#michael grew a BIT taller but other than that?? look at that confidence in his pose and that easy grin on his lips and the almost casual ye

[chompychompynom]

Eavesdropping (Solf J Kimblee x Gender Neutral Reader)

You wanted to strangle the man so badly. Everything he did irked you to no end. His smirk, his eyes, his furrowed eyebrows, his nose, his teeth, his hat, his hair, his clothes, his posture, everything. He acted as though he was better than everyone else. His ego was probably big enough to reach Heaven. You felt yourself wrinkle your nose as he walked past you to the phone. He was probably updating everyone on the mission. He did that quite often, and you always listened in. He tended to speak poorly of everyone and make it seem like he did all the work. This time you were going to confront him about it. You didn't care about the fact he was a dangerous man, he needed to learn his place. He started speaking softly on the phone, his words melting through your head. You glanced at him, but you weren't noticeable to him. It only took a few minutes on the phone before he hung up after he got annoyed. Turning on his heel, he started to make his way back.

¨You're even rude to Bradely…Shocker.¨ Kimblee´s head snapped over to your direction, and a smirk grew on his face.

¨Bradely doesn't know how to get things done. Now, you know it's rude to eavesdrop.¨ He teased you gently, but his sinister smirk never left his face. The aura around him was thick and sickening, and it made you want to puke, yet you stayed. In fact, you inched closer to the man. He made no move to top you, he just watched you. 

¨Listen Kimblee, you treat everyone like shit and I'm tired of it! You're not better than everyone else!¨ You snap at the Michael Jackson look-alike. He didn't even flinch. In fact, his smirk grew.

¨Do you think you’re better than me?” He asked. You stay silent for a moment, your hand quivering slightly.

“Exactly. You guys aren’t confident in yourselves, so you don’t get anything done. That’s why I’m better. Simple.” He explains, causing you to furrow your eyebrows harshly.

“You’re a horrible man.” You snarl, your eyes digging into his. He sighed out a soft laugh.

“You say that, yet you tell your comrades how much you look up to me.” You froze. How did he know about that? Had he been listening in on your conversations?

¨Were you eavesdropping?!¨ You hissed, panic rising in your body. He snorted.

¨Isn't that what you've been doing to me for the entire mission?” You gulped. He knew? Why hadn't he said anything? He leaned down a small bit, since he was only an inch or two taller.

¨Truth be told, I like you. So do your best and not get in my way and I won't kill you. I can't say the same about the others.” He says plainly, before kissing your cheek and walking away. You stay frozen in place, your hand reaching up to your cheek where he kissed. He was sickening. And you loved it.

[spenciegoob]

Pathetic and Tragic

Summary: It’s been years since the BAU has tried to catch this unsub, so when Spencer figures out where she is, why did he feel the need to go alone?

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: mentions of murder/blood, slight bondage, hair pulling, choking, gagging, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, slight degradation

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Hi! This is for a contest by @spenciebabie and I’ve chosen the one-shot prompt why don't you make me? 

Masterlist

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The case was never supposed to last this long. Spencer knew that, Hell, the whole BAU knew that. A woman with ties to the highest degree of one of the most infamous organized crime families should have been the FBI’s top priority, and for a very long time, she was.

Then the case got complicated, and while Spencer’s mind clouded with an unbearable lust for a woman that would take his life with zero hesitation, the team lost one of their greatest players.

It was tragic in every sense of the word, the way Spencer’s mind replayed their first interaction, his lips feeling her breath on him after all this time, and the bullet that always rested in his bag.

He felt pathetic in that moment, letting her take control of his morals with her vice like grip on his mind, body and soul.

“FBI, freeze. Don’t move.” Finally, the BAU had found who they were looking for since her first appearance on their radar 8 months ago. More importantly, Spencer caught her trying to flee a scene she had no business being at. She looked so out of place, the blood and gore that laid a trail to her small, almost fragile figure making Spencer believe for a split second that she couldn’t have possibly done this.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when she turned around to flash a wicked smile his way.

And Spencer Reid was the one who froze instead.

“Doctor,” she greeted with the utmost of poise and delicacy. “I do believe I have a job to do, so I’m sorry to inform you that I cannot follow your request at this time.”

She was taunting him, and Spencer would fall into that trap again and again if it meant her eyes remained on his.

But this was a criminal, a murderer, a sociopath, and he will not lose his footing this time. Not even for a flawless god-like woman.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tristen Kepler, Michael Gerdinski and Harold Bennet.” Spencer’s voice was slowly losing its confidence as her face turned from one of pure hilarity to confusion.

“Is that all? You might be missing a few names.” She was proud of her work, it was insufferable. Spencer’s anger level was slowly rising, and if she continued to dance circles around his mind, the task at hand being forgotten, it was going to get dangerously high.

“You won’t shoot me, Dr. Reid,” she continued as she took a step towards him, the grip on his gun tightened.

