sound of dogs, almost plastered against the wall as if trying to phase through it and out of existence. He had gently declined each of the outfits Nora had picked out for him, deciding to draw the invisible line at taking the man’s clothes and he was now juggling several tasks between worrying about why Alain hadn’t shown up, half-heartedly insisting that he wasn’t hungry to Nora who seemed intent on heating *everything* up and trying not to look and sound like a(n even more) disgusting mess as he had a hand up to his nose and sniffled constantly. “I’m sure he is,” He opted to say quietly, thickly.

Alain frowned as Margot confessed that he had worried her here. Obviously, considering what had possibly happened to her father, she did not need another person she knew going missing. “Well I offered, didn’t I? Come on.” The road to his house was a 10 minutes ride usually, but now that he had to avoid Dark Score lake, it lasted 5 minutes more and that was good enough to have a conversation with someone, right? Not that he had ever been ever good at those, but he appreciated the young woman enough to want to speak with her, and invite her over for dinner. “So, you and Dario, you are friends, right? How do you feel about working with him?” Much like Kaden, Alain suspected that they were not just friends, although it was premature to even voice his concern. “Completely different subject, but I have two big dogs. You don’t have a problem with those, do you?” They never strutted around the garage, but someone scared of dogs would never be able to work properly in those conditions.

Margot couldn’t argue with that logic, nodding to herself and partially Alain before following after him. Besides, it had been a while since someone had offered her dinner, and the prospect of getting to know her new boss was one she didn’t wish to pass up. Though Deidre had been dismissive of her initial words, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was truly something about Alain she needed to be concerned with. On the outside he seemed like a genuinely decent guy - but appearances could oftentimes be incredibly deceiving. She had seen enough of the same outcome time and time again to realize that. At the mention of Dario, she shrugged a shoulder at first, but tapered off with a slow nod. “Yeah, we’re… kind of friends, I guess? He likes to brag to me about himself, I take a sort of satisfaction in taking him down a peg or two. I mean, playfully of course. At least I hope he knows that…” Margot could be vicious when the mood suited her, and the past couple of weeks had show-cased that far more than she wished they had. But she meant no harm to Dario, and quite honestly enjoyed their back-and-forths a little more than she expressed. “Like I said, if he does his work and doesn’t call me ‘Little duck’ on the clock, we’re good,” Margot’s expression lit up at the next question. “Not even, I love dogs! Bigger the more to love, right?” As they pulled up to the house, Margot began walking backwards up Alain’s yard. “So, are you making fish or something? It smells good,”

“Are you scared of dogs?” Nora finally asked Simon. The man was a pole, stuck in a corner taking up no space and trying not to be a bother. Nora was no good at soothing people's fear. In fact, she generally thought it was better to make a scary situation scarier. It was a nice little snack, feasting on his fear as she heated up all the food. “Or are you scared of leftovers?” That, Nora decided, would be a silly food. She’d be scared of leftovers if they were going to go bad, she finally decided. All that wasted food. ‘Not today little children’ Nora thought towards the piles of tupperware containers, pulling one out and putting a new one in. “I wonder what’s taking him so long. Maybe he went grocery shopping.” Nora could feel herself salivating over the thought of fresh meat. She swallowed it back, rolling the sleeves of Alain’s single suit to her elbows. After thoroughly going through Alains closet she’d decided that the suit was the only outfit she’d be able to borrow from it. It was a few sizes too big, and the constant accidental slipping of fabric into food. “That’d be cool.” Simon quirked an eyebrow and he looked up in thought at Nora’s most recent string of sentences, deciding not to answer her first question and skip straight ahead to where Alain might be. “Judging by the abundance of things you’re heating up,” He said slowly, subtly trying to mask the congestion now present in his voice. “I don’t think he went to the grocery store.” After all, he already figured Nora was the type to walk around with meat in her pockets anyway. Then again, maybe he DID go to the store considering that Nora seemed to be a black hole of consumption. He doubted it though and didn’t really conclude his own train of thought, instead involuntarily punctuating the end of his reply with a sneeze or two-- or four, that was fine. This was fine. He released an internal groan disguised as an exhale through his mouth as he put a heel to his eye to rub it. Wherever he was, Simon hoped Alain would get there soon and give the man permission to do, well, anything. Despite his amount of respect he had for Nora and how willing he was to do what she said, he just… didn’t like doing stuff in other people’s houses without them there to TELL him he could. That was when he thought he heard noise, like a car outside and he tilted his head slightly as if trying to tell if that really what it was or if he was just thinking wishfully.

“He does have a habit of being full of himself, I guess I would be confident too if I looked like that,” Alain scratched the stubble on his cheek and sighed. Even if Dario could be a lot to deal with, he appreciated his company, and it was good for business too. Apparently women and men liked to spend extra money when Dario offered them to get shampoo for their car. “But I will help you get him back to ground’s level. He needs to get back on Earth,” he commented, parking his car by the garage. The first thing he noticed was the smell coming from the kitchen. The second was his two dogs rushing toward them, tails waggling and apparently very excited. Alain knew that these two loved Nora, and he wondered if they would feel the same about Simon and Margot. “Are they big enough?” He asked, remembering that she had mentioned preferring large dogs. He already knew the answer to that, and anyone who dared to criticize his two babies would have a bad time too. “Alright, that’s enough,” he laughed, pushing the paws off his chest to close the car, windows open to get rid of the fish smells. Heading inside his house, he had a look around. Alright, the living room was not a mess yet. His head poked in the kitchen and while there seemed to be a lot going on in the oven, it was not as messy as he would have feared. Nora’s outfit however brought a frown to his face and he walked across the house, took a worried glance at Margot and realized he had not told her about Nora and Simon. “Two of my friends are joining us for dinner. I’ll go see what they did in my closet, then we can ha- What the fuck?! NORA!” It did not cross his mind to blame Simon. Not for one second. “Get your ass over here, now.”

Margot snorted to herself at that thought, waving a hand dismissively. “Nah, you look just fine. I guess not all of us can have God-like jawlines,” That wasn’t a weird thing to think about, right? No, just… an observation, really. Besides, Alain had brought it up so it was fine. Totally normal. Seeing the dogs, she cooed immediately, genuinely smiling as she watched them encircle their owner. “Oho yeah, definitely. They’re adorable,” She held an appreciation for most animals, but dogs were one of her favorites by far. Following them inside, she began taking in the new surroundings, noting that the fish smell still lingered but not at all bothered by it. She had smelled worse, after all. When she eyed the kitchen after Alain, finally noting the other two she assumed were joining for dinner, she jumped a bit when Alain raised his voice. Yikes. She decided to remain silent for the time being, a little apprehensive.

“Oh someone is in trouble.” Nora’s voice, as ever, remained an impassable monotone as Alain shouted her name from the closet. Grabbing a tubberware of a meaty looking stew as well as a spoon Nora slunk towards the closet. She passed a girl she’d never seen before on the way. “Hey.” Nora greeted. “Foods in the kitchen.” When she finally got to the closet that Alain was standing in Nora had a mouth full of soup going in already. “‘Sup? Did you know there is a blonde in your entryway?” Nora asked. Seeing her four piles Nora continued. “Oh right. I organized your closet. Clothes that I wouldn’t wear. Clothes that I would wear. Clothes I think Simon should wear, he smells like a fish. Clothes you should get rid of because no one should ever wear.” Now that she was reevaluating the piles, Nora picked up a shirt and moved it from the ‘I wouldn’t wear pile’ into the ‘No one should ever wear pile. “Want some soup?” Nora offered Alain the tupperware bowl. “Also what took you so long?” Whatever parts of Simon’s face weren’t already coloured with irritation might as well have been painted with blush as his eyes caught the arrival of a different person, another female and he thinks, at that moment, he was embarrassed. He smelled like fish in dirty clothes in the corner of a room while there was all this food and smells and dogs and he looked like THAT and Nora made piles-- He didn’t knowww that Alain was bringing another person in and why was he THERE and-- He decided to compensate for all these problems by pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose and giving a nervous wave to the new girl. Don’t shut down. “Everything, uh… turn out okay, Alain?” He asked to distract himself from how he looked and smelled and sounded. This evening started out so well and now he just wanted to melt into the ground before he encountered anyone else he could drive away with how unsightly he must’ve seemed.

“Yes, I know there’s a blonde in my entryway. That’s Margot, she’s going to work with me,” he explained, walking over the piles of clothes. Alain sat on the end of his bed and looked at his now empty closet with his fingers pressed against his temples. Folding all those would take him at least two hours, and that was if he kept those things Nora had deemed unwearable. Because, yes, he cared for Nora’s opinion enough to consider throwing those away. “And what exactly should I be wearing then?” He asked, picking up a tshirt that had found its way to the no one should wear pile to see what was wrong with that one. “Simon, you gotta get changed, and I gotta get changed too,” he called out as he heard the man approach timidly. Standing up from the bed, he picked up clothes from the “good” pile and headed to his bathroom, but not before giving both Nora and Simon a glaring look. “I got arrested for being next to the lake, is what fucking happened,” scoffing, he shook his head at the pair. “I’m gonna take a shower, you go speak to Margot and you better be kind to her,” shutting the door, he rubbed at his face and sighed. This evening was a complete disaster.

“Everything in the first three piles.” Nora answered, pointing them out. As Simon came over Nora offered him a reassuring nod. He seemed so out of place in this home with these strangers. Nora wondered if he was regretting his choice of coming along. “I’m always nice.” Nora commented blandly before taking another bite of her soup. Nora saw the glare, comprehended the glare, and decided that it had nothing to do with her. It was something to do with the incompetence of all police. If the police had been smart they would have known that he wasn’t the kingpin of the operation. Instead, they arrested the most innocent one of the bunch. Marching back out to the entry Nora found herself once again face to face with the blonde. Margot. “Come on, I’m heating up everything in Alains fridge. He’s a good cook.” Nora beckoned Margot to follow her to the kitchen, pulling something out of the beeping microwave and reheating a new meal. “What do you want to eat?” Nora asked, putting the soup she’d been eating down and trying a piece from another dish. “Alain is a good cook.”

This was… definitely a strange situation. Margot felt a little helpless as she watched them wander off into Alain’s room, opting to stay in the kitchen - considering that she didn’t know him that well, it felt like the sensible thing to do. She had offered a tentative smile to Simon, noting that the fish smell was still lingering in the air. But with the varying tupperwares lined along the counter, she figured it had something to do with their contents. She barely took a step further into the room before she heard Alain’s voice echo down the hall, and stopped dead in her tracks. Did he mention the police? Her chest tightened, and she unconsciously gripped the counter top tighter. When the other woman returned, she blinked at her, seeming to take a moment before fully comprehending what she was saying. “I… Uh, I think I should wait for him. To finish showering,” That didn’t sound right to her ears, but, it came out and there was no taking it back

He got arrested? Ohhhhh jeez oh no that was Simon’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone with Nora, he should’ve put his foot down or left when Alain caught them or not even referred to Nora’s ideas as ‘things that were okay to do’. Alain got caught and arrested because of HIM and the thought sent a rock into the pit of his stomach which he swallowed along with another collection of phlegm and saliva. He was torn between doing what Alain said and changing but he was also told to talk to Margot and be kind to her. He glanced between the bedroom and the blonde woman in the kitchen where Nora was reacquainting herself with her copious leftovers and instead of choosing either, he just awkwardly stood there in the hallway with his shirt over his nose like an idiot. “So… Margot?” He repeated her name in his congested voice. It had a nice ring to it. “You’re, uh… gonna work at the garage?” He felt kind of dumb but he had chosen this path of conversation instead of going to change-- WAIT um. Could he change his mind? “S-sorry, I was--” He was tripping over his thoughts. Food. Nora. Margot. Changing Clothes. Fish smell, dog sounds, fear and overwhelming-- He opened his mouth as if to say something, unseen through the shirt and instead of saying or doing anything useful, his eyebrows knitted and he turned away from everything altogether, sneezed thrice more into his shirt, and dropped to a crouch right there in the hall. “Sorry. It’s... nice to meet you, Margot.” He said plaintively, loudly enough for her to hear but still facing away from everyone and trying to bury his head in the hole of his shirt.

Fish was one of those smells, which no matter how much you scrubbed, seemed to never ever leave. It probably was imprinted in his nose for the rest of the evening, but Alain could not help but think that maybe the smell would take even longer to go. Stepping out of the shower, he walked out dressed in sweatpants and a plain white tee shirt. It was not like he had anyone to impress, and after this long long day, he would find comfort anywhere he could. Combing his hair with his fingers, he walked to the living room and glanced between the three people there. Maybe it was best for him to take charge of whatever had been going on so far and invite them all to sit. “I’ll go get the food. Nora can you help me with that. You guys can sit at the table in here, or the one in the garden,” he explained, motionning her to follow him. “I’ll get us some plates, glasses, etcaetera,” he glanced up at the cupboards and paused. “I didn’ t ask but…. where did you get all that fish, earlier?” His brows furrowed. Nora was by far, the most peculiar person he knew, but there was something truly endearing about her. He wondered why. “Not that it really matters, does it?” Maybe he was a bit too tired to hear about this. A part of him feared that she had stolen it, or maybe gone fishing it all by herself, or another completely bizarre explanation.

Nora had done her best to try and get the two strangers to feel at home in this house. It was a nice house. Alain was a nice person. Everything should have been easy-breezy-cover girl. Instead, Margot looked uncomfortable - although that could have been her resting expression, Nora wasn’t sure on account of them just meeting. Then there was Simon. Simon who smelt of fish and fear, crouched on the floor attempting to get his shirt to eat him. Nora felt a very unfamiliar emotion rising over this. Worry… and was that a little taste of guilt? It was her fault he was in this situation. Maybe she should have dropped him back at his house before coming here to eat. Nora let out a deep sigh. People were confusing. Alain was back out, showered and ready to get everything started. Nora followed to help set up, also pulling the required utensils from cabinets to add to the pile of things that should be carried to the table. She’d been over enough to know where Alain stored everything. “The fish market.” Nora answered. “I bought out a stall.” Nora started loading all the reheated foods onto serving plates, mixing and matching courses at her own discretion. “I think I’ve done irreparable harm to Simon by bringing him here.” Nora confided in Alain, her monotone voice lowering to a whisper. She pointed at her friend crouched away in the corner. Taking an armload of meat to the table, Nora remembered that she was also being nice to Margot right now. Nora looked around for the new friend to ask “Margot, do you like meat?”

What the ever-loving hell had she willingly walked into? No wait, that wasn’t entirely fair - Alain had offered Margot dinner. Not dinner with two other people, one who seemed to make herself quite at home and another who looked like he was ready for a hole to open up in the floor and swallow him whole. Yeah, that she hadn’t signed on for. But she was already there, and Alain had picked her up so… Running a hand through her hair, she offered the man a tentative nod. “Yeah, I’ll be working there for now. Nice to meet you, too. And… bless you,” Not wanting to just stand there, she grabbed two containers of food herself. She then turned to… Nora? The one currently wearing what she assumed was Alain’s clothing, judging by how baggy the suit fit her smaller frame. She quirked a brow at the question but eventually nodded. “Yeah, I do. Any kind, really,” She mentioned while following them into the dining room. The thought of some semblance of order pulled Simon out of his temporary shut down and he jerked his head in the direction of Alain’s voice, thankful that someone was trying to run damage control after the chaos the house had devolved into. He pulled enough of his head out of his shirt so he could see again though he still covered the lower half of his face and he got to his feet slowly. He heard Margot reply to him and he knew he was being incredibly rude by not engaging in further conversation with her but he had to sort himself out if he was going to sit at a table with other people for… the first time in years, he thought. Noting that Margot was now talking to Nora - that was good, Nora was easy to get along with - he crept over to Alain. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience and… getting you arrested but can I borrow some of your clothes?” He whispered. “And some allergy medication?” He paused before adding that bit but he was falling apart and seeing everyone else getting it together made him want to, too.

“Good lord, Simon,” putting the plates and cutlery down on the table, he figured that Nora and Margot could deal with that while he took care of him. “It’s the dogs, isn’t it?” Had to be. “Get back in the bedroom,” he commanded, following Simon behind and sighing heavily. Turning on his feet before he left the living room, Alain had a look at Nora and Margot who had just started chatting. “I am really sorry Margot, I will be right back,” what a complete disaster of a night. “Alright, you’ll go get in the shower. I’ll get you some clean clothes and I’ll try to clean up a little and get the dogs out in the garden, alright?” Seemed like the right, and only thing to do as far as damage control was concerned. With his instructions given, Alain walked back into the living room and much to his disliking, took the dogs in the garden, and started to clean up as much as he could because unfortunately for Simon, Alain had never had allergies and this was all he could do. The only other solution would have been to ask him to go and that would have been harsh.

“I like meat too.” Nora told Margot. It seemed like Alain was fixing the irreparable damage Nora had done to Simon by whisking him away. She supposed it was repairable. She just lacked the means to help. Nora picked up the cutlery that Alain had sprawled on the table and started setting the table. “Alain likes to set the table before we eat.” Nora explained to Margot as if setting the table was the weirdest thing currently happening. Nora let silence over take the two then. She wasn’t doing it out of any spite, or weirdness. Nora had never been one for words. Silence was just a natural state of being. Now that she knew Margot liked meat, Nora thought the girl was cool and there wasn’t much more to talk about. Once all the plates, utensils and napkins had been spread out, Nora took it upon herself to serve heaping mountains of food on each plate. Just so she was sure everyone would get a lot to eat. She thought it was very helpful of her.

Margot decided to let the two males be as they walked back into Alain’s room. Maybe it was for the best at the moment. Meanwhile, Nora seemed to know her way around the room just fine, and she offered a small, if not unsure smile as they went about getting everything together. All in all, Alain didn’t really need to apologize for anything. With her personal life fairly non-existent at the moment, and everything else so chaotic, this felt more like a reprieve than a bother. Having dinner with new friends wasn’t something she was accustomed to but, it wasn’t a bad thing either. It simply was. And that would be enough for now. “So, where do you live in town?” She finally asked, settling down in one of the chairs.

As Simon followed Alain into the bedroom, then subsequently into the bathroom where he turned and felt a fresh wave of… he supposed it was anxiety at the thought of getting wet anywhere other than home, he also felt guilty that he was being so… inconvenient about it all between getting Alain arrested, his stupid dog allergy and needing to borrow everyone’s everything. He turned to face the shower stall; he hadn’t taken an actual shower in… months - usually he just went out back and took a bucket of water and a washcloth nowadays. With a gulp and one more thought that maybe he should’ve just left to save everyone the trouble, he stripped down. On and off like a band aid and hope no one notices the wet dog smell. He glanced around to make sure he could find exactly where everything was at - Nnnn just a quick scrub. He really was making this more difficult than it had to be. TURN THE WATER ON, HOP IN, DO A DANCE LIKE YOU’RE ON FIRE, HOP OUT-- And he was done, already feeling it harder to breathe as he snatched the towel Nora had used and frantically tried to simultaneously dry himself off and try to assuage the itch that pricked every part of his skin. “Thank you, Alain!” He found himself calling, trying to dismiss his non-functionality; he exchanged smelling like fish to being cold, wet, itchy and smelling like wet dog instead.. He really was thankful though, for the record… None of them, especially Alain, had to be accomodating. Ugh, he was needy. Uuuugh. The dogs gone in the garden, and most of their belongings shoved in a corner of the room, all Alain had to do before joining Nora and Margot at the table was to wash his hands. He didn’t know what these two had been talking about since he had arrived, but they seemed to get along, and that was all he asked of them. They had had enough drama for the rest of the year. Glancing at the pair, he sat down, and took a look at his plate, then back at Nora. She might have been a bit too generous on the plates, even for his taste, although he did not comment and instead rubbed at his face and yawned in his hands. It was nice to sit down, at last. “So, Margot, I’ll show you around tomorrow instead, if you’re okay with that, although that means that you’ll have to spend your first day with Dario, and that’s entirely my fault,” he scoffed. He was sure that Margot would probably join Dario soon, and pick on her boss too, but until then, he had a right to hope that she would not. “Hurry up Simon,” he replied, and while his tone was rather cheerful, he also was hoping that Simon would indeed hurry and that they could all start to have dinner.

Nora finished serving everyone's plates and plopped down into her seat. This was where the polite thing to do would be to wait. Nora, who had never been polite a day in her life, went ahead and started eating. “I live next to Candleton Cemetery” Nora admitted openly, her mouth full of food. “The haunted mansion. People say that ghosts live there.” She took another bite of food, chewing aggressively. “They are right.” Nora crossed her legs in her chair, readjusting to get in optimal ‘shove as much food in your mouth’ position. “Where do you live?” Alain sat back down at the table and was ready to start talking shop. Now that he was here, Nora slowed down her eating. She didn’t like it when he stared in disgust at her. “Congrats on getting a job.” Nora mumbled to Margot. That seemed like a polite thing to say, right?”

