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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

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Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him.

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly.

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food.

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me?

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed.

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission.

— I don’t want to kill you.

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch.

— Are you going to rape me?

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this.

— Nein. Thought I told you already.

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you.

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time.

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one.

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked.

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask?

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable.

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed.

— I won’t kill you.

— But you will hurt me.

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling.

No, he doesn’t.

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips.

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it?

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips.

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job.

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned.

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift.

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja?

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base.

— I…I did.

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to.

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his.

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice.

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become.

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones.

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you.

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise.

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck.

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him.

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him.

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that. He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #lego

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i9messi · 1 year

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Dating Lando Norris

Specific things I think Lando would do as your boyfriend.

lando's masterlist

At the beginning, he was very very shy around you

He fell the moment he saw you

Lando couldn’t help but fall in love with you

For him, you were the prettiest girl he'd ever met

Not only that, you were someone interesting

He was interested in everything you liked

Your answers were recorded in his brain, as a constant reminder of what you adored

Pays attention to the details

One day you mentioned that there was a restaurant that you always wanted to go, except that you had never been able to go because you need to book at least a year and a half in advance

Just a week later, Lando took you to that same restaurant

It was your first date

"Lando, everything is so beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you are."

He gives golden retriever energy, you know

You fell in love with Lando too fast, I mean, how could you not? He was practically the man you’d always dreamed of

Someone attentive, charismatic and with a dose of sassiness

Sunshine boyfriend

He loved to whisper sassy things in your ear

Things that make you blush

Let's not repeat those things please

Your dates were too diverse, you could go to expensive restaurants or you could also stay at home, with the lights of the candles and show each other how much you loved each other

"I love to spend time with you, the world outside doesn't exist anymore. I'm only interested in you, in everything you do or don't do."

One of your favorite dates had been when after a thunderstorm, you had run out of light

With the sound of the rain, both had been hugging and looking out the window, hearing the drops fall on the glass

"I love you, I'm so in love with you that I can't hide it anymore."

That day was the first time he told you he loved you

You just smiled, kissing him on the lips a second later

The time you told him you loved him too, he was actually trying his best not to freak out. He smiled at you softly as if he didn’t almost explode from all the excitement

One of your favorite places was his chest

You could spend all your day laying on the couch with your head above his chest and listen to him speak with that accent that drove you crazy

Lando could bring any topic and it would be the most interesting thing in the world for you

He is the kind of dedicated boyfriend who loves to spoil you and make you happy

Brings gifts from his trips

"This reminded me of you, you once said you wanted one."

Takes pictures of you on any occasion, doing mundane things

"You look so pretty baby, stay still."

His camera roll was full of pictures of you

As his social media

He loved to post pictures of you in his instagram

He was a proud boyfriend, posting things in every occasion he had

I already mentioned he gives me golden retriever energy???

Well, he always find a way to talk about you

All of his friends and other drivers are annoyed of him talking about you

"My girlfriend likes that too." or "My girlfriend said..." He always finds an opportunity to mention you, no matter if it’s about something as stupidly as the weather or the sun, you’re important to him

He likes to ride in his car with you, holding your hand

He loves to hold your hand, in any occasion

He loves your touch

No, he needs your touch

Sometimes he's a little shy, but he is definitely into PDA

You're his girlfriend and he's not ashamed of admitting his love

He kisses you before races

You're his lucky charm

He loves you A LOT

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris one shot #lando norris one shots #lando norris imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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hanafubukki · 1 year

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MC/Yuu “Blessed/Cursed” by a Fae Theory

So you know how Lilia said that MC vision state is kind of similar to when Silver falls asleep/sleepy?

And we know, in part, the cause of Silver’s sleepiness is due to the blessing he got from the three fairies.

So that makes me wonder, did someone “bless” MC to have these visions?? Was it some fae?

And since we know the carriage brought MC to NRC and they were in a coffin, the closest fae that could have done it is Dire Crowley.

I don’t remember who pointed it out (@prince-kallisto?? @moonlightequin1?? <— the two Dire Crowley experts) but didn’t someone say that ravens/crows are symbols of prophecy?? And also symbols of death and rebirth?

MC is getting visions of OBs so in a sense prophecy, though it’s not far in advance or detailed enough for them to stop it from happening.

But book 5 we see them connect the dots with Vil and they go to check on him secretly and then! At the end of book 5, we see the chimera, which this time it a vision way more ahead in the future but a future to come.

So this symbolizes not only the ability of prophecy but of death if the prologue says anything. And if some time theories are true, we are trying to stop this death event from happening so in a sense, we get rebirth.

I don’t remember book 6 visions or maybe they didn’t stand out as much given the chaos that happened, though of note, we saw more MC development and their insecurities which we haven’t seen before.

But for sure, book 5 visions were different.

With book 7 visions in the beginning, we saw for the first time one of the Great Seven being mentioned by name.

The over arching plot and small details show that something is being cooked in the background, and we’ll probably see how it all comes together, especially with three dia members who have dream/memory related UM. We’ll probably see it come to fruition in book 8.

But I wanted to point out key points:

- book 5: MC being suspicious and connecting their dreams with Vil’s OB, something they just did for the first time. Then, they get a “future” vision of the chimera and what we know happens in the prologue.

-book 6: MC insecurities and helplessness is shown for the first time. You can see them try to include MC more in the interactions but you can also see the way they feel helpless.

-book 7: first time one of great seven is named in a vision. MC dreams/vision state are compared to Silver’s dream/sleepy state, which we know was due to a blessing given by fairies.

So either, Dire Crowley gave them this “blessing” or whoever that brought MC did (Levan? (If the two aren’t the same), another fae? Could it be Queen Maleficia? Someone who hasn’t shown up yet despite her grandson is in trouble).

Another thing to note, that yes while they are in a dream, MC hasn’t had any visions yet. Which is strange given their track record and how these visions tend to warn them of danger. MC has constantly been in danger, have they not?

Could it be so this magic doesn’t get recognized? But wouldn’t Lilia have recognized a blessing on them? Unless someone was able to hide said blessing.

All of this is rather fascinating 🫶🤔

(This is especially interesting when you take into consideration that they “randomly” chucked the fact about Silver and MC being similar in the beginning of book 7 at us and then never brought it up again 🧐)

#hana queues #twst theory #twst theories #twst analysis #dire crowley #maleficia draconia #malleus draconia #twst mc #twst yuu #twst silver #lilia vanrouge

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delcakoo · 2 years

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OMGGG I CANT STOP THINKING ABT JOCK NIKI AND SHY TUTORRRR I NEED MOREEEEEE

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE MAKE OUT SESS IN THE LIBRARY I NEED ALL THE DEETS 😍😍

part 1 lol

PAIRING ! jock!niki x tutor!gn!reader

WC ! 800ish

WARNINGS ! smooching and u and riki being so so cute

a/n: I DIDNT THINK ITD BE THAT EFFECTIVE ON ANYONE HELLO?? IM HONORED OK ENJOY !!

niki pulls away from the kiss, chuckling proudly at the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his. his right hand still rests on the back of your neck while the other grips the library table firmly. “and that one?” he inquires again.

you gulp, nervously glancing around the surrounding shelves of books. “it.. it was good..” as you mumble pathetically, you suddenly remember what you’re supposed to be doing. “..will you at least tell me what’s below the catella?”

he bursts into a disbelieving giggle, eyes crinkling into half-moons at your words. “all that and you’re still focused on tutoring me?” when you send him a warning glare (which he wasn’t phased by in the slightest), niki smirks. “the tibia.”

you nod, affirming that he was correct. “good job.” before he can do anything else, you swiftly stand to your feet and throw your belongings into your bag quicker and messier than you’ve ever done in your life. what made it all worse was that along with the piercing, hungry stare you could feel on your back the whole time, the taste of the boy was still fully on your tongue and lips.

“so thats it? gonna pack up and pretend nothing happened like last time?” he spits. you thought the jock was just playing with you — finding ways to make his ‘tutor sessions’ a bit more exciting — but you swear a hint of genuine frustration could be heard coating his sharp accusations.

you grit your teeth either way. “niki, this session ended ten minutes ago.”

tonguing the side of his cheek, he stands up himself while running strong fingers through his bangs. “and? fuck the session, i only care about you anyway.” you freeze. niki seems equally shocked, only realising his confession after another moment of silence passes.

“i..”

“look, i know your standards are too high for some fuck up like me so just- just pretend i didn’t say shit.”

it takes you a few blinks to process niki walking away, textbook and pencilcase tucked securely under his arm for you to hurrily chase after him. you pull the back of his navy hoodie with vigor, not taking another moment of hesitation before smashing your lips on his as soon as he stumbles around to face you.

he was the one to pull away first (which, for the record, had never happened before). “wh.. what- y/n?” niki questioningly stares down at you, a shimmer of hope reflecting in his pupils.

“i care about you too. i mean i- i think i like you, too,” you rush out.

his expression morphs instantly, a small beginning of a smirk forming as he leans against the nearest bookshelf. “i never said i liked you, did i?”

you frown, sending him a harsh glare. “niki.”

“sorry.” it was clear the male didn’t have much experience with such conversation judging by the way he scratched the nape of his neck, glancing off into space shyly. “so like.. i have a basketball game friday..”

“mhm..” you try not to laugh at his sudden change of attitude, edging him on with a nod.

“and if you wanna like- i don’t know, wearmyjerseyandcomewatchme or something.. i wouldn’t mind. and- and we can go eat somewhere after if you’re okay with taking the bus.”

you never imagined nishimura riki could be so cute, but somehow it brings butterflies to your stomach. “yeah, sure. that sounds good, text me the details?”

his eyes widen, mouth stammering as he takes in your response. "oh, uh- yeah, yeah i will.” pushing off the wall, niki only begins to walk away before he's quickly swivelling towards you again, rushing to plant a kiss on your forehead before taking off with promises of a text.

you nearly fail to miss the giddy smile on his face as he exits the library — not that you were any better with cheeks as red as your swollen lips.

one chance niki !!!!!!! ++ reblogs n comments r always appreciated if u enjoyed n want more pspsps

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years

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hello love! can i make a request for gaz x f!reader she a civilian and a florist and he keeps visiting her and they slowly fall for each other and he calls her his sunflower or something cute like that? you can make up the rest, sorry if it’s not super detailed!

Gossamer Silk Smiles

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Florist!Reader

Synopsis: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up.

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Insane amount of fluff, this is the definition of a soft fic, beginning of a relationship

A/N: I know this man would treat me right. Also changed the nickname around a bit, but sunflowers are still prominent. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you opened your flower shop, you told yourself there was no going back – no distractions or second options. This was what you loved more than anything and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well.

Until he showed up.

It had been a shitty day, one for the record books, in your opinion. Shipments for Larkspur, Zinnias, and Sunflowers had come to the shop damaged. The boxes had been so beaten up you half-believed the mail carrier had gotten into a personal disagreement with them. All initial humor aside, you were now out of this week's product as well as a good chunk of money – the flowers couldn’t even be considered that anymore, seeing as they were really just broken stems and stray crumpled pedals. Then came the unusual amount of rude customers and the building of minor inconveniences.

But to your credit, you didn’t let it get to you.

Well…externally, at least.

“Have a great rest of your day,” you force out with a strained smile to an older woman who only huffs. She stalks out of the shop with a vase full of Daylilies, Purple Cornflowers, Yarrow, and Taro leaves. “I hope your brother gets well soon–” The glass door shuts with a clatter of the small silver bell attached to the frame.

Leaning back on your heels, your eyes close; taking down a deep breath, you hope your lungs won't explode in your chest as you hold it there.

“Fucking hell.” The air flies from you in a weak groan.

Your fingers tap against the countertop, and a small, humorless, chuckle later you’re walking out to change the window sign to closed instead of open. It was well past your usual shift anyways, but the previous customer had been relentless about the ‘perfect bouquet.’

“Like there’s even such a thing,” your lips twist into an annoyed frown as you speak to yourself in a grumble. “...Should have just denied her service… Didn’t even leave a tip.”

You really wouldn’t have minded helping her that much if she had just been kinder towards you.

Grabbing the small paper sign held up by a suction-cup hook, you flip it around with little thought, already trying to plan out a way to make up for the weeks worth of ruined product. You don’t even notice the man speeding down the sidewalk until his desperate face is staring right into yours – only separated by a thin piece of glass.

Yelping, your shoulders tense at the sudden visage.

The man was around your age, tall, and had a handsome face inlaid with eyes reminiscent of deep amber. Light reflected off the iris in ways you can only describe as the glinting sun does off waves of water; gentle. Nearly soft, really. He was wearing a ball cap with an embroidered British flag on the front and had a panicked look set on his lips.

Close to the door handle, his long fingers freeze mid-air and you find the prominent muscular build and set of his shoulders staining the back of your eyelids like a movie screen. Whoever this guy was, it didn’t stray from the fact that he was attractive.

You’re not happy about it, but your mind blanks as you stare with wide eyes; heart steady in your breast.

He blinks at you, square jaw loose, also double-taking from beyond the see-through barrier. His flickering eyes flew quickly over your form just as you had ogled him moments prior.

Silly, perhaps, and childish at best, but you felt your throat tighten with stilled breath. There was a small chunk of time that you both just gawked at each other – as if Cupid had suddenly stabbed you both with one of his blots; gazes inexplicably locked as blood dripped to the floor from copper arrowheads.

If you were more gullible, you would have called it love at first sight. But you were anything but that.

Sighing, you rip your eyes away and take a breath. Opening the door with more questions than answers, you were praying that it didn’t get dark before you could help this man with whatever it is that he needed.

I can see the fucking veins on his forearms. You think as the chilled air hits your face, recalling the peek you sent to the rolled-up sleeves of this stranger’s blue button-down.

The bell above you dings as you set the door in the crook of your shoulder, leaning out halfway. Clearing your throat, you ask steadily, “Can I help you, Sir…?”

He sets his stubbled jaw, vision snapping to the side for a split second that was so fast you almost missed it.

“Erm…my apologies, Ma’am, for rushing up like that.” He lets off a chuckle, and the flag on his hat is quickly explained away by the prominent accent. “Hope I didn’t worry you.”

Fighting the uptick of your lips you feel your chest let go of a sliver of tension. He was smiling slightly at you, the khaki pants he wears creasing as his feet set themselves; his brown eyes never leave your face.

Respectful, you think.

“Not every day you have people trying to barge into a flower shop. Trust me, Sir, I sleep well knowing no one wants to rob me.” Attempting a light joke, the stranger's chest jerks in a silky laugh. The tips of your ears heat, the blood under your skin rushing.