“How do you know?” Spencer’s voice shook with the same uncertainty as his finger shaking over the trigger. She was right, he wasn’t going to shoot her, but Spencer couldn’t confirm the thoughts of a narcissist.

“Because,” another step. “I’m unarmed, and you, Spencer Reid,” another step. “Are a man of morals and righteousness, and justice.” She spit the last word with so much venom that the story behind her rage could have been the world’s most tragic villain arc.

The whole case was quite tragic.

“Don’t take another step.” Spencer was easily a foot taller than her, and with one scan could tell he weighed twice as much as her, but she still found a way to make his blood run cold with both fear and excitement.

“Or what?”

Spencer could’ve sworn he only blinked and she was directly in front of him, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. She had laid a fog over his mind, taking away his intelligence and peeling back every layer of his mind so only the thought of lowering his weapon in favor of getting on her good side remained.

She was challenging him to do something, but instead of the snake charmer charming the snake, she charmed him.

Spencer must have been hallucinating on the high of being closer to her now, but he could’ve sworn the crime scene they were in was starting to grow the same vines in the Garden of Eden, because there she stood handing Spencer an apple.

Like Eve, Spencer took it.

The second his gun lowered slightly, she pounced. She had him disarmed and on his back before he had time to process the feeling of her skin on his. If the impact to the ground didn’t knock the wind out of Spencer, her close proximity would.

She had a heel digging into his wrist closest to his gun that was only inches away, taunting him for his pathetic lust. Slowly, she bent down, entering the fog, black smoke mixing with his innocent, white cloud to create a gray that he wouldn’t dare call dull.

“I’m sorry it has to be like this, Spencer. Truly, I am.” Her eyes left his to scan his face before she reached over to his gun. The thought crossed his mind that she was going to kill him, but would that be so bad when he was breathing the same air as her?

She emptied the chamber into her hands, only leaving one bullet. He walked this road before, he knew his chances.

“One bullet, one chance.” She spun the chamber before slamming it back in place. “God, I really hope you live.”

For a split second, they shared a gaze clouded with desire for the other. Spencer let his mind fade into what her lips would feel like against his, or how her body would tremble under his. She had control now, but he knew from the way her eyes begged, even just for one second, she wanted him to flip the roles and take her right there. He would’ve too if it wasn’t for the cool metal that pressed against the side of his head.

Click!

An empty threat, yet she still smirked. “Today’s your lucky day, Doctor.”

She looked up to where a single headlight shone through the window above them, her hair trickling down to brush against Spencer’s neck, and he sighed at the small contact. It was pathetic, really.

“That’s my ride. See you around.” With that, she winked and ran off towards her getaway. Spencer laid there, taking in shallow breaths that escaped him during their interaction.

She had been stalling him, and he fell for it.

Spencer still carried around that bullet as a reminder. A reminder that he needs to catch her, she was too dangerous, and anything less than her being imprisoned for life wasn’t good enough. 

It was also a reminder of how he felt when she was with him, over him, dominating him. Spencer never felt that helpless, that pathetic, that hungry for someone, and he wasn’t ready to let that go quite yet.

There was no new case that came in this week, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that nagging feeling at bay when it came to her this case. They needed to shut it, Spencer needed to shut it, because maybe, just maybe, he could sleep better at night knowing he won.

“Delivery for Dr. Spencer Reid,” a voice called from the entrance of the bullpen. Spencer’s head shot around, finding a very harmless looking intern holding a small package in his hand looking around.

Cutting the kid some slack, he made his way over. “I’m Dr. Reid.” The kid smiled before handing him the little cardboard box. It fit in the palm of his hand, and was completely blank except for the small drawing of a snake on the top.

His blood ran cold, and his lungs forgot how to breath, just like they did a year ago.

A year ago today.

Spencer didn’t wait any longer, ripping the box open despite the strong glue that held it shut with its secrets.

Oh Spencer, hasn’t anyone told you not to open Pandora’s box?

The bullet inside rattled around the small container, one of the bullets that belonged to Spencer before she took them for her trophies.

She may have not killed Spencer, but she definitely took something more than just bullets with her that night.

He knew where she was, and she wanted him to.

Spencer could’ve told his team, hell, he was going to need the backup, so what stopped him from doing so as he raced for the crime scene that has since been cleared and reopened for the public to ignore the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?

Lust, lust is what stopped him, and it was pathetic.

Pathetic and tragic.

She knew he arrived, even if he turned the lights of the SUV off before pulling up the small warehouse. The air around her grew heavier with anticipation as she waited for Spencer to enter the room, no doubt waiting for the element of surprise.

She almost missed his light footsteps approaching her from behind.

“You’ve changed,” she called out. Spencer froze again, just like he had the first time. Was this pathetic enough?

“So have you,” his voice was calm, not caring for tiptoeing anymore. She was right, Spencer had changed, and now he took very little chances with instability.

