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heavenlyraindrops · 6 months

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Three ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Three Warnings: slight profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Three]

You kneeled by the side of your bed, clutching an angelic spear in your trembling hands. Outside you could hear the bustle of angels preparing for this year's extermination, the early rays of sunlight glinting off of their blades.

You tried as hard as you could to not think about last year’s extermination as your lips moved in silent prayer.

The door at the front of your house burst open. You could hear someone clumsily clattering around- something shattered and they cursed softly. You didn’t turn to look at him as Adam ambled into your bedroom, casting around a baleful eye.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty-“ he stopped, eyebrows shooting upwards as he saw you kneeling by your bed. “Get up, sugartits, it’s time to go.”

You looked at him without turning your head, then at the clock. Still ten minutes.

“What are you even doing, anyways?”

“Praying,” you said flatly.

He snorted, inspecting a vase full of flowers on the windowsill, which was casting a square of pale light into the room, banishing shadows to the corners. “Of course you are,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes but ignored him.

“What are you even praying for, anyways?”

You scowled. “The easier it is for me to pray, the quicker I’ll be done. You’re not exactly making it very easy.” You could almost feel him roll his eyes behind you. “So stop distracting me.”

A few moments ticked by, and you stood up, handling your blade with care. You turned to him.

“What were you praying for?” He repeated the question as you held the door open for him on your way out.

“To resist temptation, Adam,” you muttered, trying again not to think about last year. He laughed- it was more like squawking.

“Stupid thing to be praying for.”

“It’s alright, Adam, we’re all aware that you’re quite prone to being tempted easily. Go on, then. You remember our deal, right? For the extermination.” He scowled at you.

“Haven’t forgotten, sugartits,” came the reply. You crossed your arms, pleased. A feeling which immediately dissolved after you remembered why the deal existed in the first place.

“Good,” you said flatly.

♱♱♱

The wind whipped at your face and tangled through your hair as you swooped across Hell’s red sky, eyes scanning the land underneath you, your spear clutched in front of you for protection, a notebook in the small satchel you had opted to carry with you. You’d taken the notebook as an excuse for your visits to Hell for the Seraphim: ‘observing Hell’, you had told them.

You had been flying around aimlessly for a while now, letting your wings take you wherever your instincts did.

The area began to look familiar.

No, you thought. No no no NO.

A telltale building began to loom in the distance.

You almost skidded to a stop mid-air, legs kicking out underneath you to break your momentum, wings beating feverishly to stay up. You could see the broken window still, pale red light glinting off of the jagged shards of glass. He hadn’t fixed it?

You glanced around.

Why is no one here?

Sinners, you understood, but no angels? You gulped, and then it hit you. Why would the angels dare hang around Lucifer Morningstar’s territory? It was like a death wish. You swallowed again, throat getting dryer and dryer.

You had three options:

Go inside via the broken window.

Explore the area without going inside.

Fly the fuck away (the rational option).

God, why wasn’t your prayer from this morning working?

Against all judgment, you chose option two.

Your wings arched back as you scaled the side of the building, glancing through the windows. The curtains were either drawn, or the rooms inside were dark and abandoned.

All that space for barely anything or anyone inside?

You glanced down, and your breath was sucked out of your lungs.

A garden?

Your wings fluttered, shedding a feather as you descended towards the square of greenery. Well, greenery wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t very “green.” The flora? Vegetation?

A tree stood in the middle, tall and proud. The second your feet hit the ground, it captured your attention, enrapturing you and rooting you to the spot.

Why am I even here?

You didn’t know Hell had gardens- you’d expected it to be a barren wasteland, more or less, but the lush “greenery” seemed to be proving you wrong. You quickly pencilled it down in the notebook you had brought with you.

What you definitely didn’t expect at all, however, was the apple tree you were standing under.

The fruit seemed beautiful, ruby-red and delicious. You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, then glanced at the sky, praying the exterminators weren’t worried about you or looking for you. Adam had better held up on his promise. You looked back at the tree.

It seemed so- so out of place from the otherwise hellish landscape that you just had to take a closer look. As you took a step forward, grass crunching, you frowned, recalling Sera’s words, again.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” you murmured, then frowning.

”But satisfaction brought it back.”

You shrieked and jumped a couple of feet in the air, feeling your wings burst out behind you as you whirled around. Lucifer crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell?” You hissed, nerves frayed.

“That’s what I should be asking you. Snooping around in my garden.” His eyes flicked to the tree. “Ogling at my apples- alright that- that sounds weird when I say it like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The point is, you’re the one who’s out of place here. Couldn’t get enough of me the first time?

You hesitated. You’d never expect the King of Hell to fumble around with his words like that. Your muscles relaxed slightly. “That is far from the truth. The tree just… piqued my curiosity.”

You both stared at each other, silently. As if on cue, an apple fell off of a branch, straight into his outstretched hand.

“Have a taste, then.”

You stared at the shining red fruit in his hand, then looked at his golden eyes. His smile seemed surprisingly genuine.

“I…”

He rolled his eyes, grinning wide at the look at your face. “This isn’t an Eve-and-the-forbidden-fruit situation, angel. It’s an apple.” He waved it around, eyebrows arched, as if to prove a point. “An apple.”

The more he spoke that way the more you felt stupid, until he tossed the apple at you without warning. You caught it, not missing a beat. The fruit felt cool against your warm skin. He turned.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, entering a small door in the wall, which led straight into the manor. You slowly put the apple in your satchel. He turned and grinned at you again. “Wanna come in?” He glanced at the sky.

Fuck, that prayer was really not working.

Your body was almost frozen in place, locked in with his stare.

You cleared your throat. “Sure.”

He grinned, and disappeared into the manor. You followed.

Crap. Crap this is so weird. You stared at the back of his blond head as you followed him down a hallway. We’ve met once. A year ago. Why am I following him into his house? You felt like you were in a fever dream.

“Um, excuse me… sir?”

He turned to look at you.

“What exactly are we doing? Or, going to do?”

He put his arm on your forearm, grinning. You didn’t shy away from the contact, but your arm burned where he touched it. “Have fun, of course.”

You blinked. “What?”

He outstretched his arms. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen another angel. It's good to have something new in life, am I right?” He paused. “Or at least that’s what that one therapist I had said,” he muttered. You tilted your head. “Anyways. I doubt you get much action up there in Heaven yourself?” Without warning, he spun you around. You yelped, hand grappling onto your satchel to stop the contents inside to go flying.

“Who better to befriend here in Hell other than me?” He said.

Cocky, you thought to yourself.

“Right,” you coughed, stumbling a little as he let you go. “So, um… sir, how exactly do you propose we spend our time?”

He shrugged. You stared at him.

“Right, I’m leaving,” you decided, starting down the hallway with conviction.

“Come onnn,” he complained, hurrying after you. “It’ll be a waste if you just leave and we never see each other again!”

You turned and looked at him. “No, it won’t. And frankly I’m not supposed to be here. You’re the goddamn Lucifer himself.” You stabbed your index finger towards his chest. “And the Seraphim would not be pleased if they found out that we’ve made contact- twice!”

He touched your wrist, lowering your hand, and dropped his voice to a husky whisper. You stared blankly at where his skin met yours.

“What the Seraphim don’t know won’t hurt them,” he smirked.

You could slowly feel your face turning red, and you looked up to stare into his eyes. Ugh, there it was again. That genuine, sweet smile.

“Fine,” you huffed, insides churning.

You just knew, that whatever was about to follow-

It would be the death of you.

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

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gg-pedro · 8 months

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can you hear the music (ch. 1) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

even here, at the end of all things, some things persisted. one thing in particular, throughout all the places you had been. music.

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano and find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, platonic!ellie x reader, implied age gap, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, they kiss lolz, smut to come, pining, feelings.

words: 1.8k

a/n: a little sweet, a little bitter, a little self indulgent. I'm planning on this being a series! I hope you enjoy. warning tags only apply to this chapter.

Two knocks. Three. More knocking, hushed squabbling from outside your door. You got up from your seat at the kitchen table, a piling mess of sheet music and scribbled notes.

Opening the door revealed your newest student, Ellie, looking very much like Joel was leading her to the gallows with that scowl on her face.

“Can we just get this over with? I’m fucking hungry.” Ellie pushed past you, shrugging off her coat and kicking off her boots.

“I’m sorry… ‘bout her. She likes doin’ this, I swear. Always comes back talking about it. Just give her some time to warm up to you.”

Joel had this particular look on his face whenever he talked about that little girl. His dark eyes would soften and he’d push a hand through his graying hair, his thoughts seeming like they were somewhere else entirely from his surroundings. The most he ever said to you was about Ellie. Everything you knew about Joel was from Ellie, naturally.

He was from Texas. He was fairly older than you– you didn’t have much experience from when it was before the end of the fucking world. He sounded tightly wound. He could play the guitar, and he’d taught Ellie a few things. Once, she’d said that he only liked piano music if Billy Joel was playing it, whoever that was. That made you laugh.

You gave him a thin smile, crossing your arms over your chest to ward off the draft that was blowing through the open door. “I know. She’s a great kid, I can tell she wants to learn. I think it helps her– you know, keeping busy.”

Joel met your eyes for the first time since the conversation had started, something painful and poignant seeping into his expression.

“Yeah. I think so.” He was quiet for a few seconds before looking straight over you to grab Ellie’s attention. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m down the street helpin’ Tommy with that old building. Be good,” he warned, before giving you a grateful nod and turning back.

And that was your routine. Joel was usually short with you, a little quiet, a little shy. You thought he was a sweet man– and a painfully attractive one at that. All southern and rough, broad shouldered, puppy-dog eyed. He seemed like he would do anything to keep that girl safe. You were glad the community had someone like him.

You had started teaching Ellie a few weeks after they had settled into Jackson. It was mostly because of Maria’s recommendation, who you were fairly close with. Ellie had hated taking lessons from you more vehemently in the beginning, but the more you worked at it, the more comfortable you saw her get.

“Come on, kid. This is good for your brain,” you would say, beckoning her to sit next to you on the piano bench.

She scoffed, but yet she obliged. “This is dumb. I could be doing something useful. Like shooting guns.”

“Art is as important, Ellie. More important than shooting guns. For you, anyway."

Her fingers tapped gingerly on the keys and she played a scale they had learned the week before. “How would you know? You aren’t even old,” she countered. “How long have you been playing?”

You glanced over at the clock. You two were wasting time, but at least she was talking. “My whole life, give or take. I tried to hold onto it whenever I could. It was my favorite thing in the entire world.”

She nodded, seeming to understand. “That’s cool. I get why Joel likes you.”

You didn’t think Joel was someone who particularly liked you. He didn’t dislike you, clearly, but if he had given any hints, they had been falling on deaf ears. You tried your best to keep your expression neutral. “And why’s that?”

She giggled to herself as she flipped through the pages of her sheet music booklet. “‘Cause you’re both fucking weird.”

You laughed too, punching her gently in the arm. “Fair. Now stop stalling and play me whatever you remember.”

Life was special nowadays. More precious than it ever had been. You would have to cherish moments like these. Loss was all around, and loving always risked the hurt. You were really, really fucking tired of hurting.

Walking back to your home, trudging through the snow, you were tired. Working in Jackson’s small clinic was easy enough, but it was draining. You saw to children mainly, bandaging up wounds and dosing out rations of antibiotics when needed. The kids liked you, the parents liked you, and that was rewarding, but plastering on a smile and a light-hearted tone all day sometimes felt like too fucking much.

So naturally, you were ready to pick a fight when you felt a broad hand consume your shoulder.

You turned around to match the disembodied hand to a face, only to see Joel Miller. He looked tired, more tired than you, and a little sad.

“Sorry, I wasn’t tryin’ to scare you. I saw you, and I…” He paused, looking down at the two sets of footprints that had outlined both of your paths. “Ellie isn’t feeling well. I think it’s best she skips y’alls lesson tomorrow.”

She released the breath she'd been holding. For some reason, he had the tendency to precede the things he said as if he was about to tell you that the world was ending. Again.

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, she’s alright. This whole things a big fuckin’ adjustment, and I… I worry she’ll push herself too much if nobody stops her,” he explained. “She’s been with Maria all day. But yeah, she’ll be okay.”

Ah. He was worried about her. It seemed like he was always worrying about her. “I understand. Can’t imagine what it must be like for her. And you.”

She’ll push herself if nobody stops her. Who stopped Joel? Who looked out for him? His brother, surely, but was it like that? Did those two, hardened and stretched thin, have the time to be concerned about things like that? How long had he just been… going?

You reached a hand out to touch his upper arm, rubbing it a little before pulling away. “You’re a good man, Joel. I really think that, and I hope you know it.”

He laughed a little at that. “I haven't done any good, trust me on that.”

You dropped your gaze and looked away. You knew that everyone here, without a shadow of a doubt, had done things they weren’t proud of. Things they never would’ve done if not at the end of the world.

You were maybe 20 steps from your front door, standing out in the Wyoming cold with him. You tried to meet his eyes before speaking again, but he wouldn’t face you.

“Come in. Please, I insist. Warm up, I just traded for coffee.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself for a few seconds, raising his head and looking off to the side. “Yeah, alright. Why not.”

Joel Miller was sitting in your living room, sipping from a mug so carefully that you’d think he was afraid he’d break it. The fire was lit and casting warm shadows across the dim room. It was endearing. You hadn’t felt like this in a lifetime.

“I couldn’t do it. What you do. Dealing with all those kids,” he said after a long lapse of quiet.

You shrugged, sipping on your own cup. “I love it. I never thought I’d have the chance to play music again, much less teach. It’s not perfect, but it's something,” you said. “Ellie tells me you play guitar.”

Joel rolled his eyes and finally sunk back into his chair instead of hunching over. He groaned a little as he did it, as if he stored all of his tension in his back. “Yeah, used to. I ain’t good at it anymore.”

“But you used to be?” You pried.

He finally looked at you, his eyes infinitely more dark in this light. “Maybe. Don’t think I’d be able to forget how to play even if I tried, so might as well put it to some use.”

You smiled. “I know. Funny how things stick with you. Muscle memory.”

He nodded. “Somethin’ like that.”

And it was true. There were lots of things neither of you would forget how to do, no matter how much time had lapsed in between the before and the now. And sure, most of what you had learned happened after the world had ended, but that was irrelevant. The most important things had always been there. You’d known how to love for your entire life.

His eyes wandered over to the old upright piano situated on the wall in the living room. “Is she any good on that thing?” He asked.

You thought about Ellie, who would curse everytime she slipped on a scale, who would argue fervently about how that squiggly shit on the sheet music could possibly mean anything, who learned faster than any of your other kids.

“She is. She’s impressive. She picked up Old McDonald Had a Farm like that.” You grinned, snapping your fingers for effect.

He smiled thinly, his mind clearly somewhere else. “Explains why she won’t stop humming that shit. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“My pleasure, Joel.” You laughed. “You finished with that?” You gestured to his empty mug.

“Yeah. Hey, I’ll help you.”

You were elbow to elbow with each other at the sink, cleaning out the liquid and the scattered coffee grounds from the bottoms of your respective cups. Joel took yours and placed it on the drying rack, wiping his hands off with the towel you passed to him.

You leaned back against the island as he turned his back to the sink. He was so tall, so rugged, so handsome. His age only added to it. He had a softness around his eyes now, his features slightly obscured by the absence of much light.

“Should probably take off… Thank you. For the drink,” Joel began.

“Don’t thank me, I’d do it anytime. Tell Ellie that I hope she’s feeling better soon.”

He nodded, and he swallowed. He wasn’t making any moves to leave, save for his eyes on the door. They flicked back to you, watching you, scanning you up and down until he finally said,

“You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart, lookin’ at me like that.”

You weren’t really sure of how it all happened, but in an instant your bodies were pressed together with your lower back digging into the dull edge of the island counter, Joel’s lips pressed to yours like he was seeking oxygen.

His free hand felt up your body, and your skin was on fire. A match thrown onto a pool of gasoline. Everything was electric. He kissed you like he’d learned it in another life, back when love was free, when forever was a tangible thing, when strings weren’t attached. You felt it all on your lips and tongue, in the bonfire that was being fanned in your abdomen.

When he stepped back, you pulled him in for more. The opposite reaction to the Earth pulling down on you is you pulling the Earth back up. You tangled your hands in his soft hair, and his dug into the fabric of your jeans on your hips.

You both came up for air after a while, having migrated to the entrance of the kitchen. He had you backed up against the beam of the open doorway, tucking both sides of your hair behind you ear to see your face.

"Shouldn't be doing this," he mumbled, nipping at the warm skin on your neck.

"Maybe not," you conceded. I didn't mean you couldn't want it– what he could give you. You'd all done wrong things. "You could still stay."

"Yeah," he responded, pressing his body against yours and sweeping a hand over to cradle your lower back. "Still could."

Maybe it wasn't a lie. Maybe that glassy, far off look wouldn't be permanent. It could be like this. You could have a reason.

And yeah, maybe Joel knew more than he let on. Some things never really left him.

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buckybarnesisdaddy · 11 months

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All is Well Part 2

Summary- Daisy and the men are still getting used to their newest houseguest.

Pairings- Steve Rogers(Nomad) x Daisy!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Daisy!Reader, Jefferson x Daisy!Reader (implied), Ransom x Daisy!Reader (implied).

Rating- Explicit, 18+

Warnings- polyamorous relationships, sex (PiV), Oral (f receiving), Double penetration, slight choking, cream pie, teased MxM but doesn’t actually happen, I’m sure I forgot something. 18+ only!!

Word count- 6.2k

Authors notes- This ties into It’s Cold, by @rainydayandmondays so please read that wonderful chapter! I haven’t posted my writing on Tumblr so here goes nothing, hopefully you all like it!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warmth. A soft, gentle warmth washes over him. “Mmhmm,” he hums as he opens his eyes. Looking down at you as your head is buried against his chest and dreaming away, a soft smile breaks over his face.

Cold. Bone-chilling cold grips his chest as he shoots awake. He is looking around and gasping for air, looking for you, his Daisy. You’re asleep in the arms of the other while one leg is entangled with his own and your hand clasped with his, Grounding him.

Love. Unmatched and all-consuming, as you sleep between your two men. You hum as you start to stir, feeling eyes on you, and then the bed shakes as one sits up, started awake.

“Buck- hey Bucky, you’re safe.” Steve’s voice is what pulls you from your sleep. Bucky’s gasping for air scares you as you wipe the sleep out of your eyes.

“Bucky? Baby, what is it?” You sit up, still holding his metal hand in yours and moving closer to him as he moves to the edge of the bed. Kissing his shoulders and rubbing his back, you try to bring him out of his dream.

“I’m- I’m okay- I…” you look at Steve, who is already sitting up and switching on the lamp. Glancing at the clock, it reads 2 am. “I’m sorry- I’ll try to go back to sleep- I just.” still trying to catch his breath, he stumbles over his words. Bucky hasn’t had nightmares in about nine months, not since you got into a routine. Nine months ago, He moved into the room you shared with Steve. He sleeps on your right, and Steve sleeps on your left. Every other morning, he gets up and runs; the mornings he doesn’t, Steve does. They never want to leave you alone. And the mornings neither get up; well, those mornings usually end up with a late start for all three of you as soft kisses turn into hands roaming each other’s bodies, which leads to you spread out above or below one of them. Bucky makes breakfast for everyone in the house and eats with you either on his lap or admiring you sitting in Steve’s. It’s a solid routine that has worked for the past nine months and one day… no nightmares for nine months and one day until tonight. Feeling the tightness in his chest finally subside, he allows you to move him back on the bed and lean back against the headboard. You settle between him and Steve, laying your head on his shoulder and taking Steve’s hand to your left.

“Talk to me, Baby.” You rub Bucky’s leg, coaxing him to open up, “What’s going on?”

Bucky lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re gonna laugh at me.” You shake your head no, and Steve voices what you’re thinking.

“Whatever it is, it’s big enough to cause your nightmares to return. Just talk to us, Buck.” Steve reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. Bucky sighs again.