His laugh was like a blanket during a storm; a cup of hot chocolate during a blizzard. Could you be attracted to a laugh? You seemed to ask yourself. Already your mind was coming up blank at this, all of a sudden, welcome intrusion.

“Well, I’d imagine that’s a good thing, then?” He teases showing off pearly white teeth.

“Incredibly.” Opening the door wider, you beam. “You’re lucky I was still here. I’d normally be all locked up by now.”

You should be closing – telling this stranger to leave and come back tomorrow – but something inside of you told you to just open the door. It was illogical, unprofessional, and downright strenuous on your already foul mood…but this individual had such an air to him that you wondered who exactly he was. He made your skin pule with goosebumps.

“Thanks,” the man utters as he slips inside, nodding his head to you and fixing the position of his hat with one hand. “Yeah…I’m incredibly sorry about this but I’m runnin’ on a bit of a time crunch, to be honest with you. I’ve been checking every shop in town – you’re the only one with the lights still on…” He looks to you, “I really hope I’m not causing any trouble for you, Ma’am.”

Slipping your fingers into your work apron’s pockets, you let the door shut and tilt your head to the side, gaze softening at the pure candor of his words.

“Emergency flower orders are always my favorites to work on. It’s no problem, really.” You say your name as an introduction and ask what he would like to purchase as he scratches at the back of his neck with a boyish twist to his lips.

“Kyle Garrick.” He sticks out his hand and you shake it instantly. Kyle’s hands are warm despite the cold weather outside, and you have to stop yourself from melting into him as you pull back. But already your skin tingles. “Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me on that front. What flowers would be the best for an apology?…just not something too flashy, if that’s possible.”

He trails with an awkward chuff, obviously not used to being in a flower shop before. You wondered if he even had a favorite flower. You hoped he did.

You could really tell a lot about someone based on the types of flora they surrounded themselves with.

“Apology?” You wonder, tilting your head. Quickly falling into work mode, you continue, “I can work with that. Do you have any preferences? Colors?”

“Well, she likes orange, yeah?” He speaks and your heart sputters for a moment. Smile freezing. “I don’t suppose that’ll help very much, but it’s really all I have to go off of. I’m a bit of a hopeless bastard when it comes to flowers.” Kyle lets off a huff of laughter.

She. Of course, he’s already in a relationship.

Nodding, you swiftly walk past the man, catching the scent of fresh-tilled earth and rainy grass as your shoulders nearly brush. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It wasn’t every day you found yourself attracted to someone. But, oh well, life continues on.

“Well,” heading towards the wall baskets, your body feels heavy, but you quickly force it to the side. You really shouldn’t be surprised. “You said orange? I have about seven you can pick from.”

“Affirmiti–erm, yes, Ma’am.”

“Hm.” You hear him come up behind you, following at a respectful distance. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you watch as his eyes slide over the various types of flowers, all separated by color, with deep thought.

A slight furrow was in his dark brow. His dedication was adorable.

“What’s this one called?” Kyle asks, moving around you to a bushel of orange poppies and accidentally bumping into your side.

Grunting, you lightly jerk forward until a hand swiftly grabs your shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, you look up with shock at the embarrassed face slightly leaning over you.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s my bad.”

“N-no, you’re fine.” God, this was so awkward. Smiling shakily, you feel the press of his hand over your skin, separated only by the thin barrier of your shirt. Kyle squeezes your flesh before letting go.

He was staring at you, though. Brown eyes set into dark skin with a soft expression like Pygmalion staring at his marble-wrought Galatea. But as quickly as it was there, the look was gone and the man was clearing his throat, snapping his neck back to the basket and shifting his feet.

Even if you couldn’t explicitly see it, you knew he was blushing – just the same as the heat in your capillaries mirrored. Swallowing to get rid of the dryness of your throat, you realize you’ve been gawking before sliding your hands into your pockets and quickly looking away.

Why won’t my heart stop beating so fast?

“Those are Orange Poppies. Papaver orientale.” Speaking, you reach forward and grab the stem of a single bloom holding it to him as he gazes down at you from your side. “Common in ‘get well soon’ bouquets, if you were curious.”

Holding it up to him, you watch his fingers delicately pluck it from you like the flower was made of glass. It nearly made you laugh, but you settled on a small smile instead.

“It’s pretty…” Kyle pauses, and you read it well enough.

“...But not what you were looking for.” Settling on the answer, you giggle when he passes off a sheepish smile and a nod. “I kind of guessed. Here – how about this.”

He ends up buying a handful of orange Tulips, Myrtle leaf for greenery, and a small gathering of Baby’s-Breath. Behind the counter, you try to stay focused on setting the flora perfectly in the clear vase as your clippers lay beside it. Frowning, you take the long stem of a Tulip and snip the end at an angle, placing it to the far left of the rest with a concentrated set of your eyebrows.

“So,” Kyle says, breaking the silence, and your fingers twitch as your spell is shattered. Soul stilling, you look up at him as he waits on the other side of the counter with his arms comfortably crossed. He leans back on his heels, feet shoulder-length apart. “Busy day today, then? Other places around here are mostly dark by five.”

Standing straighter, you politely smile before going back to the arrangement, hand reaching for the small white tufts of Baby’s-Breath.

“Mostly, yeah.” You cock your head to the side, “I was supposed to be home two hours ago, but one lady was very adamant about getting the most ‘perfect’ flowers, as she told it.”

Chuckling humorlessly, you step back and stare at the vase, not aware of the eyes stuck on the tired slump of your shoulders or the slight frown staining the man’s lips.

“Two hours? Well, that’s a bit excessive.” Kyle remarks, eyelids creasing, “I’d hope she at least left a tip for you?”

That gets a laugh out of you, lungs jerking for a moment; focus once more brought back to the present at the preposterous words that just left your customer’s mouth. Those brown eyes suck you back in to a point where you wonder if you’d ever be able to look away.

“Now that’s funny, Mr. Garrick.”

He lets the subject drop, but you notice a slight crease in-between in brows – a narrowness to his eyes that wasn't there before. You try not to think too much into it, but Kyle certainly did seem like the man to get upset when people aren’t treated respectfully. The thought warms your heart.

Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this.

“Is there anything you’d like me to rearrange, Sir…? Do you want a note to go with it?” Seemingly lost in thought, Kyle comes back to you with a diligent shake of his head.

“It looks perfect, Love. And, please, just Kyle’s alright. You’re makin’ me sound like an old man when you talk like that.” He chuckles, and it’s a rich, velvety sort of thing – twisted with blue satin and wrapped in a gentle breeze. Your stomach twists.

“Then I suppose that’s it, then. I’ll get you the bill and you can be on your way.” Turning around to calculate the total price, you make a quick comment in passing, not really thinking about it as you tap on your calculator. “I hope your girlfriend and you make up.”

A stunned silence falls, but you only focus on the numbers, jotting down the total on a sticky note and turning around after re-running the costs a last time. When your eyes lock with him, your feet stall at the dumbfounded look on Kyle’s face and the confusion ingrained in his body language. His head had pulled back slightly, hat tilted.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Your…girlfriend?” You say slowly, walking closer and passing him the sticky note, “you said you were getting her apology flowers?”

The handsome man blinks at you before realization lights in his eyes like fire. Kyle laughs deeply, putting a hand on top of his head and pressing down on his cap.

“Oh, Bloody hell, no.” He takes a deep breath and you feel your lips pressed together in confusion, innocent intrigue taking place in your skull. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I should have told you right off. This is for my mum.”

Blinking in surprise you pause, looking up with wide eyes.

Sweetheart?...Mum?! Your face heats to an intense level. Oh.

“O-oh I didn’t…” He’s reaching for his wallet with a large lop-sided smile on his face and understanding eyes, watching you as he flips it open. You settle with a single laugh and say, “sorry, I guess I just assumed.”

But you can’t help the sudden relief that sprouted out of nowhere that leaves your lips pulling back in a mirrored grin. You’d been doing that a lot, as of the last fifteen minutes.

“It’s no problem,” Kyle admits, “Thing is, I’ve been off on deployment for a while, and I missed my return date party, unfortunately. Just got back about noon today and I decided I was going to surprise her tonight.” The man pulls out a large stack of bills, “Thought she’d like that, yeah? Can’t go wrong with flowers, can you?”

“You’re in the military?” You ask smoothly but internally swoon at the thought of a son giving his mother flowers out of the kindness of his heart. Whoever she was, you know the woman who raised this man would be overjoyed with the prospect of simply having him home safe and sound before anything else.

Did not Penelope, wife of Odysseus, care for her son Telemachus more than anything? Above danger and possible death? They protected each other. You supposed it was the same in this situation.

Being able to be a part of it made your legs weak.

“Something like that, Ma’am.” Kyle’s lips flick into a smirk as he hands you the bills. “Feels like I’m surrounded by children most days, but there’s no place I’d rather be…When I’m not nearly getting my head bloody blown off, that is.”

You huff in amusement, and slight concern, taking the payment and settling it on the counter without checking the numbers; never doubting whether he gave you the right amount or not.

“Well, it seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” Garrick looks to his feet for a moment, pocketing his wallet, and clears his throat near mutely. He tilts his head back up to you.

“Nearly,” he whispers under his breath, a delicate wrinkle on his forehead as his lips pull in a minute, closed, grin. Sheepishly, you look away from his intense brown gaze before you can make a fool of yourself as giddiness sparks in your racing heart. What was happening to you? You have to ask yourself. Where was all of this blatant scatterbrained activity stemming from? No one had ever made you act like this before.

As you look away, your eyes unintentionally land on the wall clock across the room, and your thoughts still like water in a puddle. Eyes widening comedically, you feel your lips part.

“I really need to be closing up.” You say apologetically, looking back to the man who touches one of the Myrtle leaves carefully, running it between his thumb and forefinger. Under you, your feet shift over the floor. “Is this all you’ll be needing?”

“Pretty sure.” Garrick answers easily, “I won't keep you any longer, eh? I’d hate it if I made you go home by yourself after dark.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Kyle, thank you.” Pushing the vase over the counter, he takes it up and pauses as if he wants to say something. His mouth opens before closing – looking at his feet for a moment and itching at his neck with his free hand.

“I…don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Ma’am,” your breath hollows, watching carefully as you listen. “But, uh, I,” Kyle shifts his eyes to your face, standing a bit straighter as the corner of his lip flicks up, “You’re just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met – if that’s not overstepping, of course.”

He laughs stiffly to dispel tension, and the air suddenly gets ten times hotter at the brutally honest, if not mildly stuttered, confession. You can nearly hear the blood rushing to your head like a flood of ocean water – more violent and immediate than a tsunami. In your ribcage, your bones ache at the beating organ and the swell of your lungs. Having to take a deep breath to not forget yourself entirely, your mind rages.

Did he really just say that? He…he called me beautiful.

When was the last time you had been called that? By such a lovely and kind man nonetheless. Kyle seemed like a confident person, his profession telling you that already, but the way he was acting now he seemed hesitant; like he was appalled by the fact you would take what he was saying the wrong way and come off creepy.

But that was so blatantly opposite of how you were reacting.

“I-” You stutter, eyes snapping away and hands coming to hold themselves in front of your abdomen, “well, I think you’re very handsome, yourself, Kyle.” A meek expression spreads your visage as you see the breath in his chest hitch, “and I wouldn’t call that overstepping at all. Not by a long shot.”

His eyes widen, and a second of intense eye contact later, he smiles and glances away. Garrick sneaks looks as you bite your lip, and finally, he nods firmly before his phone starts to ring in his pocket.

As if a switch had turned, his hand snaps down and grasps the device, peeling it out of his khakis and checking the contact. Immediately he utters.

“Oh, Shit, this is her. I’ve got to run.” He walks backward a few steps before turning and lightly jogging to the front door. Following with your eyes, you’re somewhat entranced by the man.

Before he can walk through the door, he stops in his tracks.

“Sorry, again,” Kyle turns back around, and his dark eyebrows crease, “but, uh, what days are you open?”

The giddy smile that forms on your cheeks leaves your skin hurting.

“All of ‘em except the weekends,” you say, confidence suddenly sprouting in your veins, “but I’m sure if you told me ahead of time that you were stopping by, I’d make an exception.”

“I’d imagine for emergency flowers only?” Kyle teases, a smirk on his face. His eyes promise you, though, that this will not be the last time you see him.

“Of course.” You reply, raising a brow. “I’m a florist, after all, Garrick. Emergency flowers are my specialty. If you’re ever in need of more, I’ll be here, waiting.”

He laughs, stares for a few seconds longer with a distant sheen, and disappears through the door. You don’t follow when his form fades from the windows entirely. You don’t ask for his number, even if you knew you should have. You don’t look at the amount he gave you as you put it in the register, knowing, even by your intuition, that it is double the amount he was due.

You’d just tell him all about it when you saw him again.

Until Kyle Garrick showed up you had been focused; as immovable as a mountain, but then as the days drew on, you faltered. Your eyes would linger on the glass as people pass by, heart in your throat and feet tapping as you bound stems. Flowers had taken up so much of your life, but now another was trying to push its way in – slowly infecting you like a parasite in your mind as the days went on.

And as he kept showing up, month after month, he had taken to calling you Persephone. A goddess of spring and nature; beautiful flowers of all colors and shapes growing on hills and in vibrant meadows. It was perhaps the greatest compliment someone like you could have been given. At first, it had been a nickname until it had become as common as your actual title, and Kyle used it so much even regular customers teased you with it with smirks and side-eyes. You only rolled your optics with a burning under your skin and a small smile.

“Well, look, it’s Persephone…”

“That boy of yours here, Persephone? Hiding in the back room perhaps?”

“Persephone – you have any Peonies this week?”

You didn’t mind it…really, you didn’t. If anything, you thought it was precious. A man comparing you to a goddess that danced in green fields as flowers sprouted at her feet? Yes, that was quite alright.

Quite alright, indeed.

—

The office room was cold, he thought. Nearly a meat locker.

How in the hell can he stand to work in here, Kyle asked himself. Bloody place is like a damn winter storm just minus the snow.

He was seated in one of the two chairs in front of the mahogany desk, hands on the armrests and feet tapping the floor. When the Sergeant had gotten the order on his radio to come to Captain Price’s office ASAP, he had expected the man to already be here, but five minutes later he was still sitting in silence.

That wasn’t to say he was bored, though. He was thinking of you. He could never be bored when he did that.

It brings a small smile to Garrick’s face as he relives your last interaction, lips unconsciously twitching as his eyes grow distant.

You’d made him a flower crown, mostly as a joke, but had been left in raging fits of laughter when you’d placed it on his head.

“Hold still,” you grunt, sitting on the front counter and keeping the weaved headpiece in your grip as it hovers above the man’s scalp, “I want to get it centered on the first go.”

