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modern-day-bard · 6 months ago

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Other Duties as Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanficiton

Content Warning: 18+ Minors, do not interact. This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut.

Chapter 12: Harmony

word count: 4.7k

Joel

My shoulder blade feels as though it’s going to be cracked in half, and still, the door doesn’t budge. I scream her name repeatedly, though the response is always the same.

Silence.

Dull, aching, life-changing silence. Finally, with one final shove, the door is open, and I stumble in to find her, curled up on the floor. I know already, of course, because a sleeping person would have woken up by now. But still, I fall to my knees, and try to wake her. I keep screaming, telling her to wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up, “WAKE UP!”

A sharp inhale enters my lungs, and I shoot up in my bed. I’m in my room, alone, covered in sweat.

Well, not my room, technically. My room in Gwen’s apartment. The light outside is almost a cobalt blue, showing just the beginning signs of morning. I fall back against my pillows, squeezing my eyes as though doing so can cleanse the memory out of me.

Six. That makes six nights in a row with the same dream. Certainly not the first time I’ve ever had it, but the first time in a few years. And definitely the first time I’ve had it this consistently.

It wouldn’t take a shrink for me to figure out it’s because of that scare with Gwen. It had been so long that I’d felt like that. Covering someone’s body with mine, knowing that I’m the only one who stands between them and harm’s way. Then the complete embarrassment after understanding that an older woman with a loose grip on her champagne glass was the threat I was so worried about. But that was the troubling thing. Even after I knew it was nothing, I didn’t feel like I overreacted. I never took my eyes off her for the rest of the night. Even though Gwen has cooled it with some of her revealing clothing to keep my eyes at bay, they still never falter. And they wouldn’t, should she choose to go back to lounging in the apartment in silky pajamas that could almost be classified as lingerie. It wouldn’t matter. I’m not letting her out of my sight.

I was afraid of something happening to her. And that fear woke me up.

I had reviewed over two hundred of Russell Corp’s employees, familiarizing myself particularly with those working on the radio side of things. I remembered the names that Gwen had called perverts, Ralph and Murphy. Thankfully, they worked in entertainment. So beyond night’s like tonight—Wednesday dinners—she shouldn’t have to see them. As for the others, if anyone unsuspected should show up, I’d be able to realize it before they become a threat.

It’s 5:30 in the morning. Normally I would head off for a workout, but I can’t risk Gwen sneaking out if I go up to the gym. I still feel like I should give Tommy a call and try to get my head screwed on tight, but it's even earlier back in Texas right now. Knowing Tommy, he’d be rolling out of bed five minutes before he had to leave for work. And that wouldn’t be for a few hours. I settle for some core strengthening workouts in the living room, doing my best to be quiet while moving through a few sets of pushups and crunches. Forty-five minutes later, I’ve worked up a sweat that wasn’t induced by a bad night’s sleep. Walking back down the hall, I’m wiping a bead of it off my brow with the bottom of my shirt when something collides with my chest.

“Ow,” Gwen grumbles, voice still raspy from sleep. Instinctively, my arms shoot out to steady her, but I drop them quickly afterwards.

“I’m sorry,” my voice is raw. I try to clear my throat a couple times. “Uh, are you on your way to the shower?”

Gwen blinks, taking a step back, her eyes flickering to my chest. The hem of my shirt is still pulled up from a moment ago, fully exposing my torso. I clear my throat for the third time, pulling it down to cover me again. Now Gwen can seemingly look anywhere except for me. She settles on one of the picture frames to my left.

“No, you can go ahead. Thanks.” She turns sideways, moving past me. That wasn’t the type of response I was expecting. Maybe she would have been nicer if I had always caught her earlier in the morning.

When my hand is on the handle of the bathroom, I turn to see her still standing in the hall, her back towards me. She shifts her weight back and forth, as she often does when she’s contemplating something. I wait, and sure enough, she turns around.

“Mr. Miller—” she calls, pausing to lower her voice when she realizes I haven’t closed the door yet.

“Yes?” I fold my arms across my chest, leaning against the doorframe.

“Did you…Have you been sleeping okay?” Gwen just about cringes as she asks it. My spine goes rigid. Is this girl psychic or something?

“Fine. I slept fine.”

She doesn't buy it. Not one bit. But her response lacks her usual bite. “We can make other accommodations if you need something different.”

I can’t hide the confusion on my face. “Everything is fine, Miss Russell.”

She nods, and for a moment I think we’re done. But it’s Gwen, so of course we’re not. “I thought I heard something the night before last. And this early morning too–”

“Miss Russell,” I say, more firmly than I’ve ever addressed her. “Thank you. But I’m fine, ma’am.”

Her eyes spark, but it’s not anger this time. We’re too far from each other to tell. But the way she’s drawing in breath, short and heavy…

I pull away from the doorframe, backing into the bathroom once more. It’s too early for this.

“Just as you said,” she adds, tapping a fingernail against the hallway, “Thin walls.” And then she leaves to enter the kitchen, and my stomach nearly drops out of my ass.

Had I made noise in my sleep? God forbid, had I yelled? Cried? The thought of it has me clenching my jaw hard enough to hear a pop. And could this be a ploy for her somehow? She looked genuinely concerned. I’d seen her interact with enough people to know that her hostility was mainly reserved for me, and occasionally Daniel or William. With her friends and the rest of the staff she was…lovely. Thoughtful. Shockingly down-to-earth for someone of her status. We may be on better terms than how we started, but that wasn’t saying much. I’m too suspicious to think that we have some sort of fresh start.

Luckily, I had an entire day of waiting outside of Gwen’s office to worry about it.

- - -

They cart her around for meetings occasionally, and I act simply as her shadow. We might catch each other’s eye throughout the day, but it’s brief. Just passing by, as if confirming the other is still there. I am grateful that it’s a passing glance over a glare at this point.

We don’t speak until we’re back in the car at seven o’clock, when she remembers, with a curse under her breath, that we’re on our way to her father’s house.

“Do you know the guest list?” It takes me a moment to realize she’s asking me.

“It’s the same as the week before.”

“Wonderful,” she drones, sinking low in her seat. I can’t help but watch her, even if all I can see is part of her legs in my periphery. My worries about what she did or didn’t hear transform into something else. I picture William’s unapologetic smirk when his daughter complained about the men he had allowed in their home, and I grip my leg through my jeans tight enough to cause pain. He hired someone to protect her yet he holds the door open for people who make her uncomfortable. I doubt she asks about the list purely out of curiosity.

As usual, Gwen doesn’t look distressed walking in. Her shiny hair mimics her silk shirt, swaying as she strides through the doors. Just like the last two times, Ezra looks at her like she is the messiah. Which to him, maybe she is.

“Miss Russell! Welcome. Mr. Miller, good to see you again.”

“Just Joel, please. Good to see you, too.” That’s the third time Ezra ignored my first-name-basis request, and I don’t think it’ll be the last.

I help Gwen out of her jacket, and to my surprise, she snatches it from me before I can put it on the hanger, and she does it herself.

“Ezra, can you be sure Mr. Miller gets a plate in the kitchen?”

Okay, now I’m even more surprised.

“Absolutely,” he gives me a glowing smile.

I position myself to be slightly in front of Gwen in the foyer, because right on cue…

“Gwenny! How was work?” Daniel has to peer around me to find her, but as he does, I move to her side, creating a barrier between her and one of his forced hugs. A hug that always leads to him with a hand resting on her lower back.

“Well, work isn’t over if I’m here, is it?” Gwen barely needs me to stand between the two of them. Her words and pococurante attitude build up a shield in no time.

He tries to remain quick-witted, shooting me a look. “Aw, is dinner coming between you and a little shopping?”

“If you can part with your hand for a few hours, I can part with my Amex all the same.”

I cough into my fist, hiding a laugh. I can feel Gwen’s curious eyes watching me, as well as the rage rolling off of Daniel’s tense shoulders.

“On second thought, Ezra,” she says, tossing a smile in his direction, “I’ll show Mr. Miller to the kitchen myself,” Gwen wraps her hand around the crook of my elbow, pulling us away from a dumbfounded Daniel. He doesn’t have anything to say as we leave him in the foyer.

We walk in silence down the long hallway to the bustling kitchen, and Gwen doesn’t let go of my arm until she escorts me to a barstool next to one of the two islands.

“Melissa is the head chef. She should be around here somewhere, but regardless, they’ll have an extra plate for you.” She pats her hand against the marble, like she wants to say something else. I’m just close to laughing again over the fact that this was an option the past few weeks. I would have happily eaten here instead of making a sandwich once we got home.

“Thank you,” I say instead.

“Don’t mention it,” she slides her hand across the back of the barstool now, hesitating. “Thanks for getting in Daniel’s way. He can be…”

“A jackass?” I shouldn’t have said it out loud. Especially not in the kitchen with half a dozen staff working nearby.

But her face brightens, making a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.

“A jackass on a good day.”

“Don’t mention it,” I repeat her words, smirking despite myself. “And you seem to handle him just fine.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll go tattle and I’ll pay for it later I’m sure,” she stares off through the doorway, down the hall for a minute before her features snap back into place, prepping for whatever awaits her in the dining room. “Enjoy your meal.”

“You too,” I say, knowing that enjoyment is way too big an expectation.

She huffs a soft laugh before leaving me behind. I catch myself taking a step after her, wishing I could go, too. I want to know where she’s going to sit, or rather, whom she’ll have to sit next to. I also want to know what they’re going to say to her, and I’d pay to hear what she’ll say back.

The clink of a plate pulls my attention back to the island, where a middle-aged woman is smiling at me.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks.

“Hey. Just Joel, please.” I extend my hand to her.

“Melissa, nice to meet you. I’m about to plate their starters but I wanted to introduce myself real quick. If you need anything else, let me know.” She gives me another smile, which I return, before she ventures off to another part of the kitchen. What I realize now is that there are two kitchens. I had memorized the blueprint layout in terms of exit points, but I didn’t recognize before that I was in the back kitchen, used for prep. The large doorway to my right led into the kitchen that would usually be used by the family, except I would bet a week’s salary that William had never stepped foot in there in his life. Judging by what I’d seen Gwen make for herself, and what I’d seen her personal shopper leave for her, I’m guessing she was rarely in there herself.

I’m thankful that the staff around me is busy, because I eat this meal like I’ve been stranded. It rivaled the one that I had at La Grenouille, and I was scarfing it down like crazy. I think it’s lamb maybe? It’s damn good, whatever it is.

The issue with finishing my meal so quickly is that I know I have some serious time to kill. Last time I was here I did a sweep of the basement, which was mainly storage and laundry. I may have spent some additional time down there doing more research on Murphy and Ralph. It was frustrating, even with Angus’ connections, how little we could find. Angus was able to look a little deeper than an average web search, and he found a few blind items from HR, and some whispers about Gwen calling them out several weeks ago at a charity event. Beyond that, there was nothing.

I take my time moving through the first floor of the house, ending up in the study for the second time. I peruse through their bookshelves, noting several first editions being displayed as if they were nothing more than cookbooks from the thrift store. After a few minutes, I find myself next to that locked door once again. Gwen had said that it was nearly impossible to get it open, yet I still try the handle. Maybe this wasn’t strange to people like William, to lock doors in your own home. There were, afterall, many staff members and a constant revolving door of guests. He could have valuables inside. But my suspicion grows when I think about the books I just saw sitting out in the open library. There could be valuables in a sentimental sense…but he doesn’t seem like the type.

I jiggle the handle again, noting that it requires both a passcode and a key to open. Part of me thinks that the reason for my suspicion is simply to pass time. Part of me thinks it’s odd to hide away your private office when everything around me looks expensive enough to pawn, and any electronics he had in there would likely be highly password protected. So, what’s the point?

I tap my finger on the passcode block, prompting it to illuminate. I think of possible combinations like his birth year or Gwen’s. My hand falters, unsure if I should simply ask to view the room as a safety precaution. But I don’t have an excuse here beyond curiosity and that weird, nagging feeling in my stomach. I start to type in William’s birth year and press the green checkmark before I can second-guess myself. The light around the block turns bright red, and three quick warning buzzes sound off, prompting me to yank my hand—

“Uh, Mr. Miller,” I’m startled, cursing myself for not remembering that I didn’t hear Gwen approach last time either. Ezra meets my surprised expression with one of equal apprehension.

“I’m sorry but no one is allowed in that room.”

“I was just curious…” I had no other excuse, I guess.

“I’m not allowed, um, I’m not supposed to let anyone in here alone, either.”

Interesting.

“No worries, Ezra.” I follow him out into the hall, and he promptly closes the door behind me. His unease makes me wonder how he faces William every day. He’s organized, attentive, clearly good at his job. But I would think that a boss like that could make things difficult.

“I’m just trying to pass the time,” I offer, hoping he can relax a little. “I like exploring when I can. It makes the job easier.”

“I understand. Have you been upstairs?”

“Yes, briefly to confirm the layout a few weeks ago.”

“Well, if you’re still trying to pass the time, you’re welcome to check out the swimming pool on this floor or any of the guest spaces upstairs. There’s a theater as well.”

I had known this, of course, from the blueprints. But hearing him say there is a swimming pool in a New York City townhouse so casually still makes me want to choke.

“Thank you, Ezra. I’ll do a lap.”

“Lovely. I’ll be in the foyer or the kitchen if you need anything.” He scurries off before I can reply, and I decide to take the back stairwell.

The second floor is just as ornate and regal as the first, if slightly more intimate. I take my time now where I hadn’t before. Looking at the paintings and photographs on the walls, stopping into the first two guest rooms to see how the decor differs from the rest of the house. The closer I get to the main staircase, the more personal the photos become. I recognize Isla now, smiling broadly at the camera while she guides a horse with a curly haired blonde girl on top. It must be Gwen. She’s smiling not at the camera, but at her mom. In the photo next to it, a younger version of William stands behind a preteen Gwen. Both of them are next to a burly man standing behind a young, brunette boy. From my research, I’m assuming it’s Daniel and his father, Edward. Arthur’s packet of information told me they had been partners for quite some time. Maybe that explains Daniel’s general asshole-ry. He doesn’t feel that he is as replaceable as the others.