“That little prick coming in and messing up our lives,” Bucky grumbles. “We all had a great system! Sleep together, workout, I cook, Stevie cleans, Daisy sits there and looks pretty-“Bucky crosses his arms. “Now I’m having to share my women-” Steve clears his throat, “Our women, Sorry Stevie.” He reaches over and ruffles Steve’s bedhead. “There is never any hot water cause he is always taking damn baths, I have to cook more food, so it’s taking even longer, and I’m not even getting to eat with you two anymore because I always serve you first-” Bucky looks down at you, and you are smiling a little. “See! I knew you’d laugh!” You smile and look at Steve, who nods. You move to straddle Bucky’s lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’m not laughing, Bucky. I think you’re a little jealous of our new housemate-”

“I’m not jealous- I just hate change! You know me, I don’t do change well!” You rub down his chest.

“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t raise your voice at me.” You say in the sweetest, softest voice that all Bucky can do is smile at your request. He grumbles an apology. You giggle and kiss his nose as you say a thank you back. “Fine, you’re not jealous, but I sense you feel left out.” He nods, and you rub his chest again. “A bit… underappreciated.” He nods again, and you reach down to the hem of your shirt and lift it off in one motion. Bucky stares at your breast and licks his lips. You tilt his chin up to look at you, and you smile. “I’m sorry you have felt unseen these past few days… he can be-”

“An ass,” Steve says.

“A prick,” Bucky grumbles

“A handful,” you correct both of them. “Ransom is new; remember what it was like when we brought the last new guy in?” Bucky sighs and nods. The last new guy was a man named Frank. He had no last name, and he had a bad smoking habit. You took care of that pretty quickly. He was sweet but took some training; learning to share can be challenging for little kids, let alone grown men. He finally settled in, and the boys really like him now. He gets along with Jefferson well and keeps to himself except when asked to join everyone. He took some getting used to. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases.

“That first week, he was needy, and you both HATED him for it. Turns out he was just in need of a family, of somewhere to belong. We gave that to him. Ransom has some similar needs. His family was… well, a shit show, and he was never disciplined. Ever. Precious, Dutchess and I must correct that, and there will be some natural pushback. Trust me, it won’t be like this forever.” You lean forward and press your chest against Bucky’s. “And if anyone can show him how to behave, it’s my two Super Soldiers.” You lean in and kiss Steve and then turn to kiss Bucky. Bucky smiles and seems to relax a little. You meet Steve’s gaze, and he nods, clearing his throat and furrowing his brow; he brings up a topic that he knows could be touchy.

“Buck, this actually comes at a perfect time. Bucky looks at Steve and then at you. “The routine you-” Steve gestures to all three of you, “we- have is great, but I think we could ease up on it a bit.” Bucky goes stiff and looks at you. “We are only suggesting this because,” Steve shifts around, “well,” Still feeling like he might be walking into a dangerous conversation, “we’ve noticed how the changes have slowly been affecting you. We think it would help if you weren’t so tied to a routine that you can’t deviate from. Life is full of changes, and we have to be able to adapt to them. This is proof that maybe- just maybe your coping skills aren’t the best solution.” You lean forward and hug him tight, looking up at him with your sweet, puppy eyes, as Steve and Bucky like to call them. “You haven’t had your exact routine for eight days now, and you’ve gotten grumpy, and now you’re having nightmares,” Steve continues. “And don’t get us wrong, we LOVE grumpy you,” you giggle and kiss his chest, and Steve ruffles his hair. “But the nightmares… you’ve come so far, Buck, we don’t want you to lose all your progress.” Bucky looks at Steve and then down at you. He nods and kisses your head.

“Okay, well then, what do you two suggest? Bucky asks, actually curious how two people with no experience in PTSD therapy or counseling are going to help him overcome this.

“Well, for starters,” you smile as you sit up, drawing squiggles down his chest with your fingers. “A good night’s rest will help. And I know you’re not tired now, but,” you look at Steve and smirk. “I can change that,” Steve smirks back and pulls you into a kiss.

“I’m still pretty tired from earlier,” he winks at you as you blush, “but you two go ahead.”

That night, you tire Bucky out, and you pass out next to Steve. All three of you blissed out and incredibly happier than you were an hour ago. You and Steve make it a point to change Bucky’s schedule gradually. If he wakes up late, you encourage him to skip the run and do it at another time that day. If he cooks breakfast, he does it all at once, and it’s not made to order like he used to do. That way, if Ransom wants to be an hour late for breakfast, Bucky isn’t thrown off by that. Ransom gets cold eggs and bacon, and Bucky doesn’t miss his morning snuggles with you. Little by little, Bucky lets go of the reigns and allows the little bumps in his schedule to test his flexibility. And pretty soon, the nightmares stop, too; it’s a strange thing the mind. When every second of Bucky’s day wasn’t taken up with some task or job, it would wander to the horrors of his past life. The things he did, the people he killed, that’s why he wanted to be constantly busy. It took one prick waltzing into his home to show him that he needed to let go so he could heal and move on. He doesn’t care for Ransom, but he can’t say he hates him anymore.

***5 months later- November***

Bucky is making French toast when he hears someone come walking into the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder, “morning,” he offers, and Jake smiles and pats his shoulder as he walks by. Fixing his coffee and sitting down at the table, Bucky can tell Jake isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “Ransom?” Bucky asks, and Jake nods.

“With precious now, and that’s why I’m here with you.” Bucky laughs and nods. “So tell me, how does one make French toast?” Jake asks, and Bucky kindly obliges him, going over each step in detail and offering to let him make a few. Bucky likes Jake; he is a little eccentric, but Bucky doesn’t mind that; it makes for good story times at the dinner table. The only thing Bucky could do without is Jake’s need to introduce him to new music; if Bucky has to hear Don’t Stop Believin’ one more time, he might just snap and beat the shit out of Ransom and blame it on music rage. He smiles to himself at the thought. That’s when the bedroom door starts to open.

“That’s my cue,” Jake smiles and excuses himself. Bucky looks over his shoulder, and he sees a half-naked Ransom walking down the hall to the bathroom, as smug as can be. Bucky sighs and shakes his head as he finishes breakfast.

The sun streams in and shines in your eyes, pulling you from your blissful sleep. You’re blissful yet cold sleep. You reach out on both sides and feel icy sheets under your fingertips. Pouting and staring at the ceiling, you grumble about waking up alone. Steve went for a run right after Bucky got up to start breakfast. You stayed tucked in bed, hoping they’d both be back by now, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. You are still lost in your pouting thoughts when there is a knock on the bedroom door. You forgo your slippers and regret it when the hardwood floor sends shivers up your spine. You tie your silk robe around you before opening the door and seeing who it is, except all you see is a giant bouquet of daisies. You’re eyes light up, and a small giggle escapes your lips. “Steve Grant Rogers, what on earth?!” Steve drops them and places the bouquet by the door before scooping you up into his arms. He tickles your sides, and a laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“I just wanted to treat you, that’s all.” He kisses you as he kicks the door closed behind him. Steve crosses the room to the king-sized bed in the middle of the back wall. The pillows are haphazardly thrown on either side, and the dark green comforter is a little twisted, but that doesn’t stop Steve from laying you down. As you have two men permanently in your bedroom, you have the large master suite with a joined bathroom. Dutchess has a room at the very end of the hall, and it has a joined bathroom as well. Precious (as Jake likes to call her) has the room down the hall, and their bathroom is across from your bedroom. Each room is exceptionally spacious, and you’ve even drawn up plans to add a bathroom to Jake and Precious’ room. It’s only fair that they have the same privacy as you and Dutchess. Also, it would keep Ransom from giving you, Steve, and Bucky a free show whenever he can’t be bothered to close the door. And it would decrease his opportunity to eavesdrop on your private time with your boys. You can count on one hand the number of times Bucky and Steve have stayed and joined in on your time with Ransom… there’s a reason that number doesn’t go past 5.

Lost in the eyes of your husband and the feel of his lips on your skin, you don’t hear the door open. You don’t hear the clearing of his throat, and you don’t hear him call out your name; you don’t hear him at all, but you see him. Opening your eyes when Steve leaves a particularly hard love bite on your neck. There’s Ransom, bedroom door kicked back open, leaning against the doorframe. Ransom has taken your bouquet, and he’s picking the petals off the Daisies. Steve had taken the time from his run to buy you your favorite flower; it’s where your nickname comes from, and here Ransom is just ripping it apart. His smirk tells you everything you need to know; he’s looking for a reaction. Ransom knows those were special for you. He wants Steve or even you to get angry; you won’t give him that. You know he’s acting out for attention; Steve and Bucky would say he’s just being a little prick. You look away, pull Steve’s face close to yours, and whisper, “Next time, take an extra second to lock the door.” Steve scrunches his brow, and his eyes get slightly sad, thinking he messed up somehow. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Ransom’s smug face and rolls his eyes. Noticing how Ransom’s eyes rake over your body, shielded by this sheer silk robe and Steve, it sends Steve into protective mode. He starts to get up and lecture Ransom about respecting people’s privacy and how Daisy is HIS wife, and HE decides who sees her and when. All that would have done is cause Ransom to laugh in Steve’s face. Steve may be the husband, and he may have some control over Daisy, but everyone knows that the women in this house have 100% autonomy, and no one’s husband can say differently. Well, that’s what they let Ransom think, no one’s had the heart to give him the cold, hard truth about these relationships… yet. Steve just might though. Ransom stares Steve down, almost begging him to let go and yell. Ransom doesn’t rightfully fear Steve, at least not yet. You three ladies allow the men to handle their differences however they see fit. As long as no one is seriously hurt, they can duke it out. That rule was put on pause once Ransom arrived because, well, the boys would have permanently damaged his face and their hands with the amount of times they’ve had disagreements with him. So, if Steve had chosen to tell him off like he so desperately wanted to do, Ransom would have answered with a literal laugh in Steve’s face. And Steve would have had no choice but to show Ransom why he should fear him. But Bucky saves the day and the peace. Bucky always saves the day.

“Beat it.” Bucky walks up beside Ransom and stands in the doorway to block his view. Not before he glances at you himself; he definitely likes what he sees, and you bite your lip when you catch his gaze. He turns back around and looks Ransom up and down. “You’re not supposed to have a foot in this room until tomorrow.” Ransom scoffs at Bucky. “Breakfast is ready in the kitchen; go now.” Bucky stands up straighter, towering over Ransom; he’s only one or two inches taller, but still, with Bucky’s muscles, it's intimidating. Bucky gives Ransom’s shoulder a little push, moving him out of the doorway, and Bucky shuts and locks the door on him.

“I’m sorry he ruined your flowers.” Steve opens your robe and kisses your chest. You hum at the feeling of his beard creating delicious friction along your soft skin.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Bucky? Could you gather the petals? If Ransom wants to ruin my flowers, then he will have to bathe with the petals his next bath.” You smile, and Bucky lightly laughs and nods.

“He’s gonna hate and love that simultaneously,” Bucky says as he gathers the petals and places them on the dresser. One hand plays in Steve’s hair as he continues to kiss your chest, and the other reaches out to Bucky. He stands at the end of the bed watching you and Steve; he sees how you melt in Steve’s arms and soften at the feel of his lips along your breast. You make a grabby motion, and he teases you by doing it back. You pout, and a light laugh escapes Bucky’s lips before he gives in and walks over.

“You two left me in a cold bed this morning, all alone,” You tighten your grip on Steve’s hair, and you squeeze Bucky’s hand a little harder. They look at each other.

“I was making breakfast-“

“I needed to run- I haven’t been running in- “

“Yeah, but it was your first morning with alone time since the- “

“I had promised Sam-“

“Boys, boys, boys.” You say, and they stop talking over one another. “I’m not mad,” you smile up at them; you’re still on your back with Steve on top of you. You run your hands up and down their chests, feeling the muscles move and tense under your fingers. “I just need you two to warm me up.” You smile, and Steve gives you a deep kiss, and then so does Bucky.

“I’ve got just the thing. Buck?” Steve says.

“High or low?” Bucky asks, and Steve thinks for a minute.

“High, I haven’t spent enough time up high.” Bucky nods, and then they are both moving you around the bed. Steve lays next to you and opens your robe as Bucky lays between your legs and rubs up and down your thighs.

“Mhmm, my boys,” You hum as Bucky kisses you along your center. He whispered against your skin.

“All yours, Doll.” Bucky gives a love bite to your inner thigh and then sets in to devour you.

“Sweet, perfect Daisy,” Steve says against your lips as he kisses you.

Soon Bucky has you arching off the bed and clinging to Steve as you reach your high. “Atta girl, just like that,” Steve whispers in your ear while playing with Bucky’s hair as he cleans you up and gets more than his fair share of you. You pull Bucky up, and he settles between your legs as he kisses you, shoving his tongue in your mouth as you moan around it. Pulling away to fill your screaming lungs,

“Now it’s your turn,” you say breathlessly. You look at Steve. “Yours too, Stevie.” You smirk and move them around. Bucky settles behind you while you straddle Steve’s lap, already guiding him inside. You moan at the stretch while Bucky kisses your neck, his hands drifting down your body and between your breasts.

“Where do you want me, baby girl? In this sweet ass,” he squeezes it, “in that sweet pussy with Stevie,” He guides you up and down to start riding slowly. “or in Stevie?” He pinches Steve’s thigh, and that has you all laughing a little, and you turn and kiss Bucky.

“I’d never choose that FOR Stevie.” You wink.

“You choose everything else for him.” Bucky retorts, and Steve laughs loudly. Steve gives your ass a smack on one side with one hand and the he reaches up and smacks the side of Bucky’s ass with the other. Almost like a reprimand to you both, you can’t help but giggle and Bucky laughs.

“This is why you have neighbors like Peter assuming we are fucking.” Steve responds with a bit of light in his eyes. Bucky smirks and slowly pushes in alongside Steve.

“I mean, that’s kinda what we’re doing now, isn’t it?” Bucky says, trying not to sound affected by how you are squeezing him. You and Steve moan loudly, and you collapse on Steve’s chest. Bucky beams at the reaction he pulled out of both of you. Steve catches his breath, and a small smile escapes as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“True, but Daisy’s pussy and my ass are two very different things.” Steve struggles to get out. Bucky smirks as he slowly moves in and out, torturing you and Steve.

“Now Stevie-“Bucky starts, but you and Steve cut him off.

“Just fuck us!” You scream, tired of his games.

“My god, Bucky- just move!” Steve screams and emphasizes it with another smack to the side of Bucky’s ass.

Bucky bites his lip and pulls back before slamming back in hard and fast.

“Ffffuuu“ you stammer out. Bucky’s metal hand wraps around the back of your neck, and Steve sits up and wraps his hand around the front.

“You know how we feel about that, Daisy girl,” Steve whispers against your lips.

“Yeah, it’s the only thing we ask of you, Doll.” Bucky coos in your ear. You smile as they squeeze a little and then let go. Bucky slams back in.

“FUCK!!!” You scream as he hits that sweet spot inside you. Bucky smirks and slaps your ass, and Steve kisses you hard.

“Thatta girl.” Steve praises.

“Love that dirty mouth! Gotta fully commit.” Bucky grabs your hips and sets a brutal pace as he chases his high, bringing you and Steve over the edge.

“Squeezin’ us so good, baby girl!” Bucky moans as he cums deep inside you.

“So good, my sweet Daisy!!” Steve cums alongside Bucky and fills you to the brim.

You lay there wrapped in their arms for a good 10 minutes, unable to move or even speak. You play with Bucky’s hair as Steve kisses your neck, and you thread your hand in his. “I guess we should get up, shower, and join the rest of the world,” Steve says; he stands up to head to the shower. “And you, my wife,” you smile proudly. “are coming with me!” Steve lifts you into his arms and throws you over his shoulder. You laugh and smack his ass. He looks at Bucky and winks. “You comin’?” Steve says as he walks off to the bathroom. Lifting your head, you make grabby hands again, and Bucky can’t resist your grabby hands and pouty face.

“Fine, you’ve convinced me!” Bucky teases and runs after you two. After a long, hot shower and an orgasm each, you finally get out and get ready for the day.

“Any plans today?” You ask Steve and Bucky as you gather the daisy petals into a bag for later.

“I’m going to spend some time with Cap. See if I can get through to him.” Bucky kisses your cheek. “We are almost on the road to almost having a breakthrough!” He smiles proudly. Steve laughs and pats his back before leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“I am helping Bucky for a bit later, but first, I’m making a grocery run or else Jake, Cap, and Winter will eat us out of house and home.” He grabs his wallet and heads to the door.

“To be fair, Cap and Winter can finally have seconds without punishment. So I get it. Jake? That you’ll have to talk to Precious about.” Steve waves it off and heads out the door. Once you have a moment, Bucky pulls you close and kisses you sweetly.

“I love you, and I’ll see you later. Hopefully, Cap doesn’t kill me,” he teases you. “I’d like my last night with just my Wife before I have to share you with others again.” You blush and pull him close. Three weeks ago, in a private ceremony with just the house members, you and Steve added Bucky to your marriage. It’s not conventional, but nothing about this situation is. Bucky has always been a part of your lives, and that one day, when he expressed his love for you, it felt right. Even Steve knew and felt the same way. Bucky moved in about four years ago, and three weeks ago, it was made official, as official as this can be. Out of respect for the new “marriage,” everyone except Steve had to be hands-off with you for three weeks; today is your last day. Well, that rule only applied to Ransom; you could hold yourself back from sleeping with any of the other men, and they could hold back from you. Random needed strict rules.

“If he hurts a hair on your pretty head, then he will have to answer to me.” You kiss Bucky and rub up and down his back.

“I’ll tell him he will be in big trouble with my Doll.” He says sweetly and kisses you again before finally slipping out of the room.

You are getting dressed when you hear the bedroom door creak open, but no footsteps approaching. You knowing very well who likes to stand in doorways, observing and taking it all in, you turn around and smile at a happy Jefferson. “And why are you so happy this morning?” You tease. Jefferson smiles and glances down at his feet before looking back up at you and questioning what kind of morning you two will have. He knows this is the last day of your three weeks, but a man can hope, can’t he? You smile and hold out your hand, allowing him to come to you. A gentle smile breaks his smirk, and he walks over to you. You pull him into a hug and give him a sweet kiss on his jawline. Regardless of the hands off rule, Jefferson doesn’t enter your bedroom unless you invite him in. And if there is an invite, he knows it will be a sweet, platonic relationship-type day. If you come to him, step into his basement room where he designs and lets his imagination run free, he has his way with you.

See, Jefferson likes to play this game; he lives off the chase and honestly can’t get it up without the excitement of it. Cat and mouse, hunter and hunted. If you draw him in, then there is no fun, no chase, no sex, just sweet head scratches, fuzzy pajamas, and cuddles, which he loves. If you approach him, all bets are off. It’s his crazed form of consent, and once you got the safe words and hard stops in place, you two have had tons of fun, even involving Steve and Bucky once in a while. If Sex is involved, then Jefferson needs you to approach him with an “I want this; don’t hold back.” He can get intense, so he won’t chase you unless you initiate it. It’s how he keeps himself in check. It keeps the madness from breaking free. You hold out a hand and invite him into your warm embrace; he knows you’re not in the headspace for his games, and that’s okay. Jefferson rubs up and down your back.

“I am Happy, my little Bunny because I just got word that I have a hearing about getting my visitation reinstated.” You could scream, you do!

“Jefferson!!!” You hug him tight, and he lifts you off the ground in excitement. “When?!”

“Later this week, Ari got the call from Andy this morning and told me over breakfast.” He smiles, and tears well up in his eyes. “I could see her soon!” His tears break free, and you give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Let me know the exact day and time, and I will be there; we all will!” Jefferson laughs a little.

“Well, we could leave Ransom here, and I wouldn’t care.” You smile and roll your eyes.

“He will be there too. Besides, we can’t trust him to be left alone, at least not yet, so he has to come.” Jefferson laughs again and gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead before he lets you go. He walks to the door and then looks back at you, smirking slightly,

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He asks as he bites his lip. “It’s been too long, Bunny.” You blush as you answer.

“Maybe. It will depend on how exhausting my day is. If not tomorrow, then definitely the next.” Jefferson nods and watches as you walk over to him. “I’ve missed my little Kitten too.” You smirk up at him, and he leans in, kissing you and leaving you breathless.