“Y’know,” Kyle chuffs, “I could always do it myself – I do have working hands, Love.”

“Shush!” Exclaiming, your breath fans his face, leaving him more still than a statue, if only to smell your scent and be content with your body so close to his. Kyle was still working out the best way to ask you out officially, but that didn’t seem to extend to his instinctual actions when it came to you. It was increasingly hard to stop his head from leaning just that tiniest bit forward and connecting his lips to yours.

The pressure on his head brings him back, and his eyes blink as if they could force all the rogue thoughts from his mind. Kyle clears his throat when you lean back, acutely aware of the longing set of his dark brows as he had stared off at you.

“Well, then,” The Sergeant clears his throat and smiles at your concentrated face, though he notices the hitch in your chest with a strange sense of pride. “How’s it lookin'? Is just as you imagined, eh?”

Your face scrunches, head tilting. Kyle couldn’t remember a time he’d let someone put a wreath of flowers on his head, woven with Forget-Me-Nots, Silver Dollar Eucalyptus, and Tiger Lillies. The others would make fun of him for this.

But he found he cared little. If you kept smiling at him like that, he’d let you do anything to him in a heartbeat.

“Perfect.” You chuckle. “You should have let me do this earlier.”

The shop was closed – it was a weekend, after all, and that was the time for restocking and number crunching. Not really the time for making crowns for a man who was totally smitten with you.

“You sure that you don’t need these?” Kyle asks, a hand reaching up to his head to touch the flora. “I’d hate to not pay you for them, Love. Can only imagine how expensive they are to order.”

“Eh,” rolling your eyes, your legs brush the Sergeant’s hips from where they sit around them, and the man has to remember how to breathe properly, “they’re the old product, anyway. I’d have to get rid of them by Monday. Better for such a handsome individual to have a crown of his own, with all the gallantry he practices in his job. It’s the least I could do, hm?”

You’re teasing him, a smirk taking up the frame of Kyle’s vision. He returns the action, hands coming to rest on either side of your hips; leaning forward until his nose with mere inches away. He hears your chest rattle with a slow breath.

“Are you teasin’ me, Persephone?” He asks sneakily, as you begin to giggle. “Insinuating I need a flower crown to be recognized at work? It’ll certainly get me attention, that’s for sure, yeah? Just not the kind I want. Soap’ll have a field day.”

“He’d just make a few comments, I’m sure.”

“You’ve never met him. The bloke would never let it go until the day I kicked the bucket.” You’re laughing, one hand coming up to cover your mouth.

Kyle hates himself at that moment because you’ve never looked so beautiful, and he can’t quite pick up the courage to just lean in. So he watches with a matching look of happiness and an embarrassing, yet adored, flower crown on top of his close-shaven head. He watches with an ache in his chest and a violent beat to his heart as your body heat melts into him; urging him, prompting him.

But he just smiles and watches a moment longer before taking a step back.

“Sir,” Garrick asks, settling back down and watching the older man slink behind his desk, “What’s all this about?”

The door opens with a firm hand. Kyle startles to his feet, tuning and about to go into an instinctual formal greeting before the Captain speaks, beating him to it.

“At ease, Sergeant. Take a seat.”

Price sighs as he takes a seat, slapping a large file that was previously in his hand to the wood before opening his drawer with a grunt. Gaz watches with narrowed eyes as his superior ignores his question, pulling out a large cigar from a lockbox and slotting it between his lips. A lighter follows soon after, and soon the smell of burning tobacco enters the air.

“...Captain?” Kyle was starting to get nervous now. Why was he looking at him like that? Blue eyes seem to dig deep into Gaz’s soul, trying to find something that was hidden behind layers and layers of flesh and bone.

John pulls the stick from his lips and holds it between his fingers, smoke now entering the air and rising to perforate like mist. Feet shifting over the floor, Kyle’s heart skips a beat.

What in the hell is going on?

That’s when the bearded man speaks.

“Well, who are they, then?” Price asks, tilting his head forward as his bucket hat sits where it usually does atop his brown hair. The Captain’s eyes are squinted; curious but still laced with that authority that never seemed to leave no matter how many years the two had known each other.

“Pardon, Sir?” Gaz has to ask, confusion prominent in his expression. “They?”

John raises a thick brow as if the answer was obvious.

“You’re distracted. Been checking your phone like it’s going to explode the last few days. So,” the Captain stares at him heavily, taking another drag before placing the cigar in his ashtray and breathing out a cloud of smoke. He leans forward and places his hands on the table, as Kyle watches, perplexed, “who is it, Sergeant? No use hiding it.”

“I…” Gaz trails before blinking dumbly, lips parting, “oh, hell, was it that obvious?”

“Painfully.” The answer makes the younger man cringe and his skin pulls tight. A pause leaves the room silent, the Sergeant avoiding his Captain’s gaze as he tilts his head away for a moment. He clears his throat.

“She’s just…” Kyle clears his throat, “someone I met in the city. A florist. Down on Main Ave.”

“A florist, eh?” Grunting, John nods his head to himself. “Asked the bird out, then?”

“What?” Snapping his head up, Gaz says loudly with stuttering lips, “N-no, Sir. Not yet.”

The man ahead of him hums, leaning back and flipping his file open, taking a moment to pick up the first page and skim the contents with small eyes. He looks over the top with a blank expression.

“I’d get on that, Son.”

—

Today was different, you knew. Something was going to happen. An unexplainable feeling was in the back of your mind, making you somewhat anxious even if you didn’t know exactly why. It was like a sheet had been thrown over your head and someone had just told you to run in circles without hitting a wall; feet tied with a rope.

The morning had started off normal, as had everything else that followed, but there was an air of expectation wafting in front of you.

What’s going on? You ask as you wipe down the counter with a wet rag, swiping stray leaves and petals into the garbage bin at your feet. Why am I feeling like I’m expecting something to happen?

It was Tuesday – nothing astounding ever happens on Tuesdays.

The front door opens with the ringing of a silver bell, and you say absentmindedly, still caught in your thoughts, “be with you in a moment!”

A cough startles you, your hand squeezing the rag a bit tighter as your neck twists upwards.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Kyle,” you laugh and take a breath, “I didn’t expect you today…”

Freezing, your lips part in a silent gasp when you see it. The man you had come to have quite the crush on was standing a few paces from the door, dressed in a nice shirt and dress pants, jacket in the crook of his arm. He holds a single Sunflower in his grasp.

It wasn’t anything overly impressive, a bit small and dead at the tips, but nonetheless, your heart stuttered at the gift. Staring at it silently, you turn your gaze to Kyle as his feet shift over the floor nervously. A strange look had overtaken his face, but he had a confident air to him that you’d been seeing more and more of the last few visits.

“What’s this?” You ask carefully, body going hot all over and lungs swelling.

You’d loved flowers for most of your life; worshiped them like the people of Delphi worshiped their god-chosen Oracle. But never could you recall a moment when you had been given any out of free will. Everyone always assumed you disliked getting them because of your job, but, oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Flowers were like declarations of emotions – they could mean so many things to so many different people. They were the truth laid bare in nature as plainly as it could be, wrought with promises.

Your breath stills, eyelids pulling back delicately; lips parting.

Kyle speaks softly, raising the flower in his grip.

“I remembered you saying you liked these more than roses – you called them ‘tacky’ if I’m…remembering correctly. The roses, that is.”

He was remembering correctly. But that had been just a passing comment to another customer you had been helping before him. Unimportant. A quick piece of yourself that hadn’t mattered while you were cutting stems and looping twine.

But he remembered it.

A giggle falls from you until your hand snaps up, trapping it behind parted fingers and an awe-filled face.

“I wanted to give it to you,” he continued, walking forward with measured steps, “and ask you a question, if you’d let me.”

“Of course, I would.” It’s breathless, the way you say it, and suddenly you know exactly why you've been so on edge today.

You’d been waiting for him.

And when he smiles at you, your mind runs to gossamer silk. Such a delicate thing; that smile, comparable to the millions of strands a spider spins in a lifetime. Gorgeous and so very easily missed if you weren’t looking at just the right moment. Gossamer Silk.

Since when has his grin become so important to you? To where you craved it just as violently as water or food? That look in his amber gaze – the one that left you breathless even when you simply thought about it, that was what you wanted to witness when you woke up in the mornings. You wanted his arms around you. You wanted his lips pressed to yours. You wanted him to be in your kitchen making you dinner as the rain fell outside and the flowers in your back garden grew strong and beautiful.

You wanted him to be yours.

Kyle stops behind the counter and hands you the flower. You reach for it without complaint instantaneously, wondering momentarily if he had just happened upon one and taken it in a moment of passion. Both of your fingers brush, and the imaginary sparks that fly make you turn slightly shy, head tilting to the side for a moment.

But a finger hooks under your chin, moving it back as delicately as bird wings, gentle feathers tickling your flesh and nerves.

A hum resonates in your chest, eyes crinkling as you stare into amber brown with flecks of gold. You could get lost in them if you looked too much.

But you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Persephone, would you do me the great honor,” the two of you laugh at the wispy and teasing tone, and suddenly you wish the counter between you would disappear into thin air, “of going on a date with me tonight?”

Tuesdays, perhaps, might have just become the best day of the week, and a small Sunflower with dead tips and fading yellow, your new favorite flower.

Ironic, how that works. He ended up distracting you more than you could ever imagine.

—

“Don’t you have to be back on base soon, Garrick?” You mutter into a warm chest, street lights shining into the windows of the apartment.

“Bloody hell, yes…But I’d crawl back to you, if you asked it of me.”

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cobaltperun · 8 months

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Lost (17) - Satellite

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 5.4k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-That's why we won't back down we won't run and hide-

Telling Chad you’d be fine without him, that he should focus on protecting Mindy and Anika in case anyone went after them was a right thing to do, but you still had no idea what to do. How to find Ghostfaces targeting you this time, or how to avoid them, you were stuck at the moment.

But, as the three of you left the hospital you saw her… Gale, like a reporter shark that she was, smelled blood and found you before any other reporter could.

“I heard what happened, are you okay?” she walked up to you, at least she didn’t have her equipment or anyone shoving a camera in your faces, with her.

“Gale, I swear,” Sam had no patience to deal with the woman right now, frankly, neither did you and Tara, but you couldn’t deny that maybe, just maybe you needed as much help as you could get, even if that help was Gale.

Gale immediately raised her hands in surrender. “Truce, okay? I’m- I’m here for whatever you need,” she said that, but, well, you’ve seen Gale going back on her word before. Maybe that was being too harsh, she didn’t go back on her word when Ghostface was on the loose, but she did break an important promise.

“Just like last time,” you said, already trying to spot a cab that would take you back to the apartment. Or anywhere else really. Staying near the hospital could put your friends at risk.

“Okay fine, off the records, okay?” she offered and well, you were stuck and all four of you knew that.

Sam sighed, nodding slightly. “Fine. Thank you,” she agreed.

Gale glanced at Tara.

“Nope! That punch was beautiful, and you will not be getting an apology for it!” you interrupted before Tara could even begin to utter an apology she didn’t mean anyway.

Gale chuckled and shook her head, expecting as much from you and Tara. “Guess I should be thankful you weren’t the one punching me,” she sighed.

“Exactly!” Tara grinned and lifted your arm up. “She packs a punch,” she rolled your sleeve up and patted your forearm.

Mere seconds later you saw a cop car stopping and Kirby and Bailey stepping out, and that’s how the six of you ended up following Gale’s lead and going to a former movie theater turned shrine for Ghostface.

You felt sick. Angry that someone could actually worship these monsters. So many people died. Everyone in this theater, aside from Bailey, was attacked at least once. You kept an eye on others, on Gale as she passed by Dewey's photos or her own books. On Kirby and Bailey as they focused on whatever grabbed their interests. On Sam as she went and touched the glass case holding Billy's mannequin. On Tara as she went over to Sam.

You were stuck observing crime scene photos from when Amber attacked Tara. You saw Tara's wounds, you knew minute details of each and every scar she had. You never saw the photos of her house from that night. It looked even worse than it did when you went to clean the house, it looked fresh, the blood was still not dry. You clenched your fists, wishing you shot Amber, you wished you could go back and finish her off instead of forcing Tara to do it. How many times did you wish for nothing more than for some kind of instinct or a precognition that would allow you to stop Amber before she got to hurt Tara in the first place.

You saw Tara going outside and were about to follow her when your phone rang. This time you checked the ID and saw it was Thomas. His timing really was the worst. With a groan, you answered the phone.

"Hey, Y/N, sorry to call like this, but I heard you didn't go to the gym last night," he opened up with that right away.

"Yeah, sorry, something came up," you didn't sound sorry at all, you'd abandon the gym a hundred times over if needed.

"Look, I know these past two weeks have been tough and I may have asked too much of you-" you really didn't feel like having this conversation.

"I'm busy right now, we'll talk later," you hung up before he could even respond to that. Since your phone was already in your hand you tried to call Susan one more time, but, as it always did these past two days, it just went to voicemail. "Fuck!" you cursed and stuffed your phone in your pocket.

"Troubles?" Bailey asked and you just now realized you were alone with him.

"Are you asking or questioning me?" you still didn't know where the police tracker came from. There was no way you were trusting anyone other than Tara and Sam, and, as much as it annoyed you Gale, as far as not being a Ghostface went.

"Just asking, sorry if I'm overstepping," he raised his hands apologetically and backed away.

You nodded. "You are overstepping," you said and tilted your head in the direction Tara and others went. "After you."

He sighed, but otherwise remained silent and complied with your wishes. The two of you found Sam and Gale in the midst of, from what you could see, burying the hatchet.

"Where's Tara?" you asked right away, honestly hoping you didn't all walk into a trap set by Ghostface.

"Kirby is with her, they went upstairs, wherever that leads," Sam told you and you tried not to panic. Kirby survived a Ghostface attack herself, surely she wouldn’t be a Ghostface, right?

"I think I have a plan how to catch these fuckers," Bailey said and you desperately wanted to agree with the plan. The sooner this was over the better.

~X~

You absolutely hated the plan Bailey had. And you were vocal about it. So, here you were, at the park, next to the van Kirby would trace the call from with Tara trying one last time to get her to change her mind. It was reckless, it was unnecessary, and you were sure a bit more of thinking would give you a better plan.

"Tara, please, at least think this through," you pleaded, already certain you were wasting your breath, but you couldn't just give up.

"I thought it through, Y/N, I'm staying with Sam," Tara leaned against the van with her arms crossed over her chest. She refused to look at you, but you saw the furrow of her brows, you saw her biting her lower lip, and you knew she was getting angry.