I turn down one of the alcoves in the hallway to find two rooms opposite each other. From the floorplan, the one on the left is a bedroom, and the one on the right is an office. I open the bedroom door first, but I don’t dare cross the threshold when I realize that it’s Gwen’s. If I wouldn’t have known from the rack of clothes and mixture of modern and antique decor, I would know by the smell. Vanilla with a hint of the outdoors. The type of freshness that can sometimes be lost in the city. Also the type of freshness that can bring on the occasional bout of homesickness. It’s the same that I smell when she passes by me in the morning, or we stand next to each other in the elevator. I take one more deep inhale before turning to the door adjacent to it.

The office. An office that has no desk, no computer, no file cabinets. In its place is the most expensive grand piano I’ve ever seen. I’m drawn into the room just by the sight of it. On the wall behind the piano are more photos of Isla, but from her childhood. There’s an obvious difference in these pictures. Isla mostly on farmland in overalls, one picture from a piano recital, and another of her behind the counter of a diner. None of them posed, just curated by a natural progression of life instead of an aesthetic.

When I turn to look at the other wall, I notice the only chair in the room besides the piano bench. The chair is seated next to a lone guitar, propped up on a stand. My chest tightens. I glance quickly at the doorway, and listen. Nothing. I close the door somewhat, leaving it open only a crack, and take a seat next to the guitar.

After returning to the states, playing was the first thing I wanted to do. It was something I only ever wanted to do alone, and I rarely had alone time at the embassy. Much less a guitar. I hadn’t had nearly enough time at home to actually play, and damn, I miss it.

I handle it with care, assuming it probably costs more than my house. It needed some serious tuning, but after a few minutes, she sounds good as new. I strum quietly, mindlessly, long enough to close my eyes. Letting the soft sounds soothe me as they always had. I know that I could afford one now and leave it in the apartment, but it wouldn’t feel right. I felt the need to be strong around Gwen, hoping it would ground her in a sense. I don’t see anything grounding and tough about a security officer who plays music before bed.

Before I know it, I hum along with the forging melody. With my eyes closed, I can picture being at home, in the fresh air, the birds chirping in the distance. I can drown out the sound of footsteps.

Shit. The sound of footsteps.

I hastily place the guitar back on its stand, striding across the room to look once more at the photos. Honestly, I’m not sure if that’s any better.

The door creaks open behind me, and I turn to see Gwen.

I half-expected it to be Ezra, come to tell me that this area was also off-limits. I’m a little surprised that she would come up here at all. She never seems to want to visit, so I didn’t think she’d do much exploring on her own.

“Why’d you stop?” she asks, and my heart drops.

“Stop what?”

As if playing dumb will work. Great call, Miller.

Gwen arches a brow. “I haven’t heard music coming from this room in over a decade. Either I’m crazy, or I heard you playing something.”

“I was just looking at the pictures…” I gesture vaguely to the different photographs along the wall.

She just stares at me as I cross and uncross my arms, twice.

“Okay, yes. I apologize, I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“It’s fine,” Gwen’s face relaxes, speaking in a tone so gentle I didn’t know she was capable of. “You’re not overstepping. It’s…nice to hear something come out of here for once.”

Oh. Not what I expected from her at all.

“Did she play?” I incline my head toward one of her mom’s pictures, before that pit in my stomach returns. A pit that wonders why I’m asking, why I’m pushing the boundaries.

Gwen’s features look only somewhat shocked that I asked. Or maybe…excited? “She played piano. Beautifully. But guitar?” She lets out a small giggle that practically demands a laugh out of me even though I’m not a part of the joke, “She was absolutely horrible. She kept that one out of nostalgia. It was her dad’s. They used to play together.”

“Her dad’s? I shouldn’t have touched it. It’s an heirloom…”

Gwen’s eyes grow sad, glancing at that corner of the room. “Maybe. But it’s collecting dust.”

She continues to look at that empty chair in a way that is almost disappointed. In this light, surrounded by memories of her loved ones, her entire appearance seems more vulnerable. Maybe it’s that vulnerability that propels me forward, asking more questions I shouldn’t.

“Was she just as strong-willed as you?” My voice is almost a whisper.

At first, Gwen glances at me with genuine surprise, and possibly a little appreciation. Then, she looks towards the piano. A nostalgic smile spreads across her face, lighting up her eyes in a way I’ve never seen. “Not at all, actually. She was soft-spoken. Kind. She made everyone else soft around her, too,” Her gaze is relaxed, focused on something far off and intangible, “People always think the most powerful person in the room is the one who speaks the loudest or the harshest but…she was so inspiring. The way the entire room would quiet to hear her ideas, her jokes, her opinions…there was nothing more powerful than that.” Her voice cracks slightly, and for the second time tonight I feel the need to step closer to her. Only this time, I restrain it.

Something seems to pull her back into the present moment, and she looks at me again. “Sorry. It’s been a while since anyone has asked about her. I tend to…ramble.”

“I asked. Don’t be sorry. ” I want to kick myself for just reiterating what she said. Especially when I want to tell her that I’d like her to ramble more often, whenever she feels like it.

“How did you know she was gone?” It wasn’t accusatory, just curiosity.

“It’s my job to know your inner circle. To make sure I know the people you surround yourself with. Arthur provided me with the basics, and when those included your father and not your mother, I did some digging…” I drag a hand down my face, “It doesn’t feel right to say that after you know someone has passed.”

“Feels like you're a grave digger?” Humor sparks her eyes now, and I feel a bit of relief that the sadness has dissipated.

“A bit, yeah.”

She lets out a short laugh. “If anyone is being a bit of a grave digger, it’s not you.”

Gwen’s eyes widen a little, holding each other’s gaze for a minute as her smile drops. But she speaks before I can ask her what she meant.

“Well,” she clears her throat, “Dinner is over. In the spirit of…sharing, I suppose, I want to let you know in advance that we’ll be attending a wedding next weekend.”

“Oh,” Wouldn’t she have known about that sooner? “That seems last minute. Uh, thank you for telling me.”

“It is last minute. I wasn’t invited before, but my father is on a ‘smoothing it over’ streak, and thanks to these dinner parties, I have to go.”

“I see. Who’s wedding is it?”

“Murphy Schuyler. He’s marrying Annabelle…something. They’ve been dating for a long time.”

“Murphy Schuyler as in the man downstairs? The pervert?”

Again, she looks surprised. “You remember that? Yes, the pervert. One in the same.”

I didn’t know what he had done, and not that Gwen lacked hyperbole, but I remember her briefly hopeful face several weeks ago when I told her I could keep them away if she asked. That was all the confirmation I needed. And now her father is forcing her to attend his wedding?

“Of course I remember. I didn’t think you’d be expected to go.”

“Yeah, well, me neither. Annabelle certainly isn’t happy about it,” she picks at her nails, “Anyway, I thought you should know. You’ll have to pack a bag, it’s up in Vermont. We leave next Friday and the rehearsal dinner is that night. We’ll return on Sunday.”

“Copy that.”

She gives me a quick nod, pausing as she turns to leave, “Also, you’ll need to get a tux.”

“How do you know I don’t have one?”

The allure of a challenge pulls at the corner of her mouth as her eyes scan me up and down. Heat prickles my skin at the inspection.

“Your daily wardrobe would lead me to believe you’re lacking in formal attire,” she turns, whipping her hair behind her, “You’re welcome to try and prove me wrong.”

She was right. As usual.

I catch myself smiling at the doorway she’d just been inhabiting, before I essentially smack myself in the face to wipe it off. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. It would be okay to enjoy my work a little, right? To engage with my client?

Engaging in what way? I wouldn’t explore that now. Nor would I be exploring the instinctual desire that swirls in my stomach.

That can wait. Indefinitely.

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

#joel miller #joel tlou #tlou au #tlou fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #other duties as assigned

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floral-moon-light · 1 year ago

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QSMP Philza update, go watch the Wednesday the 25th and Friday 27th updates if you don't want to be spoiled.

Nothing really major happened Wensday, philza went exploring for a bit after getting on to see if there was more black concrete, which there was.

He then spawns in his Minime who he later names Little Twat (not a joke).

Then he spends an hour and a half with Fit and Tubbo talking to the new Cururucho AI at spawn, occasionally getting flirted at, told stuff that could not be true and such, and trying to exploit the AI.

They then went to lucky duck before returning to spawn because Tubbo needed to get his minime Kitkat back after it randomly disappeared. So a random fed. worker came, had Tubbo dance then Phil got board and decided to work on leveling his minime, leading him to dig down under spawn to tr and find iron I believe leading him to drop down into a massive wold edit hole. Cucurucho then joins Phil stares at the strange area before giving Phil a quest to build an aquarium.

Phil then went off to gather materials and mobs for the aquarium, was joined by Fit for a while before Fit leaves, after which Phil spends a few minutes exploring before returning to spawn near the nino to "build the aquarium," if you count an outdoor aquarium with 5 tanks and no other infrastructure. However it counted so Cucurucho have Phil his requested building block rainbow glass or at least the components for it. Phil then went to gather sand for the glass, spent time looking at glitched terain for an hour or so. After which he headed home, hat a none cannon chat with BadBoyHalo and Royer about whether the Brazil or Vagus trips were better, before Phil went off to do a few cores before getting off for the day at the nest.

Friday had some lore happen, but it was nothing major or egg related. If anything it related back to the bird cage with the "wise crow" comment.

To give a better flow of events, Phil woke up, decided to work on upgrading his now 2 mini me's, affectionately called Little Twat, and Little Shit (normally, I would censor a curse, but the name is the curse word so...). With Little Shot asking for a weird mushroom (twice.). After doing some of the Minime quests he went home, had an existential crisis due to the black concrete at his face spreading, then went inside to check the message chest, finding nothing. Then while doing further checks he found strange vines on the inside walls of Tallulah's seed garden, which he followed to the back wall to find a picture of a skull with vines on it and a book asking if Phil remembers his time before the server and promising help.

Side note, I personally want to say that that is Kristen, the goddess of death, trying to communicate with him. It seems to out of place to be the federation, and with how different Phil's ticket is from the rest it has to point to outside interference. And one of Kristen's main ways of talking with Phil previously when lore related back to his wife revolved around crows. So her leaving a critic crow book? Seems plausible.

Plus, sleep is often described as the line between life and death.

Phill took some pictures then called Fit to come see, with Pac joining along, only for when Phil brought them to the area of the message to find it gone like it was never there and all his proof gone. This sent Phil into a minor panic that he tried to brush off, even though booth Fit and Pac believed Phil had seen something.

To get his mind off that, Phil joined Pac and Fit's dungeon crawl, during which he lost his shield, before the group separated after completing the odd triple dungeon with Phil exploring a bit to find materially to replace his shield, followed by minime item collection, a brief dungeon raid, raiding egg backpacks to get the means to get a minime item (a type of mushroom), before he goes hole, does a brief check of stops the eggs loved, ended up back at the dream spot, before going home and getting off.

Also, on the 29th, two messages's appeared on the QSMP Twitter involving the 4th, one involves the train station, one seems to involve Cheyanne.

No clue what it means, other then something happening November 4th.

Good night all.

#qsmp philza #qsmp lore #qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp tubbo #qsmp pac #qsmp mini me #qsmp cucurucho #The wise crow

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kookaburra1701 · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday - Nostos

Tagged by @dirty-bosmer and @skyrim-forever tyty friends

I am tagging @thana-topsy @greyborn2 @gilgamish @mareenavee

Fandom: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: T (blood and violence, mushy stuff [kissin' not viscera]) Category: M/F Genre(s): Romance Main characters/Pairing: Borgakh the Steel Heart, Khemor gro-Skaven (Male orc LDB)

Summary: Khemor gro-Skaven thought that after he defeated Alduin, he would not have to worry about anything more dangerous than a quill knife for the rest of his existence. But when the jarl of the Pale asks him to investigate the destruction of the Hall of the Vigilants, it sets off a chain of events that ultimately leads him to wash up at the feet of Borgakh the Steel-Heart of Mor Khazgur. But what can a crippled conjuration mage-scholar half again her age possibly offer to a future Shield-Wife?

Previous Nostos snippets posted on Tumblr are available under the story tag, here.

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The road split up ahead, with one branch climbing to the city gates, and the other descending to the docks. Solitude harbor had once been described to Khemor as filled with lights at night, with ships arriving and leaving from the great East Empire Company Warehouse at all hours, bound for far off ports. With the expulsion of the Legion and all agents of the Empire from Skyrim, the warehouse stood empty, and instead of the massive galleons a few Nordic longboats and fishing vessels were moored in the waters below, dwarfed by the infrastructure intended for much larger trade.

If all goes as planned, the harbor should be seeing activity again soon. Khemor spared a thought for Ulfric. At least he had been able to lay a good foundation for the trade negotiations currently taking place between House Redoran and the Throne of Ysgramor.

Long shadows stretched in front of them, and Khemor spared the magicka for a candlelight spell as they climbed towards the city.

The scars of war were still visible: new paving stones where old ones had been dislodged or destroyed by siege engines, new rock in the ramparts that stood stark and white against the mossy green of old masonry, and half-torn down barricades now repurposed into makeshift guard shelters. On the walls bright blue and silver banners with the snarling bear of Ulfric Stormcloak fluttered in the sea breeze, revealing the burnt remnants of the crimson banners beneath them only when a particularly stiff gust moved them aside.

