#and it decided to bite my ankle :) as all well-trained and polite dogs do :)

[orcelito]

Fucking piece of shit bitch ass motherfucker too busy peeing in the woods to control your DOG

The fucking bitch BIT ME. For the mortal sin of daring to pass you while biking down a fucking public trail. I wish i said smth bc im so fucking angry but I just wanted to get Away

Why the fuck were you even peeing at the side of a public fucking path anyways. God I'm so FUCKING angry

[fluentmoviequoter]

to being ghosts.

Chapter 5 - Surrender to More

Chapter Warnings: angst, torture and violence (against r and others), sarcasm, death, the beginning of a happy ending, the ghost talking is italicized. 3.1k+ words.

Fifteen hours after you leave Victor, you find yourself trapped. You planned to go toward Merit and stop at the depot where you sent the first EOs you encountered. They will have left by now, but you’d like to check anyway. When you notice the influx of NWA agents in the woods around you, you ducked into an abandoned park ranger shelter, and now you’re stuck.

Dozens of voices and footsteps are audible past the thin wooden walls. You know what they look like without seeing them: standard tactical uniforms, automatic rifles, and an expression that shows their eagerness and readiness to kill. As you think about Victor jumping from safehouse to safehouse, you decide that if someone has to be caught, it has to be you. Surrendering and taking all of the NWA’s attention is your only decision to save Victor and Sydney. If your plan goes well – and you’ll do anything and everything to make sure it will – then the NWA and NWC will be so preoccupied with you that Victor will become an afterthought, if only for long enough to escape.

You yell your name from the door before saying, “I surrender! I am coming out with my hands up, and I am unarmed!”

The door opens easily with a push of your foot. When you step out, dozens of rifles are aimed at your chest. You smile as someone approaches behind you and pushes you against the mossy path beneath you. The cuffs around your wrists are tight, but better on your wrists than any of your family. You’re hauled to your feet and led to an unmarked helicopter by two agents.

The helo door slides open, and your smile falls at the sight of the man inside.

“You, stupid girl, just got me a golden ticket. Your treason is much appreciated,” Daniels says.

You fight against the hands that lift you onto the seat opposite Daniels, but it’s pointless. Once you’re seated, the door closes, and you look away from Daniels.

“Oh, one more thing,” Daniels murmurs.

He raises a small spray bottle, and a thick liquid covers your face before you lose consciousness.

“Director Smoak,” Daniels greets when the line connects. “I have excellent news for you.”

When you come to, you groan in pain. A fist is withdrawn from your solar plexus, and you tug against the restraints on your wrists and ankles. Your back aches where it presses against the cold metal chair you’re tied to. You look around and see three men with covered faces and NWC vests.

“Canada region, I assume?” you ask past a swollen bottom lip. “I thought it would just be, like, hockey 24/7 and polite ehs in the supermarket.”

The man to your left pushes his palm against the side of your head. Your neck bends harshly to the right, and you cough against the sudden force before laughing.

“You won’t be laughing for long, traitor,” Smoak calls as he enters.

He’s wearing waders that cover his chest down to the built-in boots. A woman follows him with a tray of weapons and waits at his side like a well-trained dog.

“Good puppy,” you call sarcastically. “I’ll bet you’re even potty trained.”

“Don’t speak to my agents,” Smoak calls tiredly.

“I was your agent once, but when Daniels tried to kill me, you didn’t care.”

“I’m glad you’re in a talking mood. I have a few questions for you.”

“Oh, sure. If any of them have to do with you or Daniels, I have some colorful words that will just go perfectly in your official report.”

A guard shoves a baton into your side, and you bite your tongue, so you don’t yell in pain. You lean against your restraints and give Smoak a bloody smile.

“You won’t win.”

“And you won’t live to see it either way,” Smoak replies.

“Director,” the woman beside him interrupts. “There’s a developing issue in New York. It needs your immediate attention.”

“Looks like you just earned yourself a few more hours to enjoy your miserable existence,” Smoak tells you. He points to a camera as he continues, “But don’t worry, you won’t truly be alone. Agents, on me.”

Smoak leads everyone out of the room, and when the lock clicks behind him, you sit back to think. Daniels isn’t here, so he must have used his golden ticket, or he was sent somewhere else as a reward. You know that the moment Smoak gets back, he’ll be tired and ready for answers. Torture is in your future, but your thoughts stray to Victor and hope he isn’t in New York.

He's coming.

You smile and look up to the camera to say, “It’s a pity the New World Charter has to end this way. And you know who could have saved it, Smoak? E… Os… But you’re just a poor, ordinary, little nobody who had to get attention and power somehow, right? I’d say how the mighty have fallen, but you were never mighty. Just a boy pretending to be a man because no one will ever respect someone like you. Bring your worst, Smoak, but killing me just multiplies your problems.”

“Tell me something, Mitch,” Victor asks.

They’re in an abandoned hotel in Portland, Oregon, and it’s one of the nicest places they’ve been since the safehouse you came to. As they journeyed through northern California, Victor, Mitch, and Sydney searched for you day and night. Sydney found your bag in a ranger shack north of the Sequoia forest, but nothing since then.

“I’m hacking as close as I can to the NWA mainframe,” Mitch explains. “None of my older contacts know anything about Daniels, so the story hasn’t made the news or the main circulation of paperwork.”

“Does that mean you haven’t found anything?”

“No need to be grumpy with me, I’m working.”

“Why don’t you ask the ghost?” Sydney asks from her seat on the plush, king-sized bed.

“Because I got him,” Mitch interrupts. “All expenses paid vacation to Newport, Oregon.”

“You’re kidding,” Victor accuses.

“I guess Florida lost its draw in the New World Charter agreement. Or governments are still cheapskates and that was the best they could do.”

“Regardless, I’m going to Newport.”

Sydney jumps up quickly and grabs her bag before Victor says, “Alone.”

“No,” she argues.

“What part of that sounded like a question?”