You’d still take her being angry at you over her being in danger. "It's dangerous, at least let me come with you," if you couldn't get her to stay safe, then you might be able to convince her to let you come with her and Sam. Sure, Bailey explicitly argued that you being there could discourage Ghostface from attacking, and you could see his logic, but you still wanted to stay by Tara’s side.

"It won't work if you're there. You can fight them," Tara huffed, clearly getting even more frustrated as you kept arguing. The two of you had been going back and forth on this ever since Bailey proposed the plan and she decided she wouldn't let Sam do it alone.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache over this whole plan. And they weren't even out in the open yet. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Tara narrowed her eyes at that. "And it's fine if Sam gets hurt?!" she raised her voice and tightly gripped her left biceps.

"I didn't say that," you took a step back, trying to cool your head at least a bit.

"No, but you think I could get hurt, so you think Sam could get hurt and you're not trying to convince her not to do it," Tara took a few deep breaths.

"You and I both know I'd much rather take Sam's place, but no, Ghostface is after her so anyone else won't do!" you yelled, what little cool you managed to regain fading away way too quickly for your liking.

"Like you left last night? Right? Like how you chose to put yourself in danger even after you saw there was a tracker on your car?! Do you even understand how worried I was?!" somehow this was reminding you of the night you told Tara you were retiring from MMA.

"I fucked up, okay?" you spread your arms for a moment then let them drop at your sides. "I thought they'd try to finish me off first and figured I could use the opportunity."

"Yeah, you thought putting yourself in danger and possibly fighting someone that defeated you before was okay, but this isn't?" Tara asked incredulously.

"So, your solution is to go ahead and do something equally reckless? Is that what you're saying, Tara?" you had no idea how you weren't already shouting. You felt like screaming, but you still didn't shout, if for no other reason than because you didn’t want unwanted attention on the two of you.

"She's my sister, Y/N! I'm her backup, and if it comes down to it, we'll keep each other safe!" Tara yelled and, perhaps to avoid arguing further began walking toward where Sam was getting ready with Kirby and Bailey.

"Yeah, because being with Sam sure kept you safe every time Ghostface was involved!" you just snapped and watched as Tara turned around.

She was glaring at you. "Don't you fucking dare, Y/N," she warned, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

For once you glared back. "Am I wrong?" you challenged. As long as you could move and you were there no one, not Amber, not Richie, not whoever these Ghostfaces were, managed to touch her, let alone hurt her. Sam didn’t have the same track record.

Tara reached you, anger evident in her eyes, and then, as if she just made that decision at that exact moment, swung her palm toward your face. You caught her wrist, entirely unimpressed with how telegraphed the attempted slap was. "Don't ever try that again," you let go of her wrist and climbed into the van, shutting the door behind you, you missed the way Tara looked down at her palm, horrified by what she just tried to do.

You slumped down and absentmindedly touched the scar on the right side of your jaw. Once again you called Susan, once again you were left in silence. You looked at the last text exchange you had with her, the word fun popping up for some reason. Maybe you should take that vacation the moment this all ends, or at least the moment everyone heals up. Maybe spend a week or two in Sacramento, only you and Susan, and then come back to New York with her for Thanksgiving.

Maybe taking that small break from one another's company would be good for Tara, after all this wasn't the first fight in the past few days, and that one was before you even knew Ghostface was back. Sure, you talked it out and kissed it better, but this one just brought it back to your mind.

You only opened your eyes when you heard the doors opening because you wanted to be sure Kirby was the one coming in.

"You look awful," she commented.

"You look like it's none of your business," you replied, not really in the mood to discuss this with her.

"Someone's cranky," she just shrugged, not bothered by your reaction and you chose not to respond.

Too much time passed before Ghostface finally called, bragging about being a step ahead. And he was. He went after Gale. Bailey got in the van and turned the engine on.

"Where are Tara and Sam?!" you jumped to your feet when you saw he was alone. Your blood pressure probably skyrocketed as the worst possible scenarios came to your mind.

"They stole my car!" he exclaimed angrily.

At this rate, you were going to have a heart attack. "Who's driving?!"

"Tara," that girl was going to be the death of you.

"Are you crazy?! Tara can't drive! How are you even a cop you incompetent fuck?! How could someone just steal your damn car?!" a rage-fueled part of your brain cynically told you this was to be expected. That you should have realized Tara was too reckless to consider her own safety even back when she stubbornly convinced you to take her with you when you went after Sam back to Woodsboro after she just barely survived two attacks and had a broken leg. That you should have realized it when she first disappeared and went to a party with complete strangers.

When you finally reached Gale's apartment building you saw Tara and Sam sitting in the hall and you ran up to them.

Tara looked up when she heard you, or rather the running, and she got up, rushing to meet you halfway, only to stop, as if suddenly remembering the last interaction you had. You took a deep breath and just pulled her into a hug. She quietly sobbed into your chest as you held her.

"Is Gale still alive?" you asked softly and relaxed when Tara nodded.

"She was seriously injured, but she should be fine," she told you when you released her, your heart cracking a bit when you saw the pain in her eyes when you pulled away. With a hand on her back, you led her back to where Sam was still sitting.

"Hey," you squeezed Sam's shoulder, hoping to comfort her a bit.

"Hey, sorry we left you with Kirby and Bailey," she apologized and placed her hand on top of yours for a moment. You just nodded and sat down with Tara. There would be a better, more appropriate time to tackle that reckless decision.

Soon enough you saw Danny running in. "Hey, I came as soon as I could," he ran up to the three of you, looking mostly at Sam.

"Did you?" Tara challenged and he just looked at her, perhaps knowing better than to add fuel to the fire.

"More importantly, what now?" you chose to save him from Tara's anger.

"Maybe he gets to win this time," Sam's words made alarms go off in your head as you turned to look at her.

"What?" you demanded, not quite sure if it was just your exhaustion catching up to you, or if Sam actually just said that.

"He wants to punish me," she explained, on the verge of tears. "Me," she stood up and faced Tara and you. "So maybe I let him. I'll just give myself up."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing and for a split second, you wondered if Sam lost her mind. "Fuck that! Who do you think you are, huh?!" you got up and stormed away from Sam. "Giving herself up? Unbelievable!"

"If this is what it takes to keep you safe, it's worth it," the only reason you weren't yelling that she was out of her mind was because she was crying. Sam was crying and you rarely saw that.

You couldn't convince her, so you'd leave it to Tara and maybe scold her once this was all over, because not only was Sam important to you and your friends you did not want to see Tara dealing with losing Sam once again.

Tara stood up and approached Sam. "No, we're not doing that, Sam. You went back to Woodsboro to protect me. Every single day you make the decision to protect me. None of us would even be alive if it weren't for you. You have to let us protect you this time," Tara told her without a single hint of doubt in her words.

"No," Sam said weakly.

"Yes," Tara said firmly and from the corner of your eye you saw her pulling Sam into a hug. "We're a team, remember? I can't lose you, Sam, it feels like I just got you back in my life."

That was definitely going to work. The question remained though. What to do next?

"He's gonna keep coming after us," Sam pointed out while hugging Tara back.

"We could use that, though," Tara said and somehow you just had the feeling she was about to suggest something reckless before she even spoke up.

The plan? That involved Bailey and Kirby? Lure Ghostface into the movie theatre they used as a shrine and execute them. When Tara said she intended to execute Ghostface you looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and just accepted it.

'At this point, the best I can do is be the fucking bodyguard,' a moment later you wondered when was the last time you cursed this much. "Right, off to the murder shrine, where we'll definitely have the upper hand," you couldn't help but grumble.

~X~

You drove to the murder shrine, in your car, just you, Tara, Sam, and Danny. No public transport. Nope. none of that. You were not about to be suspicious of every stranger on the train.

When you parked outside the theatre you saw Kirby waiting for you.

"I talked to Bailey, let's get you all inside," she went right down to business, but Sam abruptly turned around and faced Danny.

"Not you," she said.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't trust anyone, remember? We don't know you, not really," she told him.

"I don't know, Sam, we could use extra muscle," you still weren't sure you could defeat that Ghostface in a one-on-one, let alone with at least two more on his side. And why did the three of you even bring him along then?

"Y/N is right and you know me," Danny tried to convince her.

"You're not Woodsboro. I'm sorry," Sam wasn't listening.

"It's okay. It's okay, I get it. Just be safe, okay?" he kissed her cheek.

Sam nodded. "You too," with that, she turned around and the rest of you followed, leaving Danny behind.

"Good call," Kirby said as the four of you entered the theatre.

~X~

Things just kept getting better and better, Kirby was the only one with a gun, the only one with any weapon, really, and you only had one exit, that could be blocked fairly easily.

Perhaps seeing the tense look on your face prompted her to do it, but Tara took your hand and pulled at it, frowning when you didn't comply. "Come with me for a minute?" she requested, looking softly into your eyes.

"Now? You want to separate from Sam now?" you couldn't help but ask.

"Please, Y/N," you could never resist her for long. Thus, you complied, letting her lead you outside of the shrine and into the hall where you figured tickets used to be sold. "You're stressed," she said, not quite getting into your personal space, but still remaining close to you.

"Can you honestly blame me? I'm one bad thing away from just breaking down, Tara. I'm just tired," the first time this happened you had moments to rest, you slept, and you felt safe at Susan's place, for the last twenty-four hours even when you weren't in constant danger you were either arguing with Tara or trying to reach Susan.

Sure, you slept yesterday, but that was over thirty hours ago at this point and you were really feeling the stress that accumulated over the past two weeks.

"It'll be over soon," she said, reaching up to touch your cheek, but stopping mere inches away from it. As if trying to slap you suddenly put an invisible barrier between you that was only temporarily broken by the adrenaline caused by what happened to Gale.

For once, you chose not to lean into her touch. "Let's go back to Sam," you said, and Tara nodded, lowering her hand. She walked in front of you, and you went back to the shrine to see Sam running toward the doors you just walked through with a knife in her hand.

You were immediately looking around, trying to see if she was running from someone, but somehow you couldn't see anyone.

"It's Kirby! She made this whole theatre a kill box, for us!" Sam explained rapidly.

"What?" you asked, but it made sense. The police tracker on your car, only Kirby having a gun, locking you here... Why would she wait though, and who was she working with? You knew there were at least three Ghostfaces this time, and it didn’t seem like Kirby had any definitive allies.

"Bailey is on the way here, but-" Sam continued as you went back to the middle of the shrine.

"Stay back to back," you interrupted her and the three of you stood in a circle, making sure you had each other's back.

"Wait, wasn't it Bailey's idea to use you as bait?" Tara reminded Sam.

"And Kirby refused to let Gale come with us," Sam said, frantically looking around for any trace of Kirby.

"Unless he figured that's what would happen. Just to be sure, how about we don't trust either of them?" you suggested, and she was alone with Tara, but she would have to be stupid to just try and kill Tara before.

Tara nodded and you felt her brushing her fingers over your hand.

You took and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Ghostface appears you stay still, you hear me. Don't make sudden moves," you could pull either of them behind you and counter-attack at any time, you just needed them to stay calm.

You heard footsteps coming from your left, where Sam was and you moved, getting between the masked attacker and her just in time to catch his fist and punch his face. "Fuck running, I'm fighting you head-on," you said as he stumbled back, from the grunt of pain you figured this was probably the one you stabbed last night.

The second one jumped out, but they didn't attack, choosing to circle the three of you instead.

"Sam, Y/N," Tara was close to panicking and you knew why. The third one. He still wasn't there, and you didn’t have that much luck one on one, let alone now that there were three of them here with you.

"I need you to be ready! You ready?" Sam asked she had her back to Tara's while you moved to stand closer to the front of her while not blocking her direct line of sight. Sam even handed Tara a brick, which was good, Tara needed something to even the playing field a bit.

Tara took a deep breath. "I'm ready," she took another deep breath. "Come on motherfuckers!" unnecessary, but as long as she was calm and ready. Or at least ready.

Shooting made both Ghostfaces take cover and you turned to see Kirby, bleeding from the side of her head, and more importantly with a gun in her hands.

Somehow, you relaxed, if she wanted to shoot you, she probably would have done it and used the element of surprise.

"Maybe it's not you after all," you said and turned to Sam. "Come on, what's the point of keeping cover at this point? Your aim really sucks though. Not even one bullet hit them," you said, you'd still keep your guard up around her, but for now you figured you could tentatively trust her.

"My head is bleeding, Y/N," she deadpanned.

"Meh, excuses," you replied, though Kirby having a gun really eased some of your worries.

"Kirby, get away from the girls!" Bailey rushed in, with his gun raised.

"Whatever you think, I'm not the killer!" Kirby quickly denied any involvement in this mess. "I don't know what he's been telling you, but don't listen to him!"

And then the third Ghostface, the one you were the most worried about, came up behind Bailey.

"Behind you!" Kirby yelled only for Bailey to shoot her.

"Great job, you three," Bailey said as the three Ghostfaces stood by his side.

'Right, this is happening. Four of them, just great,' you thought as you fully expected Bailey to point his gun at the three of you.

"You?" Tara asked, and you shared her disbelief, after all Bailey had no reason to go after you.

"Yeah, of course, it's me. Frankly, I expected more from you after what you did to us," he declared, as if this was reasonable, as if they should have expected him to be the Ghostface.

"Us?" Sam repeated, as puzzled by his statement as you and Tara.

"Let me guess, Quinn?" you figured since he was saying 'us' maybe his daughter was involved as well.

Indeed, the Ghostface to Bailey's right took the mask off, and sure enough, it was Quinn. "Hello, almost roomies. Too bad I couldn't resist messing with you when we met, but it was a good way to not be on the suspect list," she said.

You narrowed your eyes, realizing that this might actually be worse, because this now meant anyone could be a Ghostface, that they no longer played by the rules and skipped getting close to you and becoming a part of the friend group.

Then the Ghostface to Bailey's left took off his mask. "Mindy was right, it was easy to juke the roommate lottery!" Ethan exclaimed. "All I had to do to get close to you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck, I can't wait to kill him!" he pointed the knife at the mask he was holding. "This was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis. Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? Speaking of family..."

"Wait for it," Bailey chimed in.

"My name isn't Ethan Landry, is it dad?" and Bailey just laughed at that, as if there was actually something funny.

"Dad?" Tara's eyes widened.

"And then they tell Sam it runs in her family," you sighed as Ethan and Quinn began pacing around once again. You remained focused on the only remaining masked one.

Bailey explained his plan, saying how they were counting down to Billy's mask. Jason and Greg, bodega, Sam's therapist, your shared apartment, that was four, with four of them there were now eight masks. The idea that one, Amber's mask, was still missing worried you. Was Gale the ninth mask? That didn't make sense, no mask was left behind and it was the last attack, not the first as the countdown should imply.