Two soldiers stood at attention before the gatehouse: one in the red surcoat of Solitude and the other in Stormcloak colors. As they approached, the man in blue stepped forward and saluted. “Dragonborn! It’s an honor.”

Khemor nodded in acknowledgement. Two of the figures seated around the brazier against the wall stood, and Khemor’s light illuminated Calder’s face as he approached. Next to him was another of Ulfric’s soldiers, this one in the regalia of an officer. Gregor dismounted, and he helped Khemor from Blue’s saddle as Calder took her reins. Khemor could hear Borgakh’s boots hit the paving stones behind them.

“Dragonborn, your housecarl arrived at the Blue Palace while I was giving a report to Jarl Bryling; I thought I should greet you personally.” With his bearskin hood thrown back, the man’s piercing blue eyes and short, blond braids stood out in the gloom. Khemor recognized him from among the throng at Whiterun, one of many hopeful young faces from Galmar’s squad staring up at him in awe as he stood next to Ulfric before the battle commenced.

“Commander Ralof,” Khemor clasped the man’s arm firmly. “I thank you for your welcome.”

Ralof’s smile grew wider and Khemor was thankful his memory had supplied the man’s name.

“I’d like to extend the hospitality of the Stormcloak detachment here in Solitude as well, Dragonborn. We have quarters available for you and your retinue in Castle Dour.”

“The inn would require three flights of stairs, likewise the Blue Palace,” Calder murmured next to him. “It is a bit of a walk from the gate.”

#hot orc summer #fic: nostos #oc: khemor gro-skaven #skyrim fanfiction #kb writes #it's not easy being green #wip wednesday #skyrim #tesblr #borgakh the steel heart #hot orc always #orctober

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runakamoran · 11 months ago

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wip wednesday bits

(starting another fnaf fic between As the Sun Drowns and... all my other wips. this one won't be too long, I hope. set after "Leave/Alley" ending of SB).

He always knew he would die like this. Abandoned in a dark, deserted alley, in dirt and blood, spewing curses. But dying now, after That Night, after all the hiding, chasing, intricate planning, after everything he had done just to get out and survive - dying now was bitter, insulting and unfair.

That's why he fought. He struggled, even knowing he would not overcome the strong, skillful hands closed around his neck.

...he actually did it. He ran away, he was free. He survived until six in the morning, despite his chances being so low. He flew out from the front doors and into the streets, and ran, ran, ran until his knees gave out. The sun hadn't risen yet, and the world around was still sleeping. The cold air scratched his throat. Gregory stopped to catch his breath in a secluded corner between the office building, coffee shop and bus stop.

Spring was already coming in full bloom, but the chilly wind wasn't gone yet and reigned until sunrise. Usually he hated this kind of weather - the dampness and sudden rains forced him to change shelters frequently. But now the wind was pleasantly refreshing, cooling his sweat-soaked back. Not caring about the possibility of getting sick, he took off his hoodie, put it under him and sat down to rest.

It was almost unreal to watch the streets around waking up and coming back to life. He felt like the night would never end and his flight would continue; and yet, there he is. It was surprisingly pleasant to return and wander again under the gray open sky, among the trash-filled alleys of Hurricane.

(he was distracted, so absorbed in the feeling of freedom, he didn't notice a familiar figure in a queue nearby. A sleepy young woman, in a windbreaker and a long skirt, was lost in her smartphone and looked like she simply stopped on her way to work to grab some coffee. But under the hood, her hungry green eyes watched him closely).

However, Gregory knew he couldn’t stop. As soon as the first workers of Pizzaplex reach their workplaces, there's gonna be a big ass scandal. You see, he wasn't very... careful, trying to survive the night. And if the overturned furniture and some stolen things can be overlooked, the sight of expensive animatronics broken to pieces will cause a massive heart attack among the management. Honestly, Gregory was a bit proud of himself. Not many people his age can cause millions of property damage in just six hours!

...anyway, he better not be around when the fuss starts. Police from all over the state will probably swarm the place.

He definitely won't miss this place; however, there was something left behind so very painful to tear away from yourself. He tried not to think about Freddy, the only friend who carried him through the whole nightmare. It was pathetic, to be attached to a being incapable of experiencing and understanding human emotions. To crave love and attention from a soulless machine, just because this robot was the only one showing him kindness. He still wanted to believe Freddy was capable of more than given program, but what could he know? He's just a random waif.

He walked past a few more blocks before the sleepless night took its toll. His eyes were closing from fatigue. Adrenaline kept him on feet, but now, out of danger, exhaustion caught up on him and hit with the force of a truck. Yawning, the boy was looking for a place to sleep. It was another dark alley, lost between two apartment buildings, far enough from the roadway so its noise wouldn't be too disturbing. He fished out a fairly large box from the trash and hid under it. The cardboard bed wasn't exactly comfortable, but now it doesn't really matter. Curled up like a homeless kitten, the boy put his arm under his head and almost immediately fell asleep.

(wandering half asleep, he didn't notice a car following him. An old, unremarkable Ford drove circles around the block, as if accidentally riding past him again and again. However, in the end the boy disappeared among the residential blocks, and the clumsy car stopped in the parking lot. The woman behind the wheel had finished her preparations and now, pulling out a hunting knife, was polishing it with impatience. She was lost in thought and couldn't decide what to do next.

It's fine. This area is small. She'll have enough time to get around it and find the boy. Then, all that remains is to wait for the best moment, when the neighbourhood goes to sleep).

Living on the street taught him to sleep lightly. Even in deep exhaustion, among obscure dreams, he could distinguish the creaking of tires and the distant hum of human voices. They intertwined with strange pictures in his head.

...it seems like he was hitch-hiking оn the road again, in the middle of night for some reason. But no one stopped, rare cars whistled past, so he had to walk. A large dog was lying on the sidewalk, its head crushed. The roadkill was surrounded by white rabbits greedily gnawing on it. Noticing the boy, they hissed, baring bloody teeth.

He tossed and turned in his sleep. Someone slammed the lid of a dumpster.

(she had to prowl the area for several hours before finally finding her prey. The boy was good at hiding. If she had not wandered into this corner to throw away bloodstained clothes and used gloves, she would've never seen him. He was sleeping restlessly, securely hidden from prying eyes by a piles of garbage and bins. In his face she could see how much the last night drained him. Gray skin with wrinkles unusual for his age, deep circles under the eyes, sunken cheeks, old bandage still hunging on one. Poor thing. So tired he won’t resist for long.

The woman fished out her knife from under her skirt and sank down next to the boy. After so many long, painful hours, the chase ended. The streets were hidden in evening shadow, so no one would see her work. Her hands trembled and heart fluttered in anticipation. She was thirsty, having no taste of blood for so long.

Although, she also felt a vague sadness deep down. This intense hunt full of surprises was so exciting she didn’t want it to end. Usually her victims gave up quickly - they stumbled, made mistakes, froze in fear and doomed themselves. This boy however, was different. Not only did he survive her labyrinth, he was able to trick her, a seasoned serial killer, and escape. To jeopardize everything she had built for so long. To achieve a feat like this, you'll need a certain talent with a dash of mad luck. She had to admit, despite all the trouble he had caused, she had a certain... respect for him.

But she couldn't just let the boy live. He's seen too much.

The woman was restlessly fiddling with the knife in her hands when an idea struck her. No, an IDEA. A spontaneous, stunning and completely mind-blowing IDEA, just the way she likes it.

Biting her tongue to hold back a pleased laugh, she put the blade back in its sheath. Not today, old friend. Today she'll need a different tool. There was an emergency ampoule of propofol prepared in the car).

...weird rabbits huddled together, threw themselves at his feet, tried to bite. Small red eyes glowed angrily in the darkness. He kicked it, and the animal jumped away, whining. The whole pack backed away for a moment, but quickly attacked him again, more aggressively than before. The boy backed down and tried to scare them away, but it didn’t work. One of the rabbits sunked its teeth in his ankle. In pain and surprise, Gregory fell into the mud. The rabbits hissed and surrounded him.

The gravel crunched behind, a shadow flashed over him - someone crouched next to him. It was a young woman in a long skirt and windbreaker with the hood pulled over her face. She gently patted one of the animals. Gregory wanted to say something, but couldn't. She turned to him sharply, animal muzzle sticking out from under the hood.

The rabbit-headed girl dug her nails in his face, and the boy opened his eyes.

He didn't see, more like felt that someone was nearby. Gut feelings rarely failed him, and Gregory trusted his instincts. So he immediately got up to his feet and looked around. Another night came, everything was dark and quiet. Cars whizzed by from afar. The light of a distant lamp post barely reached the alley, only a lonely beam snatched out the shadows. Gregory leaned against the dumpster he'd been sleeping behind and looked out. The motionless figure immediately darted around the corner. He caught a glimpse of a long hem for a second.

Already frightened by the nightmare, the heart jumped and stuck in his throat. The boy backed away. Deciding not to risk it, he run in the opposite direction. The alley snaked between buildings and fences and disappeared into the darkness. He kept close to the wall and weaved his way between trash cans and drainpipes. He could already see the empty street ahead.

Someone pulled him by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back into the alley. A strong gloved hand covered his mouth and threw the head back. A needle bit deeply in the neck. Reacting quickly, Gregory did what he always does in an unequal fight. Grabbing the palm holding him, he sank his teeth into it with all his might. Surgical gloves may have helped to be more sneaky, but didn't give any protection. A faint female scream, the grip loosened. A disposable syringe fell at his feet.

Ignoring the sudden weakness, Gregory fought back, kicked and struggled as best he could. Realizing she's loosing her hold, the woman grabbed him by the hair. Turning around, she slammed the boy's head into the nearest wall.

The black sky shattered, stars and sparks scattered before his vision, the houses melted in fog. Legs suddenly gave way, but his limp body was immediately picked up. One hand covered his mouth again, the other's elbow squeezed his neck. Wheezing weakly, the boy was desperately scratching her, even knowing he had no chance. Reality was floating away, his buzzing head spinning, eyes closing on their own. Before falling into the darkness, he noticed her sharp chin, strands of blond hair on his shoulder. There was a human face under the hood after all; but what's hidden behind it was a different matter entirely.

The woman turned, looking around like a coyote on a hunt. The street stayed quiet. No one noticed their small scuffle.

#fanfic #fanfiction #wip wednesday #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf vanny #fnaf gregory

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fizzingwizard · 10 months ago

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work n stuff

This was crunch week at work before graduation. I usually stay late to do stuff, but boy, did I stay late this year haha.

First off we have one teacher who's had to leave for the rest of the term for very valid personal reasons. On top of that, one of her coteachers is being sent to another campus for half or all of every day for reasons I don't actually know. So in her class it's kind of just her third co-teacher. But fortunately the company had time to anticipate for that and they put a leader in her class to train some new teachers while helping the class. So things aren't normal for them but they're stable.

For me things were normal until Wednesday when my coteacher called in sick. My other coteacher was also noticeably sick though she came to work. I was sick last week, and took Monday off. The rest of the week I felt so crappy, mainly just full body exhaustion which is rough when you're on your feet with demanding little ones nipping at your ankles all day. Fortunately I've been fine since Sunday.

On Thurs the same coteacher was still too sick to come in, and my other coteacher ended up going home around noon. Then another teacher went home at the same time because her daughter had a fever. There were also some part-time subs calling out during these days as well. So we were suddenly extremely short-staffed.

Thursday was the worst because no one had anticipated so many teachers being out, especially with my class, and all the help had already gone to other classes. The teacher whose daughter got sick had to leave her class with one coteacher and a sub. Until noon, I had my sick coteacher and a rotating round of subs coming from our other school. They have their own job at their campus and can only stay for an hour at a time and honestly are not helpful. They're good people and teachers, but they don't know our kids or our routine and they're used to older children. I hate getting them for subs except when they were former teachers at our school first.

After co-teacher went home, I had the rotating subs, and... a secret third person! no really. No one knew who was supposed to cover for my co-teacher. It was the admin assistant for a while, until she suddenly said "A visitor is here, I need to go." She would be coming back so I said okay and we would just power through what time she was gone for.

But like five min after that the rotating sub said "I'm supposed to be back at my campus now" and no one had come to cover for her?? The admin assistant was with a visitor, and the manager was also with a visitor! There was no one even to talk to and I had my ENTIRE class in the hallway basically by myself. I couldn't tell this sub she could leave because it would leave me alone with all these two and three year olds IN THE BATHROOM. I don't even have Nanny iPad to help bah.

So I called for the visiting leader, who ran out to help. Then another class teacher said "Oh, so and so from my class is supposed to help you now, and I was going to send her, but no one came to cover in my class for her." So while I was dealing with my own kids, the leader, the manager, and that class teacher were standing in a circle in the hall talking for what felt like forever about what to do. That was one of the most stressful ten minutes I've ever spent at this school x'D or probably anywhere tbh! I have "the difficult class" this year and they're hard enough to manage with all three of us regular teachers there and healthy. Now it was just me!

Finally something got decided and you know what I don't even remember what it was in the end. The point is we survived the day somehow. It was really nuts. Really nuts. The leader though now knew my situation and she kept checking in and helped with lunch clean up and putting out the futons for nap time.

Her being there was a good thing for me, because she kind of validated my feelings about these crazy times. She even went to the manager and asked her to figure out what would be done in the event both of my coworkers were out sick on Friday too and to tell me ahead of time so I could have some idea and not just be surprised by it. To some extent that's not possible because people call in sick in the morning of the day they'll be out. But when you can plan in advance, you should, I think was the message, which is one I really agree with. It seemed to make the manager think about me a little. I had to stay even later than I'd planned, because since my coworkers were gone, I was the only one there to organize all the kids' belongings that they need to take home after graduation, which is a big job: they have a lot of stuff. The manager came in at one point and helped me sort some crafts.