Honestly, the food, even some that she couldn’t readily identify, all looked and smelled delicious. Margot hadn’t been a picky eater a day in her life, and just the idea of stuffing her face caused drool to accumulate in her mouth. She hurriedly swallowed it before grabbing a fork and beginning to dig in. “Candleton? Nice, I don’t think I’ve visited that one yet. This town seems to have a lot of cemeteries, huh?” At the mention of ghosts, Margot paused with her mouth open, instantly intrigued by the other, and she leaned forward in her seat a bit. “Really? Like, you’ve seen ghosts around there before? Not shitting me?” The blonde’s eyes widened a bit, and she looked to Alain and mouthed ‘Sorry’ before going back to eating, being a little less careless about the few drops of liquid that stained her shirt. “I live in the Outskirts, but I’m gonna be moving soon. Downtown, just a little apartment I can call my own,” Somewhere - anywhere, other than where she currently was would do just fine. At the mention of work, Margot snorted, swiping a hand across her mouth. “Sounds great to me. Don’t worry, I can handle him just fine. And thanks. I think I’m gonna like it,” Gradually, Margot’s posture seemed to relax. Something about Nora’s casual nature, Simon’s kind, and painfully apologetic nature, Alain’s acceptance of it all was, impossibly, putting her at ease. It was… nice. He heard his name being called and Simon almost fell over trying to hurry to put on the pair of pants Alain had loaned him. Gaaah he was still being waited on-- He slipped into the shirt last, almost falling over again, and carefully hung up the… decoratively-shredded towel on the back of the bathroom door as he gave his nose one last swipe before swiftly entering the room, noticing where his seat that had a plate full of food was, and sitting down quietly. He saw that Nora and Margot had started eating, which honestly relieved him and he picked up his fork, carefully, settling in as though he was there the whole time. With at least a small portion of his sense of smell having been returned to him from his getting himself under control in the bathroom, he was able to pick up the different scents of the food that had been reheated and it admittedly warmed his heart, like a memory almost. When there was a pause in the conversation, he glanced over at Alain and said a quiet “Thanks for the food.” THIS was what he had in mind after throwing fish in the lake. He also realised that Margot herself was warming up and relaxing, which relieved him given how chaotic it all was just half an hour ago, if that long.

Everything overwhelming that had clouded the early evening had now vanished, and now that they were all sitting here around the table, conviviality was all that transpired from the scene. If Alain’s eyebrow raised at the way Margot was eating her food, his expression softened as he watched Nora making an effort to eat slowly. It was nice, heartwarming to see things go back to being somewhat normal. Even if he knew that good moments never lasted long, he would enjoy this while it lasted.

#wickedswriting #para #para nora #para simon #para margot

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yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy · 5 years ago

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White Peacock Princess Part 3

So on the bottom right is Sasha’s kingdom and the bottom middle is Wahjah. @waiting4inspiration @youbloodymadgenius and @aworldwideapart you guys wanted to be tagged. And um. Sorry not sorry for this part. (as a side note I despise 50 shades but this LOOK in this gif is a whole mood)

White Peacock Princess

Part 3

As the days wore on and you mentally counted down to when Hongyen was supposed to arrive, you pressed Ivar for that list for when your sister would return to take the list to your parents so that they could ransom you before Hongyen would come.

And then before you knew it, the day came and passed without incident. Suddenly you felt a pit in your stomach and you stayed by any window you could and searched the skies for birds, any bird and made every call you could with your human mouth and nothing answered you. They should be calling in the calvary right now, they should be hunting for you. But they weren’t. You sister hadn’t come back either.

You wondered if she was trying to keep everything calm and keeping up the story that you were sick to give herself a bit more time, maybe you should start fulfilling some of these demands yourself so that all you would need is your body weight in gold however many times over that Ivar had specified, hell with your personal wealth could cover this so you didn’t need to actually impact the treasury.

But that didn’t make much sense that she would delay, usually she would have checked in on you by now. Maybe there were unseen complications that you weren’t considering that your sister was aware of. Your sister was way more clever than you and twice as cunning, granted she was also devious. That’s why she had the super bright and spectuacular colors that she did. You were pure and innocent, thus the whiter than snow nature of your plumage, she was far from, she was the fun, vibrant and exciting one, always way more popular with anyone and everyone you knew. She had gotten her colors early in life and once one got them, they were almost impossible to turn back, that’s why your parents were always much stricter and protective with you, to keep and preserve the whiteness, but honestly, you were the plain, rather boring nerd.

That and you knew full well she was having relations with your head guard. You had even suggested that a change in staff so that he could at least guard her and their affair would be easier to conceal, you always felt worried when she would steal him away and you felt extra vulnerable. Your parents had expressed that you needed to be supervised at all times to keep "anything bad from happening to you". But honestly you felt you never had the space or privacy to just… be yourself. The only time you had that you could be alone without prying and watchful eyes was right before falling asleep. Otherwise you were never alone. Although, truth be told, you were often very lonely.

But right now, being lonely would be a welcome relief, because your nose was practically burning, everyone with their body odor, and the smells of the wood and fires and cloth and dust and grime and dirt and metals and ugh! Too much. The breeze was cold and clean but still smelled of the pine and the forest. And usually right about now you would have ridden your special “sadde” you called it. It was basically a normal saddle with bumps and ridges in the crotch area that you grinded your womanhood on to find your release since part of your purity was your virginity and you couldn’t have anything penetrative but it did satisfy your sexual desires that arose from time to time. But right now they were at an all time high because of stress and anxiousness and you just needed a fucking outlet right now.

And that was another thing, you were just...so angry at Ivar for smelling...so damn good! Anytime you were near him, the smell of his sweat drove you crazy! And with his smirks and smiles and bright blue eyes and he had the audacity to have a decent sense of humor and he was just so kind and loving and comforting to Freydis who by now had gotten used to her son again and had accepted him back as her own and it was a relief to co-parent with her and befriending her was easier than it should have been. She was just so...nice. And open and honest, despite the crazy and she wasn’t even that crazy, she just had this one...odd...belief, she was perfectly fine otherwise and not really threatening in any way.

“You’re particularly anxious today.” Freydis noted as she nursed Baldur from the comfort of a rocking chair, glancing curiously at you every so often.

“I am.” You admitted as you noticed you were pacing in front of the window. Not wanting to leave any line of sight to the sky but it was no use.

“Do you miss your fiance?” She asked, an empathetic sadness in her voice that you found particularly soothing. But you huffed a laugh through your nose.

“I’ve never met him.” You answered as you finally sat down in the chair next to her and just held your head in your hands and tried not to cry as this worry threatened to consume you or your frustrations threatened to break you. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Is it a political marriage then?” Freydis posed, trying to distract you yet get to know you a little better.

“Yes, very much so.” You answered truthfully as you found your composure and just sat back and tried to relax in your own chair.

“Do you know much about him?” Freydis asked thoughtfully.

“I do. I’ve been “training” to be his perfect bride for the last 10 years. I know all of his favorites, his favorite drinks, his favorite foods, his favorite games and how he plays them, I know how to dance all of his favorite dances and even the ones he hasn’t seen so that I can distinguish myself from others. I’ve read all his favorite books and poetry and the classics so that should he ever talk to me, I can carry on a conversation with him easily. I know all of his favorite songs, how to sing them perfectly, how to play all the different instruments in the music.” You rattled off as you began to rock in the rocking chair and staring off into space as a forlorn look crossed your features.

“He must be fairly powerful then if you’ve put so much work into being his perfect bride.” Freydis concluded.

“He is. He’s the Crown Prince, He will be Emperor of Wajah, the skies over all of the far east when his father passes and when that happens, if he ever meets me and likes me and decides to accept me, then I would be the jewel in his crown, his Empress.” You sighed tiredly.

“Do you want to be his empress?” Freydis asked and that one question seemed to make something click into place. No one...had ever asked you if you wanted that. It was always set as the ultimate goal in front of you and as a child of 8, you didn’t think you had a choice.

“Well don’t tell Ivar that you are to be an Empress, he’ll take those demands and double them and keep doubling them until they’re ridiculously large. A betrothed princess is enough on your head and shoulders, he already thinks that he can ransom you to not just your family but your future inlaws too.” Freydis advised with a tired sigh of her own, which made you smile lopsidedly, because of course Ivar would take full advantage of the situation.

“I have heard that Emperors have something called a harem? Is that true?” Freydis asked casually.

“Yes, he does, it’s almost five thousand women strong.” You answered.

“Five thousand? You have to share him with five thousand other women?” Freydis asked with a disbelieving yet baffled frown which made you huff a laugh because clearly she thought was outrageous.

“Yes, it would take years between passing the night with him if he saw each one a night. But it doesn’t work that way. He has his favorites that he spends the majority of his time with and all the others must curry favor with those favorites just to get his attention, the favorites number about a hundred of the most ridiculously beautiful, smart and clever women who had been training to be his concubines since their births. I am already a Sultana, of royal blood going back over 20 generations, no one else has a pedigree as fine as mine is. Most of the princes and kings of the other kingdoms would sever a limb or two off to have a chance to have me by their side but because the current Emperor and Empress have already chosen me as a prospect, I’m not allowed to see or talk to any other. The last time I was allowed to mingle with others, I was a child. Otherwise, if we are at a gathering, my father is on my right and my mother stays on my left and we are surrounded by guards to keep anyone from approaching me, usually it’s the older kings who only wish to give their token praise of how beautiful I’ve become or how accomplished I am and how the crown prince is so lucky or how I’m lucky to be given the chance to be a prospect for the crown prince.” You revealed, your voice becoming distant and soft yet mournful.

“Sounds like a lonely life.” Freydis noted.

“It is, incredibly lonely, I’m usually under guard constantly. I rarely have a moment to myself. Every heartbeat of every moment of every day is planned out for me months in advance. My parents have pushed me to be as perfect as possible and because I love them and I don’t want to disappoint them, that I push myself too. The crown prince was supposed to come to me yesterday. We were supposed to hold an enormous feast and I was finally supposed to meet him face to face and dance with him and talk to him and then he was supposed to make his decision. I always thought that right about now I would be headed to Wahjah, trying to carry on an awkward and forced conversation with my future husband. But so far...nothing. My sister Anja hasn’t returned in days and my baby sister Twilla is only 12, she wouldn’t know what to do in such a situation and I have worked very hard to protect Twilla from all of this, so now, no one is looking for me.” You said as you gestured to the window behind you.

“I don’t think my sister has even told anyone I’m missing yet. She had said that she had to pretend that I was ill to keep anyone from panicking. Because other girls have cracked and crumbled under the pressure of meeting him before. There have been a few who purposefully get engaged or run away the night before or a week before or a month before. But I had promised my parents, and the Emperor and Empress that I wouldn’t be one of them. I swore an oath on my own kingdom, that if I should, they could strip the power and wealth and nobility from my family. So now, I’m worried. Because if Ivar doesn’t release me, the Emperor and Empress could rightly execute all of them for my absence. And Anja knows this. It doesn’t make sense that she would delay, not unless there is something very wrong that I don’t know about. I think it’s the ‘not knowing’ that’s so stressful.” You murmured softly as Freydis nodded in understanding.

“Well if you need something to do, you could always ask Ivar if there is anything you could help with. With you being from Heaven, i’m sure you could make the most accurate maps.” Freydis offered before you realized that was an amazing idea.

So you got up and kissed her cheek and thanked her before you left the room to find Ivar.

“Did you need me Princess?” Ivar asked as he noticed you seemed to be standing nearby waiting for him before he gestured for the men he was talking to- to leave him.

“I do.” You answered and tried to ignore the devilishly handsome smirk he wore.

“What do you need?” Ivar asked as he gestured you to come over.

“I need something to do. Back home, every moment is planned out for me and here, I...it’s not that I’m bored but... I feel I will go crazy if I don’t have anything to do. So after talking with Freydis, she suggested that since I am a Princess of Heaven, that I could draw you a reliable and accurate map.” You explained as you anxiously wrung your hands together.

“That would be very helpful actually. If that is what you wish to do, by all means.” Ivar invited as he gestured to some plain manuscript paper before you smiled gratefully at him.

Making a good map seemed to buy you another week of sanity. Ivar continued to give you a very respectful distance the whole time, Talking with you when you wanted to talk, praising you for your accuracy and excellent drawing skills and penmanship. Occasionally asking about your betrothed and little by little you revealed what you had said to Freydis and soon you noticed how jealous you were of Freydis. She had everything you could dream of wanting. A husband who loved her who was as unquestionably faithful and loyal to her as she was to him. They actually loved each other and cared for the other and respected the other. You knew that there was no way Hongyen would ever treat you as well as Ivar treated Freydis and before you had been happy in your ignorance, thinking that the way your parents treated each other was the average. But now, you knew differently. You supposed it was fair that because they had relatively short lifespans, compared to your own, that their joys and happinesses were as bright and intense as they were yet their sorrows just as painful as your own.

The magic of your dress meant that it could change to anything you wished it to be and slowly but surely, your dress started to imitate Freydis’, becoming simpler but still beautiful and Freydis grew to be just as close of a companion that your sister had ever been to you and you became close friends and confidants and almost constant companions, often not leaving the company of the other and Ivar found himself becoming more and more comfortable around you, when he found out you were a Sultana, he changed from calling you Princess to Sultana, then from Sultana to simply your name like you had done and in the beginning, you felt like you were encroaching on their personal space and private moments but neither of them ever made you feel unwelcome or unwanted and often made sure you were always in attendance when they spoke official business and both of them often asked you for your honest opinion which you freely gave. They made you feel like your voice was going to be heard and considered and that you were a welcome guest and not a slave in anyway. Soon you realized, should you ever leave, you were going to miss them. You had even taught them the games you knew, the dances and songs that you liked and they both loved to hear you sing and when Freydis was on Ivar’s right, you were on his left.

“Sasha.” Ivar said one day as you were finishing up your second map, the second, being much larger to buy you more sanity because now it had been over a month and you had yet to hear from your sister so you could only assume that Hongyen had abandoned any thought or intention of meeting you, much less marrying you. He was not known to be a patient man anyway. Perhaps he had moved on. Freydis had assured you and reassured you over and over that whatever would arise, you would face together and that she would see you through and only asked that if at all possible, to come to your wedding, which you agreed to.

“Yes Ivar?” You answered, not looking up from your work.

“I’d like to talk to you,” Ivar said which made you frown at the tone of voice he was using before you looked up at him and put your quill down before you focused completely on him as he came over and sat down in the chair across from you.

“Freydis has told me that when and if Hongyen comes for you that if you don’t go with him, that your family could be in danger.” Ivar worded as delicately as he could.

“Yes. That’s true.” You confirmed.

“I wanted to reassure you, that, perhaps if you healed me now, that when he does come, you won’t have to delay in answering his call just to heal me. I...I’m not...I don’t want your family harmed just because I’m selfish.” Ivar finally confessed which made you smile adoringly at him before you got up and offered him your hand which he took before you gently urged him to stand up.

“I will gladly heal you, but know that I will be weak for at least a few days after and I will need to be tended to as if I’m gravely sick. I will need to eat often and sleep when I’m not eating and I’ll need to be in as much sunlight as possible while I recover and kept warm.” You explained.

“Consider it done.” Ivar nodded before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead sweetly as he squeezed your hands reassuringly.

“Tonight then?” You posed.

“Tonight.” Ivar practically giggled before he left and made the arrangements.

You stayed in the sunshine for the rest of the day, soaking as much of it as you can while Freydis made her peace with Ivar’s wishes and did what she could to help.

That night you changed your dress into the best reproduction of your holy robes that you could.

The ceremony was simple, all you needed to do was press your forehead to his and he should inhale your exhaled breath while holding hands. You dug deep and soon your whole body glowed from within before it shone as bright as the moon if not brighter. Your voice reaching an ethereal note as you sang the healing incantation once more. Your voice echoing through the whole of Kettegat as a crowd gathered outside because the light and the sound of your voice drew them.

It took so much magic to heal him, because he was a grown adult, his bones had already fused and set and it took a lot to undo it all, almost all the magic you had, but you were thorough and healed not just him, but his genetics too so that every child he would father, would be perfect too. He would be magnificent and he would have a good long life. He had ceased being your captor, because he was now your friend and now...you were so grateful that you were bound to him, no matter how much time you would have left with him.

Once you were done, he caught you from collapsing on the floor, your own body going very weak and he picked you up into his arms as if you were his bride and placed you in bed.

“Thank you Sasha, thank you.” Ivar thanked you gratefully as he kissed the crown of your head. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.” Ivar swore.

Meanwhile Anja was arguing with Hongyen’s personnel that had been sent, having had to send away every doctor from damn near every surrounding kingdom who had heard you had fallen ill and she was having a harder and harder time covering for your absence, as far as the rest of the world knew, you had suddenly fallen ill and were on your deathbed and she had paid every cent of that small fortune given by that concubine in paying off all of the doctors to report that they had seen you and that you were indeed sick and their silence was costing her more than she thought it would, you had had the good sense to keep your own wealth hidden and diversified to such an extent that she found it impossible to find, much less get her hands on because you had dozens of financial advisors and all of them only had a piece of the puzzle and all of them sworn to secrecy about the pieces they had so that no one person other than you could find a way to fit them all together, as was Hongyen’s sage advice.

What she had not known was that you and Hongyen had been exchanging letters for the last few years and that Hongyen had dozens of secret couriers to deliver secret correspondences with his potential concubines and you, by his order- had never revealed to anyone. Not even your sister or your parents, not even your servants knew because the couriers were in disguise most of the time and it often looked like housekeeping but since your illness, even if they were not allowed into the room, only Anja had access and she guarded your room day and night when Rolf himself guarded it. Anja was getting extremely frustrated when all of these people from Hongyen kept showing up, now no longer in hiding to deliver you messages but because they could not put the messages into your hands since there was a tradition and a secret saying and greetings in order to receive it- they all had to be turned away because your sister didn’t have what she needed to fully impersonate you because she had tried, and all of them saw through the bluff and had given her the gibberish messages and she had scoured your room and ripped it to shreds trying to find if you had some sort of secret key hidden to decipher them, which there had been at one point but once you had memorized the key, you burned it and every other letter you received once you read it and after you had replied and put the message into the couriers hands and only their hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Anja screamed as she finished actually taking a knife and shredding all your furniture and your bed but found nothing. She felt like she was about to go insane. Her colors had faded, her feathers were looking horrid and the color of puke and even her own face was showing signs of aging and she was in constant pain.

“What the ever loving fuck Anja?!” Rolf exclaimed as he came into your room through the secret passage that only you and your security seemed to know about.

“I can’t do this anymore! It takes more magic to impersonate Sasha than I can replenish. I’m on the last of my reserves and Hongyen is sending couriers every few hours now. All his messages are gibberish and all of his couriers are suspecting foul play and even my own parents are suspicious and they’re growing wearing and I’m out of funds to pay off the doctors and even they are upping their prices for their silence and if Sasha doesn’t break free of her confinement and come home on her own, I don’t know what I’ll do, I can’t go back to her because if I do, she’s probably in just as bad of a state as I am and if she’s gotten true color by now, we’re all finished. Hongyen was supposed to have given up by now or moved it back a year and I fear that at any moment he’s just going to show up and if I impersonate my sister for any longer than a few moments, I’ll run myself down to nothing and I can’t do that. Once the magic is spent completely, I can’t get it back again and it can’t grow from nothing. And Consort Hua refuses to give me any more money and has washed her hands from me and has already distanced herself from me and destroyed any evidence of the connection and like an idiot, I did too and now it’ll look like I came up with this plot all on my own and if I get found out, I’m finished. No one will save me from the wrath of my parents, or Hongyen or his god damn fucking parents! I can’t even run away anywhere, everyone knows me and no expense would be spared in hunting me down!” Anja ranted as she literally picked up anything she could and hurled it onto the other side of your room as Rolf realized he had made the wrong bed. It was time to jump ship. So while Anja broke down into sobs in front of your fireplace, he silently left the room and went to your parents.

“Your Majesties...I have a report to make…” Rolf began.

Meanwhile Hongyen sat in his study in Wahjah, as all of his couriers returned and kept reporting the same thing. You were gone. But there was no sign that you had run away. All of your sentimental property and wealth was still there and intact. No clothes or anything was missing and your sister was acting like a lunatic and impersonating you and they all suspected that in a fit of jealousy she killed you because you were just gone and that your parents were just as in the dark as they were. So Hongyen ordered for the golden collars to be taken out of the armory. That he was going to go and find out the truth.

Then another courier arrived. “I know where Sultana Sasha is! There was a glow in a human city as I was flying back. When I went to investigate, I saw her from a window as she healed the city’s king! He was wearing her cloak, he captured her and her cloak transferred to him. She has most likely fallen into a trap, she is too innocent, good natured, naive yet unquestionably loyal to you to have purposefully run away. She’s trapped! And now she’s very weak and vulnerable. They have used her golden heart against her.” He reported before Hongyen smiled in relief.

“Prepare my armor, my Empress needs to be rescued.” He ordered.

#ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagines #ivar the boneless x reader #White Peacock Princess #White Peacock Princess part 3 #enjoy.