Sydney weighs her options before dropping her chin and trying, “But I’m scared, and you’re the only person that makes me feel safe. The only one that didn’t leave me at least.”

Mitch stifles a laugh as Victor’s shoulders tense.

“I am going to torture him, Sydney,” Victor explains. “I don’t want you to see that.”

“I want to see that. He deserves it for what he did to her.”

“Syd…”

“I know. Love you too, Vic.”

Sydney opens the door and Victor sighs as he and Mitch follow her. Victor reminds himself that Sydney knows more than she lets on, and she knows exactly what he can do.

“Where is Victor Vale?” Smoak asks as he returns from New York.

“Nice suit. Did you steal it from a pimp?” you counter.

“Juarez.”

A guard, Juarez, pulls a metal pipe from the cart of weapons and readies it to swing against you.

“Juarez clearly didn’t play baseball,” you taunt.

“Where is he?” Smoak repeats.

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’s dressed better than you.”

Your insult dies before you finish it as the metal pipe connects with your rib cage. Nothing feels broken, but your breaths grow short as you curve your spine to mitigate the initial pain.

“You don’t know where he is, that’s fine. Let’s talk about something you do know. How many people are with him?”

“He doesn’t need any help.”

Smoak slaps you across the face before he squeezes your mandible and repeats the question. You spit in his face, painting a bloody pattern across his face.

“Does that answer your question?” you ask.

“You are not helping your case,” Smoak seethes as he wipes your blood and saliva from his skin.

“I’m shaking in my boots,” you deadpan. “Listen, Smoak, I can see why you’d be jealous of Victor, of all EOs and decent people-“

Someone pushes a cattle prod against the base of your neck and turns it on. You jerk in your seat as the electricity surges through your body. As the sensation fades away, you shake your head dramatically.

“Daniels said-“

“Ah, Brian says a lot of things.”

Smoak pulls your hair; his fingers close to your skill as he tilts your head back to look up at him.

“How do you know his name?” he asks darkly.

“I’ve got friends. Oh, you may not know what that means. You can ask one of your good boys or girls in here to define it for you.”

“Bring it in,” Smoak demands as he releases you.

He steps back as the door opens, and you can see out into the late afternoon light. The Pacific Ocean is visible, and you realize that you must be in some type of beach shack. Three agents bring in a large tub of water, and someone drops a car battery and jumper cables beside it. They’re going to waterboard you or electrocute you, maybe both, but you know where you are and that Victor is safe, so you win no matter what happens.

You smile as you lean back and ask, “What does beachfront property go for in your new world anyway?”

Smoak nods, and you are knocked onto your knees before your head is pushed under the water.

“Brian Daniels,” Victor says slowly as he walks onto the balcony. “I thought a former U.S. Army Ranger would be smarter, or at least a bit more aware of his surroundings.”

Daniels looks up quickly at the sound of a voice and lays his hand on his gun. His eyes widen when he sees Victor, and he pulls the gun to point at Victor’s head.

“You won’t need that.”

Victor turns the pain dial, and Daniels drops the gun over the edge of the railing before curling on the beach chair. Victor circles him slowly and pictures you as he adjusts the pain Daniels feels.

“What do you want?” Daniels pants.

“I think you know.”

“She’s not here.”

Victor leans against the door and crosses his arms. With his jaw set and his brows raised, he knows he looks intimidating, but you’re the only person who has ever pushed past his outward appearance to get to the root of his emotions and what he truly wants.

“I don’t know where she is. They would’ve taken her to the Canada region for questioning.”

“Not good enough,” Victor replies.

Daniels sneers and Victor turns the pain dial quickly before turning it back down.

“I’m not talking to you, Vale!” Daniels yells.

“You will. There’s this thing called a pain threshold, I won’t try to explain it to someone of your inferior intellect, but it’s the brief moment where the pain is too much to bear but not too much to render you unconscious. If you don’t stop talking, I will take you there and leave you until you die of heart failure,” Victor threatens.

“You kill me, and you don’t get the girl.”

“I kill you, and I find someone else who knows where she is. You’re not special, Daniels.”

“And you are?”

“Special enough to get your full attention. You and your people can’t seem to get enough of me. Last chance, where is she?”

Daniels shrugs, and Victor pushes him to his pain threshold. It’s low, Victor thinks as he sits back and watches Daniels writhe in pain. His groans are short and broken by whimpers, and Victor rolls his eyes as Daniels slaps the balcony.

“Yes?” Victor asks sarcastically as he lowers the dial.

“Old lifeguard shack was converted to a facility on the coast; ten clicks north of here,” Daniels says quickly. “That’s the closest Canada region, it’s where they would have taken her.”

“And what are they doing to her?”

“They’re getting answers, however they have to.”

“Thanks for the information,” Victor says as he stands and buttons his trench coat.

“Make it stop. I told you everything,” Daniels begs.

“I don’t know that you told me everything.”

“Please, please make it go away,” Daniels repeats as tears build in his eyes.

“Okay.”

Victor turns the pain dial all the way up without warning, and Daniels slumps against the beach chair. When Victor walks back into the hallway, Mitch and Sydney are waiting for him.

“Did you kill him?” Sydney asks.

“He asked me to,” Victor answers cryptically.

“Where now?” Mitch asks.

“The Canada region. I need to be alone for this one, so find a place to lay low and I’ll find you after.”

“After what?”

“I get her back.”

“Vic,” Sydney calls. “Whatever happens, just make sure she knows, okay?”

“I will. But I’m bringing her back, safe and sound, Sydney.”

“I believe you.”

“And that’s your biggest flaw.”

After Victor walks out, Sydney leads Mitch and Dol into an empty boutique. There are a few items of clothing left on the racks, and she looks at each one as they wait.

When you’re pulled up by your hair, you gasp for air before coughing up water. Smoak has the jumper cables in his hands, and you tilt your head back.

“What do you want to know?” you ask quietly.

“Oh, now she comes to her senses,” Smoak muses dramatically. “Where is Victor Vale?”

“Okay, when I last saw him, he was somewhere you’d never find him.”