Convinced that the fourth one was content with watching you began walking around Tara and Sam, keeping light on your feet, and making sure Quinn and Ethan were on your opposite sides the whole time. This way you could react to either of them attacking. They wouldn't be allowed to touch either Tara or Sam, not with you right there.

"I'm gonna need you to put it on," Bailey offered the mask to Sam, but she slapped it out of his hand.

Ethan went in to slash her, but you stepped in, making him halt before he could reach you. "How are the wounds?" you taunted and just as it looked like he was about to back away the fourth one spoke, still using the voice changer.

"Step back, she'll just hit you again," he warned, actually sounding amused, and though it was clear Ethan didn't like that, he did step away.

Their plan was insane, though it was working out well for them so far. They ruined Sam's reputation, courtesy of Quinn's efforts, and as Ethan explained it further Quinn made a mock attempt to stab Tara.

You once again moved in time, regardless of her intentions, and pulled Tara behind you.

"Truly a guard dog," Quinn mocked and that's when it all clicked for all three of you.

They weren't Amber's family, but... "You're Richie's family," Sam realized.

"Yeah," Bailey said slowly, just for a moment showing the pain of losing his family.

"Ding, ding, ding!" not liking the enthusiasm Ethan had when he said it you stopped between him and Sam, he seemed ready to lunge at you, but the warning he got before kept him at bay, at least for now.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw those photographs of what you did to him that I knew! I knew you had to die for what you did to him! You had to be punished!" Bailey yelled, angry at Sam for what she did to his son. You couldn’t say you blamed him, you wanted revenge for what was done to Tara and she survived. Even if Richie was the one who started it all, he was still Bailey’s family, so you understood. But you still weren’t about to let him, or his children hurt Tara and Sam.

"Real great parenting, by the way," Tara commented as she glared at the man.

"Shut your whore mouth!" Quinn screamed at her but didn’t attack knowing she had to go through you first. Ah, so she was the one that called you.

"And you? What's your deal?" you gestured toward the still masked Ghostface, interrupting whatever Bailey was about to say.

"You really should have figured it out by now. I get that you probably didn't want to consider it since I did help you out so much," he removed the mask.

Your jaw dropped slightly as you recognized Thomas. Honestly, you should have seen it coming just from how well the bastard fought. "What the fuck?" you couldn't help but ask. "Are you kidding me right now? Do you have any idea how bad it'll look when I end up putting 'Killed my employer' down as the reason for unemployment?" why was he even after you. Richie's family you could understand on some level, they were the bastard's family, but Thomas? Really?

Thomas actually genuinly laughed at that. "Trust me, that's the least of your worries, Y/N," he said and held up a paper bag for you to see. "You wondered where Amber's mask ended up?" the smirk on his face, the tone of his voice, it all made you feel unexplainable dread. "Take a good look," he opened the bag and turned it over, letting a very familiar pair of MMA gloves fall to the dirty floor.

Despite Tara's attempt to grab your hand you took steps forward, stopping right between Tara and Sam and the gloves at Thomas' feet. "Susan," your throat was dry when you said her name. This couldn’t be happening, she couldn’t be dead, but he took Zack’s gloves.

"Exactly, it's been four days now, just so you know why she hasn't been responding all this time," he was taunting you. He was amused by your failure to figure out what happened to Susan.

"Why?! What did she ever do to any of you?!" you weren't the one asking that, it was Tara.

You just stared at the gloves, barely even registering your surroundings. If anyone wanted to kill you, well, there wasn't a better opportunity than this very moment.

"It's simple really. Susan was the only one who'd always, no matter what, no matter what the other choice is, choose Y/N. Your friends won't, Samantha won't, not even you would Tara. It would hurt you, you'd never forgive yourself, but you'd choose Samantha in the end," he turned to you as Tara remained silent. "Parents? Oh, they really don't care. Zack and Susan? Dead. You can try to deny it all you want, but the only reason you are still alive is because you were strong enough to survive on your own. Twice now you were stuck with me, no one came to help. Your girlfriend put up a better fight to protect a friend than she did to protect you. You are alone, Y/N, and you threw everything you could have been for nothing. Quite frankly, what I'm about to do is a mercy kill."

You heard everything he said and you relaxed. There was nothing. No rage. No despair. No remorse. No sorrow. Nothing. Just an empty state of mindlessness.

"That's it," Thomas grinned, tossing aside his robes. Then his eyes abruptly widened. "Wait, Quinn!"

"Y/N!" you heard Tara and Sam's scream.

You glanced to your left and focused on nothing but the blade that was approaching you.

A/N: Here's a fun question, how much would Tara suffer if she had to choose between Sam and Reader?

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #sam carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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heyhay13 · 4 months

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Lightning Round QnA!

We had over 250 questions in the form and we focused on ones that were very open to anyone in the cast. So specific detail questions got left out :(

Here's a lightning round of questions to answer for y'all and my ask box is open if you have more!

Rae/Heyhay Questions

What happened to Icarus's birds?? We know Rae said he'd take care of them, but with the birds being wacked and Icarus whole memory type thing, what would happen with that.

Sherb and I talked about this a bit and landed on the birds seeking out Rae and he builds an aviary for the strange new little friends following him around. I might even write a fic for it!

Heyhay how long did the scrapbook (shown at the end) take to be made?

I worked on it for nearly a month and a half between organizing with the artists and making it myself!

How did you come up with Vaeh's Name?

It's from Fenris' sister Nevaeh!

Will you continue to cosplay the characters after this?

Absolutely!

To Rae/Hayhay: what was your favorite memory to make in the Always Remember Book?

I think probably all of the wedding details. I loved talking with my friends to plan out the details and outfits SO MUCH and a lot of the poses are based on my own wedding photos!

Are there any plot lines that you wish you could have done or explored more in depth, but couldn't due to time?

We initially had some ideas for finding a few more Telchin temples, including Project Protetus. I really like building the temple/facilities so that would have been fun!!

How did lore planning/pre stream work?

We usually plan out rough ideas for a stream in dms and then meet 30 minutes before a stream to go over everything, dry run some things like flight paths, and do sound checks!

Out of all the characters on fable smp, which one do you think you could win in a fight against?

Ven lol

Will we see other versions of the fable characters in other smp's like Bound?

You might >:3

If your character didn’t ascend, what would they be the god of? And if they did ascend, were there any other domains they could have been the god of other than the domain they got?

Rae's took FOREVER to actually land on. I was really stuck on wanting something that felt more correct than Knowledge and we tossed around a lot of ideas until landing on Wonder.

How much of the relationship constellation was planned?

Literally only Raax and Ocie's original partners (Rust, Jerry, Shawn) were planned! The others came about naturally as the lore progressed.

Did Rae ever get better at baking/cooking?

YES! At least slightly-

How old is Rae in the time period that Rye made in Rae’s epilogue

Not an exact age for Rae, but his epilogue takes place when Vaeh is roughly 4-5 years old.

The first two seasons have “names” (endstone reset and skulk reset) but what would be season three’s?

I like to think it'd be called the "Last Reset"

What is your favourite kind of fanfictions written about your character? (Tropes/themes/etc)

I'm a massive sucker for Hurt/Comfort fics-

Clarification Questions

What was that one gold aura building near the temple of creation in S1?

It was a build from Sherb's hardcore world at that time!

Why did Rae remember Icarus? I thought everyone was supposed to forget but I might’ve misunderstood

Rae remembers Icarus as a child up until when Icarus' first death would have been! Isla would also remember Icarusa as a child as well.

Was the release me book from season one written by fable?

Yes!

What is Haley? She came back from the dead but no body ever said if Midas made her come back or if she was a god.

Midas brought her back, switching her and Fable's places so he would go back into Purgatory

Why couldn’t Haley see quixis’ changes from purgatory?(and fable)

There is no record of Quixis in the Akashic Records. This is also why Icarus is missing from the records in Rae's epilogue!

General Questions

Are you guys gonna do another smp where its everyone as the same cast?

Nope, not with this exact cast at this time, but we all are on a bunch of other smps you can check out! Mer, Bound, Siege, and more!

Is there a reason behind all of the seeds you use in Minecraft? Or is it just the first biome that pops up is the new setting for the season?

We actually look really hard for a good world seed that we like. For season 3, we really wanted a good spot that the tree could be near the ocean and this seed worked out great for that!

Will we be able to have a world file of S3?

YES - it's coming soon!

#fablesmp #fablesmpqna #qna #rae morningstar

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anewstartrekfan · 8 months

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Reading an old Star Trek book and to my surprise Jim Kirk has always had Daddy issues

So the only Star Trek book I’ve read was the one explaining how the tribbles episode was made and the aftermath, so trying to read Enterprise (1986) with some basic knowledge of trek post 2009 is fascinating. Cuz you see where the breadcrumbs of some of the characterization and even backstory come from.

In chapter 2, Sam Kirk and Kirk’s mom show up to Kirk’s ceremony where he takes command of the enterprise. They talk about George Kirk Sr. being in Starfleet, (he’s dead here too) something that I don’t think was in any of the episodes or movies. And how he was always distant and away. And they’re clearly going for some parallels/dramatic irony with the Wrath of Khan when it comes to Kirk not believing he could’ve developed a relationship with his father as an adult. And it plays into the tragic aspect I love about Kirk.

Upon reflection he’s happy that Carol rejected him (he proposed to her in chapter 1) because he doesn’t want to leave anyone behind while on the job, only returning for sparse visits the way his father did. But at the same time, Jim craves companionship. And he can’t get it in his current job because as captain, it is not ethical for him to date anyone else on the Enterprise.

Anyway the long and short is if we take this book into account, Kirk has always had daddy issues. It’s just in TOS EU it was abandonment issues whereas in 2009 it was dad sacrificed himself so high expectations issues.

The little details like the mom’s name getting carried over into the aos movies are a good touch, but then seeing George Kirk being a Starfleet officer actually get incorporated into the 2009 movie as an important plot point, and then also using his absence in Kirk’s life but just in a different way as part of Kirk’s backstory is so cool to me.

A difference though is unlike fanfic tropes, Winona is actually a good mom and wants Jim to succeed in his career where his father failed in his Starfleet career. Unfortunately though Jim appears to be falling into the same pitfalls. As in lack of communication and unwillingness to play workplace politics.

That last burn from Winona tho… like damn girl I felt that.

Another thing I want to backtrack to, Sam Kirk. Sam being the alleged chosen child, the one that was supposed to follow in George Kirk’s footsteps but didn’t, and then Jim strolled in and did even more than what Sam was supposed to do, and Sam and George never reconciled. Like dudes this book is almost 40 years old and this stuff was in strange new worlds last year. Tho xenobiology appears to have morphed into xenoanthropology (tho according to the fan wiki he’s still a biologist so idk what the deal is)

For the record Sam’s characterization isn’t remotely the same here. Likely the choice to keep him out of Starfleet all together removed any sort of resentment of Jim potential like he has in SNW. There’s still tension though, as Sam tries to force Jim to confront why he’s reacting like this to his first mission for the enterprise being an escort job for a flying horse.

Shifting gears back to Jim needing to learn how to play workplace politics. The assumed reason for Pike leaving the enterprise. While SNW is doing the whole, Pike knows he won’t fly the enterprise forever and about the disfigurement and is cool with it, I find if fascinating that he’s more, sad about it here and that he got promoted out of the way for pushing too many buttons. It would be a sad ending but I wonder if SNW would incorporate that into its eventual ending. Hell I wonder if that’s what happened to Kirk between TOS and TMP.

Anyway big picture is this book is a fascinating time capsule and it’s fun seeing just how much has stuck around over the years both in fandom and in the franchise itself. Whether or not that’s the book’s doing is questionable but still. Fun to think about.

#star trek #star trek tos #james t kirk #spock #star trek enterprise #Star Trek enterprise 1986 #it’s a fun read #sam kirk #Star Trek meta #Star Trek analysis #star trek strange new worlds #strange new worlds #snw #star trek the original series #Star Trek enterprise the first adventure #Star Trek AOS #star trek alternate original series #Jim Kirk meta

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stagkingswife · 7 months

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Take Notes Like Stag Part 2: Unrecorded Entity Note Taking Exercise

Part 1: Spirit Encounters Part 3: Spell "Lab Notes" The early stages of developing a relationship with an unrecorded entity can be frustrating and confusing for many people. The most commonly recommended first steps for getting to know a new entity are research and reading the entities myths and those don’t apply to a completely unrecorded entity and only help so far for an entity whose general type may be recorded in myth and folklore, but not them in specific. My general advice for getting to know an unrecorded entity of any kind is to take it slow and get to know them the same way you would get to know a new person in your life. Ask them about themselves every time you communicate with them, and keep track of each encounter using the format in part 1 - pay attention to themes, symbols, imagery, anything that you notice starts to repeat across multiple encounters. Once you feel like something might be a defining feature or factor of the entity, something fixed that you’re sure of, make note of it and you can then run this exercise. For this exercise you’ll need a few sheets of paper, a writing implement, the information you’ve been gathering, and a form of divination. Yes/no forms of divination is fine for this, but something with more nuance is preferred and will give you more detailed answers in later steps.

Review your existing notes on this entity and find a defining feature of the entity, this can be something that’s been repeated often enough in your notes on your earlier encounters to become a pattern, or something that’s happened less often but was experienced very strongly. You’re the judge in this step of what is important enough to single out for this exercise, you can always do it again with something else if one iteration of it doesn’t prove fruitful.

Get your paper and writing tool and write your feature in the center of the page. Then create a brainstorming web of free associations with anything and everything that comes to mind springing from the starting point. Add as many spokes to the web and layers to each spoke as you can think of and fit.

There are no wrong answers in this step - this isn’t you telling the entity they are associated with any of the things in the web, you’re making a list of things to ask them about.

(If you’ve never made or heard of a brainstorming web before here’s a link to a template)

Then go through each item on the web with your divination tool for confirmation or denial from the entity of the association. -- Yes/No divination can give you a yay/nay on an association, “Yes, this is associated with me” or “No, this is not associated with me.” But a more nuanced form of divination can unlock ones you didn’t think of with “no, but…” or “yes, and…” type answers. For instance if you started with the center word of “harvest” because you had the indication that the entity was associated with the harvest and from there you branched out to “grain.” You used your tarot cards to confirm “grain” and you pull the Three of Cups, which is a very harvest-y card so you could take that as a yes, but the guide book for your deck specifically mentions fruits and vegetables instead of grains. You can then follow up on fruits and vegetables vs grains to see if the entity strongly favors one over the other.