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maniacalmachinist · 6 years ago

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Predator/D&D (pt 7)

Sorry about the delay, this chapter wound up a bit longer than expected, amid other bit of life’s complications. Hope you enjoy it. XD

CHAPTER 7: CONSEQUENCES

Hachende darted ahead, thankful to be away from those lesser creatures for a while, leaping from tree to tree, keeping his footholds light and quick. He was above the pack of “noles” within minutes, trying to find a good spot for an ambush. They appeared to be little more than short, drooling brutes, hunched at the shoulders, and their heads darting around, sniffing the air. He spotted mostly simple weapons similar to the commune of humans in their village. Most had simple masses of heavy wood, or something resembling a spear. There were a few in the rear of the hunting group that had staves much like the elf Sedira had, and figured it implied a similar “magic” talent to some degree. He continued to look around them, and spotted a larger one which seemed to make the others around it cower, and was the only one that appeared to have some metallic weapon, a “sword” he recalled the humans calling it.

He set his sights on ten targets, and unclipped his discs, linking them to his tracking, then dropped into the middle of the hunting group. He flung the discs to his sides when he landed, and they began to whir around, the cries of the brutes echoed as few were taken by surprise, the rest ducked. His discs returned, and decided to brandish them as hand weapons for expediency as a few had locked their sights on him where the kicked up snow had made his presence known. The large one glared at him, and barked orders in some unknown tongue, the ones with the solid wooden weapons set on him quickly, swinging their weapons clumsily. “You lack form . . . you insult my honor with how poorly you fight!!” He clipped a few in their thighs as he dropped to one knee, relocking the discs on targets and letting them loose, providing a defense of blades.

He danced with the discs and gnolls, wounding some and killing another with each attempt they made. He roared loudly, shouting his victory cry, before being hit with a stinging sensation, finding a solid shaft digging into his side. He panned his vision, trying to track the direction, but saw nothing in thermal . . . he switched until he picked up on movement, more shafts flying at him. “More . . . how can there be more?!”

“ANUKH ARUMWON!!” Came a shout, the voice clearly the one called Wagh. The gnolls gave pause, and there was a sudden blood curdling howl, as a pair of glowing large canines barreled through a few of the creatures, ripping them apart. Therein chaos erupted, Hachende shocked at the sudden shift in the gnolls attention amid the orc and dwarf charging in, their massive weapons batting the ugly fuckers aside. Hachende focused himself, not to let these two show him up, he took out his spear and made for the large one. The gnoll leader deflected his weapon amid the screams of his cohort falling to the crazed pair, the sword actually biting into his spear. He aimed for the beast’s legs and arms, but it showed an amount of experience dodging and deflecting. Hachende lunged, but was stopped short of his prey, something had caught onto his leg, then rolled to keep his attention on the Pack Leader.

“Tha’s it lad, keep tha’ boggart tied up wit ya fancy moves!” gloated the dwarf, bisecting another gnoll. “Gnolls travel in groups o’ six . . . aye, they ha’ four more waitin’ on tha’ Pack Leader’s orders! RYAAA! Lass!! Grease their shaman!!” and he was answered by a chain of melodic speach rolling through the trees and a sudden glob of sludge splashed among those with the wooden staves.

The Pack Leader was distracted a moment amid the wails of their casters being caught in the sludge, giving Hach time to sever the root that had tripped him. He leaped back up to his feet just as the Leader made another lunge at him, catching the sword with his spear again, he batted the weapon aside and drove his spear at the brute’s head. The brute growled, shifting aside while grabbing Hachende’s thrusting arm, “FUCK!!” screamed Hach, pissed at making such a suckling’s mistake. Despite it’s size, it threw Hach over it’s shoulder, the yautja let go of the spear; rolling on the ground and took out his discs. He darted at the Leader, flinging one disc and held onto the other, the Leader deflecting it with his sword, but it overexerted. Hach caught the returning disc, punching the beast with the one in hand, splitting it’s lower jaw, then slash it it’s throat with the other . . . there was no howl, only the gargling of it last breath while it collapsed. Hachende let out a cry of victory . . . his prey had been taken by the kiss of midnight!

The hunting pack fell apart not long after the loss of their leader. Their shaman couldn’t stand on the sludge, fighting to maintain balance while Lars beat them into a near pulp with his fists, astounding Hachende more. Wagh was tending the dwarf’s wounds, his hands glowing green while he chanted, and Durgo’s cuts were mending before Hach’s eyes. Lars came back moments later, having killed off the hidden archers, “They’re ugly and smelly fuckers, but at least they carry decent equipment sometimes. I know the ol’ blacksmith would love to have more material.”

Hachende tended himself with a medikit, still puzzled why he couldn’t detect the other four creatures. He used the tools to extract the shaft and “head” from the bolt that struck him, crying out in pain, which startled the rest of the group.

“Laddie, no offense to ye, but best to see a healer . . . doesn’t do to let tha’ pain dull yer senses.”

“With as much as you drink, Durgo . . . you’re not one to talk about dulling senses,” Lars retorted.

“It is through pain that we know we are still alive, as is our path of the warrior,” growled Hachende.

“Well, regardless . . . time for the spoils of war . . . “ chimed Sven. “Oh, Durgo . . . the big guy himself netted six, and you only downed 3 . . . so, you owe us a round tonight.”

“Wha? Wait, thar’s no . . . “ he started counting with his hands how many final blows he actually made, “Fook!!”

Jessica groan, rummaging through the pile of things collected from the Gnolls. “Hmmmm, the sword is unusual . . . “ she touched the edge of it and suddenly hiss in pain, “Shit!! Acid!!”

Hachende looked up at her shouting, then inspected his equipment . . . his spear and one of the discs had a series of melted points where his weapons made contact with the sword, “What in the name of the Dark Warrior is that weapon?!?!”

Jessica went to her pack and pulled out a scroll, then held out her hand over the weapon while reciting what was one the parchment. The scroll glowed and disappeared while golden light descended on the weapon, and symbols appeared on it’s edge. “Oh . . . oh my . . . how did a gnoll get something like this, of all things!?!”

“You’re fucking us with the suspense here, what is it Jess?” groaned Lars.

“It’s a Black Dragon falchion, The Scorned One. Gyremar will want to see this immediately!” She looked at Hachende, “It’s your weapon now . . . it ties itself to the one that bests it’s owner.”

Hachende pondered . . . touching the sword and found it slightly warm, and welcoming to his touch. He picked it up, then headed to the Pack Leader, and removed it’s spine and skull in a roar of triumph.

Durgo scratched his head, watching Hach’s seemingly ritual collection. “Dunnae’ know why ya collectin’ hea’s here, lad. There is nae any bounty on these boggarts.”

“There will be proof of my conquests to go with the others . . . doesn’t do to return for mating season and not an exceptional kill to enthrall the females.”

Sven and Lars laughed together, “Fucking hell, I love your society already . . . “ Lars bellows.

“I doubt you could survive our females . . . my last mate broke my arm last season, and that was a result of being tossed across the room.” Hachende cackled.

“The more I learn about you Hachende, I’m not sure if yours is a society of fighters, or fools,” bellowed Gyremar. The group looked up, seeing the silver approach the ground, surrounded by the shuffling of Kobolds among the rocky edges. “I had told them to prepare in case your team couldn’t handle the Gnolls. Daresay, I’m proud you made it out intact.” He looked at Jessica, “Now what’s this about a falchion?”

Jessica pointed at Hachende, and motioned him to raise the sword. He raised a brow under his mask, and presented the weapon to the dragon. “Hmmmm . . . that is an odd find for a group of gnolls. I’m assuming a large, strong one had it, yes?” Hachende nodded, presenting the head of the Gnoll Leader. “The Scorned One . . . fells, hoped I would never have to hear that title again.”

Lars looked up, “What’s the deal with it, Steward?”

“Come inside, I’ll explain . . . oh, and Hachende, I think I have something for you. Dar’gor, we’re going to have guests for a while, take them to my Den, and get them some food . . . then you and yours can do as you will with the gnolls.”

“Yip! Yes boss!” Dar’gor barked, “You warm-bloods, follow . . .yes, follow, yip!”

“Wor’ o’ advice lads . . . dunnae be eatin’ kobold cuisine . . . ya’ will be payin’ fer it lat’r.” warned Durgo.

The Steward’s “Den” was a large cavern near the middle of the mountain. Dar’gor, their guide, wasn’t very talkative, but Kobolds were overly cautious and fearful by nature.

“At least these caverns are big enough for us . . . hate to have to hunker down to the height of a dw-uuuuuh,” Lars began, then caught himself . . . sadly, Durgo caught on.

“Ya’re havin’ a problem wi’h me height, boyo? Lemme tell ye, caves are large fo; a reason . . . cannae be tellin’ how much ye’ll be haulin’ from end to ‘nother. Bigger halls, more swag to be haulin.” He then made what Hachende thought was considered a rude gesture.

“Enjoyed your trip to my Lair, friends?” Gyre interjected as they came into view.

“Oh . . . huh . . . thought you Dragons had lairs of treasure lying around . . . this is kind of . . . vacant.” observed Lars.

Gyre responded with a chuff of mild amusement, “Not all dragons are covetous of such things. That tends to attract a lot of fools out for hide and gold.” The dragon was sitting on it’s haunches, looking through what was a VERY large book, it’s binding half the length of Gyremar himself. “Part of this was the journal of this lair’s former master, Carmix’la the White Wyrm. Watching you fight, Hachende, matches her last notes . . . but it also explains something else.” Gyre reached to his side opposite the group, picked up something, the placed it before Hachende. “I think you will find something in there that could explain more than I can on your current situation.”

Curious, Hach knelt and ran his claws over the chest, “Im assuming this has been around for quite some time?” To which Gyremar nodded. He lifted the top, and his eyes and mandibles flared in shock. “Dark Warrior . . . this was Dur’ton’s!” He pulled out a biomask, more ornate than his own, and wristcomp, but the symbols were unmistakable . . . both saw heavy damage, but still slightly functional.

“Uhhh, Dirt on? Dirt on what, I don’t . . . “

“Shut it, Wagh!” shouted the three humans in unison, to which the orc tapped his fingertips together, uncertain what he did wrong.

Hachende grunted in agitation and bewilderment, “He was among our legends, cycles ago . . . and then vanished. We had assumed his last hunt claimed him and his equipment . . . “ he then donned the mask, and played the last images of his life, which displayed through the old wristcomp’s projector.

“Hmmmm, lad these images app’er close to what you showed us las’ nigh’. But his landin’ seems to be furt’er southeas’ o’ ere. “

Gyremar gazed at the playback intently, “Hmmmm, at least a day’s travel by flight . . . seems your predecessor had bad luck on his side, landing and hunting where the White Wyrm was already tracking prey at the time.”

Hach grunted, going through the playback, then getting a date on the last entry, “Hmmmm . . . 2,000 of this world’s cycles have passed . . . “

Gyre ponders, “Has it really been 2000 years . . . can’t believe I was so young then. Still, it does explain why the white wyrm fell so easily, as I said earlier.” He looks up at the ceiling, stroking the long, feathery scales on his chin, “It was likely a few days before I engaged her, scales were torn or missing, wings were shredded in several places, burn marks in various areas . . .”

Hach listened, “ Dur’ton was likely having trouble tracking this creature, as I had trouble tracking you.”

Gyre snapped his gaze to Hach, “Trouble tracking a dragon . . . in close proximity? You’ll pardon my understanding, but it’s kind of hard to miss us when that close.”

Hach shook his head, “Our equipment allows us to track prey, switching out ‘modes,’ so we can mark our quarry.” He pointed at the humans, dwarf, and orc, “They show up in heat detection, but you do not.”

“Ah, tha’s a flaw laddie . . . ye’re bett’r off tryin’ use yer senses than usin’ fangled contraptions. Is like how tha’ gnolls escaped yer vision when we fough’ ou’side. Sure, seein’ a targe’ is nifty . . . but ye cannae use gadgets to replace tracker senses.”

Hach groaned, irritated that this little creature was trying to lecture him, but noticed one of the two of the humans were missing. He looked around frantically, “Wha . . . where?!?!”

The one called Sven rose up, face to face, right under his mask, “Yup . . . blind spots my friend. And don’t even bother trying to see Jessica then . . . cloaking spells are hard for most to see through.” Hach panned his gaze again, unable to see anything, frantically switching his biomask’s vision . . . she was nowhere to be found. There was then a tap on his shoulder, turning to see the female become more visible, as if there was some shroud peeling away.

“My magic is more like displacement, or short range teleportation . . . but I agree. For as good as your equipment may be, here . . . it would be a hindrance in some aspects.”

This world constantly confounded him . . . standard weapons work a bit, but the technology he’d been raised with since he could carry a spear had become nearly useless.

Gyremar stroked his muzzle, watching the events unfold, “Well, you are a capable warrior perhaps . . . but you will need to attune yourself to this world. But it’s assuring to see you’re adapting this well . . . and at the same time, puzzling . . . I will have to do more research after we get your ship to Crosslight. From there, we’ll have to address some urgent problems . . . “ he closed the book, and beckoned the group to follow him, escorting them to the landing.

It had become mid-afternoon, the day was at it’s warmest, and the skies were rather clear as the group flew to Hach’s ship. Gyre had allowed the Yautja to hang onto the rope so he could better direct the dragon. Gyre was thankful that the craft cleared a decent “landing strip,” but hated that it was in such an awkward locale.

The ship itself was as Hach described, the length of it running from Gyre’s front legs to his hind limbs. “You may want to have our companions in there with you, might make it easier to deal with than the skiff.”

Hach grunted, but understood, “Fine . . . but they are to touch NOTHING. I can try and set the ship to hover, but from there the rest is up to you.” He growled to the group, “You . . . follow me, but leave everything ALONE. You will sit just behind the command chair, and NOTHING ELSE!!” He unsheathed his wrist knives as if to emphasize the point, to which they nodded. He retracted the knives, “Gyremar, can you get that snow off my ship?”

The Silver nodded, rearing back and unfurling his wings . . . then flapped them forward, mighty gusts sending debris and snow everywhere, clearing the vehicle.”

“Spirits of invention!!” gasped Wagh.

Hach tapped his wristcomp, and his ship hummed to life, then brought up the holo displays, trying to reroute power to the hover functions. The group quietly followed him, and his instruction, taking note of his trophies . . . some of which were definitely human. Wagh pointed at one that had an elongated head, “Dat one dark and mean . . . it notin’ but hate!” He shivered. Hach clicked in agitation, taking up the command chair, and attempted to reorient the ship. The group gathered behind him . . . he was at least thankful that they could follow orders.

Gyremar tapped the ship, “I’m going to start pushing the ship . . . brace yourselves!” at which point the ship shook, then settled as the dragon pushed with his hind legs. Hach let a snort of amusement watching the spectacle from the ship’s eyes, the whole thing looked like some giant reptile trying to mate with his craft.

“Well, since this will take a while . . . what stories you have of your travels, Hachende?” inquired the one called Lars.

Hach grunted, but figured it might make time pass by, “The one called Wagh pointed out one of my first kills, during a blooding rite.” He then pointed to a symbol, etched on his massive forehead, what looked like three intersecting curved lines. “All younglings on The Path must go through this, and survive, as proof that they are worthy of the Hunt.” He pointed at the elongated skull, then pulled up his holo imager, displaying the full scale and size of the creature. It stood easily eight feet tall, and twelve feet long, the image replicating it’s movements and even the sounds, a hissing that could only be described as metal sliding over metal that grated the nerves. “We call them ‘Kiande Amheda,’ the Hard Meat . . . they of the black shell, and acid blood.”

“Aye, laddie . . . tha’s a real nasty already . . . “

Hach grunted, mildly amused, then pulled up a large ovoid, then what seemed to have a 10-legged scorpion crawling about, no pincers, but a deep recess in it’s underside. “Oh, that’s hardly the worst . . . this is what they look like, prior to a host anyway.” Hach kept the image animated, a generic human figure was shown walking near the egg, when the scorpoid sprang up with it’s tail, and latched onto the face of the human, the legs wrapping around the human’s head. “This stage plants the seed of it’s kind in the host . . . “

“Wait wait . . . you mean . . . that thing . . . it . . . rup-rup, er, bursts o-out . . .,” Jessica asked, clearly unsettled . . . the image moving forward and confirming her fear, as a smaller version of the beast erupted from the host. Jessica, suddenly turned around and retched. Hach had never seen this reaction so frequent in a species.

“Oh, ugh . . . now I can’t even imagine that horror . . . and I thought undead were bad,” grunted Sven.

“Ya said it lad . . . tha’s mos’ unpleasant . . . and it takes a loot ta get me unsettled.”

Hach snorted, “Oh, it’s not done yet . . . “ the image went back to the full grown beast, and it opened it’s jaws, launching an inner set in Durgo’s direction.

“Fookin’ hell, you bloody son o’a boggart!!” yepled Durgo, falling back, and the image continued, it’s skin molting, and it resulted in a slightly larger form, but it’s head flared out a bit, more ornate. The process repeated again, the relative sizes adjusting to compensate for the small room, the creature appeared massive, it’s head had become a fully flared comb, it’s body thick and heavy, with a pair of smaller claws on it’s chest. “This is the egg layer . . . their mother . . . or matriarch . . . “

Wagh seemed openly scared, “Dat bad creature . . . it mean . . . an nasty . . . it hate life . . . it eat life!”

“Fuckin hell . . . a Queen . . . you know, like in ant hives . . . “ remarked Sven

Lars popped him up the back of his head, “Bees, asshole . . . bees have hives.”

“Fuck . . . you know what I mean!” groaned Sven.

Hach was mildly amused with their responses, “I killed two on my blooding . . . this one put up the better fight.” There was an air of pride in his tale, but the company didn’t seem to enjoy it . . . he looked at Jessica, and could smell the rank odor of regurgitation.

“Ah, bloody hell . . . fookin nasty Jessica.”

“Urgh . . . bleh . . . sorry . . . that was . . . not expected ugh!” She drew a symbol in the air above the rather insulting mess, producing a glowing green mark while she whispered, then waved her hand over the mess . . . the puddle of putrid dissipating into dust. Hach was momentarily insulted by her weak constitution, but still amazed that she was able to do such in her weakened state.

In keeping things going, the group continued to share stories and the like. Hach found himself oddly intrigued, coming to understand the humans a bit more. While they were ideal prey, their methods of fighting was oriented in what they called “warfare.” Hach was curious, “And how many are involved in this event called ‘warfare?’”

“Ach, it depends laddie . . . which nations, wha all they have, why they be fightin’. Armies can consist o’ ‘undreds, ta thousan’s.” Recited Durgo. “I remember the Battle for Nae’rwinter, the major citeh neares’ ‘ere, as me gran’pa tol’ me as a wee tyke. The mighty city were under siege . . . all manner o’ soldiers an’ adventurers were answerin’ tha call to figh’ back the demons an whatnot tryna take tha citeh.”

“Demons you say . . . what manner of creature is that?”

“Ugh, from what I know, they’re hellspawn . . . creatures from the fiery depths that cling to shadows, and hunger for life. You can banish them from the mortal plane, but to actually kill them requires you to do so in their domain.”

Hach blinked under his mask, “What does that mean?”

“Their bodies turn to ash since they’re not of this plane . . . so there’s very little they leave behind. If you want demon horns or trophies, you have to go into the burning hells to get it.” recited Jessica, rather matter of factly. “Getting there is the easy part . . . getting out, not so much. The only exception would be those born with infernal blood in their veins . . . Tieflings. And dealing with them can be rather . . . aggravating.”

Something dawned on Hach, “Pardon, but is that form of procreation common?”

Sven nodded, “Lars and I are brothers, but my mother was a planetouched Aesimar . . . kind of like the opposite of Tieflings. Where they’re infernal, Aesimars are Celestial . . . opposite sides of the same coin. You also have the Dragonborn, Ganesi, Half-Orcs, Half-Elves . . . the list goes on and on. The larger the city you find yourself in, the more hybrids you’ll likely run into.”

“Wait, Dragonborn?” Hach keyed the external comms, “Dragons actually mate with humanoids? Is this true, let alone possible?!?!”

Gyremar bellowed, almost laughing, “Well, that’s an awkward question . . . when you’re able to transform, there’s often no telling what kind of trouble you’ll get into, or when. But, when bonds form, there’s little way to get out of them. I think some have a village several days travel by foot from Crosslight . . . hmmmmm, Frostperch I think they call it. Gold, Silver, Red, and White live there if memory serves, as their bloodlines prefer rocky mountain regions. There’s stories of ‘Prism’ villages, which are comprised of most or all lineage variations.” He grunted, pushing the ship up an incline, then stopped when they reached the peak. “Oh . . . uh oh . . . “ he paused, an epiphany hitting him.

“Gyremar, why have we stopped?” inquired Hach.