“Juarez.”

“No, wait, I’m getting there,” you add. “That was days ago, but if I had to guess, he would go south. To San Diego.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I know where he’s really going and it’s not San Diego.”

Smoak yells in frustration and throws the jumper cables to the floor.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” he screams.

“Hey, you’re the emotional one, I’m just trying to make the best of a bad night.”

“I am going to kill you,” Smoak threatens. “Slowly, painfully-“

“Sounds like how Victor and the other EOs will kill you. They’ll keep you alive just long enough to get answers and make you beg for death.”

“They won’t find me.”

The woman behind Smoak grabs her chest and then collapses backward. You’ve seen sudden, unexpected pain like that before, and it makes you smile. Smoak’s eyes widen comically at your blood-soaked and dirt-covered joy. When Juarez similarly falls, you laugh.

“What?” Smoak demands.

“You wanted to know where Victor Vale is…” you begin.

“I’m right here,” Victor finishes from the other side of the door.

Victor turns the pain dial up, and his focus on you protects you from the effects as the people around you fall unconscious from the high level of pain. When Victor steps through the door after forcing it open, his eyes find you immediately. Your pain dulls as he moves closer to you, stepping around the tub of water to kneel at your side. He loosens the restraints silently, and you sigh before leaning forward.

“I’m going to let the pain back in. I need to know what hurts,” Victor explains.

“If I was in pre-med with you, group projects would have been the end of me,” you murmur.

“And you said I made it a battle of intellect.”

Victor offers his hand, but you grip your knees instead when your pain returns slowly. You stand and evaluate your injuries while Victor looks over you.

“What happened back here?” Victor asks as he runs a finger over the back of your neck.

Shivers run down your spine at his touch, and he withdraws his hand quickly.

“Cattle prod,” you answer.

“How’d you know I was out there?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions.”

You rub your hand across your forehead and Victor numbs your pain again as he instructs you to wait outside. His tone causes you to turn back in the doorway and ask what he’s going to do.

“Leave a message for the NWC and the NWA,” he answers.

“You’re leaving a message in this carnage? To say what?”

“That we’re coming, and we don’t appreciate the genocide. Now give me a little room to work. Take a breather.”

You nod and step away from the lifeguard shack while Victor begins working. Your smile returns as you think about his use of “we.” He wasn’t referring to you as an EO, not like when you slipped while talking to Rocky weeks ago, but including you in his family. As unusual and messed up as the situation is, you’ve never felt more at home than with Victor Vale, Mitch Turner, Sydney Clarke, and Dol.

Victor appears by your side several minutes later, and though there isn’t blood on his hands, you know there is blood everywhere else. What he said isn’t important, but why he said it and what he did for you is. As you walk down the beach to find Mitch and Sydney, you slowly slide your hand into Victor’s, and though he tenses momentarily, he accepts your hand with a gentle squeeze. You and your family are coming, and if the only way to get there is by leaving a trail of carnage, you’re okay with that. As long as Victor is there to help you.

When Smoak’s second-in-charge at the NWC reaches the lifeguard shack, he expects to find Smoak getting answers and ignoring his phone and radio. As he struggles to push the door open, he realizes just how wrong he was. Smoak’s body blocked the door, but the literal writing on the wall is more informative.

“Predator turned prey is always a more satisfying kill. You killed our kind, let us return the favor.”

The man pulls his phone from his pocket and calls the NWC board. He takes a deep breath before explaining what he’s looking at. The person on the other end of the line has an idea of who could be so passionate about Task O, and Smoak got too close.

“What do you suggest we do?” a board member asks.

‘Several U.S. states, Chile, Africa, Wales, and others have expressed an interest in seceding from the NWC,” another answers. “We’ve got an all-out war on our hands. The only way to stop before it worsens is to dissolve the NWC.”

“I motion to vote. All those in favor of dissolving the New World Charter say aye… all those opposed say nay… Majority rules and the NWC will remain intact at this time.”

“That means the EOs are going to rip us apart until we dissolve against your will,” someone murmurs.

Every member of the board experiences blinding white pain simultaneously, and the war against the NWC begins anew.

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 7

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

A/N: In this story, Peter has Tom’s dog, Tessa.The dogs in the story play a minor but key role.

Word count: 2.8k

Part 6 <<< >>> Part 8

MASTERLIST

“You know,” Emmeline started, spinning her phone on the table, legs crossed, sitting on her balcony while Spider-Man laid in a web-hammock that dangled from the balcony above hers. “You sound way younger than I thought you were.”

He folded his arms behind his neck and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“I’m not that young…” he argued, although not very convincingly. “I’m an adult, legally. I don’t magically turn into my civilian self on the stroke of midnight.”

  “I know that, you hang out here way past midnight,” she laughed and stopped playing with her phone to better look at him. His gaze was still trained on the skyline, lost in his thoughts. They didn’t always talk much, but it was nice to just chat a little and share comfortable silence. “Still, I thought you were an actual adult, not just legal.”

“What does that even mean?” Spider-Man suddenly sat up, looking at her. “I’m an actual adult.”

“I don’t believe that! I think you’re my age, and I’m not even close to being a real adult,” Emmeline huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms on her chest.

“What’s a real adult, then?”

“Someone who has a job, is financially independent, is well established in life, has their shit together-“ she began to list off and Peter had to cut her off.

“Alright, alright, if that’s your criteria then I suppose I’m not an adult. Does friendly neighborhood Spider-Man not count as a job?” he still asked.

“Not if you’re not paid to do it, my friend.”

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath. “But still, being an adult isn’t all about exterior things like money and status. It’s a feeling too.”

“Like it just dawns on you the first time you fill a tax form?” Emmeline suggested. “Because I don’t pay taxes, I don’t pay for anything, and that’s exactly my point. I’m not a functioning adult, I’m a kept woman at best,” she laughed bitterly and cracked open her beer. “Or is it when you don’t need to use a fake ID to buy beer anymore?”