Then, on Friday, both my coworkers did call in sick, so I was on my own again. The teacher with the sick daughter was also still out, and of course the other two teachers mentioned in the first paragraph were still gone. Being so understaffed, I thought for sure I'd lost prep time in the morning to cover their shifts. But I didn't, and I found out it was because the manager did it instead. I think that this was probably due to how crazy a week I'd had especially Thursday, and looking at a crazy Friday too... She took pity on me xP

Friday was easier even without both coteachers because I had finished almost all of the graduation-related stuff, and my two subs were people who are used to our school and know our kids. It wasn't the same but it was much smoother. (Also Thursday was a school event day so it was a little extra craziness on top of all the rest.) I am disappointed that I haven't been able to enjoy my last days with my kids. Normally I'd take it easy and just do fun stuff with them. But I have too much work to do so I'm constantly doing things instead of playing with the kids. I gave everyone hugs and did my best anyhow.

Grad prep this year was especially difficult because the whole staff changed this year except me and two other people, one of whom was one of the teachers out sick, so it was just the two of us actually plus the manager. No one else was familiar with how to wrap up the year. There was a bit of confusion but I am lucky that everyone I work with is a hard worker and helpful to others, so it seems we got everything done. Not as wonderfully as we'd have liked but good enough. I still have some work to do next week but then I have a little break before starting to prep for next year.

In sum, while this week was kind of a nightmare, I'm lucky that I felt really healthy during it so I didn't struggle as much to pick up the slack. And I'm grateful the leader was visiting and validated my stressed out feelings. I'm kind of proud of myself too because I got three teachers' work done with only a few mistakes (still make a few though ;_;) and I did my best to help other classes too, because mine was obviously not the only one shortstaffed and rushing around all week hahaha.

Fell asleep as soon as I got home every night. Now I just wanna veg and play games this weekend. Gotta do some cleaning too though. Cheers to the new term... lol

#work

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chasseurdeloup · 1 year ago

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Let the Flames Begin || Owen and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: @apaininyourneck and @chasseurdeloup CONTENT WARNINGS: Building fire SUMMARY: Kaden visits the Wormhole and Owen invites him to stay after his shift. They weren't the only two to stay after close.

“Last call, fuckers,” Owen shouted over The Wormhole’s patrons, accompanied by the jarring sound of the bell that always managed to elicit a chorus of groans from the people sitting closest. There weren’t too many sad saps still left at this hour, not surprising considering it was a Wednesday night, and the slayer’s skin was crawling with pent up energy after the excruciatingly slow shift. The few shots some of the regulars had offered him were pretty much the only thing keeping him from going insane but at least this hell of a night was almost over. A few of the patrons stumbled up to the bar for one last drink, probably making sure that they wouldn’t come close to being sober on the way home while others took their last sips and exited gracefully with the bar’s lights still dim.

His attention was caught by a sole customer sitting with an empty glass, looking like he was neither getting ready to leave or order another drink. Owen probably would have let him sit and stew about whatever had him drinking alone on a Wednesday evening if a; he hadn’t currently been bored out of his mind and b; the man hadn’t looked familiar. And even if he just had one of those faces that made people think he looked familiar, he was handsome and drinking alone at 2AM. Prime material for dealing with the aforementioned pent up energy.

“You know an empty glass isn’t going to help you get drunk,” Owen said as a greeting, whipping the rag over his shoulder to brace his hands on the table currently only occupied by the solo stranger.

—

Merde, was it really last call already? Kaden had lost track of the time but, in his defense, it probably didn’t help that he ended up at the bar after a late shift. Once he was off the clock, he considered going home and collapsing into bed– well, couch. Only he wasn’t completely exhausted yet. By now, Kaden had learned that sleep without exhaustion would only lead to one thing: nightmares. Waking up screaming in the middle of the cabin once was more than enough. Not that his cousins asked any questions beyond if it was real or nightmare; they shared enough of a past to know about the darkness buried just beneath the surface. No one grew up training to be a hunt without at least a little of that. And their family had plenty.

Kaden threw back the rest of his whiskey, wiping the remains off of his lips and beard with the back of his hand. He should leave. It was time to leave. But all he could do was stare blankly ahead at the wall behind the bar, lined with bottles, both empty and half-full. His feet were planted on the ground and his body held up by the bar in front of him.

The sound of a voice addressing him brought a sharp inhale, jolting him out of his stupor. If he were anyone else, he might have jumped. The hunter training had sunk in deep, it seemed. “You don’t say,” he said, making eye contact with the bartender in question. “Does help that I emptied it.” Kaden shrugged. His senses were slow to process but the longer he looked over at the guy across the way, the more his eyes narrowed. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” If he'd ever talked to this man, he definitely didn’t remember it, but there was something familiar enough to stop him in his tracks.

—

The accent had been unexpected, vaguely familiar and registering as most likely French. Not too many people with a noticeable French accent around here, giving more suspicion to Owen’s earlier thought that the man looked familiar. Not someone who’d ever had the pleasure of sharing his bed for the night, that much was sure - the slayer tended to remember those or, in the rare cases he didn’t, they remembered him with various amounts of fondness. As he sized the Frenchman up, it seemed Owen was getting the same treatment. A smirk slid onto his face at the question, head tilting before he reached for the closest bottle of whiskey and a second glass as he replied. “Funny, that was going to be my line. Now I’ll have to come up with something original to flirt with you.”

Letting the unabashed words hang between them, Owen topped off the other man’s glass without asking, pouring a little bit of whiskey into his own as well. Anyone who’d wanted the last drink of the night was already served and he could delay closing for a little longer to satisfy his curiosity. “Owen,” he finally said, offering his hand across the bar top as green eyes searched for details and clues as to why this man looked familiar. He bore the personality of someone troubled but in this town, and this bar specifically, that meant little to nothing. The faint scars on his face were interesting however, giving the slayer another reason for wanting to see what might be hiding under those clothes.

—

“That so?” Kaden answered, one brow raised and a similar smirk forming on his own face. Wasn’t going to turn down a free drink. Not yet, at least. “Wasn’t a great line, anyway. I’m sure you can do better than that.” He watched as the amber liquid spilled into his glass. He probably didn’t need quite that much but who was he to argue? He took hold of it and lifted it in a silent cheer before taking a swig. Certainly wasn’t top shelf, but he’d had far worse.

If he was counting on the name to jog his memory, the hunter was out of luck. ‘Owen’ didn’t ring a bell. He tried to pull in what he could to make the pieces fit together and form a full picture. There was lilt in the man’s voice, not quite distinct enough for Kaden to identify its origin, but enough to indicate that Wicked’s Rest wasn’t where the bartender hailed from. Wasn’t French, though, he knew that much. He was sporting a few scars, not just on his hands, but on his face as well. That could mean a few things, sure, but it was more in line with the patrons at another bar in town than elsewhere.

‘Owen.’ He rolled the name over in his mind again while giving him another one over. And there it was– a spark. “Wait a second…” The hunter raised his hand and wagged his finger as he began to connect the dots. “You’re not– were you? That guy? The one who got kicked out of the 3 daggers?” Normally he would be more careful about dropping the name of the hunter bar on the outskirts of town, but the bar was nearly empty and anyone else that was there potentially listening was surely drunk off their asses.

—

It was always a nice change of pace when people didn’t get instantly flustered by Owen’s total lack of inhibition. Granted, he’d barely started but someone with a jawline that sharp was probably used to a hell of a lot of unabashed flirting. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” The raised glass was met with ease, eyes still locked on this new companion even as he took a drink. It was interesting to see the cogs turning so visibly on the other man’s face, mirroring the slayer’s own thought process. It was possible he had purchased a weapon at some point but that probably would have given him some inkling as to what this man’s name was.

Before frustration began to set in, the Frenchman beat him to it and put both of them out of their misery. It seemed Owen had been right to clock the faint scars. Something akin to pride slid across the slayer’s face as a finger was wagged in his direction, arms folding over his chest as he leaned back. Another hunter. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember which kind which pointed towards him not being a slayer. Then again, Emilio was a slayer and enough of a drunk to have frequented the 3 Daggers at some point and Owen had never noticed him.

“Wow, I don’t even know your name and already you’re shaming me for something that was in no way my fault.” If there had been any shame to be found over the incident in question (there wasn’t), it in no way showed on Owen’s face. Getting banned from a bar that turned a side eye to even the most aggressive of bar fights and the filthiest language was probably one of his proudest accomplishments since arriving to Wicked’s Rest. “Seems my reputation has a bigger reach than I thought.”

—

“Holding out on me, I see,” Kaden replied. “You’re pretty certain I’m going to stick around then, huh?” He sure wasn’t planning on this going any farther than a drink or two considering Monty, but he’d be lying if he said he was ready to go home and try to fend off the nightmares already. And for now it was just flirting. Nothing he had to explain just yet. Not that he knew what the hell he would say when and if his relationship status came up. Kaden had no idea how to define whatever it was he had with the cowboy, mostly because defining any of that was terrifying. It meant he cared and things might be real or long term and all of that was… Merde. Kaden slammed back more of the whiskey in front of him, doing his best to chase the thoughts away.

The look he gave Owen was enough to indicate that he didn’t believe a damn word of that. “Something tells me there’s more to that story than you’re letting on. I got in a bar fight there my first night and no one said one damn word.” Anyone running a hunter bar had to expect some level of rowdiness and bullshit. Kaden had seen enough of them to know that a lot of things that would get you thrown out of most places slid under the radar around his peers. “I thought Walker was fucking with me when he said someone got banned. I can only imagine what the hell you did to make that happen.” He shook his head but huffed out a laugh all the same.

“Kaden, by the way,” he noted, finally putting his own hand out to shake now that the mystery had been solved. Slightly. “Ranger,” he added, “in case you were wondering.” It was usually the first question tossed around at the 3 Daggers, figured he might as well cut to the chase.

—

Owen shrugged. “Not holding out, just giving you the benefit of not having an audience when I inevitably make you blush. And of course you’re staying, I’m bribing you with booze and nice company.” It was still hard to get a read on whether or not this guy was flirting back for flirting’s sake or actually showing an interest. It was at least worth playing out, especially since none of the other stragglers left behind in the bar raised much interest.

A smile of remembrance slid across the slayer’s face as Kaden expressed his doubts, thinking back to the rather hilarious conversation with Walker. It was even funnier that the bar’s owner clearly wasn’t giving out the reason for Owen’s banishment to anyone curious enough to ask. Whether he wanted to prevent a repeated incident or was simply too pissed off still to talk about it, the slayer could enjoy the mystery of it all for now. Making up explanations for what had happened was one of the best ways to spend time conversing with other hunters. “Guess you’ll have to keep on imagining,” he replied coyly.

The offered hand was shaken, Owen’s own lingering for a moment too long before relinquishing the grip. Ranger definitely made sense. It always seemed they had the biggest scars in Owen’s experience, not surprising considering the hellish animals they were fighting. Sure, slayers sometimes ended up with plenty of scars of their own since some vampires liked to play dirty. “Slayer,” he provided back with the same ease, eyes flitting over to the clock. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” Before stepping away from Kaden, Owen topped off the man’s glass, a clear indicator for him to stay even as the bell from hell was rung for the second time this evening and the lights flicked on.

No words were needed after that, people groaning and mumbling as they picked up their belongings and stumbled out the door. If you were a regular at The Wormhole, you knew better than to try and bribe your way into staying longer when Owen was manning the bar. People had gotten their asses kicked for less. Once the final patron had drunkenly left, singing some obscure song to himself, Owen locked the door behind him and finally took a seat on the other side of the bar, next to Kaden. “So I’m guessing you’re not banned from the 3 Daggers. What brings you here, then?”

—

“Really?” Kaden shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “Good luck. It’s going to take more than that to make me blush.” He could already hear his cousins refuting that, saying that it was pretty easy to make him blush – so long as you wore a stetson. Putain. He took another sip of his whiskey after that thought. “But fair enough. I can’t say no to free booze. Might as well give you a chance to try,” he said with a smirk. Sure, this wasn’t going to amount to anything but there were worse ways to spend his time, at least.

Kaden rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated (but exaggerated) sigh. The connard wasn’t even going to tell him how he got banned from the bar. “Come on, now I know you’re holding out on me,” he said as he leaned over the bar a little more. “Slayer? Somehow I keep running into those.” He wasn’t sure how far he wanted any of this to go, not really, but he knew that he wanted that damn story if nothing else. And it was clear that Owen wanted him to stay. He wasn’t going to argue, especially not with his seemingly never-ending glass of whiskey. He took another drink, embracing the warmth running down his throat into his chest. It made the bell ringing almost tolerable. Almost.

He didn’t have to wait too long before they had the entire place to themselves now that the other man was done with work and seated next to him. “Not banned, no. Even though I got into a bar fight the first night there.” He ran his fingers across the glass in front of him. “Sometimes I like to pretend I’m normal. So here I am.” He gave a shrug before taking another sip. “Plus, it’s a shorter walk home from here.”

—

Of course Kaden wanted to hear the story. Granted, it definitely wasn’t as grand as the secrecy surrounding it made it out to be but it was decent fun. And a good way to keep someone hooked, even though Owen didn’t assume the other hunter had more pressing matters to attend to at this hour. At the very least he was enjoying the booze. “Hmm, guess we’ll have to find out how persistent and persuasive you can be, won’t we?” Neither things guaranteed that Kaden would get his curiosity satiated of course, but it would be fun to watch him try.

With the bar now empty sans people Owen actually wanted to have around at the moment, his posture relaxed, his guard chipping away ever so slightly. Only the surface level guard, obviously, the ones closer to home weren’t made to be dropped. “First night? Feisty. I’m impressed.” Reaching for his own glass, he took a generous drink before moving around for a cigarette, one he felt was well deserved after another evening of not letting loose on horribly annoying customers.