Record your results in your ongoing notes for this entity. Remember:

An example: When I was working on Returning my pantheon of unrecorded entities, The Forgotten Ones, I would get to know an entity organically through divination conversation, dreams, Otherworldly visits, etc. for maybe a few months before I had enough fixed points of data that I thought it was was worth going through this exercise. Then I would take an afternoon or an evening and run it multiple times for each data point I had, once through for a symbol that had appeared multiple times, once for a theme that the entity consistently used, once for an animal that they had shown a preference for, once for a flower they favored for offerings, etc. I like to do this exercise in a trance, to add a little oomph to what is basically word association, but that’s not strictly necessary. My goddess Brona, when I started working on her one of the few things I knew about her was that she was an entity that existed in the in betweens. Because she was so strongly liminal, so intrinsically neither here nor there I had trouble pin down more details on her even as I became very close to her. So I ran this exercise on the word “liminal” before I had gathered much else for her. Here is a sample of that map for her, that I just made for this post, so it’s all things that I know are associated with her - I can’t find my original, and at this point it’s hard to think of incorrect examples.

#witchcraft #pagan #the returning #spirit work #witchblr #paganblr #unrecorded gods #unrecorded entity #grimoire

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g0blintears · 4 months

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[Yandere! Dead By Daylight x Reader]

Summary: You are a mystery to both the survivors and killers within the fog. A servant of darkness, a creature created by the entity itself, you are the shadow behind the scenes that provides the survivors with the necessities they need to survive, while also assisting killers with the weapons they need to sacrifice. You are a servant void of humanity, but not one that seeks out despair. An empty slate that perhaps just needs to be taught a little bit of hope and empathy to help the survivors escape once and for all.

Seven. Dark Sense

Time worked differently in the realm. Sunlight didn’t exist, and the sky was always painted a dark, inky black. Nothing was ever overgrown, and the survivors never knew when they were going to be summoned into a trial until they found themselves alone with only three other people in the middle of an abandoned campfire. If it wasn’t for the entity’s servant, who would often have a routine schedule for meal time, they wouldn’t have ever known when it was the appropriate time to eat and sleep.

Now having woken up from his rest, Felix, along with all the other survivors, found themselves sitting at various tables with their trays of plain bread and baked potatoes placed in front of them.

Currently, Felix sat in front of his childhood best friend, Élodie Rakoto. Wearing a loose fitted, long sleeve crop top that complimented the pendant wrapped around her neck, and dark black jeans that fitted for comfort, said woman with coily black hair and dark brown eyes was someone who usually carried herself with a smile of confidence and a face that always looked like she was coming up with mischief. However, as he whispered to her the current theories some of the other survivors had previously talked about, the woman couldn’t help but look at her blond friend in worry.

“You guys are planning to, what?” She asked in a whisper shout. Her eyes darted both left and right as she made sure to keep her voice low from wandering ears. “Are you guys actually doing this?”

“Well, the plan isn’t really in motion. We still want to gather more details and see if this is even worth working out. But, if they do show any signs of being capable to evolve, we will plan this out more thoroughly.”

Élodie looked at Felix, dumbfounded before scoffing. With her fork, she dug into her potatoes. "You guys are crazy. So crazy." She muttered, her thick French accent seeping with each syllable. Stuffing her mouth with the unseasoned potatoes, she continued, "But if this plan of yours works, make sure the servant of darkness learns how to season. This shit tastes awful."

Felix sighed, “We’re being serious.”

“And so am I!” She exclaimed, pointing at Felix with her potato still attached to her fork. “Look at this! It’s not even cooked all the way! Last week Ace’s potato wasn’t even cooked! He and David ended up playing hackysack with it.”

Ignoring her words, Felix frowned. “I actually thought you’d be more optimistic about this.”

Ever since he met Élodie on Dyer Island, Felix knew that she was someone who was stubborn and assertive. Élodie was always down for an adventure, someone who was willing to take risks. A troublemaker if you will. So imagine his surprise when his usually devious friend looked at him the way he usually looked at her whenever she had something crazy planned.

Rolling her eyes, Élodie placed down her fork and sighed. “Look, we all want to escape, but trying to escape through the entity’s servant? That’s crazy! What if it backfires? We don’t know what happens to people that step out of line. It hasn’t been recorded. Hell, we don’t even know what happened to the people that were in this realm before us. All we have is that journal.” She then motioned to the book under Felix’s arm.

At her words, the man subconsciously gripped the leather binder.

“And it hasn’t really been as helpful as we had hoped.”

Felix pursed his lips, “I know. But it’s a start, don’t you think?” The male’s grey eyes clashed with his friend’s dark brown eyes, his stare bored into her with desperation. “How long are we going to be here? How many more deaths are we all going to be forced to endure? If there is another way to escape this hell, why not take it? What exactly do we have to lose?”

“We don’t know-” She began to answer, but was cut off by the blond.

“Exactly! We don’t know. Élodie, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always been one to never shy away from the unknown. Back in Dyer Island, you were the one to encourage us to step out of our comfort zone. You were the one to tell us to accept ourselves, but to also be open minded to chance. You lead us to grand adventures, and that in itself should show how incredibly clever and brave you are. So why not take one more risk?” Although desperate, Felix’s words held his truth as he reminded his friend of their days back in their youth.

As he looked at his friend expectantly, Élodie chose to ignore his last question and instead crossed her arms over her chest and rose an eyebrow at the male. “Trying to use your flattery skills on me to get on my good side now, huh? Very sneaky of you, Ritcher.”

For a moment, the male didn’t know how to respond. But as soon as he caught a glimpse of her smile, the male shook his head and let out an airy chuckle, “But it’s working, right?”

Élodie hummed, “Very tempting, but I still think it’s a bad idea.” She then looked at Felix with a grimace on her face. “Plus, I don’t know how I can be of any help. You should know better than anyone that my memories and yours aren’t all there.”

Felix’s brows furrowed, the once laid back attitude he had with his friend diminished as he mulled over her words.

“I know, but I still think you could help me explain some things to the others better. Unlike everyone else here, we at least grew up knowing of the entity’s existence before arriving here- especially you. You have at least some knowledge of creatures similar to the entity and its servant. That’s why we wanted to let you know what was going on. You can give us some more insight from your own experiences.”

Élodie looked around once more. Speaking of you and the entity made her skin crawl, almost as if you were listening to the two of them speak at that very moment.

“I don’t know…” She trailed off. Although she was unsure, Felix was right. They couldn’t go on like this. The pain of dying was agonizing, especially in the most brutal ways. At this point, she wanted to die and just stay dead. But of course, that wasn’t an option. So if they had to resort to wild theories, maybe it could possibly lead to somewhere better than here.

But there’s still a chance that this could end badly, very badly. She couldn’t think of what could possibly happen. Afterall, they’ve endured it all. What if there’s more though? Something worse? What could be worse than death in a form of recycled torture?

She didn’t know.

She wanted to take the risk, but at the same time, she felt hesitant. The last time she went into something without a plan, she had led her and her friends' parents to vanish. Her memories were foggy. She couldn’t remember much of that day, but she did remember that she was the reason the entity took them. She remembered the distraught and regret she felt once she exited that lab, but not with her parents. She remembered the spiral of obsession she went through trying to find them, all of it leading to where she is now.

Into the unknown.

This plan, if gone through, could end badly. And she wasn’t sure if she could endure another incident like that again. Her once obsessed mind was now beginning to heal after all those years of guilt. Could she really go through it all again? Squeezing the fork in her hand, the woman shook her head. She couldn’t.

As though reading her thoughts, Felix reached out his arm from across the table, and squeezed his friend’s hand. Instantly, Élodie was brought out of her thoughts and gazed over at Felix with wide eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I promise we will be careful. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to, but I know your strengths and I know you could help us plan this out.” Giving the top of her hand one last squeeze, the male sent her a wink and a small smile. “Afterall, The Pariahs are smart and fearless, remember?”

Reminding her of their childhood friend group name, the woman instantly regained her confidence. She chuckled and shook her head, “Alright. Alright. I get it.” Pushing his hand away, Élodie went back to eating her now cold food. “Fine, I’m in.”

Brushing back his blond hair, the male grinned at his friend. “Good.”

Looking around for a bit, Felix watched as most of the survivors dispersed after their meals. One after the other, they all walked their separate ways until finally Dwight, Feng Min, Yun-Jin, Zarina, and Adam joined Felix and Élodie at their table.

Once the group was together, Felix spoke to the group.

“Élodie says she’s in.”

“That’s great! The more the merrier.” Zarina exclaimed, then clasped her hands together before gazing upon the group. “So, how’s this going to work?”

“Well, we should figure out if this plan has the possibility of even working.” Adam interjected, “We don’t want to be too hopeful. We could be unintentionally screwing ourselves over by feeding the entity if we do so.”

“Mm, good point.” Min hummed, “Does that mean we shouldn’t tell the others?”

“Probably not.” Dwight muttered, and pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “We don’t want to give false hope to the others and as Adam said, feed the entity. So let’s try keeping this to ourselves.”

“Okay, so don’t tell the others and don’t be too hopeful. What else?” Min quirked an eyebrow, looking at the group that turned to Dwight and Felix.

Dwight cleared his throat, “Well, since Élodie‘s agreed to help us, we can review what we do and don’t know.” His gaze then went over to Yun-Jin who was sitting at the far end of the table. “Especially since we have a newcomer in the realm.”

All eyes went to Yun-Jin, who brushed back her hair to hide her discomfort.

Élodie nodded, “Right. Sorry, I never introduced myself.” She then sent Yun-Jin a brief smile and a curt wave of her hand, “Élodie Rakoto, occult investigator.”

“Oh!” Yun-Jin’s eyes widened at this new piece of information. That explains why the others were so adamant on scheduling another group meeting but with Élodie involved. “So you’re familiar with all this stuff?”

“Yes. Both Felix and I have a bit of knowledge on the realm since we both grew up together, me a little more since I decided to make a career out of it.”

“Wait, you two knew each other outside the realm?”

Élodie snickered, “Yes, our parents were part of the same group called Imperiatti.” She then rubbed her temple in thought. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to recall any of her memories, but as always, came back with nothing but static.

“Honestly I wish I could tell you guys what they did, but as most of you guys know, neither Felix or I have any memories of our lives that involve the entity or its servant. We just know that our parents were part of some sketchy ancient council that had something to do with the entity.”

“It wasn’t like worship, right?” Yun-Jin cut in, eyes wide as she stared at Élodie. She didn’t mean to sound judgmental, but from her perspective, if the two grew up worshiping the entity, she knew she could not trust them. “You guys weren’t part of a cult, were you?”

Élodie turned to her with a frown, “No. Well, we weren’t at least. I can’t speak for our parents, but I highly doubt it. When our parents were taken, I remember how scared they were for us. They fought off the entity. I just don’t remember what they did, but they ward it away long enough for us to escape.”

Min groaned, “So we don’t know anything other than the basics from the journal. Great.”

“Journal?” Yun-Jin repeated, just as Felix raised up the book for her view. A dark leather bound book with yellow tinted pages was in full display as he placed the book in the middle of the table.

“It’s a journal written by a past survivor named Benedict Baker.”

Yun-Jin’s breath hitched in her throat, “Wait, what do you mean past survivor? There were others before us?” She then focused her eyes on Dwight, “People were here before you? I thought you, Meg, and the others showed up here alone?”

“We were alone.” Dwight confirmed, “When the four of us— me, Claudette, Meg, and Jake, when we arrived here, we were here alone. No other survivors. Just us at the campfire with the servant to greet us.”

Yun-Jin brought her hands to cover her mouth, “Oh my god. So there is a way to escape? Right? If there were others here before, where did they go?”

The group looked amongst themselves.

“We don’t know.” Zarina interjected, her voice soft as she gazed down at the journal. “The journal just stops after ten entries. He claimed that it was becoming too much. His sanity was slipping and his hope shattered, so he left the journal behind. He apparently wrote more, but pages have been torn out.”

Fuck.

Yun-Jin ran her fingers through her hair. Just as soon as she felt the sense of justified hope, it all came crashing down. “So we don’t know what happened to them?” She whispered.

More silence ensued.

“Well, from what Benedict wrote, with each "death" we become weaker. Little pieces of our souls get consumed by the entity. By that alone, we can only assume that— well...” Adam struggled to find his words. His leg bounced from under the table as his mind jumbled as to what happened to those past survivors.

Fortunately, Adam didn’t have to finish his sentence as Feng mumbled under her breath what they were all thinking.

“They were devoured.”

Yun-Jin wanted to cry. She wanted to scream and throw a tantrum. She thought that there was no possible way to escape, but apparently there was, but it wasn’t as good as their own predicament.

“…what happens if you’re devoured?” She asked, her voice hushed as she glanced at the group with red teary eyes.

Élodie sighed, “We don’t know…we could be met with peace— no longer feeling pain or joy since we would seize to exist, or we could be sentient and still feel every single pain of every life force the entity has consumed. But from my own studies on dark magic, I would place my money on the latter.”

“Oh god, what if we get devoured by going through this plan?!” Yun-Jin shouted, her eyes glanced at the group in alarm.

“Keep your voice down!” Min hissed, “We don’t want you-know-who to hear.”

“How do we know they’re not listening right now?” Yun-Jin scoffed.

“I’ve already checked with them and they’re preparing for the next trial with the killers.” Dwight answered, “So we have nothing to worry about.”

Yun-Jin frowned, “How do you know? I thought they were like— I don’t know, otherworldly? How are you sure they aren’t eavesdropping right now?”

“They may be a cosmic being, but they are far weaker than the entity, so they do have their limits.” Élodie reassured, “We’ve since learned that their omnipotent abilities aren’t as vast as we had once thought. My guess is that they can hear and see all, but they don’t truly hear and see everything. Like when looking at a picture for a moment, do you truly see all of the details in the work? Every paint stroke and sponge mark? Or when you are in a crowd in a city, you can hear bits of every sound, but not every conversation to its fullest extent. Since being in this realm, that is at least the conclusion me and a few others have come up with for their abilities.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Yun-Jin frowned, “Well, okay then, what if we get devoured, huh?” Yun-Jin snapped in frustration. “I thought you guys said that there was nothing to lose.”

“There is nothing to lose,” Min commented, sitting up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. “We get devoured if we go through with another escape plan or not. Might as well take the risk.”

“And we don’t know if those past survivors were devoured or not. For all we know, they may have escaped.” Zarina pointed out, easing the tension of the others.

Yun-Jin slowly nodded. Although she was still overwhelmed with all this new information, she at least could feel her worries ease as she was reminded that her survival was probable, she just needed the others to help.

“Fine then. What now?”

All eyes turned to Dwight.

Said leader felt his face flush in embarrassment, but he covered it up by coughing into his fist. “Right. Well, now that we got most of the basics covered we should see if there is even a slim chance of the servant caving into an emotional connection.” His eyes then ventured to Élodie. “Is there a chance for them to rebel against the entity? Or at the very least, help us out?”