“Be good, my little Bunny. I’d hate for the Wolves to have to join us.” Jefferson says as he leaves the room winking; you stand there a little dazed and happy.

“Mom! It’s not- No- I am fine-“Ransom rolls his eyes. You laugh to yourself as you walk into the living room. Ransom paces around, having a lovely conversation with his mom on the phone. You come to stand beside a tall beast of a man, his hair long and almost down to his shoulders, a full beard, and muscles so big it’s a shame they are covered with a shirt. He turns and sees you walking in; a small smile breaks across his face as he opens his arms and puts one around your shoulder.

“Hey, Daze.” He kisses the top of your head, and you hug him tight. “Long morning?” He looks down at you, and you laugh and nod.

“You could say that. Hey! Jefferson told me that you got word from Andy about his visitation!” You say excitedly. Ari nods as he smiles.

“Yeah, Andy has a good feeling about it.” You can’t contain your excitement, and you lean up and kiss Ari’s cheek, “Ha! I’m just the messenger! But I’ll take a sweet kiss if I have to!” You tease,

“in your dreams.” Ari laughs loudly, and you smile up at him. You fully believe in platonic soulmates, and Ari is yours. You’ve had moments and still do from time to time where it gets physical, and boy, is it amazing, he is an excellent shoulder to lean on, and he knows you about as well as Steve and Bucky. He’s just the best. “What’s all this about? Linda not happy about the arrangement, again?!” You ask, and Ari nods.

“Oh, you know Linda, Daze. Nothing will ever be good enough for her boy.” You sigh and look at Ransom. “This has been going on for 20 minutes,” Ari says. He nods his head in Ransom's direction and then nudges you. You shoo Ari away, and with a kiss on your cheek, he is gone.

Ransom paces the room while still on the phone with Linda. “Mom, if you would listen-“she cuts him off for the hundredth time. Ransom sees you walking closer, and you take the phone from his hand.

“Linda! Hey, I am so sorry, but Ransom is due for a therapy session. He’s gonna have to call you back. Bye!” You hang up the phone and lock it before sliding it into Ransom’s back pocket. “Now that she’s quiet for a bit… you wanna tell me what that was about earlier?” You ask as you cross your arms and look up at Ransom. He smiles and looks you up and down.

“I was just enjoying the view.” He bites his lip, and you lightly laugh.

“Well, I’ll let Steve know that you enjoyed the sight of his ass.” You pat the side of Ransom’s face before you walk away. He grabs your hand and pulls you back into his arms. He kisses you hard, and you let him have control for a moment. One little moment, and he thinks he got you. Taking his face in your hands and pulling back, you smile.

“Do you not know the meaning of hands-off, Ransom?” You say as you walk away.

“I do, but I’d much rather put my hands all over your body. Even if G.I. Joe and his handler come for me.” Random calls after you.

“Who is the Handler, and who is G.I. Joe?” You ask.

“It’s pretty obvious. Which ones the machine?” Ransom says, trying to get under your skin. Your face doesn’t change, all you say is,

“That was mean, Ransom. And here I was about to tell you to come by my room tomorrow morning, and I’d draw you a nice bath. But I don’t give treats to mean boys.” You turn to walk out of the room. Ransom realizes he messed up.

“Wait, Daze- I-” you turn around to face him. He is conflicted, his brow furrowed, and he seems tongue-tied, like apologizing is entirely new to him cause it is.

“If you can hold your tongue the rest of the day, no mean words, no angry outbursts, and no making fun of the others, then the bedroom door will be unlocked at 8 am. You can come in then. Understand?”

“You got it, Daisy Mae .” He says, trying to regain his sass as he turns and leaves you alone in the living room. He has no idea what’s in store for him tomorrow morning; you thought it all up while cleaning up the flower petals. You can’t wait, and you know he will love it too.

Bucky stands at the basement door and takes a deep breath before twisting the knob and pulling the door open. At the sound of the creaking hinges, Bucky hears chains rattle and scrap along the floor. ‘He’s awake,’ Bucky says to himself as he descends the stairs. He usually sleeps at odd hours, and Bucky can sneak in and be ready and waiting when he wakes.

“Here he comes, the reformed assassin. The Soldier is gone, and here stands the Wolf.” His voice is deep and dark; Bucky can hear the hatred laced in the sound. “Or is the Soldier just hiding in the back of your mind, waiting for the right moment to break free?” A dark laugh slips through the darkness. He walks forward into the dim light hanging from the ceiling. His sick smile is the only thing Bucky can see, “Funny that the Soldier has more teeth than the Wolf.” Bucky flips on the rest of the lights. “Why so many lights, Buck?” He lunges forward, pulling on the chains. “Scared of the darkness?” He laughs and moves back to the wall, and sits down. Bucky doesn’t say a word. “I’m not talking, so if you want to stare at one another all day, that’s fine.” He laughs; it’s tight and sounds mechanical, evil. “I can learn a lot by just observing.” He narrows his gaze and looks over Bucky.

“You don’t have to talk, Cap. I can learn a lot by observing, too.” Bucky sits down and stares at his friend, this alternate version caught by Hydra and twisted into this monster before him. “You can refuse to talk, and you can hurl insults at me, but I’m not giving up on you, Steve,” Bucky says, and Cap laughs again. This time, it’s sad and broken; it actually sounds human.

“Well, you really should.” Cap looks up at the wall across from him; there is a little rectangular window at the very top. He can see red, yellow, and orange leaves on the ground. Cap may detest most things, but he always did have a liking for Autumn. He takes a deep breath; he can almost smell the crisp fall air through the basement walls. He turns his gaze down again and settles on Bucky. “Just like you should give up the hope of getting rid of Winter.” He looks down at his shackled feet, special chains that will hold him. He scoffs to himself and then meets Bucky’s gaze again. “He will always be a part of you.” Bucky doesn’t blink, he doesn’t move, all he does is nod and smile.

“And that’s okay-“

“Yeah yeah yeah…. All is well.” Cap sighs, cutting Bucky off before he can start in on his rousing speech. “Wake me when it’s lunchtime.” Cap closes his eyes and repeats the phrase that has been a constant in his life for the past six months: All is well. He wishes he could believe it, and that thought, that want that he has actually to believe in something? That scares him more than Hydra ever did. Because believing that he is okay and that All is well? Well, that means he has to have hope, and all hope has ever given him is the reality of failure and the bitter taste of blood because someone has to be punished. Hope can kiss his formerly star-spangled ass.

Taglist: @rainydayandmondays @theinheriteddutchess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @cjand10 @janineb86

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #jefferson ouat #ari levinson #jake jensen #hydra cap #andy barber #found family #chris evans #sebastian stan

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3d-wifey · 11 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 7

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Thank you for waiting so patiently, Finnick girls! I was able to post this one in its entirety. Extra trigger warning for this one. It's the saddest chapter yet. Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (vii) - You & Finnick

[19 & 20] - THE CAPITOL

You adjust and try to get comfortable on the white chair, but it’s just as unbearable as the last time you were here. You cross and uncross your ankles, pinching the skin between your thumb and forefinger—anything and everything you can to calm down.

You hate interviews. You’ve always hated interviews. The inane questions, the pandering, the audience hanging on to your every word with ‘oooh’s and ‘ahhh’s. It’s all so fake, so Capitol, but that doesn’t matter to any of them, does it? It’s degrading, alienating.

A calloused hand grabs yours and squeezes it briefly.

Not too alienating. You have this, at least. You have Finnick.

In the beginning, when you first met, the way he could read you was unnerving. You’ve encountered many people in your life, and you’ve never connected with anyone as seamlessly as you did with Finnick. It’s an incredible feeling to be known so thoroughly, if not a little overwhelming. You like to think you know him just as well.

He leans in to bridge the gap between your two chairs, and you mirror him.

“Just breathe and endure, right? Only way out is through.” He soothes. Your lungs feel cool with the breath you take and your hand is warm under Finnick’s. That’s what you focus on, not the three cameras pointed at you or the sea of people soon to be watching you.

“Breathe and endure.” You nod. “Aren't you worried someone will get the wrong idea?” You ask in a hushed tone, a little worried that the mics on your shirts will pick up what you're saying, but not bothering to separate your hands.

"It's not really the wrong idea," he points out, and you roll your eyes. "Besides, he’s the only one it would matter to." He nods over your shoulder to Caesar, who’s looking especially orange today. He's too busy getting his face powdered to notice anything happening with his guests. And it’s not like the audience can see you yet.

This isn’t your first interview, but it is your first one with Finnick. You’ve done photoshoots together, movie premieres, after-parties, and more. But this is a first.

They have him in the closest thing to a suit that he’ll tolerate, and his blond hair is artfully coiffed. You miss how it falls naturally, and you’re sure he feels the same. The makeup they put on you makes you feel like a mannequin. Stiff and shiny, just the way they like you.

The cameramen give the signal, and everyone who shouldn’t be on stage rushes off. You sit up straight, and Finnick lets go of your hand, leaning back in his seat.

“In five, four, three, two…”

You try not to squint when the stage lights come on. Caesar waves to the cheering crowd, a plastic smile on display.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for joining us tonight. We have two very special guests.” Caesar claps along with them. “Mhm, mhm, very exciting. They need no introduction. We have two of Panem’s youngest and hottest victors!” You and Finnick smile and greet the masses like you were trained to. You wave your hand open and closed, and Finnick doesn’t wave at all, instead nodding to the crowd.

“Now,” he starts, then waits for the yelling to simmer down, “I’ll go ahead and ask what’s on everyone’s mind. You two are highly sought after. Finnick, is there any romance on the horizon that’ll break these good people’s hearts?” Of course, he’d direct that question at Finnick. The people are incredibly possessive. Just as Finnick told you, you’re their pet. He can drop the ruse right now and admit that he and you have been dating for longer than you were even aware of, but the two of you have been doing this job for so long that you’re sure Snow would just market you together.

“I’ve—” cheering cuts Finnick off before he can even start, “Heh, I’ve had the opportunity to spend time with so many extraordinary people, so who knows? Maybe I’ve already met the love of my life.” He artfully dances around the question, yet the room explodes into whooping and clapping. Jesus, is there anything they won’t cheer for? You’d compare them to children, but that would be an insult to the kids.

“Wonderfully said. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think it’s safe to say these two are still on the market. Hahaha!” The crowd titters and giggles along with him.

The conversation shifts from relationships and hobbies to parents, a sore subject for both you and Finnick.

Caesar turns to you, and you stiffen at the attention being redirected at you but force yourself to relax just as fast.

“We had the chance to interview your mother before and during your games, but not your father.” He doesn’t ask a question outright, but you understand what he wants you to answer. What a pitiful beast you are. What else about you can we feel sorry for?

”Sadly, my dad,” was executed, made into an example. Hung in the square while everyone was forced to watch, “passed. When I was young.”

“Very sad, very sad indeed,” he pouts at you and then at the audience. The room fills with sympathetic murmurs that make your eye twitch. You don’t need their pity. Pity won’t bring him back. Pity won’t stop it from happening to someone else. If they used that same pity to stop injustices before they happened, then maybe these people would actually be worth a damn. “Alright, let’s get into some games, huh? Yeah!”

Soon, the interview is over, and Caesar ushers in the next segment of his show. You and Finnick are given the rest of the night to yourselves. It’s not even thirty minutes later when Snow calls you to his office, and it feels a lot like the first time. It usually isn’t like this. You would come in, get your assignment, and leave—sometimes with multiple client cards for different times of the day. Regardless, Snow didn’t typically schedule meetings after you’ve done an interview or a photo shoot.

But now, you sit before him, and he looks at you with the same smile he wore when he took you past the point of no return.

A clock ticks ominously behind you, probably a new fixture. It bluntly cuts the silence. You would have noticed that before. You think.

“My colleagues speak very highly of you.” He pulls a white handkerchief up to his mouth and coughs into it. It’s a wet, violent hacking that rocks him in his seat. It must hurt, and you know without a doubt that the white of the fabric is blood red now. Good. Hopefully, he’ll cough up a lung soon enough. He dabs at his mouth before pulling it back to his lap, almost like he’s hiding it. “You should be proud of yourself. I certainly am.”

“Thank you, sir.” Your reply is at a level just above a whisper. The tendon in your neck pulses, spasming irritability.

“You’ve come a long way,” he clears his throat, “from the girl you were four years ago.” He gestures for you to stand and you do on numb legs. You want to be relieved that you’re a step closer to getting out of here, but there’s a reason you aren’t an optimistic person. And that reason sits directly before you.

“I can see you’re getting restless. I assure you, dear, you’ll be free to leave as soon as you finish your assignment.” Free to leave? Leave the Capitol? You haven’t even been given an assignment yet.

“My…my assignment?”

“Come now.” His smile stretches across his face like a coyote’s, though it’s twice as sharp. You bite at the skin of your peeling bottom lip. “You’re a smart girl. You should be able to infer what’s happening without my telling you.” You do. You had just hoped you misunderstood, that you were being overly paranoid. After all, you have an intimate relationship with hunger, and not just your own. You’ve seen that look before more times than you can count. On the faces of particularly crooked Peacekeepers, handsy landowners, and ‘well-meaning’ teachers. And now you see it again on the face of your President.

They all have something in common: they thought they were above you and your savagery. They thought you were some animal, that you should feel lucky that they even looked your way.

So distinguished, so self-important, and yet, they lust after an animal like you? And you’re supposed to be the savage one? You wish you could enjoy the irony.

Wordlessly, you walk around the desk to stand before him. You’ve never been this close to him before, and now you know why.

There’s a smell emitting from him. A smell you’ve only smelt in rotting animals: decay. The rose in his pocket and the roses around the room can only cover so much. It’s the poison; it has to be. All the poison he drank while getting rid of his political rivals has finally come back to reap its judgment. He’s decomposing from the inside out. The consequence of having so much power, it seems.

It doesn’t matter how much makeup or what kind of dress you put on a pig. At the end of the day, it’s still a dirty, stinking pig. You just hope that when the day comes, you’ll be around to see this pig get gutted.

Caesar’s interview ended over two hours ago, and Finnick has been waiting for you just as long. You were both heading back to the Marquis when you were intercepted by an Avox with a letter addressed to you from Snow. It was brief and vague and you promised to meet back up with him in his room within the hour.

He’s getting worried.

You might’ve fallen asleep or got into the shower. It can’t hurt to check on you, though, right? Or, at least, he thinks so until he gets to your door. Your door, which is wide open.

“Star!” He calls, but it’s dead silent. He walks in and presses the button to close the door behind him. It’s pitch black. The only reason he hasn’t tripped is the moonlight spilling in from the opened balcony door.

The balcony was the first place you thought to go after leaving that office. You straddle the railing, your right foot dangling limply off the side. Nothing restraining it. Nothing to hold you back.

From this high up you can hardly hear yourself think, finally. But barely, just barely, you can make out Finnick’s voice. You’ll always be able to recognize that voice. The sound is almost as much of a part of you as it is of him.

“What’re you doing, Star?” He doesn’t yell; he doesn’t want to scare you off the ledge.

“I think it'll feel like flying. Before—” You look down to the street below you. It's so far down you can barely see it. It’s so strange how minuscule something big can look from this high up, all of your problems turned into the size of ants. “I’d like that. To fly, just for a second.”

“Fly, huh?” He edges towards you, “Why, uh, why would you wanna fly?

“Snow requested my company.” He sucks in a harsh breath. Did he hear you wrong? No, what you said is crystal clear. And what Snow’s done is even clearer.

It’s a warm night, but Finnick has gone cold. He doesn’t have the time to think about that, nor the emotional capacity to juggle his bubbling hatred for Snow with everything he’s feeling for you right now. He steps closer.

“You know, in Eleven, we return our dead to nature, to the forests. Is it the same in Four?”

He shakes his head, eyes fixed on your neatly placed high heels. “We, uh, we do ocean funerals. The friends and family boat out to sea and spread the ashes in the water.” It’s quiet between you. Finnick bites into the meat of his cheek with sharp teeth. He tastes blood.

“You ever wonder where you’ll go after you die, Finnick?”

"No."

”Some people think your soul leaves your body and you go somewhere else, or it all just cuts to black.” Not that it matters much to you. Just about anything would be better than this. “But do you know what I think?”

“No. No, Star, what do you think?” You’ve let him get close enough that he could pull you down if he’s fast enough. But you’re faster than him. All you have to do is let go and—and that’s it. He needs to talk you down. That’s the only option here. There will be no other outcome.

“I think when you die, you become a real star. That’s why there’s so many of them.” That’s what your dad used to tell you. That he’d watch over you in the sky. He must be so disappointed to see his daughter so beaten down. The same daughter he hammered ideals of honor and direct action in the name of justice into just for you to turn tail and run. “What about you, Finnick? Where do you think I’ll go?”

You lift your left leg as if you’re going to turn. Finnick’s heart stops, and he doesn’t think it’ll ever beat the same.

“I don’t—I don’t know. Why don’t we talk about that inside, yeah?” His voice cracks as he tries to persuade you down.

“But we always talk on the balcony.” You look up to the sky, and Finnick watches you stare at the moon with so much yearning it hurts.

“Please, just…just come down, Star. Please?”

You look over to Finnick and pause. His normally tan skin is pale, hands shaking as they’re held out to you like he wants to grab you. His chest heaves with the strength of his heavy breaths, and his glossy eyes move over you rapidly. You’ve never seen him look like that before. You’ve never seen him look so scared. He’s petrified.

You hadn’t meant to worry him. You just—you don’t know what you were trying to do. But you did that.

Finnick doesn’t know what he must look like to shake you out of this trance, but he thanks whoever the hell is watching over him that it did. He waits for both of your feet to touch the ground to touch you. The tips of his fingers faintly brush your arm, your chilled skin, before he grabs you. His legs give out from under him, and he brings you to the ground with him.

You’re whole and solid in his grip. You’re safe. God, you’re safe.

“You’re shaking, Finn,” he tightens his grip on you until you’re practically sitting sideways in his lap. Your ear is pressed to his heaving chest as he rocks you both. You can hear how fast his heart is pounding with each shuddering breath. You were wrong before. How could anywhere be better than here when 'here' has Finnick? “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay. You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. We’re okay .” His fervent reassurances are the only thing staunching your tears.

“’M not letting you go,” he mumbles into your hair. Good, you think. You don’t want him to. You’re sure you’d fall apart if he wasn’t holding you together so tightly. “I won’t.” The wind howls past your ears, a sudden chill nipping at any exposed skin. You’re both shaking, but not just from the adrenaline.

You dig blunted nails into the bicep of his left arm crossed over your chest. His grip has to be hurting you, but he can’t loosen it. If he does, what if you slip away? He won’t be able to catch you again. He can feel his heartbeat in his teeth. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t got to you in time if you hadn’t agreed to come down, he–he would’ve—

“Okay,” you say, wrapping a trembling arm around his waist, and his jaw aches from clenching it so hard. "Okay."

Neither of you speaks. Which is fine. There’s no space for words between your bodies anyway.

Present (VII) – Finnick

[23 & 24] - TRAINING CENTER

Snow pulled no punches when it came to keeping you two apart. He even went as far as to never put the two of you in the Capitol at the same time.

Excessive but smart. The Chariot Rides were a true test of restraint. You were beautiful and alluring and you were cold like he thought you would be—like you have every right to be. It still hurts to be treated like he was just another victor to you. It wasn’t that he thought you’d tell Katniss your entire history together, but…you couldn’t even look at him. Finnick could hardly hold himself back from going up to you, dropping to his knees, and begging for the forgiveness he knows he doesn’t deserve. He can’t imagine how he would have fared two years back.

He’s barely managing now.

You and the trainer circle each other on the mat, dual sickles in your hands and a padded staff in his.

Finnick watches you from where he stands on his own mat. He’s never seen you fight before, not really. He’s seen your games, obviously, but they didn't involve much fighting and you mostly survived through stealth and sponsors.

Surprisingly, you make the first move. You slash downward toward his head. He blocks it with the staff, but it leaves his abdomen vulnerable. Something you’re smart enough to slice at. The trainer is lucky he’s padded. Otherwise, a hit like that would have eviscerated him.