As if on cue, Emmeline leaned down to grab a can of beer from the bucket of ice and threw it to him. He caught it without batting an eyelash.

“Good ones, but not what I meant. Like, what made you realize deep down, what changed inside of you?" Peter argued, rolling his eyes under his mask.

“Oh, you mean the newfound crippling anxiety regarding anything that is farther into the future than next week? Yeah, I have that now, fun times!”

“That's funny. You're funny,” Peter said, playing with his beer but not drinking it. He never drank the beers she offered, he suspected she was trying to force him to take his mask off, using politeness as an excuse.

“What about you?”

“For me it was...” He pursed her lips as if thinking really hard about it. “...back pain. Back pain and insomnia. One often deriving from the other.”

She threw her head back and laughed more frankly this time, filling Peter with an odd sense of accomplishment for making her laugh.

  *

                  Peter had been here dozens of times and now he had to pretend really hard to never have been. Granted, he had never stepped in, but Emmeline’s large balcony offered a pretty great view on the inside what with the large window panels she had instead of walls. It wasn’t the safest kind of housing, he had to say. What was it with rich people and windows? They were obsessed with lighting. Then again, he would wager Emmeline did not pick this apartment for herself. He had known her for months now and he found she had rather modest tastes and never judged something by the price tag, so to speak.

                With the notable exception of the leash she bought him the day they really met. He googled it and, boy, it was expensive. But another thing he had noticed was that nothing was too good for her dog – or his, actually. Tessa had gained a doting aunt of sorts the day Emmeline decided to become his friend.

                It was the first time he came in through the front door though, it had to count for something. He wasn’t Spider-Man escorting a girl who had been assaulted – or Spider-Man being an over-zealous superhero who kept checking in on her even though he knew she was safe and sound. He was Peter Parker, and Emmeline Gerard had invited him to her penthouse so they could work together.

                She closed the front door and they took off their shoes and coats. Tessa zoomed in and began to walk around, getting familiar with the place.

“It’s the first time you invite me here, and we’ve known each other for months,” he pointed out, good heartedly. It was a teasing comment, nothing else, and he was taken aback by her serious answer.

“This place hasn’t seen many visitors since I moved in five years ago.”

                Not at all what had had expected to hear. On the contrary, he imagined having such a gigantic place to yourself would prompt anyone to try and fill it with people, with life. It must be quite lonely to be on your own in there.

“I’ve just never been comfortable with having people over.”

Emmeline shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek. She tried to play it off as a casual remark, but Peter was having none of it and decided to push her a little for answers, to see if she would shut him off or not. He was hoping they were past that and she trusted him a little now, especially after they heart to heart moment where they talked about their parents. It had been a one-time thing, but he sensed she was more relaxed around him from then on.

“Why not?” Peter made a 360-degree spin, taking in it all in. That was something he had never thought he would see. Being inside a penthouse wasn’t really new to him since he met Tony in high school, but being in Emmeline’s place was exhilarating.

“It always feels like they are invading my space, always… snooping.”

                Yeah, Peter got that. Especially since he had so many secrets to hide from so many people.

“Your place is fancier than any place I’ve ever been to.”

“Now that’s not true, you’re working with Tony Stark,” she countered, leaning against the back of her couch and crossing her arms over her chest.

                He couldn’t believe the Stark internship excuse was still a thing. It had been seven years since it started, and no one seemed to find it strange.

“Alright, you got me there.” Peter couldn’t deny the truth after all. “I still think your place looks nicer.” His shoulders rose so high his neck disappeared. “It’s cozier. And I work in the lab most of the time when I go to Stark Tower, not in his last floor billionaire penthouse.” Also known as the Avengers compound, that he wasn’t supposed to know about.

“Right, right.” She waved off his comment and looked away. “I still try to keep the visitors to a minimum. It’s just awkward. Like what you’re doing right now!”

“What?” Peter frowned, a sliver of a smile on his lips. “What am I doing?”

                He wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary as far as he was concerned. He was just standing in front of her, hands in his pockets, looking around a bit – he tried to spot little details that would tell him a bit more about her. Emmeline was such a private person.

“You’re standing there, looking at everything around you like you’re in a museum, probably wondering how much some of it costs, and you don’t even know if you’re allowed to touch anything, hence the hands in the pockets,” she listed everything he did wrong unbeknownst to him.

                Peter immediately took his hands out of his pockets and grabbed a little glass sphere that sat on a wooden base to prevent it from rolling away. He twirled it around in his hand, playing with it and glancing at her with a smug little smirk.

“What’s that little thingy?”

“That’s an original 1920s crystal art piece by French glassmaker Lalique, it’s worth 700,000 dollars,” she recited as though she had been an auctioneer in her past life, watching Peter nearly drop the little glass ball out of sheer shock, only shortly catching the priceless art object before it shattered on her floor, then replaced the thing on its stand with shaking hands.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, blushing like crazy.

                Emmeline laughed and walked past him, sliding a hand on his upper arm to gesture him to follow her.

“I’m just kidding Peter, it’s just blown glass,” she giggled, looking at his decomposed face.

“Not funny!”

“But it proves my point.”

“Which is that your place is too fancy for your working class friends?” Peter asked, just to annoy her after the joke she just made at his expense. It was only fair.

                Emmeline stopped at the kitchen island, placing her hands flat against the marble.

“No, I don’t like having people come here because it makes the gap between us bigger than it needs to be; they judge me based on all of this.” She gestured around them.

“May I advise you to not flail your 1920s French glasswork at them, then?” Peter suggested humorously.

                She didn’t laugh.

“It’s a goddamn snow globe Peter, I wasn’t serious.”

“Got it.” Peter swallowed with some difficulty. Clearly, he had tackled a sensitive topic, he couldn’t back down now though, and apparently joking wasn’t the right approach.

 “When people see this place, they have one of two reactions: there are those who start thinking that we live in different worlds and stop inviting me to stuff because it’s not fancy enough for me to hang out in their two hundred square feet flat and eat Domino’s Pizza. And then, there are those who think they can take advantage of me.”