Élodie pursed her lips in thought, “Honestly? Yes, but a very slim chance. Back when I was collecting artifacts for my employer, he let me read up on ancient manuscripts, some of which described ancient gods called The Elder Ones. They were different forms of gods, some of which created the very concept of life and death. World eaters and realm creators. These gods would often create various sub species to play different roles.”

”One example of this being this really grotesque monster race that were built to be mountains of sorts, kinda like a living castle but with multiple mouths on its body. It was tanky, and at the very center of its core was where some of The Elder Ones would reserve their life force. They were usually seen as lower beings, and, well, they eventually gained consciousness and rebelled against The Elder Ones because of their lack of respect. Now it’s said that they peacefully reside as illusions of mountains and feed upon anything that stumbles across their backs.”

Élodie nodded to herself. Having read many manuscripts of different religions and tales, she often thought that maybe some of them were simply made up. However, being placed in the realm of the entity, having spoken to other survivors that come from vastly different times and worlds, she could undoubtedly say that it’s a possibility that some of those manuscripts told real lore of otherworldly places.

She just wasn’t sure how they could have possibly traveled from one realm to another.

“That’s just one example of the servant defying its role. There are many of these stories of creatures that would turn on their creators because they’ve either found a new purpose or were tired of the mistreatment.” Élodie bit her lower lip, “However, these creatures were always shown to be more…expressive than what we’re currently dealing with, so that’s why I think this theory can work to a certain degree.”

She then gazed up at the group, her eyes meeting Felix’s warm grey eyes.

“So you’re saying there is a chance?” He asked, eyeing his friend with a growing smile.

Élodie looked upon the group, all of them staring at her to give the final judgment.

“Well, if there’s nothing to lose, I say let’s see if we can get a little expression on them.” She then grinned, the thought of this theory working actually sounded more and more real the further she thought on it. “If we can sway them enough, see if they have the capability to feel or even think to themselves, I think we have a pretty good shot.”

Looking at one another, the group found themselves feeling a wave of an emotion they haven’t truly felt in such a long time. It was a surreal feeling, and one that they all knew to be dangerous, yet they latched onto the feeling with an iron hold, refusing to let the emotion slip away into the entity’s grasp.

They were going to get close to you. They had to.

The next trial was approaching, and so far, you hadn’t seen or heard from the killer who was supposed to be next to hunt.

Standing by the empty campfire, your dull [eye color] eyes watched as the flames of the fire pit flicker and dance. The crackling noise of the campfire burned as time went on, but it never once lost its flame. It continued to burn. Emitting a heat that you knew was nice for the mortals, but for yourself?

You took a step forward, your hand barely reached out to touch the flames.

It burned at your skin, but you couldn’t feel that. Instead, you watched as the fire engulfed your hand, not burning it and not causing it pain. Your fingers merely touched the flames, as though it was touching open air.

You couldn’t feel it.

Suddenly, you put your hand down. Barely audible, you could hear breathing. Soft and scarcely present, but you could still make it out. It approached from the darkness of the forest. Despite knowing the intentions of the killer, you didn’t bother to move. Instead, you kept your eyes focused on the flames, awaiting the killer’s next move.

As quick as a shuddered breath, you could feel a presence loom behind you. One arm wrapped around your torso, and another holding out a knife in hand over your face.

The presence didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to see who they were to know who was behind you.

Your eyes glanced at the shining silver blade. A mirror image of yourself was present, along with the masked killer with a ghoulish appearance.

It was Ghostface.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight x reader #yandere dbd x reader #dbd x reader #zarina kassir #felix richter #dwight fairfield #Élodie Rakoto #Yun-Jin Lee #Feng Min #Adam Francis #ghostface

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lemonnsss · 11 months

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Moral of the Story pt. 3

Warnings: cheating, illusions to sex, angst, not BETA'D we die like men.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Taglist: @vicmc624, @mostlymarvelgirl, @yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy, @moonlightreader649, @whattheduckisupkyle, @chrisevans-realwife, @nekoannie-chan, @mrsbarnes32557038, @imyourbratzdoll

Word count: 2.1k

“Oh, so soon?” he leaned in, obviously interested in my request, “And what might your boon be?”

“As you can probably guess, I need a job. I have an interview tomorrow morning for the role of your PA. If that doesn’t pan out -because of anyone's request outside of your own- I still want a good-paying job with decent benefits. Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll cut it short, you’re hired.”

“Please, I don’t need your pity.”

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't hire you out of pity. It's because of what you did just now. I gave you barely any details, and you came up with a sub-par solution." Satisfied with his answer, he reaches over and takes a sip of my coffee.

"Sub-par says I go out, find your bodyguard, and drag him back here." He visibly aspirates, coughing into a napkin for a minute or so. I got up, got a straw, and returned. By the time I sat down, he had regained most of his composure.

"You had a good plan that led to a good solution," gesturing to himself, "I'm a rich asshole. Are we happy?” A slight rasp remained in his voice.

“Sufficiently. I accept the role of your PA, Mr. Stark. When should I start?"

"After your interview with Ms. Potts. You did say that if anyone aside from me was against you as my PA, you'd be fine with it."

I leaned back, covering my eyes with my hand, ”Yeah, I did."

"Don't try denying it. JARVIS has been recording- I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I fully acknowledge and stand by my previous statement. And, did you just admit to illegally recording our conversation?” My other hand raised pointing at him, “If so, that would be quite unfortunate for you and Stark Industries.” I separated my fingers to see his shocked yet slightly confused expression.

"Well, shit.”

I lowered my hand to the arm of the chair, tilting my head slightly, “Did you think I wouldn’t own up to my word? Please, Tony -can I call you Tony? I’m going to call you Tony- I do have morals, they’re a bitch, but they’re there. When I make promises, I follow through with them.” I look down at my lap, my hands wrapped around my stomach, “I hate people who break their promises. They are the worst kind of people. All that does is hurt those around them, but they’re too self-centered to realize that until it’s too late- sometimes even then it doesn’t click.” I glance up, he’s leaning closer to me, a worried look plastered across his face.

I straighten, collect my things, and move to get up, “I suppose I’ll see you at my interview tomorrow, Mr. Stark.” I walk away and out of the café, hearing the bell ring as I walk out.

I fell face down into my bed, arms spread out. “I just met THE Anthony Edward Stark and acted like it was no big deal. What is wrong with me?” I grabbed a pillow, held it to my chest, curled up into the fetal position, and screamed. “How could I have acted like it was nothing? He’s an A-list celebrity and I just brushed it off!” I prop up onto my elbows, my hands extending forward.

I spent the afternoon and evening just watching TV and reading. While I didn’t typically read graphic books, Hemingway and Remarque’s book had been sitting in my collection untouched for far too long, and it wasn’t necessarily a horrible way to finish the day. About halfway through “All Quiet On The Western Front” I realized just how depressing this book was and how glad I hadn't gone over it with my high school classes. The case remained much the same for “A Farewell to Arms”.

My phone alarm went off, signaling it was time to start getting ready for bed. I got up to grab it, shutting off the tone. I stood up, went to the bathroom, completed my nightly routine, and set out my clothes for my interview, although it seemed I had been hired in all but formalities.

I woke up the next day with a slight ache in my bones but, nothing like the previous day. I got ready and headed out to the Stark Industries headquarters. When I arrived I wasn’t necessarily shocked. The lobby was sleek and modern, bustling with the morning rush. I walked up to the receptionist, an older woman, and told her that I was there for the interview for the role of Mr. Stark’s assistant. I confirmed she looked me up and down before saying my name aloud. She handed me a card, stating it was a single use and would be deactivated once I left the building before pointing me to the elevator, guarded by the head of security, Mr. Stark’s bodyguard, Happy Hogan.

I walked over he looked at me slightly puzzled as I walked up to the elevator, sliding the activated card. It took a moment or two before the door opened and I could not be happier. I walked in and the doors shut.

“Crap, I didn’t get the floor.” I placed my face in my hand, aggravated at my forgetfulness.

An electronic voice rang out, “I believe I can be of some assistance, Mx.”.

I screamed, “What the fuck?” I backed into a corner, grabbing the rails.

“Apologies, I seem to have startled you. I’m JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI.”

“O-okay? Can you send me up to Mrs. Potts’ floor?”

“Of course.”

The elevator ride passes quickly thanks to Stark’s AI. As the doors open JARVIS informs me that the door on the right leads to Ms. Potts’ office. I walk up to the door and knock, ”Come in!” A voice calls out. I open the door and introduce myself.

Ms. Potts was a taller woman with blonde hair. She ran around frantically, “I’m so sorry, an urgent business meeting just came up. Would it be okay to reschedule your interview?”

“Yes, yes, of course. These things happen, I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?” I move close to her desk.

The look on her face shows she didn't expect my reaction. "Um, yes. In one of the piles over there. There should be twelve documents with the keywords Stark v. Hammer." She points over the corner where there are three medium-sized piles of papers

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yes, thank you. My assistant has been on sick leave for two weeks and my office has become an absolute mess." I hear the clink of metal on the ground. She squats down, looking for whatever it was that had fallen.

"Really, it's no problem. I've worked in worse offices, this is nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"The lawyer I worked for in college. He was a mess. He wouldn't let anyone move his things, so it just stayed that way until he needed a specific paper or file, and then he would send me looking. Apparently, he did that to all of his assistants after one of them, about five years before me, lost one of the major papers in a big case for the firm. He fired her immediately." I rifled through the paperwork, quickly finding a handful of the documents.

"That sounds horrible, although, from a business person's perspective I can somewhat understand."

"Yeah, it was crazy. I worked for him for four years and almost feel bad for leaving. He finally adjusted and was comfortable with me going through the records." I had found all but one of the papers at this point and had looked through all three piles with no luck.

"Ms. Potts?"

She stands up, bumping her head on the edge of her desk, "Yes?"

"Sorry, um, are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She grasps the back of her head, wincing. She's clearly not.

"Are you sure? You hit your head pretty hard."

"Yes, really. What were you asking about?"

"Okay, are you sure all of the papers are over here? There's one missing. I've gone over the stacks at least three times."

"Yes, of course. They're all there, I could've sworn." She walks over, or at least attempts to as about halfway she grasps her head, a small groan accompanying the action. I run over, offering my arm. She takes my arm, and I lower her to the ground, a quiet 'thank you' thrown in the midst.

There was a small cut on the back of her head, a small amount of blood flowing out. I place my fingers on the cut, using my powers to heal it. A sharp pain found its way to the back of my head for a moment before it fades.

"Thank you. I think I just needed to sit down for a moment. But, yes, all of the papers should be over here. It's odd that there's one missing."

"Could it be in a different stack?"

"It shouldn't be, then again, I haven't exactly been keeping this place clean enough to say. Crap! The meeting's supposed to start in a few minutes."

"How far into the meeting do you need the papers, and how long do you expect this meeting will be?"

"Maybe two-thirds of the way through and half an hour at the shortest. Why?"

"I'm gonna buy you some time, obviously. I'll look through the rest of the papers to find the missing page. Once I find it I'll head over to your meeting room and deliver the papers as if you'd asked for them just before the meeting began. How does that sound?"

She walks up to me and hugs me. As she pulls away she says, "You are a lifesaver! Thank you." She grabs her papers and walks out of her office, presumably to the meeting room as I stand there stunned, unmoving as a stone.

When her trance breaks, I start moving around the room, quickly checking each pile for the missing paper. I tried to stay in the general area she originally pointed me to with no luck. I slowly moved towards the desk, it was the only place I hadn't checked yet.

I went through the different stacks before finding the paper in the third, guess it really was the charm. I collected all of the papers in a manilla folder, finishing it off with a paperclip -just as a precaution. As I went to grab the door handle JARVIS told me which meeting room they were on.

I walked out to the small foyer between the two offices and entered the elevator. JARVIS took me to the correct floor.

I walked up to the door of the meeting room Ms. Potts was in and knocked on the door before entering. I looked inside to see a variety of old, white businessmen and Ms. Potts in front of a projector explaining something I wasn't about to pretend I understood. She looked relieved.

I walked in just enough to where I could close the door, "Apologies, Ms. Potts, is this a bad time? I have the paperwork you requested."

"Oh no, not at all." She walked over to me, taking the folder from my hands. "Thank you." She whispered.

"It was no problem at all, Ma'am. Would you like me to continue working in your office, or go home for the day?"

"Please, wait in my office." She tipped her head slightly, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.

I excused myself and headed back to Ms. Potts office. I waited for her in one of the armchairs at her desk. I checked my phone and realized I hadn't read the e-mail from Scott yet. I opened his message, the contents shocking me.

'Hi, I know it's been a while since we've talked, I mean really talked. I'm sorry, I chose a girl who saw me as the second choice over the person who's been my best friend practically since we met. I'm leaving the mansion too. Things have been crazy here. The professor is making Jean and Logan sub for all the classes you used to teach, and he'll be doing so for every teacher who leaves because of what happened. I'm planning on moving back to Anchorage. My parents left the house to Alex, but he gave everything to me in his will, making it mine. That house has to be 80 or so years old now, it's going to need a lot of repairs. I'll send you the address once it's all fixed up, maybe have some tea and catch up.

See you someday,

Scott.'

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lulubelle814 · 3 months

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A Marriage of Convenience - Part 4

Part 5

A Marriage of Convenience Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Any trigger warnings are listed in the tags.

1 year into the fake marriage

Although today was a holiday, Loki still had to go into the office because of some big project and turned down Eva’s offer to come and help. He’d been a bit distant the past few days, but work was also a mess. She used this time to herself to walk to the nearby bookstore and browse their collection. It was a unique kind of bookstore called The Reading Nook. The store had a comfortable, homey feel that she loved. Looking around the store, her eye caught a book with a pretty cover: The Invisible Life of Addie Larue. Reading the description, it sounded intriguing. A girl who makes a deal with a dark god to have her freedom with a catch: once she’s out of sight, she is no longer remembered by whomever was around. There were other details she found interesting and decided to buy the book after reading the first few pages.

One other book caught her eye: Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology. He was a favorite author of hers and thought Loki might like it, seeing as his namesake is in more than one of the stories. Up at the register, Clark scanned the books and bagged them. Hopefully it would at least give him a bit of a laugh.

On the walk back home, she had an idea, something his mother had mentioned, one that might help cheer up Loki after having to work on one of his few days off. Stopping by the store on her way home, she unbagged everything and turned on the oven to preheat. Picking up her phone, she started one of her playlists almost at full blast (not wanting to disturb any neighbors who might be home). Pulling out the big pot, she followed the directions his mother had given her a while back. While the stew simmered on the stove, she started on the dessert: lemon bars.