You barely duck in time to avoid the staff from hitting your head and Finnick’s grip on the trident tightens. You duck to the ground and roll behind him, kicking at the back of his right leg. He falls to a knee, and you’re quick to put the blade to his neck from behind. The trainer taps out, and the pride that washes over Finnick is devastating.

“Catch any flies?”

“What?” He turns his head slowly, eyes still locked on you, before he tears them away to look at Johanna’s smirking face. He doesn’t like that smirk.

“Your mouth’s been open for a minute now.” She gestures vaguely at her own mouth, and his jaw clicks with how hard he closes it. How long has he been standing here? How long has she been watching him watch you? “She’s good.”

He could play dumb and act like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but why should he bother? For as long as Johanna has known him, she’s known him in conjunction with you. There’s no point in acting like that’s changed.

“She is.” Surprisingly so. You weren’t a fighter, at least, not like that. In the six years you were together, you never spoke about training or even having the desire to. He would have done it himself if you had asked him to, but he’s really glad you never did. “Who taught her?”

“Maybe you can ask her yourself. You know. Once you stop drooling.” His jaw ticks as he spins his trident in a circle over his arm. It’s times like this when it feels very likely she’s only his friend to get away with making fun of him. He isn’t drooling. He’s just—taken aback by your skill and agility and…

You sweep at the trainer’s ankle, and he tumbles to his back. You put your knee on his chest, blade to his neck, and he taps out again. Finnick swallows, but his mouth runs dry.

“Good luck.” She pats him on the back with far more force than necessary and walks off with an axe in hand. Probably on her way to traumatize a trainer.

Finnick keeps you in his field of vision while he trains by himself. Sweat drips down his back as he takes a cursory glance at the room. Johanna is doing just as he predicted she would, and the trainer is barely dodging her swings. Peeta, Brutus, and Chaff train together at the spear station while Katniss sticks with Beetee and Wiress. Nothing worth looking at twice.

What does get his attention is Mags. She’s heading straight to you, and he almost falls out of his stance. The two of you have only met in person once before, and Mags loves you. He can’t just walk up to you by himself. With Mags there, she’ll be his crutch. After all, it isn’t her that you hate.

He psychs himself up the entire thirty-one seconds it takes to stand before you. By the time he gets there, he catches the tail end of your conversation.

“—Chaff made us train as much as we could, so,” you shrug and gesture with your sickles, “I focused on these since I’m so familiar with them.” The splash of blue he’s expecting to spot above your right hand is missing. In fact, he doesn’t see the bracelet on either wrist. Does he even have the right to still wear his?

“Star.” The whisper is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and you freeze. You straighten your back the same way you used to before an interview and turn around. The smile you give him looks nothing short of performative like he’s Caesar Flickerman himself. It’s just a subtle upturn of your lips, and it hurts more than anything you could have said.

“Finnick. I’m…glad—that we’re on the same side in this. We haven’t been allies in a long time.” Finnick wants to pretend you’re saying you’re happy to see him, happy that you’re doing this together. He knows better. Haymitch said it himself: Finnick is clever and a capable fighter.

You nod to them both and turn on your heels before he can say anything. What is there to say?

Mags hums comfortingly and rubs his arm as you walk away from the training mats. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’m alright, Mags.” He lies. He lifts the trident. “How about I teach you a few tricks, huh?”

Present (VII) – You

[23 & 24 ] - TRAINING CENTER

More people stay for lunch than you thought they would. Served in a spacious room attached to the gymnasium, lunch is the time people typically try to form alliances. You made none during your first games. Luckily, your allies have already been picked for you this time around. One drops down into the seat beside you, smelling just as sweaty as you probably do.

“You know the plan yet?” She asks, piling portions of ham and potatoes onto her plate.

“Johanna,” you scold. “Not so loud, please.”

“What? It’s not like I’m screaming anything from the rooftops.” She scoffs but thankfully lowers her voice. “Besides, if they’re listening in on anyone, it’s Princess and the Baker over there.” She nods to the end of the table where Peeta and Katniss sit with Beetee and Wiress, seemingly establishing an alliance already. How they’ve managed to win her over is a mystery to you.

You sigh, long and drawn out. You try to think of a way to phrase this. Last night, Haymitch told you that you and Johanna have the same task. You were planning on telling her later in a more secluded area, but you should have known Johanna isn’t one to wait patiently by. “We’ll be in charge of protecting Beetee and Wiress,” you say and then rush to cover. “Since we’ve already agreed to be allies and all.”

“Ugh, Nuts and Volts? Why?” She stabs the meat with her fork.

“Because they’re important.” You scowl, making sure she knows there isn’t any room for argument. You’re already taking a risk talking about this here. “That’s the main thing we have to focus on.”

“Hmm,” she grumbles. “What about loverboy? What’s he focusing on?” She asks, and you don’t need her to tell you who loverboy is. You peek across the table where Finnick sits next to Mags.

“No clue.” You pick at the bread on your plate, grinding it into crumbs. The plan is on a need-to-know basis. If Haymitch didn’t tell you, then it’s not important to your part of the plan. “I just know we’ll need to find him and Mags at some point.”

“I saw you two looking pretty cozy earlier.” Her words are muffled around the food in her mouth, but not muffled enough that you can pretend you didn’t hear her. “Did you two kiss and make up, or what?”

You try not to let your eyes fall on Finnick, who has been glancing up at you and Johanna before looking away, but it’s where they naturally seem to go. You’ve been trying your best to avoid him. You didn’t need him to talk to you, and you honestly didn’t think he wanted to. If it’s because of some kind of fucked up sense of pity or guilt, you would have preferred him just ignoring you.

“No, it’s nothing as simple as that.” Your chair scrapes the floor as Finnick watches you stand. Your appetite is suddenly gone. “You can have the rest of my food.” You offer, and she’s quick to scrape your leftovers onto her plate. You’re used to not eating much anyway.

“When is it ever with you two?” She grumbles under her breath. Your hand clenches open and close beside you as you walk out. She’s right. You can’t remember a time it’s ever been simple with Finnick.

Past (viii)

Dear Finn,

If you ever fear the weight of my absence—close your eyes, take a breath, and feel me beside you. I’m still here.

-Faithfully,

Your Star.

#masterlist #catching fire #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #hunger games catching fire #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #hunger games fanfiction #and they'd find us in a week #hunger games #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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magickalsapphic · 6 days

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We were both young (when I first saw you)

A Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU ❀ Chapter 1 Posted (2351 words) ❀ horseback riding, farmerboy!Simon, aristocrat!Baz, Davy sucks, gay people 🙏 ❀ pls read it & rb, i will post the other chapters asap fr

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59023879

It was already unfortunate for Lord Basilton to find out his most agreeable suitor was being accompanied by his family rival's long lost heir. But realizing Lord Simon Snow Salisbury is the same boy he's obsessed over for years is something he could've never have anticipated. aka a Victorian Romeo and Juliet Snowbaz AU inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift. Where neither the Victorian era, the Romeo and Juliet references OR the Love Story references are accurate. Hope you enjoy:)

Chapter 1: Horseshit and Ball

BAZ

“Baz, Baz, Baz,...” I hear a small, high-pitched voice behind my door exclaim. I’m not ready for this day to start, but it doesn’t seem to want to wait any longer. I stretch my arms above my bed frame and then move the silk bed sheets aside. The sun comes in harder through the large window and makes me doubt the true nature of this fateful day. I walk to my door barefoot knowing my seven-year-old sister is on the other side.

“Mordelia, I’ve told you you don’t need to yell, you can just knock.”

She opens the heavy door in a swift motion and starts visibly judging my surroundings as usual. It is the second largest room in the house, with long carpentry to match the burgundy walls and enough space to walk to the balcony. Mordelia always complains that the art easels cover the fountain’s view from outside and are uninviting to visitors. She stops at my tulips work in progress and I immediately know what she thinks.

“You should draw horsies instead of the same dull plants all the bloody time.”

“I’ll have you informed I enjoy painting this just fine,” I say while quickly picking up a small pillow from the floor and throwing it at her. She catches it, which is embarrassing, to say the least.

“Whatever. Father asked me to remind you of your extra duties today,” she says, referring to the activities he’s specifically made to keep me from running off today. “So thank you for… feeding the horses,” she says with a smirk.

“I’m not cleaning your horses’ shit, Mordelia.”

“You said it, not me.”

She leaves my room as my aunt Fiona enters, messing her hair as she walks past her. I try to ignore her presence by picking up the pillow I threw on the floor.

“Quit being rude, boy. I’m here with good news about tonight,” Fiona says.

I turn to her confused but she’s still resting her back on the door and crossing her arms.

“I’m helpless. What could you possibly have to say?”

“Well, a little bird told me you have a special girl coming to the ball tonight,”

I give her a look. I can’t possibly care who she’s referring to, I’m still not going to be attracted to her. It’s the same thing.

“Talking about Lady Agatha Wellbelove, of course.”

“And why ever is she so special?” I say turning my back on her again.

“Because she’s a nice girl. And extremely wealthy.”

“ We are extremely wealthy,” I say as if it wasn’t evident.

“Her father owns the West Watford slot.” Now this gets my attention. The Old families have been in a silent property rivalry for ages.

It started over a three hundred years ago when the Salisbury’s came from the north and bought two-thirds of the Watford main fields. This ended up messing with the entire economy and social status on my family’s, the Pitches, side, which used to be the richest in the area. My ancestors tried to settle this by dividing the terrains more and not letting one family get more than the other. I don’t know who had such high hopes that rich old men would settle something logically. Instead, the Pitches tried to buy the land from them and get them a nice place out of town. To which the Salisbury’s declined, and tried to buy the last free slot. Aware of the fighting of the two most powerful families in the city, the mayor decided it was for the best that the lot stayed part of the State, meaning that both the Pitches and the Salisbury’s kept owning about the same amount of terrain.

So, of course, over the years and different generations, we’ve kept this rivalry between us and have tried over and over to get the most land. Even though everyday workers and families living in them care just the same.

Agatha Wellbelove’s father, however, comes from a more nobel family, that has historically taken a bigger part in politics, which I assume explain their possession of the infamous West Watford slot.

“You’re saying that if I marry her, we would finally, officially be the most powerful family in this town.”

“Bingo. Your father won’t ask anything of you again. Pretty confident he wouldn’t even ask for heirs.”

No children. I don’t mind children that much but this does mean I wouldn’t have to have any means of an actual relationship with her. I guess… if I offer some kind of yearly sum and a lot of horses, Wellbelove is known to be fond of those, maybe we could make that work. It’s the least painful option. For me at least.

“That does sound appealing… Why are you telling me this?” Her eyes soften and she approaches me slowly, bringing her palm to my cheek.

“I couldn’t watch you walk into complete unhappiness and not do anything kiddo. Not what Natasha would’ve wanted.”

———

I realised I didn’t possess an attraction to girls and instead to boys when I was 13 years old. Though, from a young age I never thought I was like the other boys around me, always so heavily… unhygienic, and interested in the most atrocious activities. Like wrestling or getting into unnecessary trouble. I enjoyed picking out flowers with my mother. The best ones surrounded our pond, she used to say, we were lucky to have this astounding beauty all around us. This wasn’t the only activity I enjoyed with her, though. She encouraged me to devour all the books in our library by accompanying me and explaining concepts I didn’t understand or simply talking about them with me.

My father has been too busy with taking care of the farmlands and ordering people around ever since I remember. My mother would take care of financial issues with him, she would say, but when I came about… She stopped caring about the money. She stopped caring about anything other than me. And I think–I know–my father resents me for that. I was “too needy” and “too emotional”, but it was never a problem for her. She stayed with me through everything. She was my best friend. I don’t regret a thing. The best memories I have are until the age of 12 for a reason.

I don’t remember much from her funeral. I spent a lot of time to myself then and the months after. My father let me be and I let him be as well. I rarely even spoke to my cousin Dev or my friend Niall, even though they tried plenty of times. After a while, I started to go out with them but didn’t speak unless it was essential.

However, on the first anniversary of her death, I was vocal once again. Father wanted us to not make it a big deal but agreed we would go and leave her flowers. All I wanted was to give her her favourite flowers, lilies. We were already in my mother’s old home in Surrey, and when my father stepped out of the carriage, our servant handed him a bouquet of daisies. My father knew it had to be lilies and I didn’t care to hear why he couldn’t manage them this time. There was no excuse for this and I told him so. I didn’t set a foot in the door, instead ran past the servants, past the carriages, past the gates. Unknown destination. I just needed the flowers. I didn’t have any money with me so I went past the village as well. I didn’t want to be so far away from her, but I didn’t want to be near anyone. Anything.

All I could hear was quick cobblestone. Then grass and grass. I finally stepped into a beautiful field, where soft orange tinted primroses, foxgloves, red tulips, wheat and corn, a dozen goats, and… this boy.

We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes and the flashback starts

He was kneeling down beside a bush, picking up orchids. He had a cloud of bronze hair, blue eyes, and a frustrated look on his face. I might’ve stared a bit too long, as he said without looking away from his work, “Are you lost?”

When I didn’t reply he looked up and his eyes softened. “Are you okay?”, he asked. He must have noticed my puffy eyes.

“My… my mother loved lilies,” is all I managed before he went around the field and left me standing there.

He came back a few moments later with a handful of them, even set in a beautiful way and tied in the middle with a small red bow. The sun was setting and his hair was catching fire. His eyes, his freckles. I barely mumbled a thank you before he was back at his work and I was on my way back to my mother. I didn’t bother finding my father and went straight to her grave. I gasped as I saw the tearful eyes of my father kneeling in front of the tombstone, daisies scrunched up between his hands and the ground. In silence, I joined him.

He might have forgotten many things in the following years, but he never forgot lillies on that day again. And I never forgot the face of the boy who made things okay. Even for a moment.

And I mean that. I thought about him constantly for months after that incident. I turned to painting to try to salvage those curls and those eyes. I never crossed paths with him again, I couldn’t remember which way I went that day. Part of me is thankful for that since I wouldn’t have known what to do. What he did make me sure of was that I liked boys. I liked boys and only boys. And I would never be able to say that out loud.

———

I conclude my unfortunate responsibilities of the day rather early, but with the new motivation for tonight, I am glad to have enough time to get properly ready before the party. The Watford Ball is a yearly dance hosted by the Bunces in celebration of the Summer Solstice, also the most popular dance for courtship. Most families take this opportunity to passively-aggressively show each other who has the most power, usually showing off their heirs and silently betting on who will be oh so lucky to marry someone part of the most powerful families—those being mine, and the Salisbury’s, but there is no heir in that family. While gossip over the years has changed what happened over and over, from my understanding of these internal family feuds, Lady Salisbury’s daughter left her husband and the family at a young age. And while many presume it was adultery, I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her husband was no other than Sir Davy Cadwallader. Sir James, Lady Salisbury’s son, never married, so they have counted days of their fortune if something doesn’t change. Cadwallader, however, has taken use of every centimetre to his missing wife's name, and he makes it known.

Vera, one of our servants, finishes buttoning my brown floral waistcoat. I slick back my hair and adjust the earth green bow. I stare in the mirror and curse myself for actually trying to look presentable. I simply can’t shake the thought of a mildly admissible future, and I won’t lose my chance.

As I walk down the stairs, my father calls to me.

“Basilton,” he stares at me and nods.

I nod back, “Father.”

“Thank you for making an effort. I’m positive you will find a lovely young lady that will catch your eye.” He walks away.

I really, truly hate that this is happening. No matter the promising possibilities. I close my eyes and wish for a miracle. A golden one.

At the party, I escort my aunt Fiona due to my lack of a partner. We walk down an overwhelmingly decorated set of stairs. A herald stopping us and naming every title we each have, before taking our final steps. I have always found these introductions quite silly, but they do make me feel seen. As seen as is possible.

The room is wide and I notice clusters of hats and thin waists, men and women hand in hand dancing, and a sharp smell of tobacco and bergamot. I wait near the orchestra for the sight of Wellbelove, watching as more and more young people fill the room. I take a glass of white wine from a table and sip on it slowly. I wait for my singular goal tonight. Enchant a girl. It can’t be so difficult, can it? I glance at my aunt from the other side of the room, where she’s talking with the Bunces. She mouths patience, Basil, as she notices me. I am being patient. I am just shit at waiting.

Too much time passes and I feel my lungs close off from the number of people that have arrived now. Everyone is talking and talking. I lean back against the wall and I still feel crowded. Wellbelove doesn’t seem to be getting here any time soon. I should start talking to other people, other girls. But every time someone approaches me I make the conversation as short as politely possible. I really am not in the mood for a party.

It’s way too late now. I notice all the Wellbelove’s are here except for Agatha. I walk over to them to ask where she bloody is, but I stop in the middle of my journey as I hear the herald speak loud and clear. “Lady Agatha Wellbelove, and her partner Lord Simon Snow Salisbury.”

I curse under my breath and I can’t believe my luck. I whip my head towards the entrance and every thought or action in my body disappears.

Blue eyes. Bronze curls.

“ Simon Snow ,” I mumble under my breath or lack thereof.

See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns

See you make your way through the crowd

#snowbaz #snowbaz fic #snowbaz fanfic #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #peneleope bunce #ebb petty #fiona pitch #victorian AU #simon and baz #slowburn #watford #farmboy!simon #idk what else to tag #writing #my writing #fanfiction #uh pls read and share lol

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ficthots · 1 year

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Bonded: Chapter Two

A/N: Here is chapter two! I already had this posted on my AO3 as well, but since I decided to post these here on my blog, I'm uploading both at the same time. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Word Count: 4.2K+

Chapter One, Chapter Three

Despite being offered it, you didn’t take the spare day to adjust. Instead of sitting around your quarters all day, you figured you might as well just get started with what you knew was waiting for you anyhow.

One of the most annoying aspects of your duties was how spaced out all of your work areas were. Most of your work days were spent in travel to your next destination aboard the Supremacy. That is, when you were there in general.

Choosing quite quickly that no true progressive work was going to be done from afar, your work ended up taking you to many interesting, large scale planets. Meeting with these individuals only made you realize how little you wanted to return to the ever roaming ship.

Engaging in interesting and meaningful conversations was such a drastic difference to the mundane life you led on the Supremacy. The only interesting day had been the first one when your assistant, Kenzo, ran through your schedules and work responsibilities while touring you around the cold ship.

On that same day you had met what you could only describe as Supreme Leader Ren’s cabinet who called themselves his committee. His closest work confidants who had his ear and could very rarely sway his stances, tactics, missions. It was exceedingly rare when something like that happened, but it was not unheard of.

General Waylan explained how every so often, Kylo would call his entire committee to a singular meeting where everyone was expected to attend. No if’s, ands, or buts about it. You needed to be planted in that chair for the duration of the meeting and never speak unless directly spoken to.

Of course you were shown your seat assignment and were startled to learn you had been placed directly to the left of the head of the table where he normally sat or stood during the meeting. He also informed you it was also not a normal occurrence, but to realize you were always on call in this role.

If he needed you at any given moment in time, you needed to be there at the drop of a hat.

At first, the proposition frightened you. Having to be on guard in such a way, but as time dragged on and your appearances aboard the Supremacy were few and far between, your eyes never landed on his towering figure around the ship.

Given it had been two months since your arrival and you had only crossed paths with him twice and both of those instances he did not spare a glance in your direction, your worries melted away about him calling on you.

It’s also how your scheduled travel day coincided with a committee meeting.

You had been gone for nearly a week at the time. Thoughts not even trailing off to the ship once. Your assistant was traveling with you which was not a normality, but given how jammed your schedule was, you were going to need extra help keeping things in order.

How you both missed that on your calendar you still have no idea.

Docking your personal transport in the hanger, you offered a tired smile to Kenzo. “Thank you for being so great on this trip. We’ll reconvene in my personal office tomorrow. I’ll let you know the time in the morning once I recoup.”

Bowing towards you, he smiled widely. “Thank you, Empress. Enjoy your evening and I am just a signal away if you require me.” Chuckling, you and Tamsyn began your long trek to your quarters. “Not likely. Have a good night, Kenzo!”