“Not sure why normal sounds appealing to you but sure, fuck it. To pretending to be normal.” Owen raised his glass and waited for Kaden’s to meet it in the air before a grin slid onto his face. “And to short walks ho-”

It wasn’t too loud but in the otherwise quiet bar, the distant clatter caught the slayer’s attention. Glass dropped to the bar, Owen glanced at his companion before turning back to the source of the noise, cursing under his breath. Right. That’s why they checked the fucking bathrooms before closing up. “Gimme a sec,” he muttered, annoyance tinting his words as he slid off the stool and strode towards the bathroom doors. Three heavy hits on the door provided no response and he rolled his eyes, not in the mood to have to call a damn ambulance here now.

“Hey, man. Whatever the fuck you’re up to in there, we’re closed so take it somewhere else.” His fist met the door again, only rewarding him with the faint sound of someone moving inside. Perhaps the sound of pained groans but he couldn’t be sure. “Alright, your fucking call.” Heading back towards the bar, and the keys that could get him into the bathroom and get that shithead out, Owen was stopped short by what was definitely snarling from the other side of the door. His eyes narrowed and he glanced over towards the other hunter.

—

Of course he wasn’t telling right away. That meant it was either a great story or a lackluster one where the mystery was more alluring. And Owen was getting his way regardless, it seemed, because the curiosity was killing Kaden. “I’m nothing if not stubborn. I’ll find a way to get that story out of you one way or another.” Not that he was willing to actually go that far beyond the flirting. But that was besides the point.

“What can I say, I make a lot of trouble lately,” he said with a smirk, holding his hand out, hoping to snag a cigarette from Owen as well. Granted most of that was beyond embarrassing, between the cafe and the zoo alone, his version of trouble was certainly not attractive. At least not to most people. He figured Monty was an exception to the rule, lucky for him. Still, he didn’t feel the need to embarss himself this evening by recounting those tales.

Before Kaden could even finish raising his glass, let alone make it clear that only one of them was making that short walk home, the sharp noise made his head turn, stealing his attention. It wasn’t surprising that both of the hunters noticed the clattering somewhere in the back of the bar. His brow furrowed, turning to the direction it was coming from. Strange, everyone should have cleared out. He caught Owen’s glance, wondering if the slayer had any answers that he didn’t. He got the feeling this wasn’t entirely unusual by his reaction.

That might have been almost comforting. But that’s when Kaden felt it – the sensation sliding across his skin.

Putain.

That wasn’t just some guy passed out in the bathroom, it was a shifter. If he had to guess, probably a werewolf, but it was hard to say for sure then and there. Panic gripped Kaden’s lungs, squeezing them and restricting his air flow. How the fuck was he supposed to handle this? In front of another hunter, too. One who had gotten himself kicked out of a hunter bar of all places. He didn’t imagine Owen’s heart bled the way Kaden’s so often did. If he had to guess, he was more like his sister than anyone.

He stood up from his seat on the stool slowly, approaching the door to the restroom before the slayer had said a word. Snarling. Scratching. The pinpricks down his back. There was no mistaking it. But why the fuck had this goddamn werewolf picked this bar of all bars to transform? “Putain de merde,” he muttered, unsure where he was even directing his frustration at this point.

“We might not want to open that door,” he said to Owen, eyes still trained on the door separating the two hunters from the shifter. “Werewolf. Probably best to let them ride it out. Safer.” For the werewolf more so than them.

—

Judging from the look on Kaden’s face, whatever was fucking up the bathroom wasn’t just your regular flavour of snarling animal or someone high off his balls. How fitting that some form of shifter would turn up at the bar right when a hunter was hanging out after closing. Annoying as all hell, too, since Kaden had definitely been warming up to the idea of more drinks and some activities that didn’t require talking. Killing a shifter in the bar had not been Owen’s preferred method of cardio for this evening.

His hands had just grasped the cold metal of the keys when Kaden finally spoke, warning against opening the door. Sure, hunting when you weren’t expecting it wasn’t the most fun but doing nothing? And then, what, just let the guy walk out of here, bare ass flapping in the wind? Fuck, no. “You know I’m the one that will have to clean up the mess the guy’s making in there, right?” Owen argued back, even though that was far from the reason he wanted to get this over with. Before Kaden could counter, a bang much louder than the ones before reverberated around them, accompanied by a crack. Then another and finally, the door broke off its hinges, slamming on the ground to reveal the culprit.

Usually, Owen only saw werewolves when they were behind the safety net of The Pit’s ring. He probably would have figured out a way to not get killed but it was a luxury to have the hunter by his side. Or at least he hoped so since he hadn’t exactly seen the man in action. God, what if he was a shit hunter and got himself killed? Owen really wasn’t in the mood for hiding bodies tonight. Keeping his eyes on the snarling and foaming mouth, the sharp teeth and sharper claws, he let his hands roam the counter next to him until they landed on something useful. The knife, a bit small for Owen’s taste, was brandished. “Don’t suppose you have any weapons on you?” The slayer thought of his jacket, hanging in the back, equipped with bits and pieces in case of an emergency.

—

Fucking hell, the wolf couldn’t just stay behind closed doors, could it? Kaden didn’t want to fight this wolf, refused to kill it, but he knew on some level that he had to rely on his training. It was two hunters against an out of control monster. It wasn’t going to back off because Kaden was showing empathy. It would tear them both to shreds all the same. “Shit,” he shouted, jumping up from his seat. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his silver blade. A pit dropped in his stomach as his hands gripped the handle.

The beast rocked back on its hind legs and launched itself toward the ranger. Kaden threw himself to the side, ducking and rolling out of the way of the claws set to sink into his skin. Okay, had to incapacitate without killing or majorly injuring the wolf. Should avoid major arteries. That was going to be hard, he was hard wired to spot and aim for them first and foremost. Flank. Limbs. That should be safe enough and effective. As the monster spun on its heels, headed for the ranger, Kaden dodged, slashing the blade at its haunches as he sprinted past. His blade dug in deep and guilt sunk in just as deep. No, no time for that.

Owen asked for another weapon, something better. Kaden’s hand hovered over his back pocket, but hesitated. No. He didn’t want to arm this guy anymore than he was. He didn’t want to find out how deadly he could be with a blade if it meant the outcome was taking the life of a person. “Sorry, packed light tonight.” A lie. He had at least three more knives just within easy reach. The less Owen knew the better. And hey, if he wanted them, he could find them and come get them himself.

The wolf finished yowling in pain and set its sights back on Kaden. Merde. Had to think fast. Counter. He gripped the edge of the bar and swung himself to the other side where he was face to face with all sorts of bottles full of alcohol. Huh. Might be time for a molotov cocktail or two. “Keep it distracted!” he shouted. He had a plan. One that would either kill all of them or get them all out alive. More or less.

—

Focused eyes trailed the knife that appeared in Kaden’s hand, a much better weapon than the dull knife used for slicing lemons when one of those customers whined about a slice. Every muscle was tensed and prepared, lacking the usual calm and confidence that characterized his usual fights. Getting killed by a vampire was always a chance but a slim enough one to make Owen cocky in those fights. This snarling beast was a different story - it looked like it could bite off heads in a single movement. Improved healing wasn’t likely to help with that.

The fighting started, wolf making a beeline for the person in its direct view. Thankfully, Kaden wasn’t one of those hunter that was all talk and no skill. Despite the precarious scenario, Owen was definitely impressed and okay, maybe a little turned on by the determination in the ranger’s eyes. No time for that now, though, as the news of no decent weapons reached the slayer’s ears. “Figures,” he sighed, the calm of his voice jarring when mixed with the screeching sound of a werewolf in pain. If the wolf hadn’t noticed Owen before, now it didn’t give a shit, all of its anger directed towards the man that had just slashed its leg. Kaden expertly swung himself to the other side of the bar and glass shattered where the wolf lashed fruitlessly in his direction. That was going to be a bitch to clean up.

Owen didn’t usually follow orders but since this was a case of life or death, and the expert in werewolf killing was barking out commands, he let it slide. The size of the knife would only invite proximity so he quickly reached for the worn down broom, snapping off the end with his foot. The wolf was preparing to climb over the bar before its attention was diverted by Owen’s deafening finger whistle. “No dogs behind the bar.” Whether the creature understood him or not, mission accomplished.

With a growl, it lunged, massive body heading for the slayer. Grateful for his speed, Owen ducked, body sliding across the sticky ground. The stick in his hand was brandished, swinging at the furry body and making enough contact to mess with the wolf’s course. It crashed, rolling to a stop and smashing into the jukebox. The thing didn’t work anyway so Owen wouldn’t need to make excuses for that. Jumping to his feet, he turned just in time to realize he underestimated the shifter’s reflexes, large body already heading his way.

Whipping the stick around, bracing the other end against the floor, Owen planted his feet. The chipped wood didn’t sink in deep, mostly proving to make the thing angrier, but at least it was keeping the swinging claws away from his face. For now. “Any… updates?” he grunted, hands slipping on the wood, bringing his upper arm into clawing distance. It was only a second, just enough time for a single slash, but pain now radiated up his arm as blood trickled down it.

—

It was a good thing that Owen was quick on his feet, it would keep him alive. Kaden had to hope that he wasn’t too quick. He wanted to get them all out alive – that included the werewolf, whoever they were. Kaden made a note to try and figure that exact fact out once this was all said and done to fucking warn them to not get in this particular spot again. First thing was first: survival.

Kaden grabbed bottles off the shelf, didn’t care if they were expensive or not, wasn’t his problem, and started popping tops off. Towels, towels. somewhere they had to be towels. He rummaged around the back of the bar, shoving things out of the way, smashing some shit, (once again, not his problem) until he found a pile of disgusting, used towels. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He started stuffing the bottles he’d assembled. He had five, but as soon as the second one was ready, he dug into his pocket for his lighter. Kaden flipped it open, flicked the dial, lit the flame, and put the fire up to the towel.

This better fucking work and not start a goddamn uncontrolable fire.

Didn’t have time to second guess. Kaden popped up from behind the bar, staying low as he could while still getting a good view of the scene. There was only a stick of wood separating Owen from the werewolve’s claws and teeth. “You know it’s not a vampire, right?” he shouted over. “Wood’s not gonna help.” He really shouldn’t provoke the slayer, not when things were going in Kaden’s favor.

“Incoming!” he shouted as he grabbed the first molotov cocktail, looked around and spotted a clearing with some tables that might make a decent bonfire. Better scare off the fucking monster. Kaden threw the bottle, ducking behind the bar again afterwards, and it smashed against the furniture, glass shattering everywhere and flame bursting. The wolf turned its attention to the loud sound and the fire. The ranger watched its eyes grow wide and panic start to set in.

Take two. Kaden grabbed another and smashed it closer to the wolf, hoping to chase it away from the slayer. He didn’t think it would do too much damage to Owen but, well, the ranger figured he was smart enough to duck.

—

This was insane. This was why Owen didn’t like teamwork, much less letting someone else make the decisions. ‘Keep it distracted.’ Sure, how about just letting the fucking thing maul him to death while Kaden did whatever the fuck he was messing with behind there. Should have let the ranger deal with this while Owen ducked out and got some actual fucking weapons. “It’s fucking helping me keep my limbs!” Owen growled back, though even that was debatable considering the giant cut on his arm.

Finally, something good came from the damn ranger. Owen had joked about setting this place on fire far too often and, while mostly a joke, he did get a moment of enjoyment from seeing flames start to lick and chew at the disgusting furniture. The werewolf’s attention was caught, too. Glancing over at Kaden just in time to see the second bottle lit and brandished, Owen shoved with all his strength, pushing the wolf closer to where the bottle hit. Slightly off, as he would have liked to see the whole creature go up in flames, but a part of the wolf’s leg had gotten close enough to catch a few embers. It whimpered, eyes wide and head turning wildly until it landed on an exit.

“No, you fucking don’t,” Owen grumbled, grabbing at the nearest chair and smashing it against the wolf’s back. Finally some progress as the wolf stumbled to the ground, panic emanating from it as its eyes moved between the two lit fires and Owen. Going back to some very classic practices, he reached for a beer bottle he had yet to clean up, breaking it into something that would probably do good enough at slashing the subdued wolf’s jugular.

—

Kaden grabbed another bottle stuffed with a towel and threw himself over to the other side of the bar with the unlit molotov cocktail in hand. The flames were rising and it was clear that it was nearly time for them to exit the premise and maybe call the fire department. He smelled the singed fur as the wolf whined and looked over to see that it was cornered, scrambling for the exit when the chair landed on top of it. The creature was down, and almost out. One more hit and it would be knocked out and they could just drag the unconscious body out, maybe lock it in a closet somewhere and hope that it stayed contained until they could shift back.

He heard his hope shatter with the glass and saw the bottle brandished as a weapon in Owen’s hand. He should have known, he should have remembered that other hunters weren’t playing by his rules. The ranger grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back, away from the wolf before he could second guess his actions. That would come as soon as he let go of the other hunter and realized the situation he’d put himself righ into. “He’s just a kid,” he shouted. “We can knock him out, drag him out of here. He’ll probably shift back by then. We don’t have to kill him.”

Kaden’s heart had been racing earlier, between the adrenaline and the action, his heartrate was up, but it didn’t compare to the pounding in his chest now, the sheer panic that was threatening to push his heart right out of him. “I can load him up in my truck and get him to the middle of nowhere in the Pines.” He knew he should stop fucking talking, stop digging the grave he had already marked for himself, but he couldn’t help it. He had to try. They could all get out of this alive, all three of them, and he would be damned if he didn’t do what he could to make that reality.

—

Owen had approached slowly, cautiously, not wanting to get caught by those sharp claws again. Too slowly, it turned out, as he was suddenly pulled back right before he could finish the job. The surprise of it allowed Kaden to pull him back a few steps, the argument momentarily making him lose focus as well. Blinking at the creature scrambling on the ground, the one responsible for the deep and painful cut in his arm, Owen scoffed angrily. What the fuck was this guy on about?