“Yet here we are, repeating the same cycle as last year.” She turned to face him, and if she was less of a professional, she would have let her hunger for Spencer shine through. He had definitely changed, his hair was longer now, but still beautifully curly and framing his face, the one that was sharper, stubble on his cheeks. 

Spencer was a man now, one she wanted to strip down to nothing both physically and emotionally.

“That’s not entirely true,” he shot back with a sense of cockiness to his tone, cockiness she had no patience for. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

She snorted, actually snorted in his face. “You cannot be serious. You think I would lead you to me just to turn myself in?”

“You’re coming with me, whether you want to or not.” There was no room for argument, but she had other plans. She saw the lust in his eyes a year ago, and though time passed, that passion when he was looking at her still hasn’t faded. She just needed to push his buttons a little bit.

“Why don’t you make me?” It was the final straw, the last drop of water before the dam broke, and Spencer made no effort to stop himself from taking her head in his hands and smashing their lips together in both anger and desire.

She moaned against his mouth, wrapping her hands around his neck to find their place in his hair. Spencer had other plans, because he grabbed both of her wrists before turning her around and bending her over the metal table behind them.

“Listen, Princess,” Spencer whispered into her ear, his lips grazing the shell as he bent his whole body over her to press her further. The cool metal was digging into her hips, but she couldn’t complain when it also meant she felt Spencer’s hard erection on her backside. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, and then I’m going to take you in where you’ll rot in prison for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”

“Only one of us is getting ruined today, and it’s not me.” Apparently, that was not the answer Spencer wanted, because he grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her back against his chest, making her gasp and squirm against his strong frame.

“Watch the attitude,” he growled out before reaching down with his other hand to unbutton her black jeans. “Now let’s try that again. Do you understand me?”

She only responded in a whimper as Spencer’s hands reached inside both her pants and panties to run his fingers through her slick folds.

“Use your words, Princess.” She tried to grind down on his fingers, but Spencer was quick to remove them from her pants. Bringing his hand up to her neck, he wrapped it around before squeezing lightly. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, I understand. Just please, Spencer.” She never would have thought that the awestruck doctor she wooed a year ago would be so rough with her, and the surprise just added to her need for him.

“Please what, Princess?” Spencer taunted.

“Just do something,” she barked back, immediately regretting her decision when he let go of her neck to push her by her head back onto the table with more force than necessary.

When she heard the click of his handcuffs, she started her relentless squirming. “What the hell, Spencer? I thought you were going to fucking do something!”

“Who said I wasn't?” He asked before completely ripping her pants down her legs, the cool air hitting her bare pussy, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

So this was the game Spencer’s playing.

“God, you’re already so fucking wet, Princess. Wanna taste you.” He gave her no time to register his words because Spencer dropped to his knees and licked a strip up and then down her folds, flicking her clit before taking in completely in his mouth.

Her mewls and groans bounced off the concrete walls around them, only urging Spencer on more. He suckled softly on her clit before flicking it back and forth repeatedly with his tongue at an incomprehensible pace. The knot in her stomach was forming, and at this rate, it was going to unravel fast.

“Spe-Spence I.. I’m g-gonna” Spencer brought his fingers up to her core, replacing his tongue with two slender digits.

“Do it, Princess. Come for me.” He pinched her clit roughly, and that was the final push over the edge, her moans loud consisting of incoherent curses and his name.

When she started to come down from her high, Spencer stood straight up again and started unbuckling his belt. She started to squirm and push back into him at his slow movements.

“I know you’re probably enjoying watching me struggle, but if you could please hurry the fuck up,” she said as she lifted part of her upper body to turn and look at him. She never got a good look, because Spencer reached out and slammed her back down before pushing all of himself into her waiting cunt.

She yelled out at the sensation, Spencer groaning before saying, “What did I tell you about that fucking attitude?”

He set a brutal pace, giving her barely any time to adjust before pulling out so just the tip remained, and then slamming into her with a rough, animalistic force.

“Ah, ah, ah, Sp- Spenc-” He grabbed her by the hair again, using it as leverage to pull her back onto his cock, making her scream out again.

“Shut up,” Spencer groaned out, annunciating each word with a thrust while he reached forward to shove two fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She moaned around his fingers, causing him to press down on her tongue, gagging her. Spencer could feel the way she started to clench around him.

“You gonna cum, Princess? That’s it, cum with me.” Spencer’s thrusts grew sloppier as they both ran towards their orgasm together.

When they both finally reached their high, Spencer could’ve sworn he saw stars, his cock twitching in her pulsing warmth, milking him of everything. For a split second, their bodies had become one.

But time moves quickly, and the second fleeted when his actions caught up to him, and he ripped himself from her.

She was still shaking and trying to catch her breath when he undid the handcuffs that were burning her wrists. Confusion spread through her as she used her arms that still felt like jelly to push herself up off the table.

“Why... why’d you uncuff me?” Spencer looked up through his eyelashes at her from where he was redoing his belt, his face unreadable.