With the loud music, she didn’t hear the front door open, nor did she notice Loki having found her in the kitchen, leaning against the wall watching. He pulled out his phone to take a couple of pictures quickly as well as record a short video of it; however, she saw him as he was taking the video and got her squeaking in embarrassment on video. “You can’t sneak up on a girl like that!” She threw a kitchen towel at him which hit him in the chest as he laughed. “I couldn’t help myself, darling. Are you making stew?” Eva smiled and nodded. “I got the recipe from your mother a couple of weeks ago. I know you’ve been stressed with work and thought you’d like some comfort food.”

Loki couldn’t hold himself back from enveloping her in his arms. He kissed her on the cheek before pointing to the other thing she was working on. “Are those lemon bars?”

“They are! I know how you like your sweets, and I found a recipe I wanted to try.”

He lightly gripped her arms, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth. “You really are the best.” As he went to take a closer look, her hand touched her lips, thinking about the unsolicited kiss. Sure they’d kissed before, but it was always in public and always as part of the charade, but no one else was here. Was he even aware of what he’d just done?

She turned to see him swiping a bit of the lemon filling on his finger to taste and lightly smacked his hand. “Oi! Not until after they’re done you silly man.” Loki laughed at her response, holding up his hands in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.” Slowly, his good mood faded, and the sound of his voice turning sour. “I have to go on a business trip Monday. I’ll be gone a few days.”

“I’m sorry.” Then she suddenly remembered. “I got something for you. You could take it on your trip if you’d like.” His eyebrows scrunched. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” It only took a moment to remember where she’d put the book bag and pulled out the norse mythology book, handing it to him. When he saw it, a grin spread across his face. “I love Neil Gaiman!” He hugged her, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you, darling. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all of this. And this book is definitely coming with me.”

She stepped back, leaning against the counter. “How long will you be gone?”

Another sigh. “Most of the week. I should be back no later than Friday though. I wish I didn’t have to go at all, but Odin isn’t feeling well. Apparently that’s why he had me go into the office today.”

“I’m so sorry. I hope he feels better soon.” Eva turned back to the stove to stir the stew. Loki came up and held her from behind. “Yeah, but you’ve made this day so much better with all of this. I haven’t had this stew since I was a boy.” She held up a spoonful for him to try. “What do you think? Does it need more salt?” The smile on his face said everything. “It’s perfect.”

While she finished up and placed the lemon bars in the oven, Loki set the table, pulling out bowls and spoons. The soup was poured into a nicer container, one that had a lid and could be put into the fridge later.

Loki was gone for a few days on a business trip. Eva got so used to having him around that it felt lonely with him gone. So she tried to keep herself occupied like she had before this contracted marriage: reading books, watching a bit of tv, etc, but none of it held the same joy that it had before.

Things at work continued to go well. With Loki on the business trip, her days were less busy, and she was eager for Loki to come back, not that he felt the same way about her. In the time they’d been cohabiting in this ruse, her deep seeded crush was turning into requited love, and she was doing what she could to squash it: going to movies by herself, running errands alone, and the like. Distractions were good. Distractions helped keep her mind off it.

Meanwhile, Loki was getting bored in the meetings he was forced to attend on this trip, his mind wandering back to that weekend, the soup, the sweets, and the book. He kept looking at the pictures on his phone of her dancing in the kitchen and watching the video on mute. A small smile formed across his face as he spaced out thinking about it. When someone asked for his comment on a matter, he pretended he was listening but didn’t understand what they’d said, asking them to clarify.

Back in the main office, Steve noticed Loki was gone for the week and used the opportunity to get closer to Eva, becoming bolder than he had before, touching her hand when purposefully going to reach for the same thing, brushing against her back in the breakroom. The further into the week they got, the more aggressive he became. She did everything she could to avoid being in the same room as Steve. When Thursday came around, he made his move, finding her alone in the supply closet. Closing and locking it behind him, he pinned her against a set of shelves by her neck. “Get off of me!” She tried to push him off of her, but he was stronger than he looked. “Nah nah, baby girl. I’ve seen how you are in the office. You like me, admit it.”

Shaking her head, tears started to fall. “I don’t! I’m married to Loki. You know this.” She tried to show him her giant engagement/wedding ring. Instead, he grabbed the hand, using it to help pin her. “If you really didn’t want me, then why haven’t you reported me?” A spin chilling grin spread across his face. Pulling her other hand up, he held both with one hand while the other started groping her. The dam holding her tears back burst. “Stop!” This time, her voice was louder, hoping someone would hear. It didn’t stop him. In fact, he started kissing around her face as his hand wandered further down her body. As he reached her nether region, he fondled her folds through her underwear. “You know you want this, baby.” Shaking her head, she cried loudly, continuing to protest.

Downstairs, Loki arrived back early, the meetings having gone well. He knew his wife would still be at the office and thought he’d stop in to offer her a ride home. Not sure where she was assigned that day, he started towards his office. While walking down one of the hallways, a terrifying sound interrupted him from his thoughts. Someone was screaming for help. Following the sound, it was coming from the supply closet. Trying to open it, he found it was locked. The screaming and crying inside continued. Rather than demand the door be opened, he followed his instincts and kicked the door down, finding his wife being assaulted. All he could see was red, ripping Steve away and punching him in the face. He continued to kick him when the assaulter fell on the floor. With the door now open, the sounds reached farther in the office, people running to see what was going on. Two gentlemen who came had to pull Loki off of Steve before he killed him. Another held Steve so that he couldn’t run. Someone called the police and said they were on their way.

Loki shrugged the two men off to check on Eva. He moved gently so as to not scare or startle her. “Darling, are you alright? Did he hurt you?” He scanned her to see any signs of injury and spotted the bruises showing up on her wrists and neck. Just as he turned to take his rage out on her assaulter, the police arrived. Steve was swiftly arrested, and the detectives took statements from both Loki and Eva. Eva had a hard time trying to tell them, feeling so overwhelmed and broken that they called an ambulance for her. Loki went with her to the hospital, holding her hand gently the entire time.

At the A&E, a female doctor was assigned to help her, to help minimize the trauma. Loki refused to leave her side but looked away out of respect when they inspected her more delicate areas. Thankfully there were no other injuries to be found. Eva was given something to help her calm. “This will help, but it will very likely make you fall asleep.” True to their word, she was asleep a few minutes later. They wrote a script for Xanax, advising Loki that she’ll likely need it over the next few days at least and released her to go home. He was able to get the script filled at the hospital so that she wouldn’t be alone even for a few minutes in the car, feeling she was safer in the A&E while he got it done.

When they arrived home, she was still completely knackered from the sedative. He didn’t want to leave her alone and laid her down in his bed rather than her own so he could be there should he have nightmares, or at least to be there whenever she woke up so she’d know she wasn’t alone. When she awoke later that night, the first thing she saw was Loki and was flooded with relief. Starting to cry again, he held her close, stroking her hair and telling her over and over that it’s okay, that he was right there and wouldn’t leave her alone.

From that night on, she spent more time sleeping in Loki’s bed, feeling safer with him so close, and her things slowly migrated into his room, not that he minded one bit, even making room in his closet and drawers for her.

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Taglist: @vbecker10 @eleniblue @msdjsg7 @lovingchoices14

Taglist is open!

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eco-lite · 9 months

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Miss @dianeduane did it again with Doctor’s Orders. Here are some choice sillies:

[Text ID: “Good morning,” Spock said. Kirk took a second to flash a grin at Bones; sometimes Spock’s formality could temp you to laugh. “Are you members of the species called the Ornae?” There was another tremor of movement through the layered circles of creatures, and then a sound: something scratchy, not quite the “insect: sound that Kirk had heard before. The Bridge’s Translator circuitry immediately cut in and rendered the sound as oddly high-pitches laughter. One of the creatures in the front circle shook itself all over and, still shaking, moved very, very slowly toward Spock. He didn’t move a muscle. The creature put out a long slender pseudopod, gleaming in the sunshine like suddenly blown glass, and poked Spock’s boot with it. Then it made the scratchy sound again, more laughter, and said a word: “Gotcha!” It jumped back to its place. All the other creatures began to echo the scratch-laughter. Spock looked around him with mild bemusement. “Captain,” he said, “I suspect we have found a kindergarten at recess, or something similar.” End ID]

Spock interacting with baby jello aliens. 🥹

[Text ID: When Spock arrived on the Bridge, McCoy was so utterly glad to see him that he was tempted to jump up and hug him. Instead, he just said, “Spock, your damn scanner’s gone on the fritz again.” Spock favored him with an expression that was skeptical at best. “Doctor,” he said very gently, as if to a brain-damage case, “that hardly seems likely. Nonetheless, I will run some checks.” End ID]

This was just cute. It takes a lot of emotional turmoil for Bones to want to hug Spock. And this was only the beginning lol.

[Text ID: “And by the way,” McCoy added, “can I at least have a restroom break?” Spock nodded. “Give the conn to Lieutenant DeLeon,” he said, “but don’t be away too long. Though,” he added, from just inside the turbolift, I believe the Captain would say, ‘You should have gone before we left.’” End ID]

Peak Spones dynamic.

[Text ID: “And see if you can get Uhura away from her business downstairs. I need some advise.” “Right, Doctor.” End ID]

It just made me really happy that the first person Bones wanted to strategize with and ask for advise was Uhura. She’s such an underrated and underutilized character, but she had a lot of great moments in this book.

[Text ID: “We’re going to have a department heads’ meeting in a while, I guess,” McCoy said to Spock, “and record it and send it along to Starfleet.” “I would not do that,” Spock said, sitting down at his station and dropping a couple of tricorder tapes into one of its reader ports. “Call the meeting, certainly. We must intensify our search for the Captain. But Starfleet does not require the details of our decision-making process. Also,” and there was a slight glint of humor in his eye as he glanced over his shoulder at McCoy, “there’s no point in giving the, ah, bureaucratic elements at Starfleet any more insight than necessary into how we arrive at our decisions.” “How I arrive at my command decisions, you mean,” McCoy said. Spock nodded. “The bureaucratic mind,” he said, “will find some way to meddle if at all possible. If faced with a decision-making process that they find too…original…” “Too intelligent, you mean. Or too consultative.” “Precisely. Under such circumstances, you could find yourself issued orders which you would be required to carry out, but which would be most…distasteful.” “You mean stupid.” “I believe I said that,” Spock said. “Though perhaps not in so many words.” End ID]

Bashing Starfleet party! 🥳

[Text ID: “We have no diplomatic recourses,” said Spock, “since as yet there is no diplomatic agreement. Starfleet will doubtless suggest some kind of display of force.” “They can just go to bed early on that one,” McCoy snapped. “These people barely understand the concept of death or injury, as far as I can figure out. I don’t want to be the one to teach them what it means.” End ID]

Bashing Starfleet pt. 2, plus I admire Bones’ compassion.

[Text ID: Spock’s expression was calm, but there was warning hidden in it. “If we are successful in finding the Captain,” he said, “Starfleet may well forgive you that…eventually. If not…your career in Starfleet may be short.” “That’s as may be,” McCoy said. “I have oaths to follow, the same as they do. The discipline of the service be damned.” He paused, and then said, “We have stopped recording this briefing, haven’t we?” “No one will hear,” Spock said, “what was certainly a casual remark made after the meeting proper.” He looked at Uhura. “Of course not,” she said to Spock. “I’ll just look around and see if I can’t find my sewing scissors.” End ID]

Cover up the evidence! I love them so much.

[Text ID: Two pages. The first page says: “—we thought we would stop and investigate.” Now, McCoy though, he waits to see if I tell him to get out of here. “Well, you’re more than welcome here, Commander,” he said. “Four planets, no waiting. Make yourself right at home.” Commander Kaiev actually blinked. McCoy had a hard time keeping his face straight, but managed it somehow. Now he lets us know that he would have anyway, he thought. “So we have done,” said Kaiev, with a sort of air of jovial threat that McCoy had to admire. “We shall send down landing parties to investigate the planet.” “Well, go ahead,” McCoy said. “But I should warn you, some things are pretty weird down there. We’ve lost some people in odd ways. Trees eating them, mostly.” The Bridge crew all looked at McCoy in fascination. He ignored them. “But don’t mind that,” McCoy said jovially. “You go ahead down there, have a good time. Our people will show you around, if you like.” An expression of suspicion did not so much creep across Kaiev’s face as run across it, shouting and waving placards saying I don’t believe you, you’re up to something! McCoy was delighted, and kept his own face straight. “No thank you, MahKhoi,” Kaiev said. “We will manage our own investigation of this planet. Shall we speak further on this?”Or in other words, ‘Wanna fight?’ “No, heavens, why should we?” McCoy said, waving a hand languidly. “You go right ahead. But listen,” he added, “you watch out for those trees, now. And the rocks.” He leaned forward a little as he said the word, and waggled his eyebrows at the Klingon. The second page says: “I must ask you. What has happened to Kirk?” McCoy paused for a moment, then sighed heavily and leaned back in the center seat again, looking down. “I killed him,” he said. “In a duel. Very sad.” And he looked up then, and gave Kaiev a long cool look from under his brows. “I do so hate killing my friends,” he said. Kaiev looked at him for a long moment. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, McCoy sighed again and said, quite cheerfully, “At any rate, Commander, if we can help you with any little thing, don’t hesitate to call. Enterprise out.” And he glanced over at Uhura, who killed the circuit. The screen went back to showing starfield again. There was a rather stunned silence on the Bridge. Then the laughter broke out. McCoy let it go on for a few moments, then said, “All right, everybody, hush up now!” They got quiet. “That should give us a few minutes to breathe,” he said, “since they’ll now think the Enterprise is being commanded by a raving loon. Perhaps even a homicidal raving loon, which would be even better.” “I think you are wise,” Spock said, “not to let them know that the Captain is missing. They would certainly perceive that as a weakness, perhaps a fatal one, on our part.” “Spock,” McCoy said, smiling a bit, “I may be just an old country doctor, but I know enough not to tell my patients that I don’t know how to cure them. Why, half of them cure themselves just because they think I’m doing it. Saves me no end of trouble, and it’s cheaper than placebos.” End ID]

Please witness the proper way to deal with Klingons. Every interaction between Bones and Kaiev is so funny.

[Text ID: “All right,” McCoy said. He sighed. “Ladies and gentlemen and others, I would prefer nothing untoward to happen in the next fifteen minutes. End ID]

And finally, I just really appreciate Bones being gender-inclusive.

Give this book a read, y’all!

#doctors orders #diane duane #star trek tos #star trek books #star trek novels #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #spones #but not romantically #just as corworkers who banter and support each other through horrible situations

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