Shoving the offending hands off his shoulders, Owen turned so that he could turn his incredulous expression to Kaden while still keeping the wolf in his sights. “What brand of fucking idiot are you?” he demanded, bottle still firmly in his grasp. “Drag him out of here… are you for fucking real? No, seriously, is this an elaborate joke? He attacked us. Fucker’s not getting off that easy.” Without waiting for a retort that would most likely only fuel the anger already burning hot in the pit of Owen’s stomach, he moved quickly for the wolf once more. And again, was stopped.

This time, Owen didn’t bother to pause or listen to any more reasoning from this bleeding-heart, piece of shit ranger. Flames were consuming the bar, his arm was bleeding and a night that had held the promise of a decent one night stand was turning into a shit show. So he swung his elbow backwards, aiming for the shorter man’s face, figuring that at least someone was going to be the object of the rage now boiling inside him.

—

Kaden knew it was a snowball’s chance in hell that Owen would listen to him, that he’d agree towalk away from a werewolf that had attacked them. It was going to be a tall order for any hunter, but he could see the violence shining in his eyes just as clearly as he could see the light of the flames dancing there. “He didn’t do shit. He’s scared and he’s not in con–” The words didn’t have a chance to leave his lips before the elbow slammed his jaw shut. He tried to curse, but only found blood in his mouth from where his teeth tore the inside of his mouth. Kaden took a step back only to spit out what he could before reaching to grab the slayer’s shirt by the collar and yanking it back with enough force that he heard a seam or two pop under the pressure. “Back. Off,” he spat as he tried to wrap his arms around the man’s neck, trying to get him into a choke hold.

The flames were only growing, consuming more and more of the bar around them. The werewolf was whimpering as the fire closed in around them. Soon, the hunters would be separated from the beast by the flames. Kaden didn’t know if it was going to be soon enough, though. Or if the wolf knew well enough to barge down the door behind it. Hell, he didn’t know if they had the strength. And he sure as hell didn’t know what Owen was going to do to him either way.

—

For someone who had participated in a good share of fist fights, Owen hadn’t fought many of his own before. Not like this, anyway. A skirmish at the Three Daggers before he was asked to never show his face again, sure. But an actual fight, and to save the life of a monstrous beast at that? He hadn’t felt anger like this towards another hunter since the day he left home. The bottle in his hand was abandoned in lieu of preventing Kaden from choking him, shirt tearing and leaving angry marks on his skin. Arms slithered around his neck with clear purpose, the sudden pressure immediately bringing spots dancing into the edges of his vision.

Using his height to his advantage, Owen whipped his weight forward, grabbing onto Kaden’s arms as he did to make sure the ranger would have no option but to go with the throw. Once the other man was off him and blood could once more make its way to his head, he took a step towards the ranger, fists balled. A breaking sound drew his attention to the whole reason behind this chaos, head whipping around to catch the wolf scrambling out the window and making a desperate sprint in the other direction. With the window now broken, the faint sound of sirens approaching could be heard. Green eyes, unnaturally dark with anger, turned back towards Kaden.

—

Right when Kaden thought the slayer was going to slump into unconsciousness in his arms, the world was turning itself upside down. He landed on the ground with a thud and a surge of pain shooting through his back. He could feel the heat from the flames creeping closer to him as he worked to push himself off the ground. A crash of shattering glass rang out behind him accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against the wall. If that wasn’t enough to clue him in that the werewolf had made it out, his hunter senses dulled and faded as the distance between him and werewolf widened. Relief washed over him, but it was short lived. Not because he looked up to see Owen looming over him, no, but because he realized the werewolf was now loose and running through town. At least it was late, there wouldn’t be many people out and about. He could only hope that it was headed straight for the woods. For everyone’s sake.

Kaden couldn’t do anything about that right now, though. He had more immediate problems. Like the hunter staring him down with nothing but anger and hatred in his eyes. Like the fire threatening to consume the bar whole. Like the sirens blaring and getting ever closer. The ranger took a chance and stood up straight, hoping that he wasn’t about to be kicked back down. “We have to get out of here.” He hoped that Owen realized that there would be time to kick his ass later. He hoped that he wasn’t planning to throw him into the flames. He hoped that he was leaving this bar alive. As much as Kaden would rather walk out of the place without another fight, he wasn’t stupid enough to assume he’d be given that grace and his hand reached back to a knife stored behind his belt, hovering over it, ready to pull the blade out at any second if the need arrived.

—

This level of anger wasn’t rational, a small part of Owen realized. Being pissed about the shitstorm the two hunters were finding themselves in was enough to set anyone on edge, sure, but he was so far beyond that. It was a living, breathing thing now, making the blood in his veins burn and hands ache to feel something break. A sliver of rational thought remained, enough to see a hand reach out of sight, illuminated by the flickering flames. A sneer twisted up his features, even more daunting in the fire’s glow. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he gritted out before grabbing at the nearest chair not being engulfed by flames, throwing it in Kaden’s direction.

Then he charged, throwing his body at the ranger, weapon be damned. Owen needed to feel his knuckles meet flesh, needed this man - who had deliberately kept away his weapons and gotten Owen clawed to hell, who had let an aggressive monster escape due to some idiotic moral code, who had lit his place of work on fire instead of doing the logical thing - to pay. He wasn’t even aware of whether or not it had been easy, getting himself into a position where blows were landing in Kaden’s face. Everything was a blur, his own injuries and the surrounding heat mere background noise.

A heavy hand on his shoulder snapped Owen out of the daze, whole body whipping around to set his sight on whoever was disturbing him. The motion was followed by a slung fist, knocking over the nearest fireman who had made the mistake of touching him. Maybe everything was a bit of a blur because of the air inside, Owen faintly realizing that his lungs were burning with the effort of inhaling smoke. More people wearing masks approached, shouting something about getting them out. No. He wasn’t finished. An attempt to charge back at Kaden was halted by the firemen, Owen’s efforts to break free diminished by the fact that it was really getting hard to breathe now.

—

Shit. Kaden’s hand wrapped around the grip of his knife just before he threw himself out of the way of the chair flying towards his head. The chair missed, but the slayer didn’t, hits landing on his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, one blow after another. He raised his hands to try and block his face from taking another punch. The blade caught some of the slayer’s skin, he could tell that much even if he couldn’t tell whose blood it was splattering across his face anymore. He did what he could to protect his head with his arm, though the hits twisted around to find his jaw when they weren’t slamming his forearm into his nose. Kaden was used to the pain, familiar, but he was also familiar with this sort of anger – the type that didn’t stop, the kind that consumed like the flames that were threatening to engulf them.

The ranger didn’t want to kill or hurt anyone in the bar that night. For once, he wanted to have a day without violence. But violence always found him, ever present. So he slashed out with the knife in his hand, jamming it into whatever limbs reached out to hit him, reaching out to slash the slayer across the face, hoping that any of the pain would make him stop or at least slow down. It didn’t.

Kaden was shocked when the rhythm of pain ceased, an empty space where a blow should have been. The adrenaline pumping through him missed its cue and the ranger could feel his legs wobbling beneath him as a fireman grabbed him and carried him out of the bar. He didn’t see where Owen went, where the took him, it was too hard to watch or keep track between how lightheaded he was and how swollen his face was. If he had to guess, the firefighters were keeping the slayer from the ranger. He was impressed they had managed to pull Owen away from the fight at all.

There were sirens and questions and the throbbing pain. His ears rang and he didn’t have answers for the questions and feigned ignorance due to the beating he took, didn’t see what started the fire, couldn’t tell. The WRPD didn’t keep him, they knew they weren’t getting answers from him and they weren’t about to press a fellow officer too hard anyway, even if he was just the glorified dog catcher. Kaden looked for Owen in the sea of people as he slipped away to head back to the cabin and was relieved he couldn’t find the other man. He had a feeling that wouldn’t last forever, though – that the slayer would find him and they’d meet again soon enough. Kaden was going to delay that day as long as possible. Right after he threw a bag of frozen vegetables on his aching face.

#writing #wickedswriting #para #c: owen #apaininyourneck #let the flames begin

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farfromsugafanfic · 2 years ago

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Dangerous | Chapter 7: Hustler

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Bad Boy!Jimin, Bartender!Reader College AU

Pairing: Jimin/Named Reader

Rating: M | Minors DNI

Chapter Warnings: mentions of vets/kittens needing to go to the vet, exes being jerks

You only had forty-five minutes to get to work and you were just getting on the bus to your apartment. The vet had given you a cardboard carrier since you hadn't had a chance to buy one, which only made you feel more guilty as you set the carrier on your lap and peered in at the sedated kitten. He was cuddled in the corner and rested comfortably despite the plastic cone around his neck.

It hurt your heart to see him so out of it, but the vet mentioned he'd only need painkillers for a few days. The doors shut and the bus started moving. Luckily, you wouldn't have to switch buses, just walk a couple of blocks to your apartment. But, there was no way you weren't going to be late.

[][][]

You walked into work. You'd only managed to change into a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved top. Still, you were half an hour late. The club was busy and you made your way behind the bar and tied an apron around your waist.

"You're late," a voice said. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you recognized it. He wasn't supposed to work tonight.

"Yeah, I am," you said. "I had something come up."

"You should've called."

"Probably." You started filling drink orders and paying your ex no mind. Chul-soo was right. You should've called, but it was a Wednesday night and usually, the club wasn't this packed. You'd just finished handing someone a beer when Chul-soo pushed you out of the way and took the tip out of their hand.

"Why don't you just leave? I'll handle it."

"Chul-soo, stop being ridiculous. I only work like two days a week, I need the shifts."

"You should've thought about that before you were late." He reached down and ripped the apron from your waist and tossed it to the side.

"I had to pick up my kitten from the vet," you said. "The bus was running late. I was worried about him so I didn't call. Can you stop being an ass for two seconds?"

"Becoming a cat lady now?" he asked. "I see Jimin already moved on."

You rolled your eyes and stepped from behind the bar. With all the worry bubbling up in your stomach about Jackson, you just let it go. You were about to walk towards the door when you heard someone's voice above the music.

"Hey!" a man shouted. He waved one of his hands up in the air and you met his eyes, after which he lowered his arm and pointed towards a quieter area of the club where all the pool tables were. This portion only had a few people, a couple using one of the tables and a few others lingering along the sides on their phones.

You leaned against one of the tables as the guy worked his way through the crowd. You'd definitely seen him at the club before. You could never forget a face like his. If only you could remember when you'd last seen him.

"Inna, right?" he asked. His black hair was combed back, exposing his forehead. The sleeves of his button-down were rolled up past the elbows and the shirt tucked in perfectly to show off his small waist.

"Uh yeah," you said. Despite not remembering where you'd last seen him and him somehow knowing your name, something told you that you could trust him. His eyes weren't raking over your body like most guys at the club.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I saw what happened back there."

"Yeah, I'm fine. He's an ex, so he likes to be a jerk."

"You wanna play some pool?"

"Oh, I'm not really that good," you said, shifting your weight to one foot and biting your lip. "But I'll give it a shot."

The guy smiled and handed you a cue. "I'm Jin, by the way. I think we both know Jimin."

"Ah, that's how I know you," you said, trying not to dwell on Jimin's name. With the way he'd avoided you, you hadn't asked him to take you to pick up Jackson. It certainly would've saved you time. But you would've had to remember how his lips felt on yours and the ways his hands were so gentle against your skin. Like he was scared of breaking you again.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I think the Jimin's we know are very different." He racked up the balls and pushed them to three-quarters of the way down the table. "But he's still kinda a dick sometimes so I'll help you put on a show if you want. Just know I'm not exactly into your type."

"Ah," you said, nodding in understanding. "What's with all of his friends wanting to piss him off?" A laugh pouring out of you.

Jin motioned for you to take the first shot and break the balls, thus giving you the advantage in the game. You lined up the cue and hit the ball, but the balls barely broke up.

"He still owes me fifty bucks," he said, lining up his shot.

You laughed, your face falling as soon as Jin sunk in his first ball, permitting him to take another shot. "I didn't see him here tonight."

"You were supposed to work tonight. Of course, he's here."

Just as Jin finished his words, you spotted Jimin. He wasn't far away, but probably just out of earshot. Not dancing like usual, he sat at one of the tables and scrolled through his phone. You wondered why he even paid the cover charge. Of course, you knew plenty of people who came in just to sit, but that wasn't Jimin. He always came to dance or drink or both.

Jin leaned down. His second ball was in an awkward position. He leaned over the table and carefully angled his cue. You watched in amusement as his he exaggerated his movements and the ball shifted into a slightly better position.

You picked up your cue and looked for your first ball, which you had still not managed to sink into one of the pockets. The shot wasn't straightforward, but not impossible.

"Careful, Inna. Don't want to fall in."

You snorted and your pool cue slipped causing the ball to roll forward an inch. You hardly noticed through your laughter until Jin smirked, "My turn."

Your face fell. "Wait! Hey! That's not fair!"

You playfully slapped his arm as he lined up and took his shot, sinking two more balls. You huffed and crossed your arms, your pool cue leaning against the table.

"Jinnie, you're too good." You stuck out your bottom lip. "Can you teach me?"

With the way Jin's eyes swept over your expression, you knew he could see through your act. One corner of his lips turned upward and he approached you.

"Grab your cue," he said, coming to stand close behind you. He placed his hands over yours and his body brushing against yours. "The trick is to keep a good balance to your cue. And, depending on the shot you have to change the angle, but the balance should remain the same. Your balance was all over the place. It made your shots inconsistent."

"O-oh," you said. "Thanks. Where did you learn all this?"

"My friends like coming to the club and I don't like dancing. Plus, I can make a few hundred a night off drunk freshmen."