“Get dressed. I can’t arrest you half naked.” He looked away from her with a blush on his face as she bent down to pull her pants back up. When she looked back up at him from where he was trying to see from his peripherals if she was dressed again, she caught a glimpse of the man she met a year ago.

“That’s not the reason, Doctor. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Why’d you stop?” Spencer finally turned to face her, catching the surprise on her face before it morphed into that same wicked smile that rendered him helpless last time.

“Would you have come if I kept killing?” He didn’t have to think about his answer, it was the reason he was hoping was true.

“No.” She slowly stalked over to him, but this time she didn’t flip him on his back. Instead, she cupped his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to nuzzle into her palm.

“I still have 4 bullets,” she said softly. They locked eyes again, but this time, the lust they indulged in melted down to a mutual understanding.

“I’ll see you next year, Doctor.” With that, she walked around him, shutting the door with a slam on the way out, leaving Spencer staring at the silver with no attempt to chase after her.

Pathetic and tragic.

____

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[everamazingfe]

Magic in the Mundane

Fic Summary: Everyone had something special about them, their own personal bit of magic. Most found out about their abilities early, but Gavin had always been a bit of a late bloomer. Luckily, Michael comes by to help him put the pieces together. 

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Words in this chapter: 5521 Pairings: Gavin Free/Michael Jones Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Written for Kait (@uy8hg) for the RT Writer’s Discord Secret Sunshine event! All of her prompts were amazing and I spent far too long trying to decide between them, but I'm so glad that I decided to go with this one because it was so much fun to write. Check the source for a link to read it over on A 0 3!

Prompt: Someone discovers a new power or something that they find really cool, and they want to show it off to everyone else, with varying levels of success.

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In a world full of wonder, it wasn’t always easy to appreciate the beauty in the mundane, but those who had magic running through their veins found it quite simple. The way that magic would manifest itself in those people wasn’t always the same, though. Sometimes, the magic was in their personality. Jack had a warmth about him that could make anyone’s day better in a matter of seconds. Trevor’s charisma was off the charts, he was such a smooth talker that it was hard for anyone to dislike him unless they really tried. Other times, it was in their looks. Alfredo had a smile that could light up any room, big and beaming and bright enough to outshine the sun. Geoff had amazingly artistic tattoos that seemed to come alive if one looked at them a little too long (he would always deny this, but there was a gleam in his eye that made everyone think twice about his words). Sometimes, it was something else entirely. Their magic came in the form of special abilities, of genuine magic. Lindsay could speak to animals, using their skills for good a majority of the time, but otherwise causing mischief. Michael could create just as well as he could destroy, rendering entire buildings obsolete and creating new ones in their wake. 

There was a little bit of magic in everything, but oftentimes there were those that couldn’t see it in themselves. That was where Gavin stood. He was a smooth talker, sure, but not as smooth as Trevor. His smile wasn’t as bright as Alfredo’s. He didn’t have any magical abilities. Though he was welcomed into their group, he didn’t feel as though he belonged. He didn’t have any magic. They insisted that he was part of their crew, magic or not, and that he was welcome, but sometimes he didn’t want their comforts. He just wanted to be left alone. It was hard enough to be the lone member of the mundane in their little crew, he didn’t want their pity points on top of it. Still, it didn’t stop them from trying to help.

“Maybe you’re just a late bloomer?” Fiona suggested to him late one evening when the sun had already set, laid out on her back on the roof of a building Michael had created just for her. Her magic was her ability to be good at anything she set her mind to, with an unwavering confidence that Gavin admired (and sometimes envied), even when it was misplaced. “Or you could just be totally oblivious to it. That’s always an option.”

He let out a soft sigh, shrugging a shoulder as he turned his head to look at her. “Someone else would’ve noticed it in me by now though, I think. Everyone has something, even if they're not the ones who see it.” Those who had magic were usually pretty good at picking it out in others. It had been how those without genuine magic had discovered theirs. How Jack had discovered his warmth, how Ky had discovered her strength, and so on. 

Fiona bit her lip, going quiet. He had a point there, but she didn’t want to admit it. She hated when he was right. “Maybe your magic is just being an idiot?” There was a grin on her lips, but the way that she spoke made it sound like a genuine suggestion. Gavin couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, his and Fiona’s giggles echoing out across the landscape. 

“Kind of a shitty magic, don’t you think, Fifi?” He asked finally, when his sides ached from laughing and his lungs begged for air. “I know Michael would certainly agree with you, but… I really hope that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, Gavvy. Could be. But I hope that’s not it too. I think you’re made for something a bit better than that.” Instead of pity, or jokes, she gave him a vote of confidence, and there was a little gleam that formed in Gavin’s eyes at her words. 

“You mean that?” 

“Of course I do! 

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The day after speaking to Fiona, Gavin was still thinking about her words. Despite how good it had made him feel in the moment, they’d ended up putting him in a worse mood than usual, and it was hard for him to even begin thinking about the magic he might have held. Was he really meant for something better than the idiocy his friends assigned to him? He wasn’t sure. 