“Who would do that?”

“A shockingly high number of people, Peter. People are disgusting,” she deadpanned. “Everyone in this city knows I come from money, but it’s not until they see how I live that they take the full measure of what it means. Making friends isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

                That was when Tessa decided to butt in and strut over to Emmeline, sitting right by her feet and looking up with big, sparkly eyes, as if knowing that she was the one to go to is she wanted something.

“You have Bella at least,” Peter said, thinking of her own dog.

He had never formally met Bella; only Spider-Man had. She was at the vet for a few days because she had stepped on some glass shards and had needed stitches. Maybe that was the reason why he was even allowed here. After all, Bella was trained to not let strangers near Em, and as far as she was concerned, that’s what he was to her protective dog. Bella’s absence was also why he agreed to come. He was dying to see her apartment, but he also didn’t want to give his identity away.

                He wanted to echo her little explanation with his own experience and found he could not. He didn’t come from money, his father wasn’t someone important like hers, but he did have his own issues with making close friends, for different reasons than her. And he felt like a fraud suddenly, sitting here in her kitchen, in her home that she opened for him even though she despises bringing people here, forcing her to talk about things that stung, and yet not reciprocating.

“Yes, what would I do without her?”

                A large, goofy smile replaced the stern expression on her face when she bent over to pet her.

“Are you hungry, Tessa? I know it’s dinner time. C’mon, I’ll fill Bella’s bowl for you.”

                He didn’t add anything and just sat on the bar stool by the kitchen island while Emmeline went to get Tessa’s food and filled her bowls water, and a mix of dry dog food and meat leftovers from the fridge.

“Follow me,” she told him this time instead of touching his arm.

                A flash of electricity coursed through Peter when she had placed her hand on his bicep just a few minutes ago, and he wouldn’t have minded if Emmeline had dragged him all the way to where she wanted to go by the arm this time around.

                Actually, he just really would have liked to hold her hand.

                She stopped outside a closed door and took a deep breath, then turned around to meet his questioning eyes.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Huh?”

“I know you’re not like those people who just want to be friends with me for my family’s money and influence,” she explained. “At least, I hope so.” Her eyes shifted when she said the last part.

“Hey, hey,” Peter whispered, taking the step separating them to place his hands on her shoulders and make her look up. “Em, you could be living in a cardboard box and be a nobody’s daughter and you’d still be the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

                That was it: the lamest, most ridiculous thing that ever crossed his lips in front of this girl – and God knows he already blurted out some dumb shit in his times of awkwardness.

                She smiled softly, her eyes darting down a little while she placed a hand on Peter’s elbow to make him let go of her. It made her feel warm – whether it was his words or his touch, she couldn’t tell. But she didn’t let herself ponder the thought too long.

“Thank you for saying that. It means a lot.” And it took her a lot of effort not to start crying like a little girl, but she had pretty good control over her emotions. Living in the public eye tended to do that to someone. “You win.”

                Peter’s eyebrows rose and he gave her a confused look, planting his hands on his hips and watching her step back, one hand already reaching out for the door handle.

“I win? I win what?”

                Emmeline was pleased to hear the utter confusion in his voice and not an ounce of greediness.

“The right of entry.”

                When she opened the door, Peter wasn’t surprised to see it was her room, but he was surprised by the room itself. It was nothing like the rest of the apartment that resembled a design magazine front cover and was so white and pristine it blinded him a little.

This bedroom was warm.

                He wolf-whistled.

“Now, that’s more like it,” he said with a laugh, letting his fingers play with a leaf from a ceiling plant.

“More like what?” Emmeline walked over to her bed and hastily draped the duvet over it, smoothing it out. Someone didn’t make her bed this morning, Peter thought, amused by her need to make things look perfect, even though there was no need at all.

“You, obviously.”

                It was still far fancier than anything he owned, but it was toned down. It was presented in a normal, a-twenty-something-lives-here kind of way, and not like a professional interior designer did it all. There was no ikea furniture in his room, but it had this homey feel that he thought this building lacked the first time he followed her here.

“I can’t tell if it’s a good thing, but I’m going with a ‘thank you’,” Emmeline laughed. “Don’t take this in a weird way, but you’re the first person I show my room.”

“Not even-“ Peter stopped before saying something out of line, but Emmeline just stared blankly at him, one very unimpressed eyebrow raised at him.

“C’mon,” she said. “Say it.”

“It’s none of my business,” Peter argued to get himself out of this situation. She was obviously holding back a smile, and he couldn’t help but think she was enjoying watching him fumble a little too much.

“You were going to ask anyway, and you obviously want to know,” she replied, sitting down in her desk chair, legs crossed.

                If she pushed on her leg and rolled the chair a bit backwards to get in the shaded corner of the room, the resemblance with that scene in The Godfather would be uncanny.

                Peter braced himself, seeing no way out of this that didn’t involve backflipping out of her window to escape.

“Not even… your boyfriends?” he eventually asked, feeling supremely embarrassed that he would even be concerned to hear the answer and blushing like nobody’s business.

“No,” she simply answered. “I use the guest bedroom when I have a boy over. This is my room, it’s private.”

“Then why-“

                She sent him a sharp look and Peter swallowed down his question, mimicking to zip his mouth shut.

“Go get your laptop,” she told him, the slightest of smiles adorning her face, matching the mischievous glimmer in her dark eyes. “You wanted to partner up for this tutorial, so let’s get to work.”

                He should feel lucky being here at all and stop questioning why.

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Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @justanothercynicalgenzkid @of-virtuoso

[words-writ-in-starlight]

42 on your Spotify playlist, Molly/Caleb if you think it fits them or another pairing of your choice if not.

Uh.  Remember that AU we were talking about awhile back.  Remember how I’m like halfway through “a ghost in my lungs” and kinda out for blood. 

I should NOT be allowed to write Caleb-centric fic at 2 AM anymore, huh?