“It occurred to me . . . the gnolls were silent for months, but just came out several days after the wyvern was put down. Fells, fells, fells . . . I should have checked the den more closely. That beast was likely keeping other savage creatures at bay. And if the gnolls close to the Kobold barrows were active, it would mean that the Orcs to the north of the village may also mobilize!” He grunted, taking the ship in his front and hind claws, hugging it to himself then pushed off the ridge with his tail, powering his wings with all his might. “APOLOGIES FOR THE ROUGH RIDE!!”

Hach was thankful for being in the command chair, but could hear the yelps and groans from the group getting tossed and flung into the rear wall. He had to admit, flying about, strapped to a multi-ton reptile was almost as thrilling as the Path itself. He initiated the ship’s scans, adding data from his own wristcomp, and from Dur’ton’s equipment. The mapping was tremendous . . . he had been in the area for a long time before meeting with the “White Wyrm” as the others called it. He made a mental note to review the recordings at a more convenient time as it appeared one slight change in the area can throw things off.

#predator #yautja #D&D #gnolls #combat

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takeabitetoremember · 6 years ago

Text

Stay With Me (Part 13)

Rising early as he was always accustomed to, Michael slipped quietly from Mallory’s arms. Looking down at her by the firelight, she looked perfect, peaceful. Seeing the way she was smiling, knowing this truly is the first night in several weeks, possibly months she’s had a decent night’s sleep hits the small part of him that’s still human. This is *HIS* Mallory. He’s been the reason she’s not slept. Quickly pushing that thought out of his mind, as he covered her naked body, leaning down to kiss her forehead gently, there’s still so much work to be done and they’ll have the rest of their lives to make love. Slipping into the shower, waking up as the hot water washes over his body, going over a list of the interviews for the day in his mind. Rolling his eyes at the list, not looking forward to the day. Rubbing his eyes, cursing as soap gets in them.

“Fuck me”, grabbing a wash cloth, rinsing the soap away turning off the water hoping he didn’t disturb Mallory. Picking up a fresh towel drying off, contemplating playing more mind games with the potential candidates by delaying interviews for another week, simply to make them sweat. He’s liking the idea more and more. Perhaps even two. That they have no idea where he is, what he’s doing. Is he watching them? Is he just fucking Mallory? Is he doing work for the Cooperative? They’ll have no idea. It’ll keep them on edge, and be so absolutely delicious he can’t stand it. Oh yes. With a giddy smirk on his face, heading into what will now be their shared bedroom, looking over to his sleeping angel, even more proud of himself as he gazes at her.

“I must’ve worn her out”, thinking to himself with a confident smirk, “I still have it, Mallory. I didn’t forget how to make you scream, my love”, looking at her as he took another impeccable black suit from the closet, dressing completely and striding confidently into his office to look at the list he had for the day. He can hardly contain his excitement looking through the list, thinking of how he’ll be ruining these each of these miniscule, shallow, dolt’s day. Leaning back in his chair feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. All he has to do now is wait for Mrs. Mead to come for the morning list, and then he can stun her with the news. Only, someone, or “someones” will beat her there this morning.

Emily tossed and turned all night long. She was unable to get any restful sleep after the box that she and Timothy accidentally came upon the night before. She’s haunted by the letter Mallory wrote to herself. She can hear Mallory’s soft voice in her head saying the words, proclaiming her love for Langdon. She had no idea what his name was until they found that box. She was so young, and deeply in love. She’d already been married to Langdon, and they were expecting a baby, that she miscarried. She loved him more than anything, and someone, or apparently, more than one person took her away from him? But why? If they consented to her marrying him, why would they take her away? None of this makes any sense? The pictures, they looked so happy. Langdon looked so different than he does now. His hair was shorter, and he didn’t look so serious and stern. He looked happy, and so in love with Mallory. Both of them now look miserable. Is this why? Is it because they were taken away from each other?

“I have to know. I have to know more”, thinking to herself. Getting up hours before she normally would, putting on her dress, and grabbing the box from beneath her bed knowing they have to take the box to Langdon; hoping he’ll be thankful and volunteer some answers. Opening her bedroom door softly, looking out to the right, then the left, sneaking out and down the hall, her heart almost stopping when she hears footsteps.

“You scared the shit out of me!” clutching the box close to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I’m sorry! I was on my way to get you. I couldn’t sleep. I guess you couldn’t either?” Timothy looking deeply apologetic as he turned around, putting his arm around her, hurriedly escorting them both towards Langdon’s office.

“No, I couldn’t stop thinking about that letter, and the pictures, just everything. I’ll feel so much better when we get this to his office.”

Looking behind them almost every step, fearing the wrath of Venable if they get caught for “disturbing Langdon” without permission. Holding hands as they round the corner to where his office is. Hesitating for a moment when they finally do arrive. Standing hand in hand, looking at one another, knowing one or the other has to knock, but now that they’re there, they’re both speechless and terrified to do so. Just as Timothy gains the courage to knock on the door, they hear a voice from inside.

“Enter.”

Looking at one another, Emily feeling as if she’s going to be sick.

“I didn’t even knock”, Timothy mouthed holding her hand tightly as he opened to the door, seeing Langdon at his desk, not even looking up at them.

Emily’s heart is racing, clutching the box, it’s only when she begins to tremble and the contents of the box begin to shake that Langdon looks up.

“Mr. Langdon, Sir. We’re, We’re sorry to bother you. It’s just, uh, we, well. Um, we.”

“I’ll tell him, Timothy. He should know the truth. Mr. Langdon. We were looking for a place to be alone. Mrs. Venable has been insufferable. She doesn’t allow any intimate contact at all. We can’t hold hands, kiss, or hug. God forbid we should have sex. I swear to you we weren’t going to have sex. We just wanted to have a place to be alone together. We’re tired of getting one kiss a week. We found a room that hasn’t been used. In our haste to try to light a candle we knocked over this box.”

Emily’s fragile hands holding it out nervously, placing it on the desk in front of Langdon watching as his eyes move, seemingly reading the note written atop it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Langdon. We… We gathered up all of the contents and put them back in there. We tried to put the photographs back in the album exactly as they were.”

Langdon’s eyes immediately cut from the box up to Emily, then to Timothy, and back to Emily. Saying nothing, putting his hands upon the desk, pushing his seat back, standing up, walking around the two of them. Closing her eyes, Emily is instantly regretting bringing the box to Langdon. She just knows he’s going to kill them right now. Timothy, on the other hand, is standing stoic, trying to put up a brave front.

“So”, Langdon, finally speaking, looking the young couple up and down, hands behind his back, “you accidentally knocked the box over, correct?”

“Yes, sir. We’re so sorry. We meant no disrespect”, Timothy replied, turning mirroring Langdon’s body image, placing his hands behind his back.

“I see. So, what makes you think that you should bring this box to me?” Cocking his head inquisitively, seeing Emily fidgeting nervously, pulling at her dress, trying her best to avoid eye contact. She knows she can’t lie to him. She’s already heard what Gallant blabbed to everyone, “If you lie, I will know. If you lie, I will kill you.” She knows you can never, EVER lie to Langdon.

Finally turning around fully, seeing a cracked door, averting her eyes from Langdon, peering through that crack, seeing Mallory laying asleep in a bed. A tap of Langdon’s boot on the floor brings her quickly back to reality. Her jaw begins to tremble, knowing she has to speak up and tell the truth. Looking over to Timothy, reaching for his hand, holding it tightly, then looking at Langdon.

“Mr. Langdon, when I began hurriedly picking up the things, I had Timothy looking out the door to make sure no one was coming. There was a shirt, a ring, and a photo album”, tears welling in her eyes, squeezing Timothy’s hand tightly, knowing she’s going to have to talk about the letter, soon. “I realized that a few of the pictures fell out of a photo album. I figured these things probably belonged to someone who died, or lived here before the world ended. I didn’t know. I wanted to be respectful, regardless”, wiping her eyes as the tears begin to fall. “When I began to look at the pictures to try to put them back, the ones that fell out, I saw the faces. I saw the faces of two young people who were so in love, that looked so familiar. It wasn’t until a letter fell out from the back of it, that I knew who the people in the album were. It broke my heart. I’m so sorry, Mr. Langdon. I’m so sorry for yours and Mallory’s loss. I…. I’m just so sorry. How anyone could do that to you. To her. They must be a horrible person. I’m sorry Mr. Langdon. I’m just so sorry.”

Turning to Timothy, breaking down into tears, having to recount that letter to Langdon was far harder than she ever imagined.

Standing there, hands behind his back, expression never changing, although inside, his anger for Cordelia and Myrtle rising yet again. Despite having “killed” them, it will never be enough. He’s regretting not hunting them down and personally burning their souls. He knew Mallory wrote herself a letter. She told him in her letter years ago. She was just asking about her wedding ring last night. Cordelia or Myrtle found her box at Robichaux and had the audacity to take what was ours and sacred to send to that flamboyant buffoon Behold! How dare he rifle through Mallory’s things! None of them had ANY right! A small smile curls at the edge of his lips, thinking of how he slaughtered Behold, and all of the Warlocks. At least they paid dearly. Slowly walking over, not wanting the sobbing teenager to awaken Mallory, this certainly isn’t the way he’d like for her to see her box, or find out more about their past, placing a hand on both Emily’s and Timothy’s shoulder’s.

“Thank you, both, for returning Mallory’s box. Emily, you are correct, the people who took Mallory away from me were indeed horrible. What they did was cruel, and horrific. I can’t say I’m sorry they didn’t survive”, walking around his desk, sitting back down, opening the box, taking out Mallory’s ring, a small smirk crossing his lip. Looking up at the couple, “However, I can say with great certainty, the two of you, will live. Congratulations. You will be joining us at the Sanctuary.”

Both heads turning quickly, Emily gripping onto Timothy tightly, unable to believe what she just heard. Wiping her eyes, wanting to make sure she wasn’t hearing things.

“Mr. Langdon, did you just say that Timothy and I were going to the Sanctuary?”

“That is correct. There’s only one condition attached. Have you told anyone about Mallory’s box?”

Looking to Timothy, shaking her head, Timothy looking at Langdon shaking his head. Both replying in unison, “No, sir. No one.”

“Good. You tell no one about the box. I don’t care who knows about you going to the Sanctuary. That matters not to me. If anyone finds out about you bringing the box and you told, no Sanctuary. Understand?”

“Absolutely Mr. Langdon. No one”, replying in unison, both too afraid of losing their spot, and even more afraid of the wrath of Langdon.

“That will be all, then. Breakfast will be served soon, you don’t want them looking for you.”

Taking Timothy’s hand, Emily hurriedly began walking towards the door, praying they didn’t meet Venable or Mead as they headed down the long hall. Hearing footsteps, knowing now that it’s not Mallory, it has to be Venable or Mead, hiding in the first room they can until the steps pass. Peeking out, seeing the back of Venable, hearing her cane as she heads toward Langdon’s office. Slipping out of the room, sneaking further down the hall headed towards the large dining hall.

“Venable will have the outburst of all outbursts when she finds out that Langdon and Mallory are married and have been for years! Did you see the way she was looking at him!” laughing, holding onto Timothy, smiling having no idea that Langdon is going to ruin everyone else’s day, well week or so for awhile very soon.

Pulling out the album, looking through the old photos, seeing Mallory laying on his chest, smiling so happily. Then, the one picture that almost guts him, probably one of the last pictures they’d taken. She was standing just her underwear, hands covering her breasts, long hair cascading down her back, laughing shyly. Being so small and petite, it was obvious she was pregnant. Her little belly had an obvious pooch to it, that she loved to rub. She couldn’t wait to begin to feel the baby move. Michael couldn’t bring himself to turn the page. When Venable rudely let herself in his office without so much as knocking, he was livid. Already put in a bad mood from seeing that Cordelia sent it over to Behold, this put him over the edge. Deciding he’s going to make her day worse than his, laying down the album just as it is on his desk, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, cocking his head, simply looking at her.

“You’ve sent no letter down as to who will be interviewed today? And Coco and Gallant have been requesting Mallory. Is she still a Gray? No one has seen her. What is her actual status, now?”

Feeling the anger rising once more. Thinking how wonderfully delicious it would be to simply snap her neck with the flick of his wrist and eat her heart. Oh, how delightful it would be. Alas, I have to listen to this bullshit, although when I give her the news, she’s be more than morose. Oh, yes. She’ll be enraged. Leaning back into the desk, resting his hand thoughtfully in his hand, looking over to Venable.

“I haven’t, have I? That’s because there will be no interviews this week. I’ve postponed them. I have more”, scratching his chin, looking around the room, “Investigating, to do before I continue.” Looking suspiciously at Venable, trying to make her as uncomfortable as possible, waiting as long as possible to speak. Seeing her looking down at the album on the desk, smirking, knowing eventually she’d look.

“Ah, as for Mallory”, looking down at the album, nodding, moving his finger gently over the picture, “No, Mallory is no longer a Gray.” Picking up the ring, looking at it, cocking his head, then looking over to Venable, “She’s my wife.”

Venable’s face falls in absolute and complete utter shock, “Excuse me, Mr. Langdon. Your wife? Mallory, the Gray is your wife?” scoffing, as if she were beneath her, and everyone else at the Outpost.

Pushing himself back from his desk, circling Venable. Thinking to himself, “I could torture her. That would be so much more fun. Instead of snapping her neck and being merciful, I could actually rip her heart out while she’s alive. That would be far more evil and much more of a thrill.” Stopping in front of her, leaning on his desk, looking her in her eyes, seeing the discomfort, she knows she’s stepped out of bounds with her comment, but won’t dare apologize.

“Yes, Mallory Langdon. She has been for several years. She was taken away from me many years ago when we were younger. She was the mother of my child. In this picture you were so enjoying looking at”, seeing her looking away, finally showing an ounce of shame, “Yes, Ms. Venable, this is Mallory. Mallory was three months pregnant here. This was a few days before she lost our baby. No one will be taking her from me, again, and I will give her a baby this is certain.”

For the first time, Venable is at a loss for words. She’s able to see Mallory sleeping in the crack through the door. Her mouth opens to speak, but words fail her.

“Ms. Venable?”

“I… I’m sorry for your loss Mr.” it’s like she’s choking having to say the words, “and Mrs. Langdon. I’ll tell everyone that interviews will resume next week pending upon your discretion.” Smiling awkwardly, turning to leave Langdon’s office. All that can be heard is the clicking of her cane as she begins to walk down the hall.

Closing the album, placing it on the desk, picking up the ring, walking back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, putting Mallory’s left hand on his lap, caressing her cheek gently. Slipping her wedding band on her finger, leaning over, kissing her lips, whispering, “I will love you, Mallory Langdon, for time, and all eternity.”

Her eyes fluttering as she hears him speaking, smiling, caressing his cheek lovingly, kissing him back softly.

“And I love you, Michael Langdon, for time, and all eternity”, taking his hand in hers, looking up at him sleepily, “I could wake up like this every morning”, moving her hand to his chest, it’s then, that she notices the ring on her finger. Holding up her hand, looking at it, then, at Michael. Tears welling in her eyes, holding her hand against her heart.

“Michael, how? Where? My wedding ring! Where, where did you find it? It was in a box. I remember that. I remember that I put it in a box with one of your shirts, and a photo album. I’d written myself a note I think? Michael, There’s so much missing, for months, I’d have dreams of you, of us at various stages of our relationship, and I thought that they were dreams. Some, I thought were nightmares, because some of the things that happened were so horrible. I didn’t think they were real, because you weren’t here, and in my memories, I couldn’t remember you. I was living in hell. My hell is being separated from you.”

Those words cut him like a knife. “My hell is being separated from you.”

He would be even angrier if he knew his beloved surrogate mother, Mrs Mead, had a hand in keeping him away, that she was the one who had hand delivered Mallory’s box to Behold. She wanted Michael to focus on his “destiny” without being distracted by trying to find Mallory. That wasn’t something she deemed important.

Deciding against showing her the album just yet, walking to the closet, hanging up his jacket, taking off his boots, turning to look at Mallory, seeing her looking so innocent, just as she always did. She was the one pure thing in his life. For all of the horrible, wicked things he’d done, she was the one thing he did right. Seeing her smiling softly, sighing as he walked to their bed, unbuttoning his shirt, not bothering to hang it up as he normally would, simply throwing it on the floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Knowing this conversation will be hard, she’s going to need to cling to him. He remembers how needy she was, and how he needed her just as much. The anger is already boiling in his wretched soul at the ones who caused her this pain, himself, most for leaving her that night. Taking a deep breath, turning to her, lying down, pulling her in close to him, feeling her naked body against his so warm and inviting. If it weren’t for the fact that he needed to get this off his chest NOW he’d be ravaging her, there’s no doubt about it. His hand grazed lazily up and down her back as she sighed contently, snuggled in safely against his chest, the place she always felt safest. He knew this was the best place to have this conversation.

“Mallory, before we look at our photo album, I wanted to tell you about how you ended up, here, and how you were taken away from me”, feeling her trying to nuzzle in closer, he can tell without her even speaking, she’s afraid. Her small hands clinging to him, holding onto him so tightly, fearing as if she let him go, he’d disappear. He knows this. He knows her fear. Kissing her forehead reassuringly, holding her tighter, caressing her. “Shhhhhh, it’s ok. I’m here, my love.”

Trying so hard not to break down, feeling overwhelmed, so many visions going through her mind all at once, but none staying more than a moment. It’s terrifying. She’s not sure if she’s ready to hear it all- to really know how she was taken from Michael. The fear is in the back of her mind that she’ll lose him yet again.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning. Your father, and step mother bought the house my grandmother and I lived in. My grandmother thought I was so evil, she committed suicide to get away from me. I was still living in the house, with the spirits. The house was “haunted” which is why it was always listed so cheaply on the market, and no one ever stayed, or it was ever bought. When your dad and step-mom bought it, it made me angry. I killed them both. Ben, who was my step-father, sort of, who had been working with me, told me that I was just evil, and he never should’ve worked me, and all this bullshit. Then, I saw you. You looked at me with look no one has ever looked at me with and did something no one else had ever done. You ran to me and hugged me. You thanked me and told me I saved your life, that they were bad people. You tried explaining to Ben how they couldn’t afford the house, and that they were planning on killing you, and burning down the house for the insurance money to get out of paying for the house, and to get rich off of your death. He didn’t really pay any attention, and I was too angry. I tried to push you away. I told you I was a monster, and that I’d just hurt you. You followed me, and wrapped your arms around my waist, and told me no, I wasn’t a monster, that I had gifts, like you did; that we were different.”

Looking up at him, starting to remember still clinging tightly to his arm, “I tried to kill my father. I remember, Michael.”

“Yes, my darling”, running his fingers through her hair as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Well, it is the normal thing in Michael’s world. “You did try on a few occasions to kill your father, they weren't exactly intentional, but you were the cause none the less. He was such a wretched human. He deserved it. He deserved what I gave him even more. We were happy, Mallory. I remember the first time we made love”, feeling her relax, smiling against his chest.

“So do I. That was one of the things I dreamt about”, blushing slightly as she caressed his chest, remembering being a teenager full of hormones and in a bed with the best looking boy she’d ever seen in her life. “Michael, you have no idea how in love I was with you that night. People have said it’s impossible to fall in love that quickly, but I knew.”

“So did I. After a couple of months, the inevitable happened. You were pregnant.”

Closing her eyes, clinging to him, tears welling in her eyes, this was the part she feared. The part she prayed wasn’t true. Trying to keep the tears from falling as they began pouring down her cheeks.

“I was praying this was the part that was only a nightmare, Michael, because I know it doesn’t end well”, sniffling, holding onto him tightly.

Realizing that despite coming out of the spell Cordelia or Myrtle put her under, the miscarriage was so painful that she’s blocked it out totally.

Holding her tightly, not knowing if he’s prepared to tell her this or not.

“Yes, Mallory. You were pregnant, and we were so happy. We were determined we were going to be better parents than what we had. My mother died giving birth to me, and everyone else wanted nothing to do with me. Your mother was the only one who cared for you, but after she died, it was your father and step mother who thought you were possessed and planned to kill you. If I hadn’t killed them, you’d be dead. We were going to be good parents. We were going to love our child. Things were going to be normal, despite where we came from. I’d shown you who I was, and you told me, that you were the light, and I was the dark. You were what kept me from embracing the darkness.”

Looking up at Michael, unsure as to what he means by the darkness. “Michael, darkness? What do you mean by darkness? I don’t understand?”

Closing his eyes, running his fingers through is hair, realizing she’s blocked this out, too. Of course, she was on the stairs sobbing, begging him not to leave. That’s what he’s not looking forward to telling her. Taking a deep breath, moving his long hair, turning his head to the side, showing her his neck.

Trying not to gasp, putting her head back down against his chest, seeing herself sitting on the stairs, begging him not to leave her. “Oh God, Michael, I begged you not to leave me. I begged you Michael.”

Holding her, just letting her cry. A part of him is relieved that he doesn’t have to tell her, but the human part that’s left of him, the part that she owns, is being ripped out of him. He’s seeing how badly leaving hurt her, even after all this time, and what the repercussions of his actions from that night really were.