He’d set out on a hike, outside of the city that they’d made for themselves and into the woods surrounding it. Some time out in nature always made him feel better, more at ease, more connected to the magic of the world around him. The small nuances on how the ecosystem worked together to thrive always intrigued him, and he was jealous of how cohesive it all could be. 

“I’m just a bit too all over the place for it, I guess,” he muttered to himself, taking a seat on a fallen tree. The moss was soft beneath him, and he ran his fingers over it as he talked to himself. Working through his thoughts aloud always made them feel less jumbled. 

A figure sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, and a hand was placed over his. “Don’t beat yourself too much, Gav,” Geoff said quietly, wrapping his arm around Gavin and pulling himself close. “We can’t all be something special, otherwise there wouldn’t be anything special at all.”

Gavin let out a long sigh, leaning into the gent when he was pulled in. He’d stopped asking how Geoff could find him so easily long ago. It was the same answer every time, ‘I just know where to look, you assholes aren’t exactly all that hard to find,’ said with that same glint in his eye. “Yeah, I know. But it’d be nice to be able to do something more than exist.” 

Geoff hummed softly, rubbing his thumb gently over Gavin’s shoulder. It always made him feel guilty when any of his friends were upset, particularly Gavin, but he’d been so hung up on the same thing for so long. “Are you sure you don’t just want an excuse for the attention to be back on you for a change?”

The lad sat up quickly, pulling away from Geoff and cutting him a confused look. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying! Going around talking to everyone, being all mopey about not having magic? Pretty good way to get everyone to pay attention to you for a change, right?”

Gavin scoffed at the notion, pushing Geoff away from him. “That’s not what I’m doing at all!” 

“Are you sure?” He asked, arching an eyebrow as Gavin stood up suddenly. 

“Yes.” They’d had a few new members join their ranks, and attention was divided as they worked to expand their little city and network with others, but he hadn’t minded people paying less attention to him. If anything, he enjoyed it. It meant there was less pressure on him to perform. “Now, I’m going. And this time, you’re not allowed to search for me.” 

He didn’t even know where he was going, he just wanted to go away. He wondered if that’s what everyone thought, or if Geoff was just trying to get a rise out of him. If they all thought that way, they’d certainly never said anything of the sort, but this was how people were going to treat him, Gavin didn’t want to be around them.

“What a dick,” he muttered to himself, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he walked deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful green and gold tapestry, the hues blending together to make a simple but pleasing pattern. The threads had been hand-woven by Matt and enchanted to protect its wearer from whatever may come their way, and it did a remarkable job. 

As he ventured deeper into the woods, the trees grew taller and thicker, blocking out the sun’s rays and sending a chill through the air. As the coldness began to creep in, the cloak kept him warm and made him feel safe. However, it couldn’t protect him from the turmoil inside his own mind. 

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In the city center, Michael was having a different sort of crisis, and his angry shouting could be heard all across the land. 

“You said what to him?!’

His relationship to Gavin was indiscernible at best, no one knew whether they were deeply in love or mortal enemies, but one thing was certain: he was fiercely protective of the fact that he was the only one allowed to bully Gavin, and anyone else could only do so with his permission. Whether they were soulmates or archnemesis, Gavin was his boi first and foremost. 

“I just suggested that maybe being an idiot was his form of magic! It was funny, we were both laughing!” Fiona said, completely oblivious to the way that Michael was shooting daggers her way. Usually Michael played along with her playful teasing of Gavin, so when he didn’t continue to make jokes, she looked over. “Don’t you give me that look, you’re thinking it too.”

“I’m not, though.” Fiona scoffed, and Michael all but growled. “I’m not. You all underestimate him, and when he does find his magic, you’re going to be blown away. All of you will be.” There was a special sort of conviction to his words, one that was usually reserved for saying the most ridiculous things completely stone-faced. 

Michael stormed off after that, ignoring Fiona’s demands for him to keep hanging out with her. Movement came from the bushes on the outskirts of their community, spotted just out of the corner of his eye, but his attention snapped towards it in an instant only to reveal that the movement was caused by Geoff. His eyebrows furrowed as the other tried to pretend like he wasn’t covered in burrs and twigs, like he wasn’t trying to sneak out of the brush and back into the city unnoticed.

“Do you know where Gavin is?” he asked instantly, lifting a hand swiftly to raise a dirt wall behind Geoff, who was trying to retreat back into the bushes as quickly as he’d come out of them. 

“Why would I know where he is?” Geoff asked, his voice pitchy and lilted like he certainly did know where Gavin was, but also that he knew that revealing that information would get him in more trouble with Michael than not at the same time. 

Michael’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, the ground beneath his feet rumbling and propelling him like a moving walkway until he was nose to nose with Geoff. “Because you know where everyone is, you always know.” 