As you two slowly made your way down the endless halls and the million doors, you two mindlessly chatted about the success of your travels. It had been a small journey, only two destinations, but extensive stays on both lands.

It was all you were doing currently. Biting off what you could chew, trying to get your footing just right before fully diving in. Your feet ached from the heightened shoes you had worn all day, opting to stop and remove them, not caring how improper you looked walking barefooted through the ship.

Honestly, it didn’t matter, no one was ever in this sector of the ship besides your people anyhow. With your shoes clutched in one hand, you punched in your code to access your residence. Nearly falling over at the sight before you.

There stood the Supreme Leader, facing the doors. Waiting for you.

Gloves removed from your hands, you quickly handed them and your shoes to Tamsyn. She took them and hurried off down the hall. “Supreme Leader Ren-” you were cut off by him raising his own gloved hand in your direction.

“There was an empty seat at my committee meeting.” His modulated voice had your blood turning to ice in your veins. Mouth going dry, you blinked rapidly as you tried to come to terms with the error you had made.

“My apologies. I had an off ship meeting,” again, he stopped you. “Your frivolous activities are of no interest to me, but” it was your turn. Shaking your head, you stepped towards him. “Frivolous? My work today was not frivolous I assure you.”

His booming voice seemed to echo off the walls. “Your disregard for your responsibilities that actually matter placed me in a disconcerted position! Your duties are of little importance or interest to me. I only ask to know during these meetings which you missed today. Your first one. I know Waylan informed you of your responsibilities of being present and you failed.”

Mouth hung ajar, you were in shock. “Sir, I-” he stalked towards you, causing your neck to crane to look at him. Instantly, your fear left and was replaced by hostility towards him. “I will not remind you of this again. Your excuses are worthless to me. Do not miss another meeting or there will be serious consequences.”

With that, he brushed past you and the doors shut behind him as he left. The draft of wind kicked up by his billowing cape hit you the second the doors closed, you shuttered in response, grateful he had not been there to see that.

A mind splitting headache had rammed into you the moment he stepped towards you before departing, but somehow the moment he was gone it had disappeared, only a dull pain left in its wake.

Tamsyn bursted out of the room as she heard him leave, watching you crumple onto your sofa. “Are you alright? My stars he is frightening. How is he so large?” Eyes shut, you only briefly shook your head.

“I’m fine. Please send word to Kenzo and inform him to clear a section of my day tomorrow for a meeting with the Supreme Leader.” Her brow furrowed, but did as requested. “Did he state your need for a meeting tomorrow?”

Standing and walking towards your chambers, you spoke as you removed your own shortened winter cape. “No, but I know I will be called on tomorrow.”

You were correct. First thing the following morning you had received word from him that you were to be in the conference room immediately for briefing. With Kenzo hot on your trail, you switched him materials, handing over the data pad and opting for your hand written notes instead, you thanked him before entering the conference room.

Sitting in your assigned seat, this was the second time you had been in here at all, the first by yourself. It had an uneasy feeling sitting heavy in the bottom of your stomach. Eerily silent due to the sound adjustments made to the high security room, you could only hear the blood rushing in the shell of your ear as you sat and waited.

To the right of your seat was a large one-way window. Overlooking the vast nothingness that sat out there, a mere dusting of stars plastered against the sullen landscape. Occasionally, a fleet of ships would zoom by, not an ounce of their loud engines being heard from your side of the wall.

Having gotten there a few minutes early to mentally prepare yourself for the uncomfortable meeting that was about to occur did nothing to ease the nerves in you. As the blaster doors opened and the behemoth of a man filled up the opening, drenching all possible light flowing in complete darkness, you swallowed thickly.

Standing, you bowed to him. “Supreme Leader Ren, thank you for allowing me to brief you today. Again, I apologize for missing yesterday. It won’t happen again.” He breezed past the large table, back to you, looking out of the picturesque window.

“Begin.” Sitting back down, you looked at the first bullet point on your short list. After all, you hadn’t been here very long to have done an extensive amount that was worth reporting to him. “Okay, first, I would like to inform you that possible relations with Abelor are in progress and-” his robotic voice cut you off.

“Is your job so complex that you need notes to remind you what to say?” Your eyes bounced up from the page, taking in the back of his figure. Having not moved an inch from when he originally walked in, you weren’t expecting him to speak at all. “Sir?”

Your quizzical tone only set him off. Quickly, he moved to stand behind you. He had spun on his heel, grabbing your book that sat atop the table, sliding it onto the floor by the doors. Watching it shoot across the room, your gaze instantly went back to his, nostrils flaring in anger at his action. Neck strained to be able to look at him from your seated position.

With him now leaning on the table, chest nearly brushing your right shoulder, your nerves were gone, now fury sat in its place. “Again.” He spoke, the mask so close to you the vibrations from it reverberated against your ear drum.

Going off your memory as best as you could, it was quickly finished. As you went silent, his body once again by the window, he spoke up. “Anything else?” Shaking your head even though he could not see you, you crossed your arms over your chest. “No.”

Watching as he moved towards the blaster doors you spoke, gathering his attention to you and causing him to stiffen. “My notes, please.” Now standing, your chair pushed out behind you, your face was a mask. Not an inkling of emotion portrayed on it.

Head snapping in your direction, you could hear his condescending tone seep into his response. “What?” Not relenting, your head dipped to where he was standing over them. “You threw my notes on the floor. Hand them to me, please.”

It was a silent standoff. Seeing who was going to make the first move. How you managed to maintain your composure as another headache pummeled you, you had no idea, but you did. Offering a sincere smile as he knelt down and picked up the book.

Setting it on the table, his visor still faced you. “Thank you, Supreme Leader Ren.” His fists balled at his sides as you watched as the pages began floating in the air. Eyes widening at this display, his lightsaber ignited, slicing through the material like butter. Jaw falling open, your shocked features morphed into confusion.

“How?” You had heard of the force or whatever it was called briefly before in one of your university classes. However, you had never seen it in action before. Of course you knew that there was much more that could be done with it, things more horrible you had heard described, but instead of instilling fear in you, it sparked curiosity.“Do not give your Supreme Leader orders again.”

Snapping back to the moment, he left, but you went after the charred remains, observing the marking from it being cut. Knowing that most individuals would have been left terrified by the encounter, you felt as though their worries were quite silly in nature. Of course, him murdering you was out of the question given your ranking, but you knew there was no real reason to fear him.

At least, not to you.

Most of your time spent on the Supremacy was full of meetings and arrangements with varying sectors of officials on the ship. Yet, General Waylan was the only person to make an effort to engage with you outside of work matters.

In fact, whenever time allotted, you found yourself dining with him in your residence. Waylan was the first to suggest sitting down for a meal together, claiming to want to hear your story. The rest was history.

You two were eating a fine meal prepared by your chef, sipping on a bubbly cocktail that you had discovered on one of your recent trips, actually laughing and enjoying the company of another person. A friend, you considered him.

“General, may I ask your opinion on something?” You set your utensils down on the fine dinnerware, hands resting on the wooden table. Wiping the corners of his mouth with his cloth, he nodded. “Of course, Empress. What is on your mind?”

Tongue poking your cheek, excitement sparked in your core at the thought. “I don’t believe the Order is doing enough to spread our message across the galaxy. Of course, with my constant travels I am trying my best; however, I can only visit one or two planets per trip. It’s not truly cohesive to our plans. Simply put, I do not think I am reaching our full potential here.”

His brow was furrowed in thought, listening to your words. “What do you suggest we do then?” A smile took over your face, lighting up your features. “An event. Send invitations to a slew of officials, royals, across the galaxy. An open house of sorts where they can come to us and we can reach a much larger group than my individual travels allot. Select a place where we can go and host, gain new alliances. I believe it could be a massive success if executed properly.”

As your words continued, your ideas laid out, his smile grew by the minute. “Empress, I think it is a lovely idea. I believe the committee would agree as well.” Eyes slightly narrowing, you spoke before thinking. “And Kylo?” You never called him by his first name, far too casual for your liking. Only ever referring to him in that way in the privacy of your residence, careful of who was around.

Typically, only Waylan heard you refer to him in such a way. A small sigh escaped his closed mouth. “I do not think he would mind. If you handle all of the arrangements, I see no reason why he would take issue with this.” Lips pursing, you broke into a smile.

Standing from your seat, Waylan grinned at you. “Well then, it is official. The Order will be putting on an event for the galaxy to attend!” The general rose with you, letting you walk him to your door.

“I cannot wait. Good evening, Empress.” His bow to you always felt off. Knowing it was a formality and must be done, given he was viewed in your eyes as a friend, it was always an awkward moment for you when he did such things.

Bidding him goodnight, you called on Tamsyn to meet you in your personal office. There was much planning to do.

You hadn’t left the ship for two weeks. A record for you since your original arrival. All travel halted until after the event. Hardly departing from your personal office, most of your meetings were held there, if not all of them.

Between food choices, decorations, selecting proper invitations, carefully selecting what to say on the invitations, there was much to be done and those were just the first items on the ever growing list. After getting a list from Kenzo of which Order officials and generals were going to be in attendance, you noticed one name missing from the list.

“Kenzo?” You called out as your eyes scoured the page. “Yes, Empress?” Looking up from the names, you saw him with his data pad in hand, ready to do whatever task thrust upon him. “I need you to request a meeting with the Supreme Leader. Preferably at his earliest convenience.”

He and Tamsyn exchanged a look, but as he looked at the pad in his hand, you could see confusion etched on his face. “Is there a problem?” You questioned, to which he attempted to figure out how to respond.

“Uh, Empress, I don’t, I mean I’ve never,” growing short tempered with him, your head cocked. “You’ve never what, Kenzo?” He adjusted his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. “It is not protocol to request the presence of the Supreme Leader for a meeting. We are not taught how to do this and frankly, I am not sure there is a way to do this.”

Extending your hand towards him, requesting he hand the pad to you, you spoke. “Nonsense. I will do it myself. Actually, Tam, please retrieve my personal data pad from my chambers. I will do it on there.”

After searching through every possibility on your data pad, you realized that there truly was no means of contacting him. Leaving it to chance that you would happen upon him in the halls, or Kenzo. Sending Kenzo out to scour the ship for him and request a meeting, he left fearful of the task you had given him.

Knowing Kylo could not harm your assistant put you at ease. Technically he could do whatever he wanted, but everyone, including the Supreme Leader himself, knew it would be a poor choice. In the months aboard the Supremacy, your reputation had started seeping into the deep crevices of the ship.

You were not to be crossed. Not in fear of physical retaliation unlike your spouse, people were worried about the verbal and mental responses you were known to give. Instead of threatening their lives or severe punishments that could permanently harm them, you opted for intellectual warfare.

Having done so on more than one occasion where someone had crossed you, it was now known to all aboard the Supremacy to simply not test you in such a way. Being able to destroy their livelihoods in one single conversation was a different type of fear that was instilled to those onboard.

Putting it simply, you did not stand for abuse of your personal company and those whom you worked closely with and had grown respective of. Sure, that was only a handful of people that you didn't even need all ten appendages for, but it did happen.

But you shut it down right away, possibly damaging them in the wake of your words, but it was a lesson you were not afraid to teach. Not those who were deserving of such a lesson. Even the Supreme Leader had heard rumors from his Knights of how sharp of a tongue you had.

That’s why when Kenzo bursted into your office door as you calculated the expenses for the event, he was pinkening and out of breath, quickly adjusting his skewed glasses. “Em-empress. He's coming, on his way, now.” You were the complete opposite of your employees who all scurried out of the room upon hearing the blaster doors open.

Calm and collected, he entered your private office and stood in front of your large desk. Standing, you dug through a pile of papers to your left. “Thank you for accepting my meeting. I do not plan to take up much of your time. As you have heard the Order is putting on an open house to showcase the new goals and wishes of the Order’s mission as well as your own to explain why it is important for them to join the cause.”

He hadn’t moved, clothing still, not a miniscule breeze billowing against him. Taking his silence as encouragement to continue, you did. “Supreme Leader, it would be wonderful publicity and a great help if you were to be in attendance.” Eyes finally looking up to see him still unwavering, he only gave a single word response.

“No.” Shaking your head, your hands rested on the top of the desk as you leaned inwards. “Sir, I don’t think you understand what this could do-” cutting you off mid explanation, he spoke through gritted teeth. Even through the modulator you could suspect his irritated tone.

“I do not understand?” Sighing, you attempted to backtrack. “I apologize, that was the wrong terminology. What I meant to say was-” again, he stopped you. “I will not be in attendance at this or any of your ridiculous events. Do not ask again and do not request to speak with me unless it is in regards to a serious matter.”

As he turned to leave, you finally bursted. “Why am I even here then? If you refuse to be seen in the public eye with me, your wife whom you married for this exact reason, why am I here? What is my purpose?” Your raised voice was startling to those in the hall listening in. No one raised their voices at him and Tamsyn grabbed onto Layana’s arm as fear wracked her.

“That is your purpose!” His shouting tone did not startle you, expecting such a response. “To handle these things so I can do what actually matters, which is not attending these showcases the others want to hold!” Stepping towards the desk, you did not flinch or rescind as he leaned towards your face.

So close in proximity, the cool metal of the mask you could almost feel on your own skin. “The only reason you are my wife is to do this job. Nothing else. Do not bother me again.” The emphasis put on your terminology, wife, had a chill running down your spine. He was clearly seething, shaking in pure rage at your talking back, the migraine that hit you was almost entirely ignored.

He stormed out of the room and then your residence, but outside of the doors you could hear him decimating your entryway to your home. Regaining your composure, your head fell, eyes shutting, before rolling your neck to release the tension sitting in your shoulders.

“Tamsyn?” Your voice called out to the deadly silent hallway where you knew your people were hidden. She appeared quickly, eyes wide with fear. “Yes, Empress?” Sitting back down in your chair, you rubbed the bridge of your nose, fighting the pain sitting right at the front of your forehead.

Never before in your life had you experienced such head pains and they had only begun once you were in contact with Ren and his people. Beyond annoying that he caused such disruption in your life to the point of grueling headaches that typically left you bed ridden for the remainder of the day.

Today was an exception, knowing you had far too much to complete and in far too little time. Kenzo sneaked in as Tamsyn waited for your orders, setting a large box on your desk. The top opened, you saw the invitations sitting there.

“Please get me a cup of tea and Kenzo please bring me the correspondence list. We need to get these sent immediately.” Both responded with a yes, Empress they hurried out of your office to complete the tasks assigned to them.

Sitting in blanketed silence, you turned and looked out the massive window to your right. Many cruisers, ships, transports, anything you could think of went by in flashes of light across the dark background. Thinking of the term used to address you by everyone, you thought of the stupidity of it.

Empress.

A title that meant positively nothing. Held no true meaning. Not until Kylo would designate it to the Order. The same man who was your legally wedded husband. A man who refused to share the same air as you. Assigning you a job that he saw no importance to. Simply doing so to get you out of his hair. Doing this to keep you occupied.

But you knew that your job held importance. Even if he refused to admit it, you knew and so did the committee. Having studied this in university and watching it be applied on Bar’leth, you knew what kind of an impact you could make.

Putting the Order out into the galaxy to share the mission and convincing others to join the cause. Diplomatic relationships, possible trade opportunities, it was an endless chance. As your eyes scanned the correspondence list delivered by Kenzo, you made notes.

Some already a part of the cause who could talk to others and move them from neutrality or opposition. Others that had been in neutral territory for their entire histories, quite like your home planet. If you could speak to them, you knew you would be able to sway their viewpoints. The true challenge was getting the opposing forces to listen.

As you sipped your tea, you made a decision right then. If Kylo wanted to treat you like a bored child who needed her days filled to keep her busy and away from him then so be it. He wouldn’t listen to you or anything you had to say.

By taking your duties in stride and performing the best you could, your name was going to be spreading across the galaxy like wildfire. Build up your reputation, become known not only in the Order, but everywhere you could go. So what did that mean?

You were going to make him listen.

#ficthots #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo x y/n #kylo x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 5 months

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Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din introduces someone new to Ann

A/N: Hello lovelies,

I apologize for the late posting, last night I was so super exhausted I couldn't stay away and then today I was feeling so off. I think it was the weather, and although it was quite a migraine, it felt like the beginnings of one, so I slept most of the day.

Anyway, this is the last chapter for The Crestworld Part.

This series will be going on a mini hiatus while I work on content. So please bear with.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Brief anxiety, communication (so lovely), mutual understanding, flirting, intimidation, fluff, jealousy, annoyance, slight anger. If I miss any warnings, please let me know.

AO3 Link | Words: 1,306 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE CRESTWORLD

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ann sat there blinking as she looked at Din, “Don’t look so shocked, you should’ve known I would’ve figured it out eventually, after all I’m sure Cobb couldn’t help himself, and told you I used to work for the army.” She simply nodded in the affirmative, “So let’s just say it’s not my first rodeo dealing with pseudonyms. My life was very different before Grogu came into it. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.”

I wasn’t sure what shocked me more, the fact he knew my name wasn’t my real name, the fact he didn’t kick me out, demanding to know more, or even asking whether or not he and Grogu were in danger.

I took in a shaky breath and nodded, “Thank you for understanding.” My hands felt heavy and numb, I wanted him to know I would never endanger either him or Grogu, I’d die before that happened. I couldn’t with anymore blood on my hands, “Din, please know I’ll never put your family in danger. If … at any point I think you or Grogu will be in danger, I’ll leave. I’ll protect both of you.”

Din tilted his head and let out a sigh, squeezing her shoulder, “Listen, we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. However, I appreciate you answering, even when you didn’t have to; and don’t worry about protecting us. I’m sure I can protect all three of us if the time comes.”

“I won’t put you in that situation, Din. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did. Anyways, it’s not like I answered a whole lot, but it only seemed fair, since you did open up about Camilla.”

“One hand washes the other, right?” He smirked, before turning his gaze towards Boba’s house, he noticed Boba was standing in the doorway of his home, “Come on, let’s have you meet one of the grumpiest ranchers around.”

I looked from Din to the rather handsome older man standing in his doorway, “Grumpier than you?”

“More or less.” Din chuckled as he stepped out of the truck, keeping an eye on Ann as she stepped out of the truck. He had a newfound respect for the woman who fought to get away from her bad situation, trying to find normalcy by escaping to the backwoods of Aq Vetina.

“Boba” he nodded towards the older man as he approached, Ann stood beside him. He kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable, if there was one man he could trust Ann with, it was Boba. “This is Ann, my new farmhand. Ann, Boba Fett, Daimyo of Tatooine.”

Boba walked slowly down the stairs to meet them. His steps were heavy, the clink of his spurs echoing with each step, he wore all black as he stood before them. Even though Boba was six feet tall, his presence made him seem like a towering giant. His piercing eyes were made all the more intimidating as the brim of his cowboy hat dropped a shadow over his face.

“Tatooine?” I whispered.

“His ranch” Din motioned with his head over his shoulder.

“Ahhh … Daimyo?”

“Means Great Lord”

“Does that mean I have to bow?”

“You could” Boba answered as a smile rested on his lips, disarming those piercing eyes that saw more than he would ever reveal, “however, I would never expect such a beautiful woman such as yourself, to bow for me.” He offered his hand, “You can just call me Boba, mesh’la.” He gently took her hand, winking before he bowed, bringing his lips to her skin, placing the softest and gentlest kiss on her knuckles.

“Thank you” I smiled as I felt my face heat up from the attention, I cleared my throat as I gently pulled my hand away, despite how I enjoyed his warm calloused hands “may I ask, why Daimyo?”

“You can thank Fennec and this one here” Boba motioned towards Din, “for that, it started off as a joke one night, and soon became my title. Djarin, what can I do for you?”

“I came to pick up my payment from helping you, remember”

“How could I forget?” Boba smirked and motioned for the two to follow him.

As we walked through Boba’s ranch, I noticed a few things, first his place was a lot bigger than Din’s. Second, there were at least twelve different farmhands working at different tasks. I could see from just the quick glances I took, I tried to see the differences between the two ranches when a small bark pulled my attention. Inside one of the stalls in the barn were tiny beautiful Strill pups, “Oh my goodness, they are so sweet” I kneeled down to look at their sleeping forms. There were about seven pups, four had grey-ish coats, and the other three had gold-ish coats, with hints of white breaking through. “Where are their parents?”