“I screamed for you, Michael. I was scared. I was alone. I didn’t know what was happening. It hurt so badly Michael. There was so much blood. When I realized it wasn’t a large clot of blood I had pushed out, I saw her. I was devastated, Michael. She was gone. She was really gone. She was so tiny, and so perfect. Her little hands, and feet hand formed. She fit completely in my hand. I don’t know how my Aunt Myrtle and Cordelia got to the house, and found me, but they did. I was lying in the bed, covered in blood. I was weak, crying, and begging for you.

Things are still fuzzy but I remember having a bath, and overhearing that they were going to put a spell on me to make me forget about you, our baby- everything. I remember feeling a deep sense of panic, and writing letters, one to you, and one to myself. I don’t remember what they said. I remember putting your shirt, my wedding ring, and a photo album in a shoe box that I stuffed in my luggage and putting the letter in your photo album. Did I put that in a drawer, or under your pillow?”

“You put it under my pillow”, holding her a little tighter, remembering when he read it, how his heart was ripped from his chest. “I died a little that day.”

“I’m so sorry, Michael”, looking up at him, tearfully, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Mallory. Don’t blame yourself, my love. You didn’t cause any of this. Just know, that no one will ever take you from me again, and know that I will do everything in my power to assure you that you will have a strong, healthy baby.”

Looking up at him, smiling, caressing his cheek, moving up, her lips meeting his in a soft kiss. “Michael, promise me, we’re going to make things better. We’re going to make the world better”, not asking if Michael had anything to do with the state of affairs and why they’re in this bunker, which used to be the Warlocks home, but deep in her heart, knowing he was the ultimate cause. The good in her still believing she can redeem him, that she can make it right, that they can fix all the wrong that’s been done.

Looking down at her, feeling as close to guilt as he can possibly feel, caressing her back, “Of course my love. That’s what I want. I wanted a new world without hypocrisy for our children to grow up in. A world different from what we grew up in.”

Thinking for a moment, despite how burnt and desolate the world looks right now, Mallory knows she has the power to bring things back to life, and she’s hopeful that once they arrive at the Sanctuary, there will be a vast garden to grow crops and flowers, so that they will be able to begin anew. Starting to really relax, thinking about actually having a life, instead of just existing the way she has for the past how long has it been? Fifteen? Sixteen months? She’s lost count. They’ve seemed meaningless until Michael arrived. He’s literally breathed life back into her. Given her a reason to live.

Taglist:

@langdonicotine

@Kilcort

@Nely-Collins

@Neonlacrima

@waiting-to-be-lost-at-sea

@Perfect-Ginger-Maniac

@bi-tiger

@amanda-d0000

@zonietta

(If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist at any time feel free to message me! Always glad to add people! I love new followers! Sad to see people leave, but no hard feelings ever- and NEVER a block for for leaving! I always appreciate your time with me no matter what!)

#millory #michael langdon #mallory langdon #michael and mallory #michael x mallory #american horror story apocalypse #ahs apocalypse #stay with me

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stormears · 6 years ago

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Traveler of Mine (snippet)

Summary: While Hyrule rebuilds its civilization, the Champion Link disappears into the wild again, seeking rest, or familiarity, or a release from a century of crushing weight that defined his life. Princess Zelda and Prince Sidon, the royals who stand a chance against him, pursue him, so that they might bring him home. Link runs.

1,500-word snippet/beginning scene of a 10 - 15k-ish oneshot I’ve been thinking about. I have a fanfic “thing” I enjoy of Charcter A hunting down Char B with pseudo-romantic intentions. Zelda and Sidon and maybe a handful of random other citizens suit up to bring Link home and maybe ask him out or try to win that opportunity by catching him and beating him at his own wilderness-traversing game. Chase scenes, friendship, friendship-to-romance, lots of horse riding and mentions of horsey things, long journeys across Hyrule symbolizing Link’s metaphorical, huge expanse of crushing exhaustion of the burden he’s lived with as long as he can remember.

The snippet doesn’t get that far into all that, but it’s what I’m going for.

The people came back, and so she could breathe. It was her secret fear, her spoiled, hopeful one, that when—if—the Calamity was driven back, the city would stay empty, and no one would ever return. Several times across a hundred years where she refused to age and strained her muscles against the Beast enough for fifty men at once, she thought about this and felt something like humiliation. But once again, Link saved her.

Link’s journey upon waking in his shrine to bringing his newly rallied Beasts with him to take back their Kingdom took him five months. The battle took three hours. After they had rested and woke alone in the castle ruins, they explored. They pushed rubble, collected artifacts that had sat on stone floors and collected dust for the length of a Hylian’s whole life. At the end of the first week, some strangers came in. And more came. And the rubble moved.

Now Zelda does not know the feeling of humiliation. She knows about growing, and filing residential deeds and merchant partnerships. Folk coming into Castle Town came with businesses and families and precious heirlooms to put on shelves. And most importantly, they brought crafts to carry these things with. Carpenters came and mixed cement and brought logs and homes rose up. Link was on roofs more often than not, hefting this and aligning that. He made his intentions known well enough even to those folk who couldn’t make sense of his hand signs. Whether they did or didn’t, he was well in demand. Everyone knew him. Half the population had seen him roaming Hyrule these past months, some of them had apparently had errands done by him, sold him groceries and supplies and weapons. Everyone knew the warrior, the horseman, the moblin slayer, mountain climber, savior of races and dragons and things like that.

When she gave out plots of land to a group of farmers, another one came up, with a Goron behind him, asking with great excitement, “Ma’am, where is the Champion? Is he in the south quarter today?”

Where is Link, was a familiar question, usually easily answered. “He’s due for a rest day today. He must be sitting on a castle wall somewhere. I’m afraid he won’t be back for any construction assistance till tomorrow morning.”

“I might have the answer to that, miss Zelda,” said the Goron, who raised a folded piece of paper above all their heads. “I passed him this morning. He said to give this to you, uh, ma’am.” And his arm came down over the farmer, to Zelda’s reach. She took the paper and felt a thin magic on it immediately, some fairy blessing to keep the paper shut. An invisibly bump of sorts told her that the Goron had tried to open this letter and failed.

“Thank you, sir. I’m so glad it’s safe and unopened.” She gave him a fine grin and made sure to look him in the eyes as she opened it up. The Goron kept a straight face in front of her.

Zelda did not keep her straight face. The letter was from Link, written in his passable, leaning scratch and saying words she really had not expected to see or read this morning:

Zelda,

I’m leaving for a while. Don’t know when I’ll be back I need to be away Im very tired. Please accept my apologies. Reconstruction of castle Town is going well I don’t think they really need me anymore. I think I want to, be in the wild again it helps me sleep and I’ve felt heavy and strange since we won the battle again I am sorry. Take care of yourself my princess

At the bottom he signed his name the way he used to, a century ago when he was a trained soldier. The elegant precision and large L seemed to be written by an entirely different hand than the one who had written the message itself. Zelda dared to think ‘Who wrote this?’ as she scanned it a second time. It seemed like a tiny work of fiction. A small handful of collapses in the grammar and spelling. It didn’t matter. Link probably hadn’t written letters for a hundred years. Link had left her without telling her so. Heavy and strange. What in the hell did that mean? She read it again, again. Im very tired.

‘Well, I know that, silly goose,’ she wanted to laugh. ‘You are the most tired man in the land right now.’ But it didn’t feel funny at that moment. That lying Goron was still looking at her.

She looked up with her same smile. “He says he’s gone out for some fresh air. Won’t be back for a while. I say he could use a good long break.” She nodded to herself and folded up the paper into a little scroll and tied it with a spare hair ribbon. She hooked it onto her belt where it would not be taken or read. “The first zone of the town is properly gridded off and our buildings are coming along nicely. We can do without his help for now.”

“Oh nooo!” moaned a lady with a cloth cap from behind them. “I hoped to see him today! I promised him free blackberry wine, you know! He, I think he made a sign saying he’d take it.”

“When will he be back, milady?” asked the man she’d been talking to before this nonsense started, and Zelda told him “Long enough for a decent vacation,” and hoped he would shut up. To assure that he would, she made a show of taking a new set of important paperwork in her hands and walking away. She could be busy anywhere. With the construction, the lake and reservoir diggers, the Zora party asking for trade, that asshole who said his grandfather was a Councilman, some horse association, lots of things.

Zelda made time for many of these things until just after sunset, when construction crews were piling up lumber for the night and lazing about. They left town or took shelter at the one inn that was close enough to complete to comfortably stay in, and any new residents did the same. Several folk during the day had asked about Link, was he coming to this area soon, was he around, did he have lunch plans? Zelda excused him each time, but she knew with each one that her placating couldn’t last forever. Or even for long. This town was growing new life again because of Link. It was all because of Link. He was the one people really knew. Not her, not usually. Even if her name was on everything and she carried the Goddess blood and every person she spoke to was her subject now, people nodded these facts away and asked to see the Champion Link, please. And so did she.

He was her appointed knight and constant companion through every trial and struggle and sunny day. She had known him since they were small. She knew him before he started tying his hair back. She watched him fall and cut himself on grown men’s swords and then wield them on the back of a horse. She told him to stand by her while a great godly demon threatened to swallow them and erase them from existence. She had known him so long, trusted only him by that point, that she could only choose him now. Link was at her side for everything and she loved him for it in some way. His loyalty was stronger than the might of Ganon. He hadn’t even told her to her face that he was leaving her alone.

“Are you all right?” she murmured in her half-broken room that night. She felt she was close to sleeping and dreaming this away. “I know you’re tired. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I need you for everything.” There was no one here to apologize to her, to say it’s okay, or I am always at your side, or some such thing. Link was gone. Was it absurd, that she wanted to cry? That she was crying.

‘If it helps you sleep and rest and finally...feel good again, then you must do it,’ she thought, for speaking was out of the question now. Her lip was wobbling like a soft child’s. She wiped at her wet eyes. ‘I didn’t know you felt heavy and strange. And tired. I’m sorry, Link. I’m sorry! Should I come get you? Do you want me to help you?’ No answer here. There was a light wind outside, delaying the silence.

When the silence was back she thought, ‘You rest, my Champion, and if you are not well or back soon, I will come find you.’

This came out significantly more emotional that I first intended. But we’re rolling with it. Eventually Zelda will decide Link’s been gone too long and she’s worried about him and enlist Sidon to help her since I guess she knows they fought Vah Ruta together and Sidon would want to help. This was originally a purely Sidlink idea but Zelda wormed her way in there and we may have some sort of Zelda x Link x Sidon thing on our hands. Or maybe I’ll pick one in the end, eh, I’m not sure yet. I planned this in my head when I was playing BotW to distract me from failing to write other WIP fics that I frankly care much more about.

And as Link keeps eluding them (he secretly takes up “work” at various Hyrule stables, he’s the one who goes to collect horses off of mountaintops and shit when people ask to “board” them like the player would, so he keeps escaping with both his natural athletic skills and his retinue of infinite horses lmao) Zelda and Sidon will feel less “poor dear Link, we must find him and make sure he’s okay” and more “That clever BITCH, I almost had him, he’s too good, soon I’ll have him in my arms you hear me my dear Link I’m coming for you”

That’s the kind of fic I’d like to read anyway, so here I am writing it :/

#fanfiction #Zelink #Sidlink #Botw #Botw fanfiction #I've only finished 1 Divine Beast and don't know every character yet aside from a few screenshots and spoilers. I'm a fake gamer girl.

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steinfeldofrph · 7 years ago

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SURVEY RESULTS!

so! a week or so ago, i annoyed you all by constantly reblogging a link to a survey to help improve my blog? 53 of you guys responded which was really cool so thanks to those who take time out of their day to do so! below the cut, i’ve responses and next steps to the things you guys said as well as responses to things you’ve said so if you said something and you wanna see if i responded, click read more. or if you’re just curious:

My queue is currently set at 8 posts a day. This means a post every three hours. Is this too little, too less or okay?

that was question one and these were the results:

18.86% said “too little”

81.14% said “alright”

nobody said too little

next steps: the queue will stay as it is since its an overwhelming majority!

Do you think I reblog too many of the same people in terms of fc pictures/resources/etc to the point it becomes annoying?

that was question number two and these were the results:

90.6% said no

3.8% said yes

the rest said that things among the lines, “i follow you because you reblog those fcs”, “some more age and gender diversity” and “you’re fine”

next steps: no next steps really since no one said anything of concern. i’ll try and keep it up!

then i asked people if there was any they didn’t like and most of you guys said n/a accept for hailee steinfeld, olivia holt and dylan sprayberry. i tag every celebrity as “firstname lastname” so hailee is always tagged as “hailee steinfeld” pls feel free to blacklist but i will be slowing down on all three! hailee posts will most likely be limited to three posts a week maybe 4

then there was this dude:

first of all nobody has said anything before this survey so clearly i wasn’t annoying people that much so a) those people are blocked and b) you’re just a whiny bitch. anyways

I currently have a tag called "poc" where i put all non-white resources, psds etc. Would tags such as "poc psd" and "poc gif pack" be more suitable?

that was question number four i think? a lot of you pressed other so i can’t give decent percentages but thank you for your replies

next steps: i will be creating new tags for poc and tagging gif packs etc featuring people of colour as a separate thing. i will make a post when this is in effect. i will also create a whole poc section in my navi. thanks again to everybody!

What types of themes would you like me to reblog more of? Can select multiple options.

most of you guys picked all of them so it was pretty even tbh. some selected the other option and said pages and more accessible themes

next steps: i will do my very best to reblog more of each of those things. please don’t be mad if you don’t see immediate change because im busy these days and all!

What resources would you like me to reblog more of in general? Can select multiple options.

im gonna go for top two because they were in the lead:

77.4% said underused fcs

73.6& said gif packs

next steps: i will try and reblog both! i’ve found a few blogs that post exclusively underused fcs and i will regularly check tags such as “gif pack” to reblog from.

the next question was about trigger warnings and i won’t post them now but i am gonna make a list and a post announcing the list when it’s ready.

next was literally a free for all so im gonna answer things that i will are a concern:

well i sometimes try to request you something but it takes a lot before i gets answers and there is no rush but maybe make a todo list of requests you've accepted out of the messages you haven't replied to yet, so us requesters know if you got it/accepted it sofia says: i do have a tag. it’s stated on my faq too! im rlly busy these days so i don’t sometimes see something? you’re more than welcome to hit my ims up since im on mobile most of the time. sorry about the delays but please send a message confirming whether or not i got something. if i accept something, it’s replied to as well as denied stuff

more resources for graphic makers maybe?? a tag for all resources would be cool too. dont know if u have a mobile WID but that would also be nice imo. unsure tbh? but i tried!! sofia says: i’ll aim to reblog more textures but since im not a graphics maker myself idk what to reblog lmao. i do have a mobile wid! log onto my blog on mobile and you’ll see a link under my description. u did good bb thank u!

Christmas header!!! Girl, change it. But in terms of your actual theme, I adore it and it's gorgeous! sofia says: honey i kno!!!! i haven’t had the time to log into ps these days but it will be changed... before christmas :D

I think your blog is pretty swell as it is and it kind of makes me wanna become a rph??? so if you've got any tips please share tysm sofia says: dsbjgjbs thank u! um as for tips: stay in ur lane, reblog a lot of things and make things aswell. don’t be afraid to send yourself anons requesting things to get yourself out there!

i love your blog, i think you are one of the best rph's still going. you seem to stay out of most drama and just focus on helping people which is amazing. the one suggestion i have would be to stop reblogging gif icons if they weren't made by scratch from the op? sofia says: yeah i don’t do that anymore unless they are made from gif packs but i’ll keept that in mind???? sometimes ppl don’t have a choice and have to use gif hunts bc they can’t gif themselves/they don’t have the time

i do wish you posted less disney/nick fcs and maybe considered posting more mature actors but i wouldn't complain about which fcs you liked on your blog!! you're doing great and i love you and would love to be in a group with you if you ever want to post rp recs :) sofia speaks: yeah i will agree on that! my next season long project is most likely going to focus on an actor 30+ so look out! and i only make them because im tired of y’all using 30+ fcs as early 20s so i offer more variety????? but like i said i get what you mean! as for groups im in sidekickhq so hmu ! im also down for 1x1s

Less "REMINDER THAT..." "JUST SO YOU KNOW" "CALL OUT POST" "OMG THEY ARE SO PROBLEMATIC" posts? I know the tea is good™ but I don't want to open a rph blog and only find drama, you know? Also, what is the point of doing an honest survey if you are going to complain when someone says something about your blog that you don't like? The "too many resources of one fc that annoys you" question was there with Hailee in mind and she was the first one to come to everyone's mind, regardless of your URL. Everytime there is a "Sofia Speaks"post it's more of Sofia Complains and it didn't use to be like that? I miss your positive vibes and posts. sofia says: alright honey take a fucking seat because i have shit to say to your and your whiny ass. first of y’all you’re the one who sounds hella drama filled tbh. and i don’t really reblog those and when i do it’s got proof and it’s me saying don’t play rapists guys! sorry if you’re so offended by that and call it drama???? and like 2 people said hailee out of 53???? so uhhhhh where are you getting everyone from buddy? where’s your proof????????? and im allowed to use my tag for when i want????? it’s tagged so people can blacklist it? why do your think i tag it lmao??????????? and im not even here these days tbh? anyways i really want your to unfollow me if you haven’t and there is a line between constructive criticism and just bitching. you’re just bitching. and not in a good kinda stranger things way.

talk to us more 😤 sofia says: literally hit me up in my ims! and im sorry i seem distant im just so busy rip! but please come to me i will love you down!

and we’re done! thanks guys for your responses! see you around!

#sofia speaks #hella long if u click read more!

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betweensceneswriter · 7 years ago

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Jimjeran-Chapter 22 : Autle (Outlay)

Heading to a deserted island for their honeymoon! Click Here to Hop to the Table of Contents

Previously on Jimjeran-Chapter 21 : The Morning After These two kids are adorable.

My parents showed up hesitantly around ten, but Jamie and I were fully clothed and bringing out our duffle bags, snorkeling gear, and the few food items I thought of adding to the list of food Jamie said he’d sent on ahead. The town’s truck, which I had since learned was one of three motorized vehicles on the island, was going to drive us down to the end of the island, where the Rosa family owned a boat that they were renting to us for the weekend.

Once again, my dad and Jamie headed off together, this time to go summon the truck. My mom requested a tour of the clinic, so I showed her my primitive medical set-up.

“Dougal is leaving this afternoon,” my mom said, after she’d tried out my pump “faucet.” “But your dad and I were wondering if we could stick around until Monday.”

“Where would you stay?” I asked. “Still at the Iroij’s palace?”

“That’s the thing,” Mom answered. “We would like to stay here, if you don’t mind.” She indicated the wall toward our apartment. “Enjoy the quiet, clean and fix things up a little,” she shrugged her shoulders. “You know how we like to make ourselves useful.”

Mom wasn’t kidding. Every time she visited us in Boston, the next time I was in my kitchen my refrigerator would have been cleaned out and my stove top and oven scrubbed.

“We only have the one pair of sheets,” I said to her, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

“I could wash them,” she said. “But I could also just air them out today. I mean, honestly—last night I saw something a mother-in-law should never have to see, which I’m guessing was a lot fresher than anything still there. And we don’t have a black light or anything.”

“Yuck, Mom,” I groaned, covering my face. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you or sent you away.”

“Oh, I knew what was happening,” she said. “Besides what I could hear,” (I buried my face deeper in my hands) “which was an indication that you have married quite an enthusiastic lover, Moneo told me all about the custom, with plenty of time to head somewhere else for a while.”

“Why did you stay, then?” I whimpered, disturbed by the entire conversation.

“I thought it would be an interesting cultural experience,” she said, surprisingly earnestly, “And such an amazing conversation starter when anyone tries to start one-upping their kids’ wedding stories at my book club.”

“You will not!” I exclaimed, coming out of hiding to see her facial expression, obviously pleased with herself for being so hilarious.

“Claire, I would never,” she said, shaking her head and smiling. “Though if Stacy Harrow starts telling me about her daughter’s shocking ceremony, I will probably have to work extra hard to resist the temptation to share yours.”

I shook my head in stunned silence, as I ushered my mom out of the clinic.

“Besides,” my mom said, “Jamie already set it up with your dad. He’s got something he wanted us to do while you are gone.”

“What’s the deal with Jamie and Daddy?” I asked. We could see the pick-up truck appearing from a distance off. “I’m starting to feel like Dad prefers him to me.”

“It was just so sudden, Claire,” My mom ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the curls away from her face. “I just think Daddy couldn’t let this happen without feeling like he knows Jamie a little. I know you’re a grown-up. But you’re still his little girl.”

“How do you really feel, Mom?” I asked. “Was this the stupidest thing I’ve ever done?”

“Oh, certainly not,” she said, hugging me around the waist. “You’ve done plenty of stupider things.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked.

“Actually, Claire,” she said, “Impulsive, yes. Sudden, definitely. But stupid, sweetie? Love is never stupid.”