There wasn’t fear in Geoff’s eyes, but the man’s chest rose and fell rapidly with anxious breaths. The staredown was long and tense, though he eventually relented, letting out a long sigh as the wall behind him fell. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I spoke to him in the woods maybe an hour ago, he told me that I’m not allowed to look for him, but here.” He reached into his gear, pulling out a weathered piece of parchment that was rolled and tied with a thin strip of leather. A map, one that he’d made with the same magic that lived in his tattoos, that not only held the lay of the land but also markers for everyone who lived in it. Geoff offered it to Michael, who quickly swiped it from him and unrolled it. “He never said anything about you going after him.” 

The lad hummed quietly as his eyes scanned the map for the forest green marker that indicated Gavin’s name, wordlessly stepping beyond the brush and into the woods towards it. 

“I don’t even get a thank you?!” Geoff cried out behind him, annoyed by the lack of gratitude. The ground beneath his feet rose suddenly, knocking him off his feet and onto the earth. He cried out, flailing his arms in an attempt to stop himself from falling, but it was futile. Michael was already gone.

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The woods looked easy to traverse on the map, and they most likely would have been if Michael had stayed on the trails, but he opted to make a beeline towards Gavin. The terrain was rocky and there were steep cliffs off the beaten path, but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle. He could mend and mold the earth to make it easier to traverse, creating stairs along the cliff faces for an easy descent. The climate was what was really getting to him. The chill in the air was unbearable for him, only getting worse as the sun began to dip down, and he had a bear’s pelt to keep him warm. Gavin’s frame was thinner and frailer than his own, he most likely wasn’t faring any better.

He lit a torch as night fell, raising up dirt and stone walls around himself to block out the cold and keep himself safe from the nocturnal monsters around him. After jamming the torch into the wall, he unfurled his map and saw that Gavin’s marker had stopped moving and was instead spinning around in frantic circles. Evidently, he was trying to make camp for the night as well. With a swift movement of his hand, miles away on the other side of the woods, similar walls raised up around Gavin, and the marker finally stopped moving. Satisfied that his boi was safe, he settled down, wrapping his pelt around himself tightly for warmth as he laid down to sleep. 

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Gavin was startled as the dirt walls rose up around him, terrified that something was trying to trap him within them, though he quickly became at ease when he realized what it meant. Geoff had listened and wasn’t going to be searching for him, but Michael was certainly looking out for him instead. The fear that came from being alone out there dissipated as he ran his fingers down the dirt, pulling out several clumps of roots and knocking bits of earth loose. Dirt walls were less than fancy, but they were a great comfort regardless.

He slept easily through the night with a newfound sense of safety, his cloak pulled tightly around himself for warmth. It worked wonders against the cold. As the sun began to rise, it didn’t emerge from the clouds, the sky grey and dreary as rain began to fall. Gavin could hear the rain hitting the tops of the trees, but even as he began to move none of the drops ever hit him. Above him, the branches of the trees bent and molded, shielding him from the downpours as he walked. No doubt this is Michael’s doing, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips. No matter how much they seemed to argue, the other lad still managed to be protective of him. It was something he was always grateful for, even when the others seemed to give him shit for it. 

His pace that day was slower, more leisurely now that he had calmed down some, but he still had no intentions of going back to the city. If Michael was the only one who cared enough to come for him, they could start their own city far, far away. Together. He quickly shook the thought from his mind, pushing his hood down and taking a look around. Though the trees were tall above him for now, he knew that if he just kept going they’d give way to a beautiful, grassy plain. He couldn’t wait to walk on grass again, the dirt and stones beneath him were starting to make his feet ache. 

Several yards from where he’d first had that thought, he had to stop, kneeling down to untie his boots so he could re-lace them tightly. Moving slowly, he bent down, not wanting to end up with another cut on his knee from landing too hard on a rock like he’d already done far too many times this trek. But the terrain beneath his knee was soft, and as he looked down at his boot, he saw that there was soft, lush grass beneath him. Not dirt. 

“What on earth?” He asked himself, brushing his fingers through it. There was some grass on the forest floor around him, but it was rough and patchy, nothing like this. “Michael’s really outdone himself this time.” With that thought, he smiled to himself before continuing to lace up his boots with deft fingers. Before he stood, he spotted a small wildflower that had bloomed among the blades , and he gently picked it and placed it behind his ear. “What a dope.”

What Gavin didn’t know was that Michael didn’t have the ability to create foliage or flowers underfoot. No one in their community did. And with each step that Gavin took, more of it sprouted up from the dirt beneath him. 

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

Night fell again soon enough, and Gavin wasn’t sure where he was. He could’ve sworn that the forest gave way into plains at this point, but instead he found himself in the middle of the desert. Stupidly, he’d continued on, just in case the plains were just beyond it, though now he was too tired to turn back. 