“Their mom is currently wandering the perimeter of the ranch, while the father is probably off in the woods somewhere looking after its own litter.”

I turned to look at Boba who ended up kneeling beside me, “Woods? Own litter?”

“Strills are known to have hermaphroditic reproduction, they can equally sire and bear offspring with a second strill” Din answered.

“For a while,” Boba beamed like a proud father, “I noticed she’d been taking off at night, always returning home with no issues, but this time when she came back she was pregnant. Guess she just wanted to see the sights of what the world had to offer” Boba chuckled, “sort of like a wayward child, coming back to ask for dad’s help when they get knocked up.” His eyes held a tremendous amount of kindness and concern as he looked upon the pups, “Which ones did you want to take with you, Djarin?”

“You’ve seen them and gotten to know them more than I have, who do you recommend?”

Boba stood opening the fence, motioning for me to follow him, as we stepped in the pups stirred and began to move about. Watching them as they unfolded their six legs, their tiny noses appearing, each of them had the most incredibly happy eyes I’ve ever seen on an animal. Most shuffled around Boba’s feet, but two in particular, came and plopped themselves at my feet, sitting watching me. One was grey-ish with white and tiny flecks of gold hair throughout, the other was gold-ish with flecks of grey.

“It appears the two have decided for us,” he chuckled, “Annie, Djarin, meet your two new guard dogs, Dral and Mir.” Boba’s hand instinctively rested against Ann’s lower back, he leaned in, whispering in her ear as a smile graced his lips, “Clearly they have great taste, sitting at the feet of one of the most beautiful women around.”

Somehow those words coming from Boba’s lips didn’t feel cringy or overstepping, maybe it was his charming personality, or his brilliantly wonderful smile, but either way, it made my face feel heated, I couldn’t help the coquettish smile that appeared on my lips, “You’re quite the charmer, someone mentioned you were one of the grumpiest ranchers around, but truthfully after meeting you, I think they were just jealous of how charming you really are.”

“Don’t worry, little one,” he shifted his hand away from her back and tilted her head a little to look into her eyes, “I’m like fine wine, the longer you get to know me the better I get.”

Din’s eyes locked with the man who was a few years older than him, as Boba gave him a wink. For some reason it made him angry watching the interaction between Ann and Boba, he felt his body tense, his jaw clench, and even his hands tightened into a fist at Boba’s flirting.

AO3 Link | Words: 1,306 | Previous -> Next

Main Master List | Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal @sprout-fics @liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

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gvfmarge · 6 months

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Lighthouse of my Soul - Chapter Three (Sneak Peak)

Hi everyone! Here’s a snippet of what I’ve been working on! It’s not finished or even close honestly. But I just wanted to post to keep you all on your toes- but hopefully in the next few days I’ll have Chapter 3 to you! (Super lightly edited, excuse any laziness or mistakes- I still have a lot I’d like to add to even this) Read Chapter One - Chapter Two

Warnings: just some cussing and fighting, as always.

What the hell are you doing Jake?!" You scream into the void, hoping he's still around to hear you. The echos of your footsteps pound throughout the house as you stomp your way up the stairs. "Did you hear me?" You yell out, the rage boiling in your chest.

He appears to you at the top of the stairs. Leaned against the wall of the upstairs hallway, feet crossed, holding his pipe to his upward turned lips. "I did hear you and I was just getting him out of my house." His voice booming around you, his smugness churning the rage inside of you. "I didn't want him out of MY house." You squeak out, your fist firmly hitting the wall beside you. "You don't own this house, you don't own ME." Your anger fueling your braveness. "You CANT do that! I'm allowed to have friends!"

"He isn't a friend to you, Y/N." Pushing off the wall with his shoulder he waltzes to you at the top of the stairs, his eyes boring holes into your own. Jake reaches his hand up to your cheek, flinching you whip your head away squeezing your eyes shut tight, thinking for a quick second that he may strike you. "You cannot act like this, Jake. If we're going to share this house, you have to give me my space. I have to live my own life." You slowly peered at him through your eyelashes, hoping your tender eyes will make some kind of peace with him.

"Just look, Y/N." He whispers, finally softly placing his hand to your cheek. You feel his calloused thumb rub across your cheek bone. You sigh at the tingles the contact gives you. Goosebumps raise across your shoulders and down your spine. "What are you do-"

Your quickly cut off when the image of the ocean waves appear in your vision. You can smell the salty air, almost feel the thick air sticking to your skin. The ocean is crashing to your right, the roar of the waves are so loud but so distant at the same time. Seagulls fly overhead and you turn your head upward to watch their wings flap. Squinting at the brightness of the day, you finally glance down to see your hand intertwined with another. His long fingers seem to fit perfectly in yours. It feels almost complete, like this is where your hand belongs. Scanning up the man's arm you notice his strong arms swinging along with yours. His white linen shirt flapping with the wind, your eyes keep scanning upwards. You notice his long chestnut hair blowing around with the wind, it's flying around every which way and you see that it's landing in his face. Your eyes meet his lips first, where a piece of hair has gotten caught. You finally look into his deep brown eyes. The golden specs are glowing in the sunlight. Your breath hitches as you realize you are walking the shore with Jake, hand in hand. Something seems different. This doesn't feel like your body. You glance down to see that your hair is brown, a dark rich brown that you've never had before. You quickly look back at him and he flashes his bright white perfect teeth, the most genuine smile you have ever seen from him. His smile almost fades as he quickly nods to you. You try to speak, try to ask what has happened but the sun suddenly disappears. The beach is completely dark, there's no moon or stars to light the sand ahead of you. You cannot hear the ocean waves crashing or the seagulls flying overhead. It's complete darkness. Trying to squeeze Jake’s hand for reassurance, you find your hand empty. Your body is frozen in time. You cannot speak, cannot scream, you try to fight it but there is nothing to fight.

Your eyes slowly blink open to see the wooden ceiling of your bedroom once again, the sunlight blinding you. In your confusion, you quickly launch yourself out of bed. Frantically ripping your sheets from your bed, you find your phone to see that it is early Saturday morning. "What the fuck, Jake!" You yell out to him, wherever he may be in the house. “What the fuck was that!”

Taglist: @lipstickitty @writingcold @peaceloveunitygvf

#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #jake kiszka fanfic

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lampmanliveblogs · 11 months

Text

Happy Halloween! I hope you’ve had a spectacularly spooky time! Me? Oh, you better believe I had the most frightening of days! I went to work. I know, I was terrified the entire time.

Nah, but Halloween has never been anything I really celebrate. The closest I got this year was watching that Soul Eater AMV and listening to some ”spooky” music on my way home from work today. If I feel like it, I might watch the Nelly Rapp movie. I’ve got it on DVD, but I’ve yet to watch it. And what better time to watch a movie about everyone’s favorite Monsteragent than on Halloween?

I’ve had a rough couple of days, I won’t lie. I wasn’t kidding when I said work was scary, cause bloody hell’s bells, it’s been A LOT to deal with. I work in this really big department store, an absolute unit of a store, a real superstore. And school’s out for the autumn holidays AND people got their pays recently. You can imagine the chaos, we had checkout lines going on for several meters.

This is all to say that I’ve been super tired and in a bad mood the last few days, so I haven’t had the energy to do much of anything. I did manage to do a rewrite of the story I posted a few days ago and it’ll be below the cut. I feel it’s fitting since it’s Halloween and it takes place on Halloween.

I don’t think I’m gonna publish it officially yet, I might want to take another look at it first… and I’ve given some thought to a potential second and even third chapter. We’ll see.

I still haven’t settled on a title yet.

Comparing this version with the first draft, you’ll notice that this one has been expanded a bit. I don’t often remove things between the first draft and the rewrite, I usually expand on stuff, which is what I did here. I’ll leave a few more notes at the end.

Enjoy!

Lamp Entertainment presents…

[Title]

Vee watched Luz and Camila disappear into the light of the portal. Off to save the Demon Realm from the evils Belos was bound to unleash with his return. The portal closed mere seconds after they crossed the threshold.

Vee could still feel the scent of the spent magic lingering in the air. It was potent and powerful, but not unpleasantly so. The Titan’s own magic, such a primal, primordial force of nature that Vee doubted she could feed on it if she tried. It’d be a bit like a human trying to eat grass, if grass could also spontaneously explode. A bad idea.

She turned around to begin her walk back to civilization. A small smile played on her lips. Despite the difficulties they were bound to face in that realm, a realm Vee herself was not ready to return back to, she couldn’t help but feel optimistic. If any two people could handle Belos and The Collector, it’d be Luz and Camila, two of the coolest people Vee knew.

Well… they were at the very least in the top three of the list Vee kept of cool people she knew (admittedly, a pretty short one). One person in particular was very high up on that list. They were a stranger that Vee knew very well, a clueless fortune teller. Pretty as a picture, dancing the night away.

Vee felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly shook her head to try and clear it. She could think about those feelings some other time. Maybe when Luz got back she could give her some advice. For now, she had to focus on getting mom’s car back ho-

Her eyes widened and she shoved her hands into her pocket. She had her phone and… that was it.

”Sho-ot!” she yelled at the sky. The moon looked down on her, it’s cold light coloring every shadow blue. ”Camila still has the car keys!”

Well. That was her good mood ruined. Vee grumbled curses under her breath the entire way back to the town square. The festivities had died down by now, only a few organizers left trying to clean up the worst mess before giving up and going home. She threw the car a dirty look, as if it was its fault that Camila had brought her car keys with her like some kind of responsible adult. Now she’d have to walk all the way home, get the spare, walk back here, and then finally drive the car home.

She stifled a yawn. Maybe she could wait until tomorrow?

Whatever. She had a lot of time to think about what she’d do next.

She walked along the streets of Gravesfield. By now, most trick-or-treaters had trick-or-retreated back home with their bounty. A few jack-o’-lanterns still spread some light onto the streets, alongside the streetlamps and other decorations. The buzz of the last few organizers cleaning up after the festivities at the town square disappeared fast behind buildings as Vee navigated around them.

Her nose was a lot sharper than her ears though and if she took a few deep breaths she could still make out some faint scents in the air. Pumpkin and spice, candy and exhaust fumes from the Haunted Hayride tractor.

In a somewhat ironic twist, because she was so focused on trying to discern those quickly fading smells, she missed the one in front of her. Once she did notice it, she stopped dead in her tracks.

”It’s you!” A voice that was unfortunately familiar to her called out in the night. It was Jacob Hopkins, the man from the Gravesfield Historical Society, standing there, right in front of her.

Vee froze in place. Of course. Of course she had been too optimistic in thinking she wouldn’t have to deal with that man again. When she burst through the doors at the GHS and realized he was gone, she had felt so relieved. Like he couldn’t hurt her anymore. It was foolish, because he was still around. Did she really think he’d move towns because he got kicked out of the history club?

Before she had time to run, Jacob marched up to her.

”It really is you!” he said again. ”I’d recognize those evil eyes anywhere! You’re my demon!” He grabbed her wrist.

”I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said and struggled to free her hand. She saw his eyes go wide and realized her mistake. ”Let go of me!” she said, this time imitating Willow’s voice, but it was too late.

”Don’t even bother trying to distort you voice, demon!” Jacob spat. ”I see right through your tricks! Where is the poor woman you had enchanted as your thrall? Did you eat her, you vile creature!?”

”No!” Vee cried. Hot tears threatened to flood her eyes, but behind that lied something else deep within her.

All her life she had been a prisoner, fettered, locked up and sealed away. Then she escaped and was on the run, always running. When she came to the Human Realm she was hiding, always terrified of slipping up and exposing herself. She was always ready, should the day come, to run again. Run, flee, hide, survive.

Not anymore. She has a great life here with a family and friends! Not just surviving, she’s living for something now! Who is Jacob to think he could take that from her? Did he really think he had just cornered the only wild animal that wouldn’t bite?

”Let go of me!” Vee repeated, this time with a hiss as she bore her teeth. Her teeth, which now looked less like the relatively dull incisors and vestigial canines of a human, and more like sharp fangs. The skin on her hands and wrists began to change too, hardening into tough scales while her fingernails turned into claws.

Jacob did look a bit worried when he spotted the teeth. But, be it because of bravery or stupidity (though Vee knew what she’d bet on), he didn’t relent. He held steadfast her wrist, intent on not letting his prize catch escape again.

”As if!” he said, while trying to make himself look bigger than he was. ”I’ll never let you go, monster!”

”Hey!” A third voice joined the growing chaos. Both human and demon turned their heads towards the voice, a voice that was familiar to them both, though more so to Vee. Despite the situation she found herself in, the basilisk felt a wave of relief wash over her. Suddenly, she knew things were going to be okay. Because who would come to her rescue other than Reality Check Camps very own Cabin 7?

Marco, dressed as a Frankensteiner, with his distinctive bangs covering his eyes. It was a wonder he saw anything at all, especially on this dim evening.

Samuel, dressed as a werwolf, albeit a werwolf with glasses. Apparently even lycanthropes are subject to bad eyesight.

And finally Masha, dressed as a witch. They were the spearhead of the trio, just as they were at summer camp. Always the first one to get them into trouble, only occasionally the one to get them out of it. This time, they arrived to help Vee out of trouble. It seemed that even though they were now strangers, Cabin 7 still had her back.

”What’s going on here?” Masha shouted, making Jacob flinch. ”Let go of her, you pervert!”

”Wha-no!” Jacob explained. He might’ve been some flavor of crazy, but even Jacob realized how bad things must look from an outsider’s perspective. And even he realized the consequences of that was not something he wanted to deal with. ”Y-you’ve got it around your back foot! This is not what it looks like!”

”Really? How about we call the police and ask them what they think it looks like!?” Masha yelled back. Marco and Sam stood by their sides, ready to back them up if things got ugly… well, uglier.

”I-it’s not like that at all!” Jacob said quickly, very keen on not getting the police involved. He looked around, as if the fuzz were hiding behind the corners, ready to jump him. ”Listen, uh… Sasha? No, no, was it… Vasha…? W-whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He yanked on Vee’s wrist, making her stumble forward.

”This is no mere girl!” he exclaimed. ”This is a demon! She has come from another world and has been living among us humans for months! And now her allies, the witches have come too! I’ve seen them perform their wicked magics! They’re not here right now, they must’ve gone back to their own world, but who knows when they’ll be back? You must help me contain this creature so we can warn the president! We’ll share the fame and fortune! I’ll even let you collab with me on Mewtube once my account gets restored!”

He smiled manically.

”If you don’t believe me, just look at her teeth! Look at her claws!” He held up Vee’s hand in the light of a streetlamp for the three teens to see.

It was a completely normal human hand with the soft nails so typical of humans. Vee smiled nervously, showing off a set of very normal human teeth.

At some point during his little monologue, Vee had realized that the best way out of this situation was to just let Jacob keep talking, so she had retracted her claws and dulled her teeth.

Masha, Samuel, and Marco shared a few glances with each other. Vee knew them well enough to follow along.

”This guy’s a loon,” Marco’s gaze said.

”I know you said he was a nutcase, but I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Samuel’s look said.

”Yeah, even I didn’t think it was this bad,” Masha said with one stare.

Samuel stepped forward.

”You’re crazy,” he said simply. Then he punched Jacob in the stomach.

Jacob made a funny sound as all the air was forcibly evicted from his lungs. He fell to the ground, holding his tummy, letting go of Vee in the process.

”Come on, let’s get away from this creep,” Masha said, taking Vee’s hand. They gently coaxed her into following then, not that Vee needed much convincing. They led her away from the gasping and writhing Jacob while Marco and Samuel stayed behind to make sure he did’t try to follow.

”Hey, I don’t think I got your name before?” Masha asked in what was an obvious attempt to distract Vee from what had just happened. ” We met at the GHS yesterday, remember? I’m Masha. I offered you a tour of the town.”

”Y-yeah, I remember,” Vee said. In the moment, she hadn’t realized just how fast and hard her heart was beating, or how ragged her breath had become. She took a few deep breaths to try and calm down, force her body to stop shaking. The danger was gone, no need for flight or fight right now. ”I’m Vee,” she said, finally remembering that she had to reintroduce herself to the friend that didn’t know her. ”And, uh… as much as I would like that tour, I think I just wanna go home at the moment,” she said in a feeble attempt at levity.

A small smile flashed on Masha’s lips.

”I saw your friends at the Haunted Hayride,” they said. ”I didn’t see you though. Too scary for ya?”

”I was staying home with mom,” Vee said, so focused on trying to stay calm that she let her mouth go on autopilot. It took her a moment to realize the slip-up and try backpedalling. ”Or, uh, I mean… aw, geez, I misspoke, I didn’t mean to say-”

”Hey, hey, calm down, it’s fine,” Masahs interrupted the panicking basilisk. They had reached a car parked in front of some small store. They opened the door to the passenger seat and made Vee sit down. ”Just take it easy. That creep didn’t hit you, did he?”

Vee shook her head and massaged her wrist. She could feel where he had squeezed her, though that wasn’t too bad. She had spent the better part of her first decade and half alive in chains, a little pain in her hands was no biggie. No, the thing that bothered her was that she could feel the smell of him on her. It was like a brand. She couldn’t wait to get home and wash it off her.

”I’m fine,” she said after a while.

”Are you sure?” Masha asked, sounding a bit skeptical. Not unwarranted, most normal people would probably be a bit more shaken than Vee was appearing. They probably thought she was in shock.

”Yeah, I’m sure, I promise.” Vee gave Masha reassuring smile, but not too reassuring. ”He didn’t even grab me that hard. I was just a bit shocked. I mean, this was a lot, even for him.”

”Mmmm…” Masha hummed, their thoughts trailing off. ”I knew the guy was unbalanced, but not that he was this unhinged… what was he even talking about, demons and witches?”

”Haha, yeah, I know.” Vee’s laugh was stilted. ”What a nutcase.”

Marco and Samuel came walking back to the car.

”What a wimp,” Marco said. ”After you left he started crying. I think he’s stilly lying there on the ground.”

”Serves him right!” Samuel spat. ”He should be lucky to get off so lightly.”

”I tied his shoestrings together and threw his wallet up on the closest roof,” Marco added. The two boys hopped into the backseat of the car while Masha made it over to the driver’s seat. ”So he’ll have fun with that for a while.”

Vee couldn’t help but smile, the mental image of Jacob trying to scale a wall and falling down too funny not to laugh at.

”Should we call the police?” Samuel asked.

”N-no,” Vee said quickly. While the police might be interested in finding out that a man tried to abduct a girl, they would also be interested in finding out that said girl seemingly did not exist. ”I don’t think its necessary.”

Vee didn’t know it at the time, but she ended up being right. While trying to get his wallet back, Jacob woke and nearly scared the life out of the poor people living in the house. He ended up getting arrested for trespassing. It remains to be seen if he learned his lesson from that.

”Alright, if you’re absolute sure,” Masha said. ”Let me drive you home at least. Or do you have a ride?”

”I’d appreciate it,” Vee said. ”I, ah… missed my ride home.”

The ride back to the Noceda residence was spent mostly in silence, broken by Vee giving Masha directions when needed. Marco and Samuel also formally introduced themselves, unaware that Vee already knew them very well.

Vee had some time to think during the car ride. When Luz returned from the Demon Realm and reclaimed her life, Vee had stopped hanging out with her old cabin mates. With all the new friends in the house, she hadn’t really had the time to stop and think about how much she missed them. But, now they were together again, yet still separated by this new face and voice… it hit her, all at once. How much she missed them and how much she wanted to spend time with them. But she couldn’t, or… maybe…

”There you go, back home, safe and sound,” Masha said as she pulled up the driveway.

”Wait…” Marco said slowly, scratching his head. ”Isn’t this where Luz lives?”

”Yeah, I live here too,” Vee replied. ”I’m uh… well, you see… it’s complicated, but, ah.. Camila lets me live here.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could spot Masha looking at her. They were clearly remembering the comment Vee made before about her mom. They didn’t say anything.