You laughed. "You got good just to hustle drunk frat tributes? I'm sure that's gotten you into some trouble."

Jin smirked. "Mm, I'm too pretty to hit."

"So, what do I owe you for losing?" you asked with a quirk of your lips.

"I'll never turn down a kiss from a pretty girl." He winked, before leaning back over the table and lining up his next shot.

[][][]

You walked up the stairs to your apartment and pulled out your keys. You'd left the club after losing the game of pool and surrendering a kiss on the cheek to Jin. Despite flirting with Jin to get to Jimin, you came to enjoy Jin's company. He was the oldest of Jimin's friend group you'd come to find out. He graduated Jimin's freshman year but still hung around them at the college hang out spots.

Before leaving, Jin had given you his number in case you needed anything. If Jin was into you, you would've jumped on the chance to date him, but you were thankful for a new friend nonetheless.

You walked into your apartment and your eyes shot towards where you'd left Jackson in his carrier. The kitten had ventured out, which was a good sign. If he was already up and around, he would be back to his normal self before long. It was only when you spotted the plastic cone upside down on the floor that your stomach dropped.

You eventually found the kitten curled up in your bedroom on one of your discarded T-shirts. He was awake and meowed in greeting when you entered the room. His temperament had improved. You picked him up and flipped him onto his back to find the surgery incision red and enflamed. It appeared Jackson pulled out a few of his stitches.

If you hadn't held the kitten in your arms, you would've fallen to your knees. You felt like you needed to vomit, despite having nothing to drink at the club. You checked the time: 1 a.m.

After Googling the nearest emergency vet, you pulled out your phone.

"What?" Jimin said, answering the phone. Luckily, his words didn't sound slurred and you didn't hear the music of the club.

"Jimin," your voice cracked as you held the phone with your shoulder and attempted to reattach the cone around Jackson's neck. Tears pricked at your eyes as the kitten clawed at your wrists and struggled against your grasp.

"Inna?" His voice suddenly shifted. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I came home and Mochi had gotten his cone off and it looks like he pulled out a few stitches and it looks really bad and maybe infected. He needs to go to the emergency vet but it's on the other side of the city and I don't know how I'm gonna get there or pay for it." Tears were falling onto your cheeks and your voice shaking with every word.

Maybe Jackson would've been better off if you and Jimin had left him in the alleyway for a rich homebody to find. Someone who can spend more time with him and who could pay for everything he needed. Not two broke college students who were barely friends and never home.

You heard rustling on the other end of the phone that brought you out of your thoughts. "I'll be there in ten minutes, okay?"

Jimin hung up the phone soon after and you continued trying to get the cone back around Jackson's neck so that he couldn't do any more damage. Eventually, you manage to re-fasten it and wrapped him in the T-shirt you'd found him on.

[][][]

It was less than ten minutes when you heard a quiet knock on the door. You opened it with one hand, cradling Jackson with the other. You figured it would be easier to take him without the carrier, that way you could ensure that he didn't do more damage to his incision.

"Hey," you said, not even meeting Jimin's eyes before you stepped outside and locked the door. You hadn't grabbed a jacket, but the air wasn't too cold, just a bit crisp against your skin. You hugged the kitten closer to your body.

"I called ahead," Jimin said. "They're expecting us. I borrowed Tae's car so it's easier and we can keep a better eye on him."

You looked up at him wide-eyed. He had really thought of everything while you only managed to stop Jackson from hurting himself more. Jimin led you down to Tae's car, a beige car that looked like something your grandmother would drive. But, the seats were large and it allowed you to bring your knees up to your chest and cuddle your kitten close.

"When did you pick him up?" Jimin asked, pulling onto the road from the parking lot of your apartment complex.

"Before I went to work," you said. "Well, supposed to work." You ran your fingers across the kitten's tiny brow. Jackson liked it, closing his eyes and nuzzling against your wrists which still burned underneath the fabric of your shirt with his scratches. "It was only supposed to be a few hours. I thought he would be out of it all night so I wouldn't have to worry." You paused before letting out a scoff laden sigh. "This is all my fault. I should've had someone watch him or called in or something."

"Hey," Jimin said, his voice silky and soft. "He could've done this in two minutes while your back was turned. He's gonna be okay, all right?"

[][][]

"It looks like he just ripped out the stitches and there may be the beginning of a small infection. We'll take care of the stitches and give him so antibiotics. We'll keep a watch on him until tomorrow to make sure there's nothing else major."

You nodded and handed over your credit card, knowing this was going to max it out, but not caring as long as Jackson was going to be okay.

"Wait," Jimin said, reaching into his back pocket. "Can you split it between these two?"

The woman nodded, glancing between the two of you as she placed half the bill on your card and the rest on Jimin's.

"You didn't have to do that," you said after you and Jimin had left the office and walked back to the car.

"Yes, I did. He's half mine."

You got into the car but didn't put on your seatbelt, not wanting to leave without your kitten. Jimin got in and shut his door, putting the keys in the ignition, but glancing over at you before starting the engine.

"Everything okay?"

"What time is it?"

"Uh, just past two fifteen."

"I don't want to go home without him," you said.

"I can stay with you," Jimin said.

"No, it's not that," you said. "I want to stay here. I can't leave him."

Jimin went quiet for a moment before starting the engine and you felt your objection growing in your throat before you realized that he hadn't turned out towards the road, but, instead was heading deeper into the parking lot. He parked towards the edge of the lot where you were out of the way. The streetlights only dimly lighting the interior of the car so you could just barely make out Jimin's face.

"We'll stay," he said. "But, you need to get some sleep. I think Tae has some blankets in the trunk. The backseat should be big enough to lay down."

Jimin got out of the car as you climbed into the back. He was right, the seat was larger enough for you to lay down, but you chose to sit until Jimin climbed in next to you.

"No blankets," he said. "But, you can use my jacket."

"I'm not cold, Jimin."

The conversation lulled and you felt the exhaustion finally beginning to overtake you. You leaned towards Jimin until your head connected with his body, not caring that you probably should avoid him, or that you felt more relaxed than you had in days when your bodies connected.

Jimin responded immediately by placing his arm around your shoulders to make the position more comfortable for both of you. His hand came down to rest on your wrist, just below where your palm meets your wrist. You flinched as he brushed over the fresh cat scratches.

"Did that hurt?" he asked. You felt as he gently rolled up your sleeve revealing the shallow, red scratches. "You didn't tell me you were hurt."

"I had the wrestle the cone back on him," you said, your voice a grumble. "They're just cat scratches. I'm okay. I just want to sleep."

"Okay," he said, not arguing and simply bringing his fingers to interlock with yours.

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mareastrorum · 1 year ago

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WIP Wednesday: The Fool and the Soldier, Ch. 9 (Cowards)

The Fool and the Soldier is now up on AO3, updated every other Friday (usually). Unfortunately, I had to bump this next update to next Friday, 12/22 because of work. Like before, I don't want to rush and get something half-assed posted.

For the new readers: This is a Mighty Nein AU exploring the plot Matt pitched in the Campaign 2 Wrap Up that -- had Molly survived the Iron Shepherds -- Lucien returned as a body-hopping spirit to hunt down his own body. This fanfic began with the events of episode 26 and has continued since then.

See the directory for other TF&TS posts.

Darktow was smaller in the daylight, once Beau could see the actual layout. The city seemed massive the night before because it was built into the cliffs, so the broad scattering of lantern light dotting the cliffside presented an imposing image. However, it only took a while to explore because of the long, winding stairs and slopes to ascend to each layer. Few buildings dug into the cliffside itself; most were simple wooden structures built along the edge, a few of the nicer looking ones with clay tile roofs. The winding road up was slightly concave, with a sturdy wooden grate over a drainage gutter in the center—judging by the lack of stench, probably for rain rather than sewage.

The docks were more than a third of the town, hosting all the ship-related businesses, the one tavern, and trade posts for whatever the pirates brought in. A few places of business dotted the residential area, many of them either tiny markets, bars, or restaurants with extremely limited fare. Barely any vegetation, mostly kept in pots and jars, with one snooty merchant in bright robes watering some building-high palms in front of his shop.

The actual population didn’t look to be more than a few thousand. A decent place to stop over, maybe, but not the best place to live unless someone loved the sea and everything in it. Which made sense for a pirate haven. If the Nein hadn’t come to Darktow because they’d been forced to join a cultist pirate crew, Beau would have probably enjoyed exploring the place. Unfortunately, they had, and there was work to do.

The night before, Jester and Nott had snuck in and out of Avantika’s quarters thanks to Caleb’s invisibility spell and Jester’s new dimension door teleport. Beau had coached them where to look—after all, the Lionett family had numerous stashes hidden throughout their home, thanks to her father’s paranoia about losing his fortune. Not that she’d told anyone that part. The rest assumed Beau had experience stealing from the rich, which wasn’t untrue; it just happened that they were also family. Regardless, the duo found a few potential hiding places: a fake back in a cabinet, false bottoms in the desk, and a few locked drawers. Thankfully, Jester had kept Nott from peeking, and they returned to the Bloated Cup without incident.

The plan was loose at best. First, they needed to be sure that Avantika wasn’t planning to leave that day. She’d estimated 48 hours the night before, but there was always the chance she’d want to leave early, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t have them tailed. As her quartermaster, Fjord was accompanying her to purchase something special, with a sending stone in hand to warn the Nein of any problems. Predictably, Vera had been so distrusting of him that she insisted on joining as well. So that was one less set of eyes that might spy on them, and most of the rest of the crew were taking rotating shifts to guard the ship or accompanying Avantika to carry her shopping or something. Apparently, Avantika didn’t trust any of the Nein enough to assign them as well, but that was a blessing all the same.

Next, the Nein needed to find a scapegoat and convince them that they should take whatever proof there was of Avantika’s treachery to the Plank King. With so little time, they had split into groups. Caduceus and Nott were looking for Alyson Paij, the human captain who seemed to have a grudge against Avantika. Jester, Molly, and Yasha were after Sabian or Cadmus, each of whom were now recognizable thanks to Fjord assuming their appearances as a demonstration. Beau and Caleb were searching for Jamedi Cosko.

Finally, assuming they got a proper scapegoat, the Nein then needed to steal whatever evidence they could find from the ship, get it to the scapegoat, and ensure they actually took it to the Plank King, all before the Squalleater left port. If Fjord did his job well, they had until the following morning. Winter had just begun, so the days were as short as they were going to get (“It is 9:17,” Caleb had said a few minutes back), and it seemed unlikely that Avantika would try to navigate out of that reef in the dark. Just one more factor in their favor.

In a way, the lack of details wasn’t much of a problem. If they couldn’t get a scapegoat, they could forge a message from Vera and send that to the Plank King. If they couldn’t get good evidence, they could forge some traitorous message, maybe like trying to recruit captains for mutiny. If the plan didn’t work out at all, the Nein could turn on Avantika once they got the next crystal or at the next temple, and without any witnesses, there would be no repercussions at Darktow. Not that they ever planned on returning. Not having pirates after them on the open sea was one just less thing to worry about.

Despite that Caleb didn’t have a spell to track people like Jester and Caduceus did, the duo did alright getting information. They both asked around The Bloated Cup in the early morning, before any of Avantika’s crew were around, and got a mess of directions to a bar Jamedi frequented a few levels up. Beau couldn’t track all of them—the town did not have a consistent structure in the least—but Caleb repeated it word for word and led the way.

“So what’s our angle when we find him?” Beau asked as she kept her head on a swivel while they walked. They seemed to be passing through a primarily residential area, with normal townsfolk going about their day. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be trouble or that they wouldn’t run into someone.

Caleb didn’t answer at first, but eventually spoke up, using the code names they had the night prior, “I do not think he would willingly report Tiffany to the Cat Prince. The others are better options. However, perhaps we should be honest about the apricots and Tiffany’s plan. He could vouch for us that we were unwilling pawns, just as he was. After all, the Cat Prince would find out that he joined her on that last excursion, and he would need someone to vouch for him as well.”

Beau crossed her arms as she thought it over. If Jamedi had been willing to rat Avantika out, he would have probably done it based on what he saw at the temple, unless he felt he lacked proof. But maybe he didn’t know the Plank King was looking for a reason to get rid of Avantika.

“I think it’s worth testing the waters on that, just in case,” Beau replied. “Maybe he’s biding his time before he snitches on her with what he already knows. Maybe he’d do it sooner with something juicy to prove it.”

Caleb was momentarily silent before he responded, “He would be valuable either way, but he is a coward. I do not believe he is willing to stick his neck out. Rather, it may be better to convince him that his neck is already on the chopping block, unless he is willing to cooperate.”

“You seem pretty sure about him,” Beau noted with a raised brow.

“Well, I am a coward, too, Beauregard. I know how they think.” Caleb tapped the side of his head.

Beau snorted, but didn’t argue the point. They’d had their discussions about that, but the man seemed thoroughly attached to his depreciated self-image. She knew it arose from the fact that he’d killed people when ordered to, even his own parents, and then fled once he roused from a decade-long catatonia. But he’d been a stupid kid, and everyone had been a stupid kid at some point, eager to prove themselves and easily roped into horrible ways to do it. That didn’t make a kid a coward for wanting to make someone proud. In addition, cowards didn’t follow their friends on quests to uncover their past on the Lucidian Ocean, delve into snake-people-infested temples to betrayer gods, and go to a pirate island to find a way to backstab a pirate captain.

They’d also had their disagreements about whether the Nein were achieving any good out here, and at the moment, that was more concerning. Caleb thought the Nein had done just fine by stealing The Mist and massacring the pirates that held it, but they hadn’t actually known they were pirates until after the fact. And sure, that crew had attacked them first, but the Nein could have run. They were only there to spy on Marius LePual. There hadn’t been any plan or benefit to killing anyone and taking a ship.