“Maybe Fiona was right,” he muttered as he sat down in the sand, digging his toes into it and wiggling them for some amusement as he propped his cloak up over himself like an umbrella. It was nighttime now, but it would be morning again soon enough. He didn’t want to end up burnt to a crisp before he even woke up. No walls came up around Gavin this time either, so it was up to him to protect himself. 

Gavin leaned forward against his knees, peering up at the night sky for a few long moments. Jeremy had spent many long nights back in the city teaching him the constellations and the stars within them, though he could never tell which ones were real and which ones the lad had made up for his own amusement. Orion was certainly real, but Beauregard’s Chariot was almost certainly not. Almost. He picked that one out, finding comfort in its familiarity, before he decided it was time to get some rest. Toes still in the sand, he laid back, arms crossed beneath his head as he closed his eyes. He had been so focused on the sky that he was unaware of what was happening in the sand beneath him. 

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

With Gavin’s slowed pace, Michael was able to start gaining on him. He raced through the trees with even greater speed now that he was beyond the craggy cliffs and difficult landscape, the earth moving beneath him to propel him along. By nighttime, he’d closed in on Gavin’s position, and he was stunned by what he saw.

Smack dab in the middle of the desert, where not even cacti could manage to survive due to the horrible heat and scorching sunbeams, Gavin found himself within an oasis. That same lush grass and wildflowers were no longer just underfoot, but in a wide circle around the lad, almost tall enough to completely hide him from Michael’s view. Small trees were even beginning to grow, supporting Gavin’s cloak above him in place of the flimsy sticks he’d set up before. 

“Gavin?” Michael called softly, stepping forward with caution in case it was a facade, a trap of some sort. The desert was known for causing hallucinations, for preying on the hope of the desperate. That was the kind of magic it held, and it was very skillful at using it. But as he knelt down at the edge of the circle and reached forward to feel the greenery, sure enough, it was real. “What the hell? Gavin! Wake the fuck up!”

The lad sat bolt upright with a start, catching himself in his cloak and fighting it off with all the fierceness of a kitten. Sleep was still gripping him, catching him somewhere between being wide awake and deep asleep, but he was quickly coming to. “Who’s there?!” He shouted, finally tossing his cape away from himself and looking around in confusion. “Michael?” That wasn’t the last thing he expected to see out there, but it wasn’t the first either. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

It had taken everything in Michael not to laugh at the display in front of him, but he quickly wiped the smirk off his face to look offended when Gavin addressed him so incredulously. “Jeez, don’t sound so happy to see me,” he drawled, rolling his eyes before shuffling forward on his knees. “Mind telling me what all this is?” He arched an eyebrow, gesturing to the small haven among the sand. 

However, Gavin had no more answers than Michael did. “I’m not… I’m not sure what it is,” he responded earnestly, glancing between it and the other lad before reaching for his cloak. “I thought you were doing it. You’re not?” Michael shook his head fervently, and Gavin only frowned as he pulled the garment on. “Then who is?”

Michael shrugged a shoulder, humming a soft ‘I don’t know’ before standing, stalking around the mysterious growth. This wasn’t anything that anyone he knew could do, and when he tried to make it happen himself, all he could do was raise the earth itself. He couldn’t make anything grow from it. Which left only one option…

“Come here,” he said suddenly, and Gavin looked at him like he’d asked him to do something insane. “Stand up! Get the hell over here!” When there was still no movement from him, Michael reached forward, hauling Gavin to his feet and yanking him out of the circle. Sure enough, grass sprouted up beneath the lad’s feet, extending the circle and connecting it to wherever he stepped. “Holy shit… Gavin! Look!”

Gavin had thought that Michael was angry at him, scolding him, but the tone of his voice was nothing but excited. Thrilled, even. He followed Michael’s gaze down to his feet, but he wasn’t quick enough to put the pieces together like the other had. “This happened to me back in the forest too! I don’t know what’s going on!”

“You’ve found your magic, that’s what’s going on!” Michael was practically screaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking at Gavin with a big beaming grin. “You can make stuff grow! That’s incredible!” 

That made things click for Gavin, finally, and his grin ended up matching Michael’s. “I can make stuff grow!” Geoff was going to be blown away, everyone was. He wondered if Michael would be okay with them going back to the city immediately, they’d be able to get there by morning thanks to his abilities. “Fiona was right!”

The other bristled immediately, his grin turning to a frown in a fraction of a second. “Fiona was… Right?” She’d told Gavin that his magic was being stupid, that his special ability was being an idiot. This certainly wasn’t that, not by a long shot. “Gavin, this isn’t stupid. This is awesome! Fiona wasn’t right.”

“What? What are you on about? No, she… She said I was made for something better than what everyone else thought. And she was right! Oh, and she’s had such shit luck getting flowers to grow at her place too, no wonder!” Gavin threw his arms around Michael’s neck, wrapping him in a tight hug that was fueled by nothing but pure glee, and he could only hug him back just as tight. “We have to get back there, immediately. Everyone is going to be so jealous, Michael-boi.”