Vee took a deep breath, gathering up all the courage she had. ”Grow a spine,” was the human saying. Vee was a snake, she had plenty of spine.

”Why don’t you guys come inside?” she said quickly, not giving herself enough time to chicken out. She was going to commit to this now. ”I’d like to give you all a proper ’thank you’ for helping me out.”

There was some hesitation.

”It is getting pretty late and we were supposed to sleep at my parent’s house,” Masha said. ”But I’m sure they’d let us sleep at Mrs. Noceda’s house, right?”

”It should be fine, Samuel said, grabbing his phone to send his parents a text.

Marco shrugged and said ”I don’t care.”

”Sounds like it’s decided!” Ve said, a little too chipper and eager to get them inside. ”Come along!”

She lead them inside the mostly dark house and gestured for them to sit down on the sofa.

”Sit down, sit down, I’ll get snacks,” she said and hurried off to the kitchen. Her friends were left in the dust, looking around the messy living room. It looked like a whirlwind had swept through the house, with boxes of costumes strewn about.

In the kitchen, Vee was washing her hands while trying to work up the courage to go through with this crazy idea.

”Come on, you can do this,” she said while washing the stench of Jacob off her hands. She dried her hands off before gathering the snacks she had promised. This was going to take a while, she might as well give her guests something to chew on while she told them… what she was going to tell them. ”You escaped the emperor’s dungeons and evaded his scouts. You helped fight him tonights for Titan’s sake! You can tell your best friends a secret. It’s not hard. They won’t hate you… yeah! Us weirdos stick together, that’s the Cabin 7 way!”

”Hey, Vee?” Masha interrupted the disguised demon’s personal pep talk and nearly made her shed her skin at record speeds.

”Yes!” Vee almost yelled and spun around. ”Wh-what’s on your heart?”

”Is Luz home?” Masha asked. ”Cause we haven’t talked to her in ages…”

Masha’s usually confident eyes flickered down for a few seconds. It hurt Vee to see them without that characteristic confidence that she admired so much. They must be thinking that their friend Luz had abandoned them, left them for some new, cooler friends.

That sealed it in Vee’s mind. She was going to do this. She might come to regret this immediately afterwards, her friends might hate her, she might have to run and hide again… but she was going to do it. She couldn’t stand lying to them anymore, to cause them any amount of suffering. Not after all the kindness they had done to her.

”Yes… or, no,” Vee said, having taken just a little too long to answer. She grabbed the snacks and lead Masha out the kitchen. ”No, Luz is not home right now. She and Camila are away, it… it was a very sudden thing. Kind of an emergency.”

”…okay?” Masha replied, confusion on their face. They shared another few looks with Marco and Samuel. Vee realized that all things considered, she was acting very suspicious. It was Halloween after all. Someone acting this odd on an evening like this… watching horror films the night before, debating witches and folklore… it’s only natural that the unknown would trouble on a human’s mind.

”I’ll explain, I swear,” Vee assured them, not that it did a whole lot to ease their worried minds. If anything, it just made them more confused as to what was going on. ”But it’s a long story, so you might wanna sit down,” Vee continued and gestured to the sofa. The Cabin 7 Crew collectively hesitated before finally sitting down. Vee dumped the snacks on the coffee table and grabbed a chair for herself.

She felt around in her second stomach. She had absorbed a fair bit of magic from Belos during the fight. Amity and Willow had left plenty of abomination slime and enchanted plants behind. So she had a lot of leftover magic to scarf down on if need be. She could afford to show off a little.

”Have you guys noticed something… off with Luz lately?” she asked. ”In the last two months or so… almost like she became a different person overnight?”

Of course they had noticed, and Vee could tell based on their expressions when she asked that question. She also suspected that they had talked about it with each other. Not only had Luz more or less ghosted them and started hanging out with a bunch of strangers that no one knew, her personality had completely shifted. The Luz they knew from camp was gone… almost as if she had become a different person overnight.

”What I’m about to say next might sound insane, but I can guarantee you it’s the truth,” Vee said. ”All I’m asking is that you listen to me… and maybe don’t be too angry with me… okay?”

More glances were exchanged, glances of confusion and worry.

”Vee… what’s going on?” Samuel was the first one to speak up. ”Is… something wrong with Luz? What happened to her?”

Vee took a few quick, sharp breaths. She was about to go against every instinct in her basilisk brain, instincts ingrained into her very core by countless generations before her. Here goes nothing.

”Luz did become a different person overnight.” Vee was having to force herself not to speak too fast. She enunciated every word, trying to make sure there was no room for misinterpretation. ”Or rather, she became herself. You see, the Luz you met at summer camp wasn’t the real one. It was me. I was disguised as her and took her place. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to, but… well, I think is worked out for the better for both of us.”

Silence. The three Cabin 7 members sat opposed to her stared at her. Confused, bewildered, positively befuddled. Indeed, was this not an incredibly odd thing to be said by someone who wasn’t insane?

”I… don’t get it.” Marco was the first one to speak. ”What do you mean you ’took Luz’ place?’”

”I know it’s probably a bit hard to believe, I mean, me and Luz don’t exactly look or sound alike,” Vee said, a small smile on her lips. ”But what about now?” she said, speaking with the voice of Luz.

The Cabin 7 Crew sat still as rocks while their brains tried to process what was going on.

Vee giggled.

”S-sorry, but you guys look so funny,” she said, sounding exactly like Luz from camp. She stood up from her chair and spun around in place, transforming into a spitting image of Luz. No, not a splitting image, the original image. Because that was Luz from camp. ”How about now? Do you believe me now?”

Masha gripped the armrest of the sofa so hard their nails threatened to rip the fabric.

”Explain,” they demanded. ”Right now.”

”Sure thing, though it’s a long story, which is why I brought snacks,” Vee said, shifting back to her regular human form, but with a slight adjustment to make her ears more obvious. She decided against reverting back to her true basilisk form just yet. It was probably for the better if she eased her friends into it.

She cleared her throat.

”What Jacob said before was true. Well, kinda…’even a broken clock is right twice a day,’ I think the saying goes. There is a world beyond this one. A world of magic, and witches, and demons. Demons like me. I’m a basilisk.”

Masha raised their hand.

”No, you won’t die if you look at my true form,” Vee said.

Masha lowered their hand.

”That was a rumor started by witches because… well, you see, we basilisks eat magic, that’s how I can transform.” Vee paused to think for a second. Her captivated audience waited with bated breaths. ”You know what, this probably isn’t the best order to take things. Let’s start with Luz, on that fateful day while she was waiting for the bus to take her the horrible summer camp. As she stood waiting, she spotted a strange owl which she followed into an abandoned house in the woods…”

The End… or is it?

xxXXxx

Author’s Notes

…even more of them

The Lampman tries not to worldbuild in one of his fanfics challenge. Level: impossible.

Probably my favorite line in this was ”Did he really think he had just cornered the only wild animal that wouldn’t bite?” though the ”trick-or-retreated” line is a close second, I thought I was really clever there.

You might’ve noticed I changed ”Marco” and ”Samuel’s” costumes around. I have a reason for this, but I won’t explain it. You might wonder about the term ”Frankensteiner.” It’s from the books about Nelly Rapp by Martin Widmark (illustrations by Christina Alvner). Nelly Rapp is a monster agent, a person who deals with monsters and other supernatural beings. Her first mission has her take on the cold-hearted debt collector Robert Steen, a Frankensteiner.

A Frankensteiner is basically a Frankenstein’s monster, a human made up from separate parts (it’s a kids book, so they never explain exactly where the separate parts come from). They are often kept isolated from humanity and thus don’t develop a connection between their hearts and minds.

After spying on Robert, Nelly finds out that he has two left feet, and that he must be in constant pain from walking. So she manages to trick him into getting a foot massage. With his pain alleviated, he becomes a better person, even getting engaged with the masseuse.

In the next book, Nelly (with some help from her loyal dog London) cures two werewolves from their lycanthropy with vegetarian sausage, the power of laughter, and a strong lamp.

ANYWAY, one of the things I was very conscious about with this story was trying to make sure every member of the Cabin 7 Crew got to do something. It’d be very easy to have Masha be the only one doing stuff since, you know… they’re the only one with a name. Or personality. Also a ship, and fanfic writers love their ships almost as much as they love putting A Guy in a Situation (did i use this meme right?).

I sometimes steal take inspiration from song lyrics while writing. Usually, this is because I happen to be listening to that song while writing. Living in America by The Sounds doesn’t really have anything to do with anything, but it was on while I was editing, so Masha gets to be ”pretty as a picture, dancing the night away.”

A more obvious example is a few lines I stole borrowed from Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden. ”Watching horror films the night before, debating witches and folklore, the unknown troubles on your mind.” Great song for driving home from work on a dark autumn evening.

So yeah, I would say this story shaped up pretty well. Let me know what you guys think. until next time, take care of the planet Earth, and remember that anything can happen in space!

#fanfic #fanfiction

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thewolvesof1998 · 1 year

Text

Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em

Okay the first Chapter is posted!! (1/3 Chapter, 5.6K, E)

Eddie isn’t mopping. He’s having a drink at his local bar, by himself that’s all. He’s not thinking about the divorce papers sitting in his bedside drawer where Christopher won’t find them. He sighs, downing the last of his whiskey. He’s waving down the bartender, signally for another when a hand comes down on his shoulder.

A familiar voice says, “Eddie Diaz is that you?”

Eddie turns to take in Josh, one of his best friends from high school whom he hasn’t seen since before he deployed the first time. He looked good, he’d lost most of his youth softness, and a full beard where he’d only been able to grow whiskers before.

“Josh? Man, it’s been so long” Eddie says, pulling him into a one-handed hug, something he wouldn’t have done if wasn’t already on his third drink of the night.

Josh laughs, “Yeah, didn’t know you were back in El Paso”

Eddie grimaces, guilt sitting heavy in his stomach, he hadn’t reached out to any of his friends from high school after returning, he hadn’t wanted them to see how much his life had fallen apart. The bartender places his drink down in front of him and he takes a drag for courage.

“I’ve been back about six months now, I’d meant to reach out but…”

“It’s okay man, life gets in the way,” Josh shrugs, “How’s Shannon? You guys have a kid right?” Josh sits down on the stool next to him and Eddie tries not to hate Josh for bringing up exactly what he’d been trying to forget.

“Yeah Christopher, he’s five now, but uh me and Shannon aren’t-she left” Eddie tries for nonchalance but from the pitying look on Josh’s face he doesn’t succeed.

“I’m sorry man”

“Nah it's fine, it’s been-ah six months, I’m over it,” Eddie says, Josh rises an eyebrow. He wasn’t really lying, he had been over it, been understanding, she’d gone to look after her dying mum and he was the one who’d left first, that was until the papers had shown up on Monday and there was nothing about dual custody in them. Shannon hadn’t just left him, she’d left Christopher.

“Sure, and it has nothing to do with you drinking alone at two pm on a Thursday?”

“I just needed a break,” Eddie admits, it was probably a bit too honest for a conversation with a guy he hasn’t seen in almost six years but Josh just nods.

“What you need is to have a little bit of fun”

Eddie snorts, “I have three jobs and a kid, I don’t have time for fun”

“What are you doing Saturday?”

“I have Chris” When he’s not working, which is not often, he spends as much time with Chris as possible.

“Me and the boys are going to the rodeo, come with us, Chris is five right? My Misses has a kid about that age, bring him over for a play date she’ll look after him for a few hours.”

“I don’t know”

“Look, I know we haven’t talked in years so I might be crossing over the line but if you run yourself into the ground you're not going to be any good for your kid okay? You need to have some fun and let off some steam, or you’ll end up here every day like Bill over there” Josh nods over to the town drunk who’s barely staying upright on his stool at the other end of the bar.

Eddie sighs and nods, “Yeah, yeah your right, okay, Saturday I’ll be there.”

Josh claps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder again, “You won’t regret it.”

Eddie highly doubts that but he also knows that the spiralling he’s been doing isn’t healthy and talking to Josh has been the highlight of his week so he’d give it a go.

Continue Reading on A03

Let me know if you want me to tag you in any updates to do with this fic!

@wildlife4life you asked for the cowboy smut...

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 fic #ao3 #thewolvesof1998 writes #cowboy Buck #cowboy smut

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stxrliasfics · 8 months

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sharing my writing journey for 2024 (warning: this is long)

So, for 2024 I decided that I wanted to buckle down on my writing. I even bought a planner to keep track of my WIPs and other ideas.

I’ve now decided to write an entire fic before publishing it. That way, it’ll already be prepared and all I’ll have to do is have a deadline for editing a chapter and uploading it.

I will say, for my next long fic, it’ll be another Jeric story :pp !!! I wanted to try a new genre so I'm dabbling in it with this new fic. That’s all I can reveal plot wise, I'll of course drop little tidbits when I start the fic. I was going to work on it during Camp Nanowrimo but some stuff has been going on with that website and its mods so I'm not even gonna deal with them anymore. Instead, I'll use a spreadsheet to track my word count. For the next few months, I’ll be finishing up my current long fic (Two of Cups) and that’ll be my main focus for the time being. I want to finish it by at least June or July.

I'm entering a few writing competitions to get some extra change in my pocket 🤭 I'll, of course, share some original works that I've written up here, probably poetry bc it's better than my prose works. I entered one already and my school is going to hold a competition soon so I'm thinking about sending some poems to that one.

Over the summer, I'm going to try and fit in some time to work on my screenplay! Fingers crossed for me bc this is the first time I've done smth like this 🤞🏽 It's basically going to follow the plot of a novel I started in my freshman year of high school. But I decided to scrap the novel idea bc I thought it would be better as a movie!

Later on, I was planning on re-plotting my Cho Chang fic. I probably won't upload that until next year. It was also going to be a Nanowrimo project for November. I thought the plot was dumb so I'm fixing it up. I'm probably going to cross-post it to Wattpad even though I haven't used wattpad in FOREVERRR. But that's where I had planned to post it before and I already had a nice lil cover ✨

At the end of 2024, I'm hoping to get at least two longfics done and write at least three oneshots. I have an idea for a shawngela and jori (victorious) fic but since my agenda is full so far, we'll talk abt it later ;))

#fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3fic #ao3 author #two of cups jack x eric #bmw fanfiction #boy meets world #cho chang x oc #fic writing #creative writing #my writing #stxrliasfics #cho chang wlw

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newgenog · 2 years

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REVENGE

Notes: This is part two of chapter two. If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

My goal will be to post the first two parts of this chapter here on Tumblr, and then wrap it up with the full chapter being posted on Ao3 in week three. I'll try to post something every Friday. *fingers crossed*

This is a #Batwoman AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. The character parallels were interesting, and I decided to reimagine a world where Ryan Wilder has a more intentional pursuit of vengeance.

CHAPTER TWO - TRUST (Part Two)

Summary: Robyn Wilde continues her plot to take down Gotham's most elite lawyer and favorite Clue Master, who was the assistant district attorney and federal prosecutor in her case when she was a young Ryan Wilder.

27 HOURS BEFORE THE LEAK

Jordan: “Dinner, drinks, or both?”

Stephanie: “Just a Honey Jack for now, but you can leave the menu.”

Stephanie Brown is sitting at the bar, so Jordan prepares the drink, slides it over, and then plops a menu down in front of her.

Jordan: “You want to keep your tab open, then?”

Stephanie: “Sure.”

Jordan catches Luke walking into the bar out of the corner of her eye and lifts her head to acknowledge him. He walks over to the bar, standing a seat away from Stephanie.

Jordan: “Hey Luke. I’ll go get Sophie. You want anything while you wait?”

Luke: “I won’t be here long.”

Jordan shrugs and walks off toward the kitchen to retrieve her sister.

Stephanie: “That’s too bad.”

Luke: “Pardon me?”

Stephanie: “That you’re not staying…I’m Stephanie.”

Luke is somewhat caught off guard by Stephanie’s forwardness.

Luke: “And, I’m Luke.”

Stephanie: “So I heard.”

Stephanie winks at Luke and takes a sip of her drink.

Luke: “Are you new here? Don’t recall seeing you at the bar before.”

Stephanie: “Returning…maybe. I’m visiting my dad for an undetermined period of time. He wants me to work with him, and I haven’t decided if I like this idea yet or not, or even being back in Gotham or not…”

Luke: “Is that why you’re drinking solo at 8PM on a Friday night?”

Stephanie: “One of the reasons. I don’t have to be drinking alone though. This seat is available if you want to take it.”

Sophie walks up, and catches the tail end of Luke’s conversation, raising her eyebrow at him.

Luke: “Flattered, truly, but I’ve got to have a chat with the manager of this fine establishment right now, in her office preferably.”

Sophie shifts her head to the side, curiously, but begins walking without asking any questions. Luke nods a farewell to Stephanie and follows her. Once they enter the office, Sophie takes a seat behind her desk, and Luke walks up to it, but doesn’t sit.

Sophie: “Should I be worried?”

There’s a light knock, and they both look back to find Ryan standing in the doorway.

Ryan: “I don’t think so.”

Sophie: “What’s going on?”

Luke places a folder in front of Sophie with a bunch of print outs. She cautiously opens it, flipping through it, and her eyes widen as they land on the name Robyn Wilde. She looks up at Ryan immediately, in shock.

Sophie: “You own this place now?”

Ryan: “I do.”

Sophie sits back in her chair, not sure where to begin processing what that means or what question to ask first, so Luke offers an answer to assist.

Luke: “The rent for The Hold Up was paid up through the end of the year in the sale.”

Sophie: “Wait, what?! How…? You didn’t have to-”

Ryan: “I did. Just trust me on this, it was something I needed to do.”

Luke: “Robyn included the new lease agreement in the paperwork when she signed everything, so that I could package it up for you. Rent is on the next page.”

Sophie: “But, this is…is it enough for this area?”

Ryan: “It’s plenty.”

Sophie: “Hey, free drinks for eternity, okay?”

Ryan: “That’s sweet. I might go get one right now. You joining me Luke?”

Luke: “Wish I could, but I’ll be back to celebrate with you soon, Sophie.”

Sophie: “I was wondering if you’d still have a reason to come by…”

Luke: “Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Sophie smiles at Luke, her eyes warring in an effort to betray her. Luke turns towards the door and he and Ryan leave Sophie to look through the documents on her own.

Luke: "I hate to say it-"

Ryan: "Then don't."

Luke: "This is risky, Ryan. If you get too close, she’s going to figure it out.”

Ryan: “Luke, I’m handling it. You do your job, and you let me worry about mine.”

Luke: “It had to be said, but I guess congratulations are in order for you, too.”

Ryan takes a deep breath, and slowly releases it. This was an unexpected win, and she admits to herself that it’s a different kind of satisfaction than she was rewarded with when Candice was taken down.

Ryan: “It’s what Mama would want.”