Those weren’t acts of cowardice. That didn’t make them better.

The shitty part was that all of the Nein had done it. Beau had done it, and it wasn’t until the rush of battle wore off and the ship had fled the harbor that she felt like she’d dived head first into slime. This wasn’t about keeping just Caleb in check like he’d asked. They stooped that low just because they were, what, riled up from the fight earlier that day? Riding a high of praise and gratitude from the Ruby? Felt like they had to be right because they’d sent a corrupt jackass packing to Marquet?

It felt too much like the same shit the Empire authorities, the aristocracy, these Revelry pirates did: crush people in the way first and justify it afterwards, once anyone started to question. Even Molly had insisted it was fine to lash back even with the option to get out. Caduceus and Jester were the only ones that seemed to agree with Beau, though Yasha at least showed some discomfort when she wasn’t sure.

They needed to be better than this.

As Beau walked into a bar behind Caleb, he stopped and weakly tapped her shoulder, snapping her out of her reverie. She side-eyed him, noting his slight nod to the left before he walked toward the bar, pretending he hadn’t done anything. She followed his lead, waiting until she reached the counter to lean back against it and fold her arms while he ordered some drinks.

Jamedi was at a table in the corner, nursing a tankard while he wrote in a leather journal. He didn’t even look up, but he’d spot them easily if he ever did. They could grab drinks, then pull up some chairs for a chat.

At the table not ten feet from him, a half-elf man with tanned skin, sun-brightened brown hair, brown eyes, and a cigarette in his mouth sat with three others, playing poker. His clothes were worn like any other sailor’s, but he wore a red scarf around his neck, loose in the front like the world’s laziest cravat.

Sabian.

#TF&TS #wip wednesday #critical role fanfiction #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast

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prettygreenpills · 2 years ago

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Powerful - Y/n Weems x Enid Sinclair

chapter 4

characters: Y/n Weems x Enid Sinclair

rundown: you are going with Wednesday and Enid to the Gates mansion to prove Wednesday’s theory, but everything goes wrong

warnings: fainting

“What deal was she talking about?” You asked Enid as soon as you arrived to your room and she sat onto her bed.

“Y/n, I can’t tell you-“ Enid shook her head along with the half of the answer but you wanted to know.

“Enid she is my mother and we are taking about me here.”

“Yes but- if you want to know, you should ask the principal,” Enid said and you started to get angry.

“I will buy you a new nail polish if you tell me,” you promise knowing that she would want exactly one shade of pink.

“Really??”

“Now speak.”

“Ok, I wasn't really supposed to tell you... Are you sure you wanna know?" Enid asked you and she was really playing on your nerves. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes what made Enid speak. You smiled as soon as she took a breath to talk and you knew that you had the werewolf girl in your pocket.

"Me and your mother... Well principal… she asked me to keep an eye on you.” Enid told you honestly and you closed your eyes already thinking about why would your mother do that.

“In what way?”

You saw how Enid bit on her inner cheek and you gave her some time. But not that much she could lie to you. Trying to think about why would your mother do that you didn't really believe your own thoughts. Did she want to control you or something? Your mother was doing things like this when she wanted something to herself.

“She wants to know about everything what happens with you,” Enid confessed and you closed your eyes.

“Two bottles of nail polish and no word to my mother. Deal?”

“I mean- okay deal!” Enid said in excitement and you let out a exhale of relief. Only after that you realized a clicking noise which was in the room since both of you were quiet. Turning around, your eyes landed on the black side of the room and there she was, Wednesday Addams, writing something.

Hoping in that she didn’t really focus on what we’re you two talking about, you walked over to your bed and sat onto it. Pulling your knees to your chest once as you were leaning on the headboard of the bed, you just closed your eyes.

You shapeshifted into a dead guy before.

Watching the raindrops hit the window, you didn’t even realize how late it was. You had your eyes opened once again and you were just thinking. Could you believe Enid and tell her everything like you used before?

Decided to get your mind off things like these were, you took your notes and placed them onto the bed. It didn’t look like you were about to get some rest or sleep, so you kept reading your notes, trying to memorize as much as you could.

The hours were passing by and you were getting to the end of your notes slowly. There was no change in the activities the girls were doing.

“Enid?” Wednesday asked from her blonde roommate and you realized that she was holding something in her hands. She had been writing before and she had some things on her table which you weren’t really sure about.

“What is it?”

“I think I found out,” Wednesday said only and Enid’s eyes wide opened. You were watching what was happening around you and you didn’t really understand what was going on. When Enid walked over to the black haired girl, it didn’t leave you just like that. You put down everything you have been holding and walked over to the table where the girls were too. And what you saw made the shivers run down your spine.

“It’s a diary.”

“How do you know?” Wednesday asked you and you looked at her. Taking a deeper breath you knew that you couldn’t tell them your mother knew about everything what was happening in her school, so you had to come up with some lie.

“Well, I have read these books. And it’s from the Gates family,” you said and Enid gasped.

“The Gates family? You mean- those Gates?”

“Yes, those Gates. And it’s known that they had a daughter. When all of them died, there was only one survivor. And it was-“

“Laurel Gates,” Wednesday finished and you nodded your head. When you turned back to see Enid, she seemed more confused than ever. “But where is she now if she was the only survivor?” Wednesday asked more from herself than from you or Enid and she walked over to her desk. She sat down onto a chair and you knew that she started thinking about the whole case. Closing your eyes you knew that you had to keep your mouth shut about this in front of your mother and you just kept quiet.

“Wednesday I think we should-“

“We should go to the Gates mansion,” Wednesday breathed out and you cleared your throat. You knew this wasn’t the best idea for you. You could easily shapeshift into someone without having control over it and you really didn’t want Wednesday to know. You looked at Enid who was as confused as you were and then Enid went on.

“Wednesday, it will be on our records and with that-“

“You’re a werewolf Enid,” Wednesday reminded her of that fact and Enid seemed to think about it. When she let out an exhale, you knew that Wednesday had Enid in her pocket.

“Okay. Y/n?”

You froze. Enid wanted you to go with them. And if your mother found out, she would make a scene. Enid stepped closer to you and you kept looking her into her eyes. She blinked few times and an excuse why you shouldn’t be going with them popped out in your head.

“What if I shapeshift? I don’t have any medication with myself and I will no break into my mother’s offi-“

“You don’t have to,” Wednesday said and she pulled out a little bottle of the meds your mother gave you earlier. Your eyes wide opened and you looked at the black haired girl.

“How did you get them?”

“I broke into your mother’s office,” Wednesday said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Are you insane? She will think that I was the one who stole them. Wednesday couldn’t you just ask me or tell me to do that?” You started panicking and when you saw that Wednesday wasn’t reacting at all, you gave up on being angry at that girl.

Later at that night, all three of you were sitting in a car which Tyler was driving. You knew his name because Wednesday told you so. Sitting on the backseats with Enid, you realized that she was nervous about the whole thing which was about to happen and she seemed to be scared. You breathed out softly and thought if it was going to be a good idea what you were about to do. You reached out your hand for Enid to take it. When she realized a movement with a corner of her eye, she turned her head to see you. As soon as she realized that you reached your hand out she looked down at your hand and then at you, but she took it.

“Are you scared?" Enid asked you quietly and you immediately shook your head no. The speed of your answer made Enid realize the truth. She squeezed your hand for few seconds and you looked down at your hands. A smile appeared on your face and as much as you tried to hide it that speed Enid realized. But you knew that she was as scared as you were. Sitting in silence in the car both of you gulped when the car shopped.

“Okay guys, we have arrived." realizing that Tyler spoke up, you nodded your head and looked at Enid. She was watching the Gates mansion with her eyes widened and you watched her chest raise and fall faster than usual. Brushing your them over her knuckles you tried to calm the girl down. When Wednesday opened the doors of the car, you did the same on your side and got out of the engine. Waiting for Enid you looked around.

“So… what are we going to do here?” You asked from Wednesday and she didn’t even look at you to give you an answer.

“We are going to find an evidence of that someone of the Gates family is still alive. Laurel to be exact,” Wednesday explained. When the words she just used got to your brain and you realized what did she want to do, all you could think about was your medicine. Hoping in that Wednesday wasn’t the one who had them, you looked over at Enid and she nodded her head, reaching under her coat. She had your medicine. You seemed to be safe.

Slowly and taking small and quiet steps, you arrived to the gate which was closed. From that spot you could see the mansion but you didn’t dare to touch the gate. Wednesday showed up next to you and she put her hand into the steel without any hesitation. You gulped loudly and looked at Enid. She was clenching her hands in fists and she was taking deep breaths. You looked away from the girl and followed Wednesday onto the lands of the Gates lands.

Taking really careful steps, you were walking across the lands in silence. There was nothing what could be making a noise so you heard Enid’s deep breathing. As further were you getting, that harder was to breath. Enid had to realize that because she brushed her thumb over your knuckles. You didn’t look at her, you wanted to keep your eyes on the lands and on the house because you felt like something dangerous was going to happen.

“Okay. I am going with Tyler. Y/n with Enid. If you find anything, just call for us and we will go there,” Wednesday explained and she gave you a flashlight. She gave one to Enid too and then she walked closer to Tyler. You stepped closer to the blonde girl and nodded your head. “Okay. If anyone finds anything, stay where you are and the other couple will come. Me and Tyler are taking the basement, you two can start on the second floor of the house. We will meet on the first one.”

“Okay,” Enid said, her voice shaky. When Wednesday turned around and walked away with Tyler, you reached your hand out to Enid. She jumped a little as you two made contact but when she looked you into your eyes, she smiled shyly. “Let’s go.”

You were walking and holding each others hand. Realizing how warm her hand was, you didn't want to let go of her hand and Enid seemed to think the same. As you approached the house you were waiting for something to happen and you were positively surprised when no surprise was waiting for you on the lands of that family.

Enid was walking besides you and she was being your emotional support without even knowing that. You were happpy you had her by your side.

When all of you arrived to the front doors, you took a deep breath, afraid to touch the door handle. You were just looking down at it and started taking deep breaths. Thinking if that was a good idea to come there, you were too afraid to touch anything what was connected to that family. In the following second the girl dressed in black stepped in front of you and she opened the doors.

Your eyes automatically traveled to the stairs which were leading to the second floor and you waited for the others to walk inside of the house. Enid stepped closer to you and Wednesday and Tyler stayed on the same spot.

"If anything happens, we will call for each other," Wednesday said. Feeling that all of you understood the task the girl gave you, you took Enid´s hand and took a deep breath.

"See you on the first floor," you said and Wednesday nodded her head. With that she turned around and you looked at Enid. She tried not to show it, but you knew that she was scared. You kept holding her hand and took a first step towards the stairs.

You were walking up as the first one and Enid was following you. You had your hand behind your back and you were holding the blonde´s hand. Feeling how cold her hand was, you squeezed it softly and kept walking forward.

“What’s in here?” Enid asked as you passed some doors and you stopped, looking at the blonde. You shrugged and Enid was the one who opened the doors for you two, gulping really loudly and letting out sounds like a puppy does. “I don’t want to go in there- that’s the only room which is decorated in the whole house, it means something!”

“I will go in there, don’t worry,” you calmed Enid down and she nodded her head. You let go of her hand and made sure she had the light. Walking inside of the room, the bedside table took your attention. It was a little box laid on the wood and that made you even more curious. You didn’t turn back to Enid, you didn’t want to scare the life out of her, so all you could do was taking that box and opening it to make sure there was nothing inside of them.

“I found something,” you said only and then you took the little box into your hands. Goosebumps covered your body and you knew that you should’ve put that right back where it belonged, but something stopped you from that action.

Your sight became blurry and there was beeping in your eyes. It seemed like you were about to faint but after what happened in your mother’s office you hoped in that you wouldn’t fall onto the hard ground. There was a medication you could use. As you remembered, you turned to see Enid, just when Wednesday arrived to the doors as well.

“Y/n, you need your pills!”

“It’s too late Enid, she is already transforming,” Wednesday stopped her and you wished that you didn’t have to go through that pain again. But Wednesday made you.

You had a feeling you couldn’t stand on your own feet. Feeling of throwing up was never leaving your body and you fell onto the floor. Taking deep breaths, one after another, you tried to remember what your mother did when you shapeshifted in her office, but all you had on your mind was, who did this little box belong to? Who was living in this room in an abandoned house and who was hiding something?

“Y/n- what?” You head Enid and you tried to open your eyes. When you looked at the blonde, you knew that you were laying on the floor and she had a really confused look. Furrowing her eyebrows, you focused on her eyes. You could see yourself in the reflection of them. Why did you have red hair?

“What’s- why do I have her voice? What is happening?” You started panicking just when Wednesday approached you.

“It’s simple. Your shapeshifting is just like my visions. When I touch something, I have a vision of what happened at that place. So when you touch something what is the owner’s, you shapeshift into the owner.”

“Why did Y/n turn into Miss Thornhill?” Enid asked in panic and you were shocked. Did you shapeshift into one of your teachers at school? How could this be possible? Did she have some connection to the Gate’s family? You had no idea.

“Give that to me,” Wednesday asked and she took the little box. The moment she touched it… nothing really happened. You weren’t focusing on her, you were hyperventilating and you still couldn’t believe that this room belonged to Marilyn Thornhill before.

“Here, Y/n, put it back where it was. And now we will go to the basement and search for something what we can use in this case.” Wednesday handed you the box with Ballerina just when it opened. The last thing you remembered were Wednesday’s pictures falling out of the wooden box and when you touched it again, you appeared in the same room few years back. And then all you could see was black.

#fluff #larissaweems #gxg #writers on tumblr #nevermoreacademy #nevermore #wednesdayaddams #timburton #enidsinclair #enidxreader #ynweems #investigation #jennaortega #emma myers #christina ricci

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