I was torn when the time came to leave. I hadn’t seen my parents in six months or more, so it was a challenge to say goodbye. But as we were packing up the truck, there were several times Jamie had touched me, just brushing his hand across my back, or stepping close behind me when I was loading something in the truck so I could clearly feel that he was aroused. Once he leaned over and breathed on my neck beneath my ear, and I about jumped out of my skin. The way he kept looking at me, I felt naked already; and I was beginning to feel quite ready to be naked again.

Fulfilling that desire was delayed by my parents deciding to ride on the truck to see us off; otherwise I had a very strong feeling there would have been some major below-the-waist touching in the back of the truck as we rode to the end of the island.

I had a sense of anticipation as we left Matolen behind and headed across the lagoon. In thirty minutes, we were pulling the boat up to the beach at Autle, and Jamie handed boxes and bags out to me to put on the grassy bank above the beach. Despite taking motion sickness pills before the journey, he was looking queasy; however, he muscled through and helped to carry our luggage to the little sandy clearing where we would be staying.

“The tent is already set up,” I said gratefully, “and it’s like a little house.”

“Ye can thank Rupert and Angus for that,” Jamie said. “I couldn’t make this trip twice in a day and still be of any use to my wife.”

“Did they make the bed, too?” I asked, skeptically peeking in a window of the boxy, tall, room-sized tent.

“Yes,” said Jamie, “But we can certainly inspect it before we use it. Unfortunately, lass, I dinna feel very good right now, and I think I should lie down for a time before I do anything else.”

“Are you still a little seasick?” I asked. He didn’t look like he was feeling well at all.

“Aye,” he groaned, kicking off his flip-flops and unzipping the tent flap.

“Well, I guess I can get us moved in and set up our camp,” I said, looking around the campsite, feeling a little disappointed and needing to keep myself busy.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head and opening the door of the tent. “Itok, Ripālle. You’re going to take off your clothes and lie next to me. I want to touch yer body wi’ my eyes closed.”

We went into the tent and Jamie reclined on the air mattress, which despite having been set up by Rupert and Angus, didn’t seem to be booby-trapped or poisoned.

“Will ye undress for me? I’d like to watch you.” Jamie spoke from the bed, one eye open just a slit. Somehow having his eyes closed seemed to help his nausea, but there were certain things that warranted opening them.

I felt a little shy in the full light of day—the tent did nothing to darken the room. I had actually chosen my outfit for the day considering which clothes would look the best coming off, so I’d chosen a short sleeved floral dress with buttons down the front. I decided I’d take my time—just to drive Jamie mad—and it worked. When I’d unbuttoned the buttons down past my hips, with my tiny panties and lack-of-bra showing clearly, Jamie groaned.

“I’m not well, lass! Dinna torture me!” He looked at me, grinning, “But dinna take anything else off, either. Just come here now.”

I lay down next to him, still wearing the dress. I watched his face as with closed eyes he reached over and slipped his hand inside the bodice of my dress, groaning as his fingertips traced their way around my breast and then closed to surround my nipple.

“Mmmmm. I like second base,” he whispered, cupping my breast in his substantial palm. I leaned over to kiss him, and he slipped his hand behind my neck to draw me closer to him. “I like first base, too, for that matter,” he said, yawning.

His yawn was contagious. It had been a long and somewhat sleepless night, so I lay my head on his chest, Jamie stroked my back, and we fell asleep.

When I woke up, Jamie wasn’t in bed with me. He’d brought our suitcases inside, and I could hear footsteps moving around in the gravel outside and what sounded like a machete hacking away at something. With a sense of jittery excitement I pulled something I’d bought in Majuro out of my suitcase, finished taking off my dress and panties, and put it on.

Jamie had his back to me when I slipped out of the tent. He was standing by the stump of a coconut tree, apparently opening a young coconut, evidenced by the pieces of green husk on the gravel at his feet.

“Are you feeling better, Jamie?” I asked, disappointed when he didn’t turn around right away.

“Aye,” he answered with one final hack, then turned around and nearly dropped the coconut he was holding. His eyes told me I had chosen well.

“I’m going native,” I said. “Look, I’m super decent! My thighs are completely covered!”

Jamie raised his eyebrows in amusement.

In one of the shops, I had found short sarongs meant as cover-ups for swimsuits or bikinis. I had purchased one, but right now I was wearing it alone, tied around my hips, topless.

Jamie watched me with great intensity as I walked over and took the coconut from him, lifting it to my mouth to sip the coconut water.

I handed it back to him, and said, “Okay, what shall we do now? Do we need to go spear fishing for our dinner?”

“No,” said Jamie, looking down at my body. He stepped toward me.

“Should we grate up a coconut for cooking our rice?”

“Jab,” he said.

“What shall we do, then?” I asked, looking teasingly up at him.

“I am going to find out if you’re wearing anything under that sarong,” Jamie said, bending to kiss me. “And then I am going to make love to my wife.”

Jamie was an enthusiastic lover, and so joyful and generous during every part of the process that it seemed wrong to find fault with his technique. I did need him to learn to enjoy going slow, which I managed by spending some time on top.

After our exhausting afternoon love-making session, we ate a snack of bananas, peanut butter and bread Jamie had baked for us before the wedding. Then we put on our snorkeling gear and went out to hunt for our supper. I wore a bikini for the first time since arriving, and Jamie again held my hand while snorkeling out to go spear fishing, though on occasion his hands had a mind of their own, straying elsewhere on my body. At one point, he giddily untied my bikini top, stealing it and sticking it in his pocket. While I felt a little manhandled, I also felt desired and sexy.

When we’d caught eight fish, we headed back to camp. I measured water and rice into the big cast iron pot, and Jamie scraped mature coconut onto a kerchief that I used as I had seen Maria use the cheesecloth. There was something so delicious about the flavor of the coconut with the salty fish that I couldn’t imagine cooking the rice without it.

Jamie gathered wood and built up the fire for roasting the fish, gutting them and prepping them while the wood burnt down to coals and the rice started simmering.

The fish were delicious with bites of rice. Jamie had brought along cans of soda from Mr. Ogawa’s store, which were refreshing despite being less than cold. After eating, we put the lid on the rice to protect it from flies and set it in the shade where it could cool so we could eat it for breakfast.

The sun was shining, and it was a gorgeous day on the island. I didn’t realize it was just the calm before the storm.

Couldn’t find any actual pictures of Autle, but this is Enedrik, another uninhabited island on the Arno Atoll, directly across the lagoon from Ine.

Chapter "truisms”–We went to Autle during Spring Break, just for a day. It’s actually much closer to Ine than this chapter indicates, but I wanted Jamie to get seasick… The pictures at the end of the chapter are of Enedrik (except for the hammock pic), which is an island in the Arno atoll that can actually be rented!

On to Chapter 23 : The Storm Rough winds are coming.

#alternate universe #jamie x claire #Marshallislands #Outlander fanfic #BetweenSceneswriter

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takemeawaytocamelot · 7 years ago

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Speed Dating - The Morning After

Alright alright!! You guys were so excited about @outlanderedandoverhere‘s speed dating prompt that I wrote more! Now y’all got my brain going so I’ve got at least four different thoughts going for this story. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens! Catch up below!

ONE -- TWO

I woke to the sound of something cooking in my tiny kitchen. I looked around my bedroom and didn’t see Jamie (not that he could really hide anywhere). For the first time that I could remember, I was happy and content. Not that I was unhappy with my life, but it had been missing something.

After a luxurious stretch, I pulled the sheets on my bed into a little more order before hunting for something to wear. Stepping into a fresh pair of knickers, I spotted Jamie’s undershirt on the floor. Then I headed out to my small table, watching him with a smile.

“Do you always make breakfast on the… would this be the fourth date?”

Jamie laughed, turning to give me a grin that warmed my whole body.

“Aye, well… I figure if ye were kind enough to gi’ me a place to sleep, least I could do was make ye a decent breakfast.”

I laughed, taking the coffee he haded me.

“Sorry you didn’t get very much sleep last night…”

“I’m not!” he said with feeling. “And this isna breakfast so much as it’s an early lunch.”

“That’s fine with me. I’m just interested to see if you can actually cook or not.”

He was quiet for a few minutes until he turned and set two plates on the table.

“Weel… Dinna ken if I’m any good or not, but my mam had me take cooking lessons.”

“Really?” I asked, surveying the food in front of me. “Why?”

“The Fraser’s are a stubborn clan, ken? Thick heided, as my Da always said. Mam thought that if I kent how to cook, I’d maybe no’ run any lasses off wi’ my stubbornness.”

Taking a bite of the fried egg, I felt my brows lift. It was cooked exactly right.

“Well you know how to make a good breakfast, I’ll give you that much.”

“If ye wouldna mind, I’d like to make a nice dinner for ye. Tomorrow night, maybe?”

I thought over my schedule.

“That would be wonderful. Does this mean I’ll get to see your flat?”

With a pleased smile, he took a long drink of his coffee.

“Play your cards right and I might even let ye see my bedroom.”

“How could I refuse with a tease like that?”

Both of us subsided into a fit of giggles, broken by the sound of ringing coming from the bedroom. Jamie hopped up and jogged the short distance to get his cell, answering it as he came back to the table.

“Hello? Aye, I’m no’ dead. … Why the hell would ye ask me that? That’s no’ your business … No, I’m no’ home. Did ye need something? I, uh…” Jamie glanced sheepishly up at me. “I’m no’ sure when I’ll be back.”

A few moments of silence followed before Jamie hung up.

“Someone checking on you?”

“Just my godfather. Said he stopped at my… flat earlier this morning to see how my night had gone.”

“And your answer?”

Jamie leaned across the table and kissed me.

“I told him it wasna his business. But, when he interrogates me later, I’ll tell him that ye have me completely under your power and happy to be there.”

“Completely, is it?”

“Aye,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “Every bit o’ me.”

I cleared our dishes, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

“Is that my shirt?”

My cheeks flushed.

“Yes. I couldn’t find mine.”

“I think it looks better on you than it did on me.”

Arms wound around my waist and I leaned back against him.

“Are you leaving now?” I asked, knowing we both probably had things that needed doing.

“Are ye kicking me out?”

“Of course not! I just don’t want to keep you if there’s things you need to do.”

He sighed, breath hot on my neck. I couldn’t hold back a shudder.

“Aye, I should go. I need to get things to make ye a nice dinner and I should stop by the office and make sure my lads havena done anything stupid yet.”

“Perhaps I could persuade you to delay your departure just a little?” I asked, pressing my backside into him.

The grunt I got in return was exactly what I wanted to hear.

“No’ that I mind, but if this is how things will always be, perhaps ye shouldna wear knickers anymore.”

“Go pants-less? Oh I don’t think so. Can’t have you thinking I’m that easy.”

“So I’m to work for it, then?” he asked, his hands drifting over my stomach.

His left hand slid down and he began massaging between my legs. My heart began racing as he touched me.

“When I was younger, before I kent my way around a woman, I had this notion,” he said quietly in my ear.

“Oh?”

“Aye. I thought when ye had a woman, ye had to do it the back way. Like horses, ken?”

I started to laugh, which quickly melted into a sigh.

“You’re kidding.”

“No’ even a little,” he said, walking me forward until I was pressed against my countertop. “I learned the truth of it, obviously. But I’ve always wondered…”

“About doing it the back way?”

I felt my knickers fall around my ankles as Jamie nudged my legs apart. I bent over a little, gripping the edge of the counter. My hips pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. He seemed to have learned from the night before, keeping his rhythm strong and even. It wasn’t long before I pressed my face to my counter as pleasure pulsed through me. A moment later, Jamie grunted and muttered something in Gaelic.

“Did you just…” I paused to catch a shaking breath. “Call me a stick of dynamite?”

“What?” he asked, shock in his voice. “No, I didna call ye dynamite. I should think, between the two of us, I would be the one with a stick of dynamite.”

I started laughing until tears leaked down my face. Jamie stepped back and pulled me into his chest. He kissed me gently.

“No, I said I thought my heart was gonna burst. I’ve never kent a woman like you, Claire Beauchamp.”

“Oh darling,” I said, kissing him swiftly. “They broke the mold after they made me.”

He chuckled and patted my rump.

“Would ye mind if I used your shower?” he asked. “I dinna have any fresh clothes wi’ me, but I should like to clean up a little.”

“Of course. Towels are in the small cupboard.”

“Thank ye.”

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

They were reluctant to part ways, though he knew he’d be seeing her again soon. After he’d retrieved his car, he drove to his home and changed. He’d intentionally left his undershirt with Claire, though he didn’t think she’d seen it yet.

He parked his car at the stables and headed to his office to do some paperwork. When he came around the corner, a group of men stood outside his office door, muttering to each other.

“There he is!” Angus bellowed.

Angus, Murtagh, and Rupert all looked him up and down.

“Murtagh said ye werena home, so we thought ye might be here,” Rupert said.

“He’s wearin’ different clothes,” Angus said in a whine. “No way he spent the night wi’ the lass.”

Murtagh frowned at the other man.

“Oh, ye think he’d drive straight here? No’ stop at his house and change first?”

“Go away,” Jamie grumped, pulling out his keys.

Angus pushed closer to him, blocking the door.

“Ye look tired, lad,” he said. “Did ye no’ get any sleep?”

“I got plenty of sleep, no’ that it’s any of yer business.”

Rupert and Angus devolved into crude remarks in Gaelic, sniggering amongst themselves as they did. Murtagh followed Jamie into his office and closed the door behind them.

“Did ye sleep wi’ the lass?”

“You’re no’ my father, Murtagh, and ye ken I’m an adult. I dinna think it’s your business if I slept wi’ her or no.”

“Tell me ye used protection.”

Jamie glared at his godfather as he turned his computer on.

“Why do ye assume I slept wi’ her?”

“Because, ye fool. If ye hadna, ye would have said so straight off. Damn it, Jamie! Ye kent the woman for only a few hours! And ye jump straight into bed wi’ her?!”

“I didna!” he yelled back.

A sudden flash of memory hit him hard, Murtagh accusing him of something and him arguing back. It was eerily similar to this conversation.

“Look. I went to her flat and we talked. It was late and she offered me a place to stay the night so I wouldna ha’ to drive home. Everything that happened after that is no one’s business but mine.”

Murtagh’s bushy brows dropped into a deep frown as Jamie sat down at his desk.

“That isna like you, lad. Ye dinna just hop into bed wi’ anyone. Did she force ye?”

“Force me? Christ, Murtagh, no! She’s… I dinna ken how to say it. But she’s different. I think she could be it.”

“I hope ye both can come to some sort of agreement about that before ye get her wi’ child.”

Jamie huffed a sigh and began looking through his bills.

“It isna the dark ages, Murtagh.”

“Maybe no’... Just… Be careful, Jamie. I dinna want to see ye get hurt.”

“I ken that, Murtagh. Thank ye.”

A muffled sound outside the door drew their attention.

“Jamie! Jamie ye ha’ to tell us! What did she look like under that dress? Was she as-”

“I’ll go take those buffoons away,” Murtagh said loudly, glaring at the door. “I’ll see ye around, Jamie.”

Continue to Dinner Date

#takemeawaytocamelot #outlander #outlander fanfic #speed dating #the morning after #jamie x claire #murtagh #angus #rupert

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negans-network · 8 years ago

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Pull My Hair Part 4 - Shopping with Dwighty Boy

Summary: For @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash and her 2nd Negan Writing Challenge, this is for the hair-pulling kink prompt introducing OFC Susan.

Word Count: 5543 (Sorry, I got carried away)

Warnings: Foul language, Sexual References, Rapey Davey Cameo

Author: @genevievedarcygranger

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay and lack of smut! I always over-do everything and I’m fully fleshing this out even though it’s a smut prompt.

The two minutes were scarcely up when there was a knock at the door. The peculiar sense of Deja-Vu fell over Susan as she scrambled to her feet, snatching up her bra and panties from the couch where she tossed them. Without preamble, she frantically pulled them on and Negan, partially shocked, watched her wiggle about. Yes, Susan was very different from the other wives. Wives #1 through #4 – with the exception of Sherry who he hasn’t been able to sleep with yet – always whined and complained when their time together was interrupted. Susan, it seemed, didn’t want to be a bother and she also didn’t seem to mind sharing him either. He could get use to this behavior as she was rapidly becoming his new favorite after Amber.

“Who the fuck is interrupting me now?” Negan barked at the door, lazily pulling on his boxers.

“Sorry, sir,” called a male voice unfamiliar to Susan, “it’s about the prisoner.”

Pulling her dress back on, Susan casted a confused look in Negan’s direction. The Sanctuary had prisoners? This was news to her.

Not noticing her look, Negan shoved his legs into his pants, cocking his head at the new information. “Fat Joey is that you? You talking about Daryl?” He found his shirt and slipped that back on, too.

“Yes, sir, it’s me,” came the same voice again, though now identified as Fat Joey. Susan frowned disapprovingly at the moniker. “May I come in?” Fat Joey politely asked.

Glancing over at Susan to see if she was decent, Negan raised his eyebrows in question. Susan bit her lip and turned around exposing her back and the zipper she couldn’t reach. Negan stepped up to her, grasping her hair and wrapping it around his wrist as he pulled it out of the way, and then he slowly zipped her dress up, placing a whiskery kiss on the nape of her neck before dropping her hair and moving away again. “Yeah, go ahead,” Negan granted permission and started looking around for his jacket.

Fat Joey stepped into the bedroom, and Susan glanced at him curiously. He was nondescript, though his nickname was apt. Other than that, she saw no problem with him; he didn’t strike her as mean or dangerous in anyway. “Oh, hello,” Fat Joey greeted her when he saw her before shooting a simultaneously panicked and apologetic look at Negan. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know you were entertaining.”

Nonchalantly, Negan waved his arms and sat back down to pull on his boots again. “It’s fine, we were finished fucking. Fucked each other up pretty good, so I hope you don’t spoil my fine mood now with any bullshit.” He shot a look between Susan and Fat Joey. “So, what were you saying about Daryl?”

“Uh,” Fat Joey nervously glanced at Susan who had wandered over to the bathroom to fix her hair and clean up a bit. Negan talking about their sex life doesn’t particularly bother her. He struck her as the type to brag about it, so she had been expecting this kind of behavior. Besides, she knew it would be dumb to hide it since she was his wife and it was only to be expected of her. A large part of her was proud that he would brag about sleeping with her, as if she were quite the catch when it seemed more of the other way around. In her opinion, she was the lucky one to have caught Negan’s eye however the hell she did – especially when she noticed that the five other wives were definitely way more beautiful.

“Well,” Fat Joey began, “you remember how you said you wanted to be told the moment Daryl escapes like you planned? It’s happened. He just left his cell when I came up here to get you.”

“Well damn, Fat Joey,” Negan exclaimed as he jumped to his feet, “you couldn’t bother to fucking sprint up here? I don’t see you breathing hard. You better hope he gets a little fucking lost before he gets to the bikes out in the back.” Imperiously, he snapped his fingers at Fat Joey, “Tell D to get up here so he’s outta the way and go head Daryl off. Chop fuckity chop.” Fat Joey nodded frantically before he left, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

Susan came back, her hair much smoother, and she handed Negan his black leather jacket with a rueful look. Negan took it from her with a smile, and as he slipped it on he bent over and gave her a chaste kiss. Standing up straight once more, he slicked his hair back, and Susan nodded her approval. He smiled even wider before snatching up Lucille and heading for the door after Fat Joey. Over his shoulder he called, “Just wait for D and do as he says. Take the day off the recover, Susan!”

Left alone, Susan shook her head, and then immediately regretted the action as her neck twinged in pain. Leaning that far back and having her hair yanked like that meant she was undoubtedly going to be sore from her hair follicles to her pussy, which was just starting to ache from being fucked like that. It had been since before the end of the world since she’s last had sex and she was feeling it now. Rubbing the back of her neck, she groaned. It was a damn shame that she would have to be leaving soon. She could get used to living in the lap of luxury such as this, especially if that lap was Negan’s.

Left to her own devices, Susan glanced around the room and was instantly struck by the thought that her backpack had disappeared. Heading to the shower, she mulled that over. That was more than a little upsetting, especially since it was the damn backpack that got her in this position to begin with.

She should also start preparing for her imminent escape, too, by collecting food and water among other things. Briefly, her thoughts wandered to Negan’s and Fat Joey’s conversation she had overheard while she was in the bathroom. They had planned for a prisoner to escape? Thinking back even further, Susan also remembered how Frankie and Tanya told her how Sherry and her husband were hunted down for escaping and stealing supplies. She was nervously starting to consider more and more than maybe she wouldn’t be able to escape. After all, the previous communities, groups, and settlements she had abandoned didn’t expect her to leave. Apparently, the Sanctuary had plans in place to prevent people from leaving.

Only slightly disturbed by the thought, Susan still decided that it was best to plan for escape anyway. If she saw that it would be too difficult, she’d find another way and maybe it would take a little longer than a fortnight to escape.