9 YEARS AGO, KANE COUNTY JUVENILE DETENTION CENTER Ryan walks through the detention center gates and finds a lean Black man who looks just a couple of years older than her waiting on the other side of it for her, standing in front of a car with an open door. Ryan: “Who are you?” Luke: “I’m Lucius Fox’s son, Luke.” Ryan hadn’t seen Lucius in a couple of years. Shortly after she’d first arrived, he’d visited her frequently, and had taken on somewhat of a mentor figure for her. He’d been so consistent that he’d earned her trust. And then one day, he never came back. Initially, she was only supposed to serve 18 months, but she’d gotten into trouble more than once, and she'd wondered if he’d just given up on her. Ryan: “He sent you?” Luke lowers his head, and his voice drops horsley when he answers. Luke: “Sort of…” Ryan: “What does that mean?” Luke: “Ryan, my dad died on my graduation day. I should say, he was killed on my graduation day.” The color leaves from Ryan’s face. She hates to admit that a part of her is relieved that she hadn’t ruined it, and that she finally knows how someone she’d grown to trust, who seemed to care about her, could just disappear from her life. She couldn’t understand why this kept happening to her - why every adult who could care for her would just keep leaving her. But that feeling is brief. Almost as quickly as it came it’s replaced with outrage. Because the pattern is actually that her loved ones are being ripped away from her, and she is helpless. Each time, she’s left abandoned and confused, with no answers or source of comfort. Luke watches as these emotions evolve in Ryan’s face, relating and empathizing, all at once. Luke: “He talked about you a lot. My dad loved you.” One heavy tear drops from her eye. It isn’t a sad cry, but an angry one. What did Ryan do to deserve this life? Who did she harm in a prior one for karma to keep coming after her in this way? And Luke…he lost his father - another Black man dead who should still be a part of this world. Ryan: “So that’s why you’re here? To tell me…” Ryan can’t form the words. Luke: “I was there the day my dad found out about your mom, and that you ended up here. He told me everything.” Ryan: “What do you mean everything?” Luke: “I mean, I know you didn’t belong in here, and that he fought to get you out, and that you deserve justice. And also, he held onto this for you.” As he was talking, Luke had been walking behind the open door, pulling out a box. He walks over to Ryan and hands it to her. Ryan: “What is this?” As she asks, she recognizes the symbol carved into it. Her mom told her it stood for unconditional love. Luke: “It was your mom’s.” Ryan walks over to the car and sets the box on its hood. Her palm hovers above its lid, almost afraid that it'll dissolve into dust if she applies too much pressure. She traces the carving with her finger, and a part of her wants to collapse on top of the box and sob, the way she'd fall into her mother's arms if she still could. Ryan: "He had this the whole time…?" Luke: "He never intended for you to be in there this long. He wanted to be here to do this. I guess he was able to list himself as your next of kin, so I got the call that you were going to be released." She can't bring herself to open it. Not here. Not now. How would she ever move from this spot if she did. Luke: "You should know that he wanted to make sure you'd be okay from now on. In his will, he left us everything. You'll want for nothing." Nothing except the love of her mama, the guidance from Lucius, the memories she'd never be able to make or get back. But great, maybe she could buy the love she'd lost. Ryan: "I can't do this right now. I have to get out of here."

Ryan and Luke approach the bar, and Jordan lights up.

Jordan: "Robyn! Glad to finally meet the woman that turned my sister's perpetual frown upside down."

Luke grunts, as Ryan bites the inside of her cheek trying to fight her smile.

Luke: "I had a feeling you weren't that excited to see me."

Jordan rolls her eyes.

Jordan: "Do you actually want to order something for a change, Luke, or just give my sister another reason to catch an attitude?"

Ryan: "So you're Jordan Moore."

Her face was familiar. Less round and not as free spirited as the little girl Sophie had shown her a picture of when they were in high school, but there was no doubting that this young woman was Sophie's little sister.

Jordan: "Yup, and I hear your next drink is on the house because Selly loves you. What'll you have?"

Ryan: "Can your bartender make a Tequila Sour?"

Jordan: "Sure can."

Luke: "Okay, now that we're all acquainted, I just came over to say goodnight, Jordan, and nice to meet you Stephanie."

Jordan: "Bye!"

After Luke is out of earshot and Jordan is off to fill Ryan's order, Stephanie leans over so Ryan can hear her across a couple of chairs.

Stephanie: "Is Luke a friend of yours?"

Ryan: "I guess you could call him that."

Stephanie: "Is he single? Into women? I couldn't really tell if my flirting was working on him or not. Not that I'm the best... Numbers are really more my thing."

Ryan: "Sounds like a match made in heaven…he's awkward himself. I wouldn't read too much into it. He said your name is Stephanie, right?"

Ryan actually knew exactly who she was talking to, and that Stephanie Brown would be here tonight. She'd been preparing for her chance to meet Arthur Brown's daughter. That Stephanie was giving her a conversation starter was just a bonus.

Stephanie lifts and scoots herself one chair closer, and then reaches out a hand to introduce herself.

Stephanie: "I'm Stephanie Brown. I'm from Gotham but was accepted into MIT when I was pretty young, and stayed in Massachusetts until my dad asked me to come back and be the CFO at his law firm, which I'm not sure I'm loving, and that was a lot for an introduction…"

Ryan chuckles, but shakes her hand.

Ryan: "All good. I'm Robyn Wilde, new to Gotham. I just started as Jeturian Industries' interim CEO, and I'm also still figuring out how much I like it."

Stephanie: “Well, you seemed to have made friends faster than me. Everyone I’ve met tonight seems to at least know of you.”

Ryan: “I’ve had a couple of lucky moments, right time, right place, if you know what I mean. Besides, Gotham really isn’t that big. You’ll know everyone by next week, too.”

Stephanie: “I know I’d like to get to know your friend Luke.”

Ryan: “Do you want me to put in a good word for you?”

Stephanie: “You’d do that for me? I’d owe you one.”

Ryan: “Gladly. Consider me cupid. And, in fact, you said your dad owns a law firm? I just struck a big deal today, and did it without a lawyer - sort of trusting my gut. I did realize that it’s probably time I handle things a little more formally. Any chance you guys are taking new clients?”

Stephanie: “I get the feeling my dad would be glad to have a chat with the CEO of Jeterian.”

Ryan: “Interim.”

Stephanie: “Same difference. And, it sounds like we have a deal, Robyn.”

Ryan’s drink arrives just in time.

Ryan: “I can toast to that.”

The women tap glasses before exchanging contact information.

~~~~~

To be continued...

Usual Reminders:

Remember, I'll be back here on Fridays with more parts of each chapter, but will put the conclusion of each "episode" on Ao3.

All #Batwoman things I do now are in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please.

#wmw23 #wildmoore week #wildmoore #batwoman #fanfic #ryan wilder #ryan x sophie #sophie moore #save batwoman

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

Text

Red Team Blues Chapter One, part five

My next novel is Red Team Blues, a grabby thriller about how finance curdled the dream of tech as a force for human thriving. It comes out in a matter of days, and to get you ready for that release, I’ve been serializing the first chapter all week — and today, I wrap up the series.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/21/bondage-fees/#henched

If you’ve enjoyed this serial, I hope you’ll pre-order the book — or, better yet, come to one of my tour stops!

http://redteamblues.com

Here’s the previous installments:

Part one:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/17/have-you-tried-not-spying/#unsalted-hash

Part two:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#henched

Part three:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#henched

Part four:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/20/links-arent-performances/#henched

Here’s where US readers can pre-order the book:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

Here’s pre-orders for Canadians:

https://services.raincoast.com/scripts/b2b.wsc/featured?hh_isbn=9781250865847&ht_orig_from=raincoast

And for readers in the UK and the rest of the Commonwealth:

https://uk.bookshop.org/p/books/red-team-blues-cory-doctorow/7225998?ean=9781804547755

And now, here’s today’s concluding serial installment:

“I mean, what do I get?”

The transformation was incredible. One minute, he’d been a scared old man, desperate, literally pleading for his life. In a flash, he was calm, back in the realm of numbers, and I was making a deal with a guy who’d eaten ramen for twenty-two years rather than surrender any more of his future fortune than was absolutely necessary.

“Well, a twenty-five percent commission is obviously out of the question. We’re talking about a billion dollars here.”

“That’s if I recover the keys before they exfiltrate any of that money. My commission is based on value at recovery, not initial value. So if any of this goes public and the value of a Trustlesscoin falls to zero, then I get twenty-five percent of nothing.”

He looked sour. “If that happens, you won’t have anywhere to send your invoice for your twenty-five percent, either. But, Marty, you can’t seriously expect a two-hundred-and-fifty-mil upside here.”

“Daniel Moses Lazer, you just got through lecturing me on the trillions in downside if those keys aren’t recovered. Note that I did not say that I expected any share of the positive externalities a successful recovery would generate. Just the direct benefit to my client.” I nodded at him.

“But a quarter of a billion dollars — ”

“Or maybe it’s nothing. Or maybe I’ll find myself face-to-face with these killers you say you’d have to cower in a bunker over until the end of your natural life. Danny, I’m surprised at you. You know who I am. You know what I charge. You know I don’t haggle.”

He smiled, and I saw a little of the happy, well-fed, successful second act that he’d projected when he answered his door. “Yeah, I know. But I had to try. Two hundred and fifty mil is two hundred and fifty mil.”

“A quarter of a billion dollars here, a quarter of a billion there — ”

“Yeah, yeah. Pretty soon, we’re talking real money. You think you can do it?”

I shrugged. “Can’t say. I have some ideas about how to start, covering the bases, being my normal, meticulous self. You’d be surprised how often that works. If there’s a fast resolution to this scam, it’ll be because the people on the other side of it forgot to dot an i or cross a t. They have to make zero mistakes; I just have to find one error. They have to be perfect; I just have to be systematic. It’s why I play the red team. Advantage to the attacker, as always.”

“As always.” He checked his watch. “Shit, I got to get my phone for a second here. Can you give me a minute?”

“Sure,” I said as he grabbed his phone and mine, giving me mine back absently as he powered his up and logged in to it even as he slid through his sliding doors and into that picture-perfect living room.

I didn’t power up my phone right away. First, because it was a game I played with myself: How long could I go without ramming its phosphors into my eyeballs? Second, because I wanted to mull over this job. And third, because I had a sense from Sethu’s body language that she wanted to have a word with me.

She stepped away from the painting. She really was very good. Whatever she’d done to it while Danny and I had been talking had brought it to life in a way I couldn’t exactly articulate, making it seem energetic, hinting at all the feverish activity in the home offices and garages and cars in that impressionistic landscape. She gave it hustle.

“Danny tells me you’ve done this work before,” she said, hanging her smock on the easel and wiping her hands with an oily rag.

“Since the earliest days,” I said. “Most accountants saw the spreadsheet as a tool for making their lives easier. A smaller group realized its potential for covering up financial crimes. I think I was the only member of that second group that wanted to prevent the crimes, rather than creating them.”

“So there were three groups,” she said.

“I guess so,” I said. “The bean counters, the crooks, and me. Pretty sure we used to all hang out in the same Usenet support group for advanced Lotus 1–2–3 users.”

“You’ve solved a lot of cases?”

“You make me sound like a detective. Yeah, I’ve made some of my clients pretty happy.”

“Danny said you just had a big victory?”

“Rearden Factoring. They’re financial engineers, leveraging supply-chain desperation. If you’re a big blue chip, you tell your suppliers that you’re paying them on one hundred and eighty days net unless they sign up with Rearden, which will process their invoices in thirty days in exchange for a two percent commission. Rearden doesn’t charge the buyers anything for this; it just leverages up that free cash flow, turning it into capital for big bets in the capital markets, rotating its positions with every billing cycle. It’s a lucrative business.”

“It sounds like a dirty business,” she said.

“No dirtier than any monopoly scam. The bigger the bigs get, the better the terms they can extract from their supply chain. It’s the golden rule: they have the gold, they make the rules.”

“And you helped them?”

“I did. Insider job, but he made a mistake. I caught it.”

“That is a lucky break. Why would someone so competent in one domain be so foolish in another?”

“That is a mystery that I have pondered since I first figured out my old man was a brilliant mechanical engineer and a dribbling idiot when it came to politics, Sethu. If I ever figure out the answer to that question, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

She and I exchanged a look that meant something, though I couldn’t have said what. If Sethu was a gold digger who’d tricked Danny into having something to live for, I wasn’t going to fault her for it or begrudge her any of Danny’s holdings, assuming he had any holdings in a week or two. Teaming up with a young, beautiful, devastatingly intelligent woman wasn’t a lapse in Danny’s brilliance as far as I was concerned — it was his smarts carrying over from one domain into the next.

“Thanks for the history lesson,” she said. “Always fascinating to hear these tales from the electronic frontier.”

“Anytime,” I said as she picked up the easel and went back indoors, passing Danny in the doorway as he came out to me.

“Did she grill you?” he asked.

“Just a friendly chat,” I said.

“Well, then, you got lucky. She’s my equal partner in Trustless, and she’s also the beneficiary of my estate. She has as much at stake as I do here. Even before this incident, she told me I was too trusting. Me! If she’s willing to trust you, you should take it as a standing ovation in your little one-man show, Martin Hench: Stand-Up Guy.”

“It’s a performance that’s wowed ’em for a generation,” I said.

“Well, maybe this will be your grand finale. An old player who happens on a quarter billion dollars doesn’t need to perform for his grubstake anymore.”

“But you didn’t quit when you had the chance,” I said, before realizing with a wince that he had quit, quit everything and made ready to quit life itself.

He saw the wince, and his eyes and voice softened. “I nearly did. Maybe I should have.”

I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books this weekend!

On Sat (Apr 23) at noon, I’m on a panel called “Covering Silicon Valley” with Winddance Twine, moderated by Wendy Lee from the LA Times.

On Sun (Apr 24) at 11AM, I’m signing for California Book Club at booth 111. At 12:30, I’m doing a panel called “The Accidental Detective” with Alex Segura, Margot Douaihy and SJ Rozan

[Image ID: A squared-off version of Will Staehle's cover for the Macmillan edition of 'Red Team Blues.']

#pluralistic #fiction #crypto #crypto means cryptography #red team blues #martin hench #cryptocurrency #serials #technothrillers #books

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fuwabloom · 2 years

Text

It's been a while since I posted anything! So sorry but I've been in a bit of creative funk and had to scrap a lot of the chapter I was working on so... I'm gonna post it here!

Context: Ayano is being discharged from the hospital after fainting due to stress. Her father is worried for her and she thinks back on a very specific memory of appeasing him as a child.

It took several more tests and evaluations before Ayano was finally released from the hospital. Her mother was, once again, roped into another meeting with Director Mukai and assured her family that they could leave without her.

The three idle outside the entrance of the hospital, her father carrying a bag of clothes in one hand and a paperbag full of books and other miscellaneous trinkets Ayano was gifted. Mukai Kinu was bashfully obvious with trying to win over the girl's affections,

She laughed off the concerns of the two, and gently patted them on the shoulders, affirming her initial offer,

"Now, now," she cooed, affection sparkling in her eyes. A wide grin blossomed on her lips, reaching her eyes with sheer delight. "I know today is our first day altogether out of the hospital, but duty calls! I'll have Mukai-kun drive me home and pay for some prime wagyu beef, doesn't that sound nice?"

Ayano isn't slow, she knows what her mother looks for with how she stares back, batting her lashes in am attempt to garner a favorable response. Her father is quick, a natural charmer when it came to Ryoba, and he utters a pathetic excuse of being concerned that maybe they should all take a night to relax. It's been so long, hasn't it? They've rarely had a chance to sit at the table and negotiate who gets to finish what side dish.

Ayano follows up, picking up the cue from her father's trailing pleas. She forces a heavy pout, eyes downcast, and as soon as she feels her mother's loving attention on her, she crosses her arms and turns away. Most parents would reprimand such insolence but Ryoba was an anomaly. She had no standard criteria. No control group to be compared to. Nothing. She was a being of whims and wants with no manual someone can pick up and read.

An adolescent of a parent with an ounce of normality would get scolded. But this was not that type of setting. Instead, Ryoba giggles, validating the poor acting, and gently kisses her daughter's temple. She's a woman who is not easily swayed and faulted to being amused than endeared.

"I wish you could act spoiled like this before you start high school," she sighs and her husband relents a nervous chuckle. "Maybe I'll also drop by Wakuri Bakery and pick up some cream puffs? I know my dearest Ayano's are the best but for now, you need to get reacquainted with our home after being away so long!"

She repeated her consolation until a man in a black suit arrived and cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, with black hair swept over a pair of shades. His shoulders were broad and the way he stood made him appear bigger than he actually was for his average height. "Aishi-san," he calls, tapping on his wrist. A flash of light reflected on his watch, showing off a hint of his wage.

"Hmph!" Ryoba whines but laughs it off when the man refrains from flinching. "Oh you young blood," she chides and waves to her family. "Don't worry, my loves, just make sure not to eat too late!"

The two leave, approaching a loitering vehicle with the suit opening the passenger's door, waiting for Ryoba to slide in. She turns one last time and blows affectionate kisses to her husband and daughter and, finally, seats herself in the car. Visibly, the man's shoulders slack, and he hurries to the driver's seat. A few more seconds pass and the engine murmurs before the vehicle departs.

Ayano hears her father breathe out in an ironic mix of distress and relief. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" His tone is unsteady as his eyes are tracking the tail end of the car circling through the parking lot and entering the high way. "Mukai-sensei said everything was fine, great even, and praised how healthy you are... But, uh, how was your appetite? Was it okay? Did you eat enough?"

Her father danced around the worries of her well-being often. Meanwhile, Ryoba batted away such issues like they were someone else's problem or something absurd like the Aishi family's genes were above such trivial things like fevers. They both exercised caution of Ayano's health, leaving it to regular evaluations in school. There was never anything wrong outside of the mild concern that Ayano, as a growing child, didn't eat much compared to other children.

It wasn’t urgent nor something to worry about, but it left a gnawing feeling in his stomach. A worry that he once brought up when it was just him and a seven-year-old Ayano. They sat across each other at a quiet family restaurant. Laminated menus placed before them, wiped clean from previous diners, colorful to entice their childish patrons, and used silly names to further entrance curious eyes.

Sundae specials like 'A Berry Banana Bonanza' for a banana split chock-full of strawberries and raspberries; 'Choco-Mint Mayhem' where the sea green of mint was sprinkled with chocolate chunks and decorated with sticks of Pocky; and 'My Neopolitean Regime' is a strange name for a childish delight, what with its dedicated embodiment of its three flavors and candies that resided inside. It's supposed to be a statement, Ayano once thought, possibly one that denied dentists everywhere a smooth appointment.

Her father's eyes shone briefly after she rose her head, asking with eagerness if she wanted ice cream. She knows she needs to act spoiled, yanking at her father's shaky hands, and sobbing crocodile tears with a thousand pleases falling from her tongue. She knows he wants that, to witness an ounce of a normal child across him. She knows he is struggling, desperation the only thing he can feel when around his family.

She knows and yet, she can't act like what he wants. All she can do is pick up a mask that she made specifically for him and wear it while reciting a script. As the playwright, the producer, the actress, she performs and does it well.

"Daddy," she meekly began, batting her eyes like she's seen Midori do a thousand times. "Can I get the Neopolitean one?" She tapped her finger against the disgustingly bright photo of said dessert.

A smile escaped him and the crows feet around his eyes crinkle. "You can, but then you'll be too full for dinner," he gently reprimanded, relief flooding from his voice. His muscles loosen, as if something inside him unwound. "Can you promise me that you'll have room for some yummy dinner?"

Like he could breathe.

She figured this was enough for him to feel like this could be normal. So she nods, stubborn with cheeks puffed and brows furrowed, similar to Kuu who debated with her parents often. She'd fight for adding 'just one more book!' to the cart as they wandered from aisle to aisle in a bookstore. Funny faces seeped onto Kuu's parents' faces as though they were doing their best not to laugh, and were easily swayed by the soured look of their child. 'Okay,' they'd say with a shake of their head, 'just one more.'

So, as always, Ayano feeds off her companions' lives and processes it as artificially as possible.

"I promise!"

And that memory drifts into nothingness. Her stomach was too small to handle such a behemoth of a sundae and they wound up boxing it, brought it home, and had it as dessert for dinner. She recalled having stomach cramps but managed to hide it and finish dinner her mother crooned on about loving to make. Ayano excused herself to take a bath first and relished in the hot water for as long as she could.

Why would anyone want to eat more than one scoop of ice cream? Impossible. She felt her teeth decay at the thought of attempting it a second time.

And so, the feeling drifts again.

"Mukai-sensei made sure I've eaten everything on my plate," she assured, feigning bashfulness. "I might gain weight because of it..." Gingerly her hands pat at her nearly nonexistent flab. She always worked out, not even thinking about it, scultped by her mother's designed lifestyle. Her posture was always upright, she did light cardio, she put her all into physical education, and was on constant alert. If anything, the pink-haired nurse commented how Ayano had a surprising amount of muscle for someone who wasn't part of an athletic club.

"It's almost as if you're training to join a sports meet!"

It was a kind observation. Something someone innocent, ignorant, of the world would assume. Or someone normal.

Her father cracked a smile, crows feet prominent.

#yandere simulator #ys galatea au #fuwa writes #fuwa drafts #this can be found on ao3!#well the actual story #not the actual chapter

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