Mirrors – Pvris

standing up rightabove me

Caleb does not remember how he got here—here, of all places, a sweet and handsome manor in the foothills,the mountains purple and magnificent above the forest to one side, the last redand orange leaves of fall like fire around him. It’s beautiful, picturesque, the very image of a wealthy family’s modestcountry retreat.

The doors, oak carved with a simple arabesque pattern drippingdown the frame like ivy, make sickness rise so hard and fast in Caleb’s gutthat he digs in his heels without a thought.

“Hit him,” a voice says, bored, and a kick out of nowheresends Caleb crashing to his knees.  Thecobbled path hurts, and he only realizes that his hands are chained behind him whenhe tries to catch himself and instead lands shoulder-first on the stone.  The gag between his teeth silences his yelpof pain, keeps him from biting into his tongue on impact.  He’s not sure if that’s a blessing or not.

Lying on the stone, he tries to remember what happened.

The fight—he remembers the fight, more of a good deed thananything else, when word came down of unsavory military recruitment tacticshappening in the rural townships south of Rexxentrum.  They’d spent three days asking questions andgetting basically nothing before their usual stupid luck had them blunderingstraight into trouble.

Real trouble.

Caleb remembers the wizard, with her two bodyguards and her coldblue eyes and her graceful dancer’s step. He remembers the way her voice sounded when she said, “Is that you, myfriend?”

And then he raised his hand, his fingers going black as hesummoned the fire that had always served him so loyally, and she said—

She said—

His hand burned and she opened her mouth and her throatworked and she said—

His memory goes black there, as swift and clean as if it wascut short with a blow of Yasha’s sword. All that remains is the crackle of fire, and the impression of heat onhis hands, and the bruises and cuts that he can feel, sprawled here on the stonepath.

One has the distinctive feel of frostbite, as if he’d beenstabbed with a shaft of ice through his right biceps.

Oh gods, Calebthinks, and retches helplessly.  Jester.

“You’re a disgrace, Widogast,” the voice says in disgustedZemnian.

“What did you do to me?” Caleb demands, lunging up—and beingkicked again, in the ribs this time, to drive him back to the ground.  “What–”

What did I do?

“Get him up,” Astrid orders, and Caleb is dragged ungentlyup to his feet, every muscle screaming in protest.  He doesn’t fight it as they drag him inside.  He’s too busy trying to catalogue the otherinjuries on his body.  That gash to histhigh—could that be from Yasha?  Thesplash-burn on his shoulder must be Eldritch Blast, from Fjord, and the achingbruise that throbs over his ribs in time to his heartbeat…Beau.  It has to be.

Please, gods, Archheart,if you ever gave a damn, let them be okay. Caleb has that gutted, scraped-thin feeling of having burned through alot of magic in a very short time.  Allof it, maybe.

All of it, at—who? His friends?

His family, again?

He comes back to himself when he’s more or less pushed down aflight of stairs into a familiar dungeon. It’s lit only by magical glowglasses, spaced between the cells down thecorridor.  They cannot account for thesmell of smoke.

“Put him with the quiet one,” Astrid says.  “We’re a bit crowded, but don’t worry, yourroommate is very…cooperative.”  Then shehesitates.  Astrid, of all people, whowas always so sure and confident.  Whotook Caleb’s mind from him with one word—whatwas the word—and didn’t think twice.

She walks up and rests a hand on his cheek, using her gripon his jaw to force him to meet her eyes. Caleb learned to do that here, meet eyes.  If he was going to be the pride of the Empire,Ikithon always said, Caleb had to look honest and reliable, diplomatic, and hecould just have dinner when he could look his teacher in the eye and askpolitely.

Astrid’s eyes are still blue and clear and cold, and she easesher grip on Caleb’s face a touch as he stares back at her.  She strokes his cheek, almost gentle.

“Don’t worry, Caleb,” she says, still in Zemnian.  “You’ll be with us again, just as soon as you’rebetter.  It’ll be okay.  We’re going to make it okay.”

Caleb is frozen for a long moment, half in terror and halfin shock.  He can’t even articulate itbecause—because he just wants her to stop touchinghim, to stop looking at him.  Whatever she did, to take him away fromhimself and drag him back here, it left a feeling of bone-deep contamination inits wake, as if every small crevice he’s eked out clean of Ikithon’s influencehas been dirtied all over again.

Then he hears Nott’s voice, all the way back when they firstmet, saying frankly, “Everyone thinks they’re real scary until they’ve got goblinteeth in their leg.”

Astrid runs her thumb over his chapped lower lip, idle andpossessive, and Caleb opens his mouth and bitesher as hard as he can.

It’s worth the beating, to spit her own blood back at her,and for a moment all he can think is that Molly would be proud of him.

“Widogast,” Astrid pants, clutching her freely bleeding handto her chest and looking down at him where he’s all but hanging by the armsfrom the grip of her two guards.  “I’vebeen waiting to have you back with us for twelve years, but I have to say I’mlooking forward to making you pay for running, first.  Throw him in the cell.  He’ll live.”

Being mandhandled into the cell hurts so much that Calebgoes away again, a little bit, in a much more familiar way than before.  He lands on the ground and drags in threeslow breaths, just like he was trained to, and then rolls onto his back to takestock.

He’s in rough shape, he decides.  He’ll live, certainly, but he won’t enjoy it muchin this state.  At least one rib isbroken.  He thinks his ankle might be aswell, but he’s having some numbness that should probably worry him even more.

Maybe, he thinks grimly, he could fracture that rib properlyand punch a hole in his own lung to suffocate quietly through, before she comesback.

Because, of course, he’s going to die here.  That was a given from the moment he saw thedoors again.  Even if the Nein decided tocome after him—and gods, why would they, he’s a monster, a rabid dogwho finally turned on them—they would doubtless scout it and conclude that ahalf-decent wizard with a cat and homicidal tendencies isn’t worth riskingtheir necks for.

That’s assuming they’re all still alive.

Gods, he wishes he had his cat with him.