At the rate of how her stay at the Sanctuary was going so far, though, she wouldn’t be opposed to hanging around Negan more. That didn’t mean she was going to get attached to him more than she already was. No matter how long she was going to stay, she wasn’t going to allow herself to get close to anyone. That meant no romantic relationship barring sex with Negan, and no friendships. Being nice was fine (because enemies are worse), but that was as far as her social interactions were going to go with the people here.

Staring down at her bare feet once she stepped out of the shower, clean again, Susan absently wondered if she could request comfortable shoes rather than the high heels Negan wanted her to wear. Then again, she wondered if that would be too suspicious and she should just steal some before she left.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Susan answered it expectantly, dressed again and hair towel-dried and combed out, and there was another man that she didn’t know. He was blond, long-haired, with darker colored facial hair. The man wasn’t ugly by any means, but the huge burn scar covering half of his face didn’t help him. The stranger had a sullen attitude, dressed like a biker, and he took in her appearance without really appreciating it. If anything, the way he stared at her meant he found her inadequate. “Hey,” Susan shyly greeted, a little upset that despite her dress and showered appearance she didn’t make a great first impression.

“I’m Dwight, but you can call me D,” the blond man introduced himself in a dull sort of voice. Instantly, Susan knew this had to be Sherry’s ex-husband. No wonder he found her lacking when he was married to a woman like Sherry. “You’re Susan, huh?” he asked her.

Nodding, Susan stuck out her hand for him to shake. Well, compared to meeting everyone so far, Dwight was surprisingly the least hostile, next to Fat Joey of course. “Hey D. So, uh, are you here to show me around?”

For a moment, Dwight stared at her hand and Susan wondered if he was going to take it or reject it. Surprisingly, he did shake her hand, but it was very quick and he immediately released her hand after a second or two. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’m supposed to show you your room and get whatever you ask for.” He didn’t exactly sound happy to do that.

Feeling a little sorry for him and a bit like a burden, Susan ducked her head. “Oh, well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I would love to do that. Room first if that’s okay?”

“It’s whatever you want,” Dwight threw up his hands neutrally.

“Okay, then take me to my room and then I’ll go with you to see the rest of the place.” Susan exited Negan’s bedroom and closed the door gently behind her, gesturing for Dwight to lead, which he did.

As he walked, Dwight glanced at her out of the side of his eye. “I’m not sure Negan would approve of me taking you downstairs to see everything like the cafeteria and commissary.”

Thinking fast, Susan made her excuses, “Well, how do I know what I want or need unless I see what’s offered?”

Shrugging lazily, Dwight conceded, “Fair point. But I promise you, whatever you want, you name it, we got it.” He lapsed into silence again without expounding.

Slightly frustrated at that, Susan encouraged him to continue, “Well why don’t you name some outlandish stuff for me then, D.” She didn’t want to name her supplies per se, just in case he could guess that she was planning to escape.

Without any kind of voice inflection, Dwight dutifully listed, “Ice cream, every kind of fresh fruit or vegetables you can think of, condoms, stuffed animals, every kind of clothes you can think of, music players, fresh chickens and eggs.” He quieted as they got closer to the parlor, “You know, like I said, everything basically.” His steps slowed, and then they stepped into the parlor.

In the parlor, Frankie and Tanya were painting each other’s toenails and fingernails, a freshly opened bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers sitting between the two of them. Both girls looked up looking hopeful, doubtlessly hoping for Negan, but when they saw Susan and Dwight they sneered and ignored them. Michaela didn’t look like she had moved from her spot, though Susan did notice that she was reading a different book. Both Amber and Sherry were still gone, too.

Carefully and quietly, Dwight continued through the parlor, heading to one of the closed doors that split off from it. Susan was piecing together in her head that since this was a factory building, the upper floors must have been for clerical work, like an administration building. This parlor wasn’t actually a parlor, but a lobby that had a bunch of offices splitting off from it. When they had first formed the Sanctuary, they must have robbed a Rooms-To-Go to furnish it so lavishly.

Dwight reached a door with a freshly painted red 6 on it and stepped aside for Susan to have the honors of opening it. Without making a big deal out of it, Susan traced her fingers over the 6 before she pushed the door open. She was right in that this use to be an office because it was small, especially with a single bed crowded into it in front of the window, which was firmly secured. There was a dresser for clothes, but other than that there was little else. The dresser itself was empty, except for some black lingerie. The room would be Susan’s to decorate, but she didn’t plan on that. The only unexpected surprise was that her old reliable, purple backpack was sitting on the bed waiting for her.

Rushing into the room, Susan hopped on the bed, comfortably crossing her legs as she rummaged through her bag. Everything that she had in there was still there: spare pants, packaged food, matches. Everything was accounted for except for her pipe, but Negan had dropped in the woods when he first picked her up. Even the panties were still there, though Susan didn’t care to keep them. “Ugh,” she muttered, and then remembered that Dwight was still there waiting for her instructions. “Hey Dwight, is there some kind of laundry system here?”

From behind his curtain of stringy blond hair, Dwight gave her a funny look, “Yeah, but you don’t have to do your laundry. Someone else will.”

“Okay, well can I donate something to the clothes pile?” Susan did not want to keep the panties, even if they were washed and returned.

“Sure, I’ll take it down to the commissary for you.” Dwight offered, obviously not wanting to be with her any longer than he has to be.

“Oh, um, well people may get the wrong idea if they see you with my panties, Dwight,” Susan explained. She was partly telling the truth for his benefit, but moreover she had to go down there with him, that would she would learn the layout and get what she needed from the commissary.

Looking down at his feet, hiding his very palpable embarrassment, Dwight muttered to her, “Yeah, okay. Let’s go then.” He jerked his head for the door, still refusing to look at her.

With a triumphant grin, Susan dumped her backpack in one of her draws and shut it, though she grabbed the panties to trade and stuck them back in her backpack. She slung it on with practiced ease and dutifully followed Dwight, closing her bedroom door gently behind her.

They were nearly out of the parlor when Sherry reappeared, looking flustered and generally upset. The moment seemed to freeze as Dwight’s and Sherry’s eyes met. Susan found herself holding her breath, feeling the tension thicken in the air between the former husband and wife. In addition to being awkward, Susan could swear that it felt like they were guilty, that they had both wronged the other equally. There wasn’t any love left to feel between the two of them, though, that was for sure.

Tanya and Frankie broke the moment with their giggling when they saw what had happened, and instantly the spell was broken as they brushed past each other without a work spoken between them. Susan could feel the daggers in her back from Sherry’s hateful glare as she followed Dwight out of the parlor. Once there was enough distance between them and the parlor, she could breathe again. Wisely, she chose not to say anything to Dwight about it, and he seemed even more withdrawn than before.

As they made their way down to the ground level of the factory, Susan tried to commit their path to memory. Dwight didn’t take too many complicated twists or turns, so the trip seemed easy enough. The closer they got to commissary, the louder it got as they approached more people. Susan, not a sociable person, stiffened uncomfortably at the thought of interacting with a large group of people again, but her worries were needless. As soon as they appeared, everyone avoided her and Dwight as if they were one of the Dead. Not minding in the least if it was because of her or if it was because of Dwight, Susan took advantage of being ignored eagerly.

It was quite obvious that the people were clearing a path for them, directing their gaze anywhere but at them, though some shot looks at Dwight with a sneer. Dwight seemed used to the behavior, and Susan noticed the subtle shift as the shy Dwight from before bloomed under false aggressive confidence. False, she would say, because to her it seemed so half-hearted. Susan knew real cruel men, she’d met them before in other groups. Dwight was a pitiful comparison, more like a schoolyard bully than anything else. But she didn’t care or mind his behavior; knowing enough of his history, she could excuse it. Besides, it wasn’t like he was acting nasty to her, and it wasn’t like these people, with the way there were obvious hostile to him, didn’t deserve it.

Focusing on what she had to do, Susan ignored the people in favor of looking at the scavenged goods. Behind her, Dwight shadowed her every move, and when people got too close he scared them away with only a look. She appreciated it very much. Susan didn’t want to make friends or a lasting impression, and if Dwight took the brunt of their hatred while she took whatever she wanted without impunity, then that was fine with her.

Of course, she did feel partially guilty. She could tell that these people were different from the wives and the Saviors themselves. They look less clean, less happy, a little hungry. By all means, though, they could look far worse if they were on the outside so her guilt slowly dissipated at the thought. Hitching her backpack up a little higher, she avoided eye contact with everyone as she examined all that was laid out and offered.

Fresh food wouldn’t last long on the road, so she passed it by. She couldn’t exactly see where the preserved food was, though. Or the water. In her backpack, she had a few food supplies left, but she definitely needed more. “D?” Susan waited to ask her question until she caught his stink-eye, “Where is all the canned food?”

Dwight shook his head, not in a condescending manner, but Susan was not quite sure what to make of it. “We don’t distribute canned food to individuals. We use that in the cafeteria. Fresh food is considered a bonus that people buy if they don’t want to spend their points on what is served at a cheaper price.” His lip curled, the sneer more directed at the people rather than Susan, and she quickly turned away.

It looks like her escape plan is becoming more and more difficult every day. She moved on, trying to make herself look busy, hoping Dwight didn’t read too much into her question. Maybe she could get food another way. “D?”

“Yeah?” His annoyance seemed to shift on her now.

“Well, what about like packaged food, you know? Like say, I don’t know, snacks and stuffed?” With a hint of a challenge in her voice, she threw his words back at him, “I thought you said this place had everything?”

Dwight’s mouth pulled down as he defended himself, “We do have everything. We just don’t offer everything to everyone. Like weapons. That would be dangerous. Some stuff is reserved especially for the Saviors, like snack food and cigarettes and alcohol.” He crossed his arms, sullen again. “I told you it would just be easier for me to get you what you want.”

Susan shot him a look of her own. He was making things just as difficult for her and she was for him. “Okay, then take me to the snack food. I wanna see what’s offered. You can keep your drinks and smokes.”

With a small huff to himself, Dwight started away at a quick pace. Susan followed after on her bare feet, pleased with herself. He took her to a room guarded by a girl with what looked like a price bar tattooed on her neck. Honestly, Susan was trying not to judge her too hard. “Hey D,” the girl said in a husky voice, “You ever gonna finish that game with me?” The girl then noticed Susan, and she stood up a little straighter. “Who’s this now, #14?”

“#6, actually,” Susan answered for herself. The girl as blonde, bigger than Susan in height and probably in muscle mass. She looked pretty tough, but Susan could be deceptively tougher than she looked, too. Part of her knew she could probably take the girl, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

“Don’t be jealous, Laura,” Dwight interrupted, “it’s not a good look for you.” Susan had to bite her tongue in order to not add on that the neck tattoo wasn’t particularly flattering either.

Laura’s eyes flashed dangerously at Dwight. “I could’ve been one, but I don’t want to sit on my ass all day.” She gave Dwight a deliberate once over. “I don’t want to be tied down either.” Susan couldn’t tell if that was Laura’s way of flirting or if she was insinuating something else. Her tone was too accusing to be completely friendly.

“And that’s why I’m not going to finish that game with you.” Dwight moved past Laura, unimpressed, thick-skinned. Susan quickly followed him, hoping to not make any more of a scene than they already did.

Out of earshot from Laura, Dwight quickly muttered to Susan, “Hurry up and get what you want.”

A little confused and perplexed that he didn’t tell her off, Susan nodded and moved away, exploring the room and its contents. It was a small room, probably used to equipment storage, and it was lined wall to wall with shelves. The shelves were stacked, but organized. One shelf was strictly limited to cigarette packs and cigar boxes. At least two shelves were used for alcohol, one precariously stacked with bottles and one reserved to the packaged beer in plastic six-packs, cardboard containers, or boxed twelve-packs. Susan ignored them both, though, in favor for the three shelves lined top to bottom with delicious, precious snacks.

The Saviors must have cleared out every gas station from here to Washington to have this much of the stuff. An entire shelf was stuffed with chip bags and Pringles tubes, another shelf stocked with boxes of candy bars. The last shelf had drinks, non-alcoholic and not water. There were energy drinks, kiddy drinks, juice boxes – even bottles of sweet tea. Susan had to restrain herself from not dumping an entire shelf into her backpack.

It had been so long since she could find pleasure food like this. Normally when she scavenged a store, she’d turn up empty-handed. The one or two times she found candy bars they’d been inedible. Susan had a nut allergy, so unless she wanted to die by Snickers or Reece’s Cups, she left them. Briefly she remembered the stint she was on one month when she was not so sane – going out of her way to try and find a Twinkie. She hadn’t been successful, and that was how she’d broken her hand. Too reckless.

Now, though, she saw popcorn and Jolly Ranchers, her hidden weaknesses. Only dimly aware that Dwight was keeping an eye on her, Susan grabbed two bags of popcorn and a bag of potato chips, sour cream and onion flavored. With the candy, she hesitated. Snack foods on the road would last for a little while, while not very nourishing. The candy felt excessive, though. Maybe she should leave it for them. Besides, in her head she pictured all the little noisy wrappers leaving a perfect trail for the Saviors to find her. As compensation, she grabbed a bag of Doritos instead. Susan had an internal debate with herself if grabbing the Gatorade or 5-hour Energy bottles looked suspicious. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Dwight was looking through the beer, effectively distracted. She grabbed a handful of the energy drinks, so small that they would be easily hidden, and then for good measure grabbed a few Capri-Sun pouches. It was like she was in college again.

“Can you toss me that bag of pretzels?” Dwight lowly asked, breaking into Susan’s reverie. She did as he asked, and he tucked it in his jacket, holding a pack of beers in one hand.

Dwight watched her for a moment, taking note of how Susan shot the candy a longing look. “Take what you want, Susan.” His voice startled her as she quickly snapped her head back to look at him, but Dwight continued to explain, nonplussed, “If you don’t take it, someone else will and you’ll regret it. This may be last candy left in the world. Besides, this shit expires.”

With that little encouragement, Susan nodded and took the Jolly Ranchers. While she was still here on vacation, she would eat these, but once she left, she’d leave these behind. Just as something to remember her by, if she didn’t finish off the entire bag first. When she was on her period, sugar was a must, so she doubted she’d waste any of the precious candies. “Okay, D. Thanks for this.” Susan zipped up her back pack and slung it back on, untucking her hair from the straps. “Can you take me to the clothes section, now?” She smiled at her own joke, and Dwight, mute, motioned for her to follow. He didn’t comment on her other snack choices, and Susan was grateful that he wasn’t that sociably chatty.

Leading her back out of the room, Laura didn’t antagonize them further, and they ignored her. They cut through the room to the other side where clothes were piled up. None of the clothes were particularly nice or fancy – that seemed to be reserved for the Saviors, too. Dwight, seeming to read her thoughts, asked her in a low voice, “If you want to look for lingerie, I can take you to that closet.”

“No,” Susan answered too quickly, and then calmed a little. “No, I need regular clothes, too. I never even wore dresses much before…” She trailed off, the sentence not needing to be finished. Carefully, she started picking through the clothes. She needed stuff that was in her size, appropriate for the weather, sturdy. It had to cover skin, but not so much that she’d suffocate. Dwight turned people away, and Susan – after a lot of rummaging looking for her appropriate larger size – found a few pants and shirts that would work. Quickly, she stuffed them into her backpack, nervously looking around and hoping that what she picked wouldn’t give away her intentions.

As she slung her backpack on again, adjusting it comfortably, Susan briefly considered that if Negan knew she had been down here, he might want to see what she got. Glancing down at her feet, she knew she also needed shoes, and not just the heels that Negan wanted her to have. She wondered why they had taken her boots and not returned them to her yet. The clothes she had been wearing when she arrived were in the laundry system, she could guess. But her boots…

“D?” Dwight looked at her. Susan shyly asked, “Where are my boots?”

“You don’t need boots. You need heels. I’ll take you to them.” Dwight ignored her question.

A little annoyed, Susan dutifully followed him to a closet reserved for the wives. This one, too, was guarded, but by a man this time. He didn’t look exactly bored, and the closer Susan studied his face the more familiar he looked. “Hey, D.”

“David,” Dwight greeted, barely managing politeness.

Immediately, Susan was defensive. This was the pervert who pawed at her good panties. She didn’t say a word to him, and slipped inside after Dwight, ignoring how David leaned close to her as she passed. Now that she was in the Victoria’s Secret closet, Susan could only imagine how David kept himself entertained while guarding this.

There was a shoe-rack, and Susan knew that heels were unavoidable, so she went ahead and picked a ridiculous pair. Negan said he wanted her heels to be tall, and it didn’t matter if her heels were only an inch or over a foot – Susan knew she wouldn’t be able to walk properly. Maybe if she proved the point to Negan, he would give her boots back to her. Not wanting to be near David any longer than she had to, Susan shoved her feet into the only pair of heels that came in her size, and even then, they pinched her toes uncomfortably. They added about five inches to her height, and when she stood up straight, she was a little taller than Dwight. Dwight noticed, his frown deepening, and Susan giggled in response. Maybe the heels weren’t so bad then.

In another attempt to appease Negan, Susan rifled through the negligee, looking for one in her size. Clothes shopping has always been difficult for her, apocalypse or not. Without really thinking, Susan asked Dwight, “D? You think he’d like me in another color or should I just stick with the black?” She was fingering a silky yellow garment, and while yellow worked well with her dark skin, black was more slimming. Immediately she realized the ridiculous nature in her question and the callousness of asking Dwight. It wasn’t like he cared, and he probably didn’t want to think about Negan in that respect. Especially since Sherry was married to him. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that. It’s a stupid question anyway.”

Slowly, though, Dwight answered her anyway. “You can wear yellow, I guess. Mostly the wives ask for red and black and white, though.” Looking at the yellow negligee she had her hand on rather than Susan herself, he continued, “That one is pretty.”

Pleasantly surprised, Susan smiled at him. “Thank, D. I’ll take this one then.” Gently she pulled it off the hanger and folded it up. She laid it on top of the other items in her back pack, effectively hiding everything else.

Dwight had wandered away, looking at a purple two-piece, his too perfectly blank. Susan wondered if he did actually care about Sherry. Earlier it didn’t seem that way, but now that she thought about it, it would be stupid for him to show how he really feels. “Okay, D, can we go to the laundry now? If that’s okay.” The more she could learn about the Sanctuary, the easier it would be for her to navigate and plan her escape when the time comes.

With that blank look still held on his face, Dwight glanced as Susan and shrugged disinterestedly. “Sure. We’ll swing by my room so I can drop this off,” he hefted the beer and pretzels higher under his arm, “and I’ll take you to where they wash the laundry outside.” He kept his voice carefully flat and emotionless, not too eager to be helpful or too annoyed with her requests either.

Once again, Dwight led her out of the supply closet and Susan followed close on his heels, avoiding eye contact with David. Despite her best attempts, she heard David whistle behind her, “Damn, I can see why Negan would pick up a babe in the woods like you when you have an ass like that hanging all out.”

Immediately, Susan jerked around, affronted, partially ready to rip David a new one. Luckily, Dwight stepped back around her, not even laying a hand on her shoulder to push her away. “You better watch it, David. If Negan hears you making comments like that, you may not even live to regret it.” Then, before Susan could add a biting remark or David himself could retort to the threat, Dwight gestured for Susan to hurry along.

Out of earshot of David, Dwight muttered to her under his breath, “Stupid David is partially right, Susan. Your dress is hiked up in the back.” To preserve her modesty, he pointedly glanced around, moving forward to shield her.

Red with shame, Susan yanked her dress back down. The heavier her backpack got, the easier it was for her short dress to crawl up. Her lacy black panties did little to cover her skin. “Sorry,” she mumbled, still incredibly embarrassed.

But Dwight only waved his hand dismissively, and continued on, leading her out of the open factory floor down a hallway. Susan found that the longer she was with Dwight, the more he was becoming more than just tolerable. Honestly, she couldn’t see why people were so hostile to Dwight. As she dutifully followed him down the hallway, the din of the crowded factory floor fading and the lights dimmer, Susan believed that while she and Dwight wouldn’t be friends, she appreciated having an ally besides Negan. She was still planning on leaving, though, there was no doubt about that. Dwight was unwittingly helping her to do that, and he was doing an excellent job.

#negan #negan's thirst squad #ash's negan writing challenge #NTS #NTS fics #negan fanfics #fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #submission

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huntertales · 8 years ago

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Part Two: House of Wax. (Fallen Idols S05E05)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 5,217. A/N: Yeah, this isn't totally late or anything...I'm super sorry for the delay. You think with the snow that I'm currently dealing with I would be able to write more, instead I've been hibernating. Hopefully I can get the next part out soon so you guys don't wait any longer. Enjoy!

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Almost all of the cases you worked on usually didn't involve just one body count, there was always one or two more that followed suit, and when you woke up this morning, this hunt would be no different. You and the brothers headed down to another crime scene when you gotten the details of a man being shot in his home. The typical red flags were seen with all the doors and windows locked, a typical sign for a spirit as the monster for the cause of all of this, but that was only the tip of the iceberg for this strange case. You headed inside to the house of the victim, noticing the driveway was packed full of a few squad cars and the medical examiner rolling out the victim. Dodging the forensic team and a few other cops, you walked into the victim's office to see the crime scene itself. The first thing you noticed when you stepped inside was the wall to the right of the door, everything was covered in a fine splatter of blood, not to mention the floorboards being covered with it.

Sheriff Carnegie stood next to the mess, instructing his crew as a woman photographed for evidence they could review later to find their invisible killer. "I want you to use a fine-tooth comb. The evidence is here. Just got to find it.”

You made yourself noticed when you heard the sheriff speak, and from the tone of his voice, he was confused himself at what was going on. When you made eye contact with him, you gave the man a polite smile and headed over to him. "Heard you got another weird one."

"Well, it's a—it's a little strange on the surface," Sheriff Carnegie ushered you and the boys out to the hallway for a bit more of a private setting to speak. It seemed the man was trying to downplay the situation as something more on the logical side of things he could document without anyone questioning his authority. "I admit, but you know, once you look at the facts..."

"William Hill died from a gunshot wound to the head. No gun, no gunpowder, no bullet." Sam said, giving you the exact reason why the three of you were here in the first place.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and made a remark to the sheriff, "Nope. Nothin' strange about that."

Sheriff Carnegie sighed to himself, knowing for damn sure there was something out of the ordinary going on here, but he remained to be professional than admitting his own personal theory. "Well, there's got to be a reasonable explanation. There always is."

"Well," You spoke up, deciding to take a crack at what the man thought what might be going on. It was always helpful when somebody laughed off the idea that it could have been more of a supernatural being that caused this, it made breaking the news a whole lot easier. "What's your reasonable explanation?"

The sheriff fell silent for a moment, you watched as he cautiously glanced around the room, as if he scoping out an eavesdropper, but everyone remained diligently working. You looked back at the cop when he leaned forward slightly to give you his theory, "Professional killer."

You furrowed your brow, "Come again?"

"CIA, NSA, one of them trained assassins—like in 'Michael Clayton.'" Sheriff Carnegie explained more for his outlandish answer. You found yourself looking over at the boys for a split second, all of you sharing the same expression of bafflement from what you weren't expecting to hear. "You're welcome to look around, but—but these guys don't leave fingerprints."

You've heard a lot of weird things over the past several years of hunting, but this had to take the top spot. You stopped yourself from playing more into this game, knowing asking a question about how he thought the bullet went missing would only cause for him to get angry. So, you decided to move onto more important topics to help move things along. "Mind if we talk with the witness?"

"Oh, be my guest. She's not making any sense." The sheriff said. hopeful someone could figure out what she was trying to say. You found yourself letting out a quiet sigh from the next thing that he mentioned. "And she's not making any sense in spanish, either."

You were told the witness was outside, speaking to one of the cops who knew a little bit of the language until they could find someone fluent enough to help figure out what the poor woman was saying. You ducked underneath the police tape and headed down the porch steps to find the witnesses. From the panicked female voice and a string of unfamiliar words, you spotted her sitting on a bench just a few feet from the house, trying her hardest to explain what she had saw to the officer. Unfortunately, due to the language barrier, it seemed nobody was making much progress. You slipped a hand inside your pocket when you began approaching the both of them, you pulled out your badge and showed it to the officer, but your attention was focused on the woman.

"Consuela Alvarez?" You addressed the witness by her name. When she look up at you and answered with yes, you gave her a friendly smile. "FBI. Mind if we speak to you for a moment?"

The officer took his cue to leave, allowing the three of you and Consuela to have a private conversation. "Now," Dean started off the conversation as he put away his badge. "You said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window."

"Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!" Consuela sobbed out, retelling the details with hysteria.

The boys realized the situation might be more troublesome than they once thought, but you could understand some of what she was trying to say. You took a seat next to the woman, trying to properly communicate with her in her native tongue best as you could. "Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor." You ushered to be calm, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze to reassure everything would be okay. You quickly found yourself freezing up, unsure of what the proper way to phrase your question, until it came right back to you. "Uh, díganos lo que vio?"

Dean's lips stretched into a smile at what you were able to do, "Nice."

You shrugged your shoulders, “My mom made me take a foreign language each summer when I was in high school. Spanish was one of them."

“Era alto. Muy alto." Consuela said, giving you a description of what she saw. "Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes."

"Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a—" You looked over at the boys for a second when you tried translating the information Consuela had given you. When you found yourself in a bit of a bind, you looked over at the woman, gesturing with your hand, you pretended to stroke your chin for her to understand, knowing sign language was universal. "A beard? Beard, okay."

“Y un sombrero." Consuela added.

"Dude was wearing a sombrero?" Dean asked, you rolled your eyes from his presumption.

"No, no, no." Consuela said, correcting the man with a hand gesture, showing that she was talking about more clearly. "Un sombrero alto."

"A tall hat?" You asked her, she nodded her head. "Sort of like a top hat?"

"Un sombrero alto!" Consuela tried again to explain what she had saw. She brought up her arm to gesture how high the hat was, she had to stretch her arm far as it could go to try and give a better example of what all of you could understand. "Muy alto!"

"What, you mean a—like a stovepipe hat." Dean said, seeming to understand what Consuela was trying to say. He imitated what she had done to be correct, and she nodded her head again. "Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln."

You shrugged your shoulders when the brothers began to look a bit confused at what he had to do with anything, but Consuela started sobbing again, for he was what she had saw. "Si. El Presidente Lincoln." Consuela confirmed that what she saw standing outside the window was the sixteenth president. With what english she could speak, she admitted the truth to the three of you. "Abraham Lincoln killed Mr. Hill." You tried your hardest to keep a straight face from what you heard, but you had at least a decent lead to start with. "S-So I go home now?"

"Uh, si." You said, giving her a small smile and a nod. "Gracias."

Consuela gave you a smile as she wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders, she pushed herself to her feet and began walking away. You let out a sigh from the possibility of having the spirit of a dead president be the spirit you were going up against. You dealt with the ghost of the most infamous serial killers of all time, you thought it wouldn't be weird to add a movie star and president to the list. But you couldn't help to think that this job pushed your limits sometimes of what you least expect to see.

"So, you know about cars and you speak spanish." Dean said. You looked over at him to see that he was a bit impressed at what he was learning about you. "What else can you do?"

“Je connais aussi le français et," You said, shrugging your shoulders from what you could remember from your teenage days that felt like a lifetime ago. "Ein bisschen deutsch. But Latin was my main language I took in school."

Dean nodded his head, pretending as if he understood one word you just said. You looked over at Sam, the both of you snickering ever so slightly. You pushed yourself to your feet when it was decided there wasn't much more of a reason to be at the crime scene. You had the bigger task of figure out why the ghosts of two famous people were haunting this little small town.

+ + +

You and the boys spent most of the afternoon shacked up in the motel, quietly dividing your attention to figuring out what was going on. Dean busied himself with reviewing the footage Jim Grossmann had recorded to try and see if he could find anything useful. You busied yourself by searching on why William Hill was murdered exactly the way Lincoln was, Sam did a bit more research on Cal Hopkins. While the both of you worked diligently to find out some answers, Dean seemed to have better luck, he found something in the video that caught his attention. He paused the video for a second, but it took a few frame by frame of the video again to see what he had spotted. You glanced up from your laptop when you heard Dean scoff from his discovery, you noticed it was something good when he turned around the computer for you and his brother.

"Here's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video." Dean said. You leaned forward in your seat when you noticed the video was stopped exactly at the tires, the hubcap to be exact. You squinted slightly when you spotted something red in the reflection, but with further inspection, you wondered why it looked familiar to you. "Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?"

Sam stared at the screen for a second, but it seemed he could see the exact same shadow his brother had when he realized the red must have been the actor's famous jacket he had worn in the movie, Rebel Without a Cause. "That looks like James Dean."

"So, we got Abraham Lincoln and James Dean. Famous ghosts?" Dean presumed this was what you were dealing with. You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling a maybe as you got back to reading the information you pulled up. "Well, that's just silly."

"No, actually, uh, there's a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not famous kind." Sam said. "I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before."

"Yeah, but now we got two of them?" Dean asked. "Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?"

"Who are apparently killing off their fans." You muttered underneath your breath, seeming to have found the breakthrough you spent all afternoon searching for. Dean gave you a confused look, wondering what you meant by that. "Professor Hill was a civil war nut. He dug Lincoln. And I'm presuming Cal must have been a James Dean freak. I mean, he spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car.”

"So, you're saying that we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their super fans?" Dean presume this is where the case was going. You shrugged your shoulders, thinking it was the only explanation as your attention drifted back down to your laptop. "Well, that is muchos loco."

"Muy." You corrected the older Winchester, lightly chuckling at the accidental misconception. "Not 'muchos.'"

"Yeah, well, the big question is," Dean changed the subject, deciding he wasn't in the mood for a spanish lesson today. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"Ghosts usually haunt the places they lived." Sam said, agreeing with his brother. "I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the white house."

"And James Dean at a racetrack, but the hell are they doing here in Canton?" You asked, wondering what could have been attaching the spirits so far from home. You clicked out of your tabs for a brand new one, deciding to get to the bottom of this yourself. You didn't exactly know where to start, that was the problem. You spent about a half an hour searching most of the local websites, trying to find some connection between both spirits, all though it might have taken a while, you finally found a common ground. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Dean asked you from the other side of the room. He was leaning against the counter, nursing a drink to pass the time. Sam got up from his seat as Dean began wandering forward, both of them curious to see what you found. When they leaned over your shoulder to read the website you had found, each of them shared the same response as you did. "You've got to be kidding me."

+ + +

The connection between James Dean and Abraham Lincoln was one you'd least expect, it was the Canton wax museum. You and the boys headed over when you found out both of the famous legends happened to be part of the collection. You were never a personal fan of statues, and being in a room full of famous dead people and their wax doppelgangers, your nose scrunched slightly in discomfort. The first floor when you walked in was dedicated to famous figures from around the world, along with a small part dedicated to a few of the famous presidents, Abraham Lincoln happened to be one of them. You stood in front of the wax figure, taking notice of the impeccable detail, and how exactly the artist had gotten his extremely tall frame. You looked over to see that Sam had wandered over to take a look for himself, you noticed he was almost exactly the same height as him, the Winchester was taller.

"Dude, he's short."

You looked over your shoulder to see that Dean was inspecting the wax figure of famous Gandhi, glasses and all. You found yourself accidentally snickering at how drastic the height difference was. Sam, however, didn't seem to think it was funny. "Hey. Gandhi was a great man."

"Yeah, for a smurf." Dean remarked, keeping the comment underneath his breath. You couldn't help yourself but let a small smile grow across your lips as you began wandering around the room again, curious to see if there was any other sort of exhibits around. You quietly passed a few more, until you spotted something that caught your intrest. You inspected what you could, curious to see what was going to come of it. Dean headed over to see what you were staring at, but when he read the sign, he scoffed to himself. "Really? A whole floor dedicated to women? Well, put a couple of photos of Marilyn Monroe and those old Bond girls in bikinis and I'll be the first one in line."

"Hmm, we could. Considering Marilyn Monroe helped push the idea of different idealistic styles for a woman's body. And the Bond girls showed women were more than just props for boys to drool over. They could be seductive, yet kick a man's ass." You commented, looking away from the few photographs they had displayed. You pointed a finger at a black and white photograph of four women standing outside with a banner, which so happened to be displayed right next to it. "I mean, if you want to talk about ladies who should be put apart of this, let's talk about Alice Paul. She's one of the

faces that shaped America for women that people rarely talk about.”

Dean furrowed his brow from the unfamiliar name, only proving your point from his question, "Who?"

"Oh, sorry to keep you waiting. This is our busiest time of the year." A voice coming from across the room brought your attention to the staircase, you noticed right away it was the owner you had talked to on the phone. He greeted you and the boys with a friendly smile as you approached him. But the remark of it being busy made you look around, only to see this entire place was a ghost town. "W-Well, not right now. But it's early. So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, we are writing a piece for Travel magazine." Sam said, starting off the conversation.

"Yeah," Dean continued, "on how to totally non-sucky wax museums are."

The owner seemed delighted at the offer, "That's fantastic! A little press—just what we need."

"Great, well, we're interested in a few of your exhibits," You said, "Specifically Abraham Lincoln and James Dean."

"Two of our most popular displays." He said, you noticed he turned his head to look at Abraham.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, pretending to be curious. "So they bring in a lot of visitors?"

"Yeah," The owner said. "we have our regulars."

"I don't suppose that William Hill and Cal Hopkins were regulars, were they?" You presumed, already knowing the answer before he could say it.

"As a matter of fact they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic." The owner mumbled, reflecting on what he had read in the newspaper. But his moment of grief for his best customers only lasted for a moment, his thoughts were pulled back into business. "That's not gonna be in the article, is it?"

You shook your head, reassuring the man there would be no bad press in the fake news article you would never write about. Dean, however, couldn't help but think of something else. "You know, I gotta tell you, that—that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you—I mean, you can just imagine him moving around." He struck up a conversation, trying to ask some questions without weirding out the owner. From the frown that was starting to stretch across the owner's face, it seemed he accomplished just that. "You ever see anything like that?"

"Well, um," You jumped into the conversation, deciding it was best to try a different angle before the owner could get the wrong idea of why the three of you were really here. "Is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?"

"Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere." The owner said. You looked at him with a curious expression, wondering what he meant by that. He looked over his shoulder and pointed a finger at the wax figure of Abraham Lincoln. "Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat."

You raised your brows, rather surprised to see of how a small museum like this managed to get their hands on something like that. Dean looked over at you and his brother from what he realized could have been linking the president here "Almost like his remains."

The owner looked at Dean a bit funny from what he said, all while the younger man gave him a grin. You quickly changed the subject before things could get weird, "You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?"

"Oh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals. FDR's iron lung, one of the signs Susan B. Anthony herself used. This." The owner indicated the most important possession he had in the museum from the smile that spread across his lips, you noticed it was the worn down leather jacket. Sam, being polite, asked who it belonged to. "The Fonz. Season two through four!"

"Wow. Yeah," You agreed with him, giving a smile. "That's really cool...ish."

"This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids. Gen Y. Computer games, cell phone, sexting." The owner scoffed, you tried your hardest not to react inappropriately. "They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again."

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle a laugh when the owner gave the both of you a double thumbs up. You returned the gesture, giving him a smile from how ridiculous this conversation had suddenly turned out.

+ + +

Night had fallen when all of you devised a plan to take down the spirits of Abraham Lincoln and James Dean before somebody else got hurt. You and Sam worked quickly to get supplies ready when he popped open the trunk and got everything situated. You grabbed one of the shotguns and began loading up on rocksalt, Sam did the same, all of you prepared for whatever might come tonight. No matter how many cases you worked, there was always one chance something could go wrong. When the two of you were prepared, he shut and locked the trunk, you headed for the motel where Dean was currently still in. You opened up the door and stepped inside, Sam on your heels, he busied himself with shoving the keys inside his pocket, you found yourself eavesdropping on the older Winchester's conversation. He stood next to the window, with his back turned to the both of you, not having a single clue you had returned.

"Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that? Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is....Well, I'm sorry. but it's true." Dean seemed to have been carrying out a conversation, thinking it was private, but he didn't know the person he was passively talking about was standing right behind him. Sam made his presence known, he slammed the door shut, causing his older brother to turn around and see the man standing with a not so happy look on his face. "I'll call you later. Bye."

"What's going on?" Sam asked, trying to start a civil conversation.

Dean replied with another question, "Did you and Y/N get the trunk packed up?"

"Yeah, the trunk's packed." Sam said. "Who was on the phone?"

"Bobby." Dean said, not giving much more information. Sam raised his brow, wondering what else his brother was going to add. "That's it."

Dean wanted to leave the conversation at that, but Sam could tell there was something going on. You found yourself lingering against the door with your arms crossed over your chest, knowing this was going to be another Winchester, passive aggressive, fight. "So, we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?"

Dea shrugged his shoulders, "Pretend or don't pretend, whatever floats your boat."

"This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean." Sam said, trying to be the voice of reason.

"Well, this is about fresh as it gets." Dean replied. You watched as he grabbed his jacket from the bed before starting to approach the door. "Now, are we going or not."

"Wait, wait. Can you take a look at my neck? It really hurts all of a sudden. I don't know if it's the way I slept on it,” You made the older Winchester stop in his tracks. He gave you a look when you brushed back your hair to expose your neck. “Or maybe it's the whiplash you two keep giving me.”

Dean rolled his eyes from how this conversation was slowly turning out, “Don't start this crap, Y/N.”

“You two promised me that you would work things out. But here we are, back to square one. It's so frustrating to see you acting like Sam’s the only one to blame for what's happening.” You argued with the oldest Winchester. “He's not the only one who has blood on his hands. And you know it. Maybe if you were more of a man you would just admit it.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, Y/N?” Dean questioned you. From the tone of his voice you have struck a nerve in him, and it was exactly what you hoped for to bring back a few old memories for him to rethink.

“It means whatever you want. Just remember, you might have an angel on your shoulder trying to get you to do the right thing, but you will never be any better than your brother.” You said. It was your turn to drop the conversation at that, you gave him a look before heading for the door. You opened it up and looked at the boys from over your shoulder. “Are you guys coming or not?”

+ + +

You and the boys arrived at the museum after closing, giving all of you a perfect chance to get this done and skip town by tomorrow. You headed through the familiar path of the exhibit you had been at earlier today, but now, you were armed with a loaded shotgun. You cautiously kept an eye out for any suspicious activity as Sam got started on the salt and burn. He grabbed an empty trash can, all while his brother decided to have some fun.

"Check it out." You turned around to see that Dean was wearing Lincoln's hat, and trying to a very poor impression of the man. "Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat." You responded with an eye roll, mumbling about how immature he was being. He tossed the cat into the trash can. "Stop look like you're sucking on a lemon, Y/N. I'm just trying to have some fun with this."

"Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, and get out of here, okay?" Sam asked, wanting nothing more than to get this hunt done with.

"Hey, why don't you two go grab 'East of Eden's key chain?" You suggested to the both of them. "Dean, you can start it. And Sammy here can finish it. How does that sound?"

From the passive aggressive tone of your voice, you gave the brothers not much of a choice. You watched as they gave one another hesitant looks, but just a second later, they were heading down to find the exhibit, leaving you alone. You let out a sigh and dropped your shotgun to the side, deciding to try and find something to do while you were alone. You spent a few moments looking around at the wax figures, silently thinking of how much creepier they seemed in the dim lighting than they had earlier this evening. You slowly found yourself looking over at Abraham Lincoln, slowly, it started to turn into a staring contest, wondering who was going to move first. you or him. Whoever designed the wax figure paid close attention to detail, they had gotten almost exactly everything right, the way down to his wrinkles and mole.While it was scary, you found the sound of doors slamming roughy behind you just a tad more threatening.

You quickly turned around in your spot so you were facing the double doors, wondering if one of the boys accidentally slammed them by accident. Only you remained alone. "Guys!" You called out, waiting for a second to see if this was some kind of joke. You might be on a case, but sometimes Dean liked to be funny, playing a cruel prank when he shouldn't. You headed for the door and tried an attempt at pulling on the handle, but it was jammed. "Dean, this isn't funny!"

The shiver that ran down your spine told a different story of what was happening. You cautiously turned around in your spot and began scanning the room, all while you positioned up your shotgun for what might happen next. You knew there a spirit lingering out in the shadows, it was just the matter of finding out where it was hiding. You looked over when you heard the sound of floorboards squeaking across the room, taking you off guard, and just a second later, you felt the shotgun you were just holding go flying right across the room. You contemplated on making a dive for it, but before you could, you suddenly felt something leap onto your backside.

Somehow you managed to catch yourself after what felt like a hundred pounds suddenly being added to your body. You tried your hardest to fight off your attacker, who was doing everything in their power to make you fall. Instead you managed to roughly back yourself up against a wall, shoving the person off and making them fall to the ground. You quickly spun around in your spot to see who it was, whether it be Dean or Lincoln, but it was one of them. You furrowed your brow in absolute confusion when you spotted a woman, and from her long skirt and blouse, it seemed she wasn't from this time period. But it took you a split second until you realized who it was, and when you did, she made her move.

Both of you struggled to pin one another down, despite you having more muscle than her, you were finding it hard to fend her off when she jumped on your back like a howler monkey. You heard the doors slam wide open and two pairs of footsteps running across the floors. While you struggled to get the woman from choking you to death, Dean decided to ask, "Who the hell is that?!"

"Does it matter?"

“Yeah, kinda!"

You managed to free yourself just enough from her grasp to mention the banner, making the boys confused at what you were getting at. You quickly drew your arm up, pointing at the one you had been looking at earlier today. Somehow the boys figured out what you were talking about, and after what felt like forever, you finally found yourself inhaling a deep breath as the weight lifted itself off your shoulders. taking a moment to recover from the unexpected attack.

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