Caleb doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there, when hefeels the hand on his shoulder—an exploratory sort of poke, as if seeing if he’sbitten the metaphorical big one since rolling over.  He raises a hand feebly, trying to say not dead yet without trying to actuallyspeak.  Speaking seems a bit outside his capabilitiesright now.

His cellmate—the ‘quiet one’, whatever that meant—clears theirthroat and says softly, “Wa-ter?”

They sound rough and ragged, like they’ve been silent a longtime, and they shape the word like someone learning a completely foreign tongue,hitting every consonant too hard and muddling the vowels.  

Caleb sits up so fast he feels something in his chest crunch,and narrowly misses crashing headfirst into a magnificently curled horn.

Kneeling over him is a tiefling with skin that shows lavenderand scarred in the dim light, loose shirt maybe white once.  The eyes throw the light back, reflecting redall around, without a trace of pupil, and the hand being held up as if to warnCaleb off has—oh, it has a tattoo, Caleb can see it curl around the wrist, asnake, and on the neck, peacock feathers and a hidden red eye.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb rasps.

He’s feeling a little hysterical.  Gods, maybe Caleb’s died already and this is his own personal chamber of the Nine Hells.  That sure would save everyone some trouble.

Mollymauk Tealeaf holds out a tin cup, and repeats, “Wa-ter?”

[lightsburnbrite]

Young & Wild: Part 13

Daniel sat back in the chair, ankle resting atop his opposite knee, fingers furiously drumming against his thigh. He told himself, before coming into this meeting, that he’d remain polite no matter how frustrated he became.

He’d been in this position before. As soon as the new coach arrived, he and Daniel seemed to lock horns on everything. Not long after, Daniel requested a chance to sit down and talk, an attempt to make sure they were both on the same page. He left the initial meeting feeling better, Daniel was assured that he was an integral part of the squad and would be given ample starts as well as being named as the vice captain. But now, he was back in the same position; no communication, being relegated to the bench and tactics that Daniel knew wouldn’t work against    Arsenal.

The new coach, a broad, imposing Irishman, strolled in and made no apologies for being late. “What do you want, Agger?”

“I want to know where I stand with you.” Daniel contemplated leaning forward but instead, stayed how he was.

Rodgers did all but scoff. “Same as always.”

“You’re everything is the same but I’m just not good enough to start anymore?” He couldn’t help taking on a mocking tone. “Why should I stay here when other clubs are trying to get me to leave?”

“So you think that tattooing your knuckles means anything to me?” Pushing his chair back, Rodgers kicked his feet up on his desk. “Or you going and climbing into bed with the owner’s daughter is going to guarantee you things around here? If anything it makes me want to drop you completely.”

Daniel sat for a moment and tried to discern if Rodgers was being reactive or if that was really the way he felt. After a moment, he shook his head and stood to leave. “Fine.”

He took the drive home to contemplate what all of that meant. He loved the club, he loved the city and he knew that Georgina was just starting to feel settled. The problem was that he was becoming unsettled. Something was going to have to give, he just didn’t know what.

When Daniel got home, he could hear Georgina talking, but knew she wasn’t talking to the dogs. Her voice was chirpy, more lively and bubbly than when she spoke in general and it made smile to hear her be so happy. As he walked closer, he saw that she was skyping with her friend Ella from New York while polishing her nails. Quietly, he walked in and kissed Georgina on the cheek before opening the party for a snack.

I still can’t believe you’re married. You’re the last of us that I thought would actually get married.

Georgina laughed and shook her head while glancing back at Daniel. “I was engaged before, remember?”

Well, yeah, but we all knew that wasn’t going to happen. I mean, we didn’t like Preston, but neither did you. It might as well have been an arranged marriage. I’m just bummed you had to move.

“I know,” She sighed before even realizing what she was doing. “Truthfully, I am enjoying myself here. It’s different, of course, but this is where Danny needs to be and I go wherever he goes. Speaking of, he’s home now so I’m gonna go. I’ll catch ya later, k?”

K. Call me later.

Closing her laptop, Georgina spun around on the stool and stood up to greet Daniel. “Hello, my incredibly handsome husband. How was your day?”

“Just fine.” He rested his hands on Georgina’s waist before leaning in to kiss her. Daniel had decided a long time ago that whatever happened in his day during training or during a match, it stayed in the dressing room. “Of course it’s better now, my devastatingly beautiful wife.”

Georgina smirked to prevent herself from laughing. “Devastatingly beautiful?”

“You are to me.” He shrugged as he gave her backside a quick swat and stepped back to avoid retaliation.

“Whatever,” She rolled her eyes. “I know there are prettier women than me.”

Daniel smiled smugly. “Beauty is subjective.”

“You mean to tell me that you haven’t had girls just throw themselves at you?” With a smirk, she folded her arms over her chest as if to emphasize her point.

With a shrug, he intentionally kept his body language neutral. “I have. I’m just saying that you were the first time I met someone that I wanted but couldn’t have.”

“What do you mean?” Georgina quickly dropped the game that she was playing and moved closer to him.

He smiled again, but this time it was genuine. “I was instantly attracted to you as soon as your father introduced you to the room. I was trying to think of a way to speak to you when you were seeking me out.”

“But it’s not like you couldn’t have me…” Georgina subtlety took hold of his fingers, a gesture which he learned came to mean she was searching for some sort of security from him. “I mean, I pretty much ran away with you on the spot.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged again. “But if I recall correctly, you had a boyfriend and later a fiancé when we met.”

Georgina laughed. “And how long did that last? Granted, I never wanted to marry him anyway, I was just going to keep putting it off. But as soon as I met you I knew there was no way I could even be with him.”

“Ok,” He titled his head and smiled. “I’ll rephrase that. When we started talking regularly, when you were still engaged and before Copenhagen happened, I had decided that I would rather be alone than to be with someone else.”

Standing up, Georgina wrapped her arms around Daniel’s neck and kissed him. “What were we talking about again?”

Daniel nodded. “Doesn’t matter. Listen, I was thinking…do you want to go home for a visit?”

“Really?” Georgina frowned. “I guess I could.”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying you need to, but I know it’s a long way away. You should visit whenever you want to.”

“Well,” Georgina kissed him again. “What I really want to do right now is go out and grab a bite to eat before watching a movie that’s going to scare me so bad I spend the entire time in your lap.”

Daniel wrinkled his nose as he smiled. “Yeah, we can probably do that.”

It wasn’t until Daniel had mentioned it that Georgina really realized how much she missed New York. Her father had emailed her with a few housekeeping items that needed to be taken care of like paper work that needed to be signed and some things she had left behind in the apartment.

Georgina took the opportunity the next time Daniel had an away game to go back. It wasn’t going to be a long trip so she left the dogs in the care of their neighbors, a pensioner couple who often invited Georgina around for tea, and set off for a long weekend.

“Even jet lagged, you look undeniably happy, Georgina.” Linda kissed her on both cheeks as she opened the door of their Beacon Hill town house. “Married life suits you.”

Georgina shook her head. “I’m not happy just because I got married.”

“I know, I know.” She paused and directed the housekeeper to take Georgina’s bags to the guest room. “It’s just, ever since I met your father and then you, you’d been very protective or yourself. Now, you’re warm and open…and smiling.”

All Linda got in response was an eye roll.

“Can you just accept that I’m happy for you?” She gave Georgina a nudge with her elbow

With that, she laughed. “I do. So what do you have planned this weekend? I know I can’t just stop by for a visit with you you having something scheduled.”

“Well, I know your father would like it if we went to a game.” Linda smiled and tilted her head towards georgina letting her know that it wasn’t really up for discussion. “And then because you have the dividend checks you need to deposit back in New York, I got us tickets to see The Book of Mormon. And dinner too.”

Georgina smiled. “I guess it’s a good thing I brought my Pedroia shirt with me then.”

Before they made it inside the stadium, Linda felt she needed to warn Georgina of two things. First, the team was having a historically bad season and that put both the fans and her father in a bad mood. Second, the box next to their’s belonged to the firm that Preston worked for. He wasn’t usually there, but it was a remote possibility.

Great, she thought to herself. With my luck, he’ll show up today.

The usher showed them to their section and Georgina immediately knew that they had prepared it for Georgina and Linda. In addition to the Rosé and Perrier, there was an assortment of subs and fries from Al’s (a personal favorite of Georgina’s) and little cups of Hood ice cream. They walked to the outside seats, Georgina watched a bit of batting practice while Linda went on about how she had made some changes to the suite.

“But enough of that,” She turned around to see Linda holding two champagne flutes filled with pink, bubbly wine. “Here, have some.”

“Is that Rosé?” A blonde in an obnoxiously loud pink and green Lily Pulitzer dress called to them across the divider. “Can I steal a glass? There’s only beer over here and it’s awful. Please don’t make me beg!”

Linda looked at her quizzically before handing over a glass. “Sure.”

“Awesome!” The blonde eagerly took the glass from Linda and took a sip. “You’re a life saver. I’m Taylor, by the way, my fiancé brought me here today but I hate sports. It’s family day for his firm…is that why you’re here too?”

Taylor spoke so fast that the words all seemed to blend together to Georgina and she didn’t even realized that the prey chatterbox had asked a question.

“Not exactly.” Linda had come to the rescue. “Enjoy.”

Linda brushed Taylor off as she gestured towards the inside of the box, indicating that she and Georgina should head in for a bit of respite. She started to pour a class for Georgina before she was interrupted.

“I don’t think I’m drinking today.” Georgina wanted to laugh at how hesitant she sounded.

“Well,” Linda frowned slightly. “If you say so. More for me then.”

After helping herself to some fries, Georgina stepped back outside to watch the first inning. Without even turning to look, she heard a laugh that she knew must have belonged to Taylor. What made her head turn was the person she was laughing with. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and decided to be the bigger person. Moving closer to the divider, she put on a fake smile. “Hello, Preston.”

“Oh, do you two know each other?” Taylor stepped over and placed her hands over Preston’s arm.

When he hadn’t said anything, Georgina smiled. “We were briefly engaged. I was the fiancée before you. How are thing with you, Preston?”

“I’m still a junior partner.” The disappointment in his voice wasn’t well hidden. “Because I’ve been put on probation.”

Georgina looked at him for a moment and wondered if he was going to offer any explanation. “For the pictures?”

“Yeah,” He nodded as he took a sip of his beer.

She willed every muscle in her face not to smile. “Good.”

“Good?” He scoffed. “What do you mean good?”

Now she couldn’t help but to smile. “That was an awful thing you did and I’m happy that there are some repercussions.”

“And it wasn’t awful what you did to me?” He didn’t quite sneer, but the irritation was there, in his voice.

Mustering up all of her sincerity and whatever sympathy she had left for him, Georgina shook her head. “It was a break up. Break ups happen all the time. People suck it up and move on, they don’t retaliate.”

“Come on, Babe.” Taylor took Preston by the elbow. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with her.”

Not half an hour ago, Taylor was trying to be her best friend and now she wanted to think she had bested Georgina. Preston glanced over at Georgina and nodded as if he wanted to rub his new relationship in her face. “Yeah, she had a chance at a decent life and decided to throw it all away.”

“It may have been decent,” Georgina spoke louder so they both could hear. “But it wasn’t good. I’m happily married to a wonderful man now and we’re expecting our first child so you can think you’ve bested me all you want but I’ve never been happier. Enjoy the rest of the game!”

She turned and walked back into the suite where she knew at once that Linda heard everything. “It’s still very early and I haven’t even told Daniel, I don’t want to tell him over the phone, so will you let me tell my father?”

“Of course!” Linda practically ran over to hug Georgina. “I’m just so happy for you!”

Georgina smiled in return. She truly was happy and she was mostly sure that Daniel was going to be as well but she wouldn’t be able to fully enjoy this new part of their lives until she was able to share it with Daniel.