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

Some proper rest would’ve been a great benefit to them both, but Gavin had insisted that they return to the city as quickly as possible. The moving ground beneath their feet made it a relatively quick task, and Michael had managed to find a well-worn trail that made it even easier. They were back in the city by sunrise, and while the excitement had died down in Michael to give way to sleepiness, Gavin was no less giddy. Probably because he’d climbed on Michael’s back at one point and managed a small nap. Lucky bastard, Michael had thought to himself when he’d heard the soft snoring in his ear, but he hadn’t woken him up. 

“Michael. Stop here, Michael,” Gavin urged, nearly losing his balance as the dirt beneath him ground to a halt suddenly. They were just outside the city, inside the same bushes that Geoff had attempted to sneak out of a few days prior, hidden from view as residents began to leave their houses to begin their tasks for the day. “I’m gonna get on your back-“

“You’re not taking another fucking nap,” Michael interjected, and the other huffed and waved him off. 

“No! I’m gonna get on your back so I can do a grand reveal, you dolt. The flowers appear when I step, and if I step too soon the surprise will be ruined!”

“Hey, assholes!” Jeremy’s voice boomed across the city center, no doubt hearing the commotion, and Gavin quickly began to scramble onto Michael’s back. 

“Ow! Watch it, you’re gonna knock off my glasses! Stop!” Michael huffed, swatting at Gavin’s hands as they reached for purchase anywhere they could. He stepped out of the bushes once he was settled, looking annoyed while the lad on his back was nothing but gleeful. “Hey, Lil J! I rescued our favorite dumbass. You’re welcome.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh as Gavin let out a little ‘hello!’ and waved, though he was curious about why the other was on Michael’s back. It wasn’t unlike Gavin to demand piggy-back rides. Though normally once Jeremy was in view, he made it his mission to climb onto his shoulders instead. “Gav, are you hurt? What’s going on?” He stepped up with caution, ready to call for help if needed. Injuries weren’t uncommon, but if Gavin needed to be carried, it must’ve been serious. 

“No, the asshole’s not hurt. Not yet, at least. He’s just got a surprise for you,” Michael assured, rolling his eyes. “For everyone, actually. Do me a favor and ring the bell? They’re gonna want to be here for this.”

An eyebrow shot up, but Jeremy was quick to comply with the request. He crossed the city center, grabbing the rope and pulling it once, twice, three times to signal that it was a meeting of utmost importance, but not one that brought bad news. When the bell rang three times, it meant that there were good things to come.

Soon, all of the residents of the city were there, eagerly awaiting to learn the reason for this meeting. Very rarely did the bell ring thrice, and there were hushed whispers and guesses of what was to come. They all fell silent when Michael, with Gavin still on his back, stepped forward.

“I’ve found my magic,” Gavin announced, savoring the look on everyone’s faces as they processed that announcement. Particularly Geoff’s, whose face was twisted into one of apologetic guilt. A sense of satisfaction bubbled up inside of him at that. And of course Fiona was delighted, jumping up and down and pumping her fists, shouting ‘I knew it!’ before she even knew what Gavin’s magic was. It didn’t matter to her. Alfredo and Trevor were also excited, but only because their beloved Dusk Boy had finally joined their ranks, though Jack and Matt simply looked skeptical. He couldn’t blame them, really. Why now? Why did it take so long for him to find it? Those were the questions behind their eyes, and Gavin wished that he had answers for them.

When he felt like he’d let the suspense hang in there air for long enough, he stepped down. For a moment, nothing happened. Matt was about to open his mouth to complain about being dragged out of bed for a grand display of nothing. And then, all at once, a beautiful display of lush grass and flowers appeared at his feet. The more he focused on it, the bigger it grew and the more beautiful it became. No longer was it simply wildflowers, either. In the hours of their journey, he realized he could control the types of flowers that grew. He opted for sunflowers this time. Everyone knew that they were his favorite. It was proof that the magic was his, and not anyone else’s pretending to be his. 

The reactions were mixed, and Gavin deflated a little as several people seemed unimpressed and walked off to return to their duties. It wasn’t the most spectacular power in the world, he knew that, but it was his and he liked it. That was what mattered to him. There wasn’t much time for him to mope though, as Fiona quickly rushed him, wrapping him in a hug and lifting him off his feet. 

“Gavin!” she shouted, stepping back to inspect the flowers closer. She plucked a few blades of grass, feeling them between her fingers. After a few seconds, she gasped, her eyes lighting up. “You can help me grow flowers at my place!”

Gavin laughed, nodding quickly and beaming at her. He could always trust her to cheer him up. “I can, yeah. No wonder you’ve not been able to grow anything.”

“Yeah, cause you stole my green thumb! That’s hardly my fault.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. You should’ve been keeping a closer eye on it.”

They bickered back and forth, Michael watching with a tired but fond smile, until Fiona decided that she’d had enough and thumped Gavin on the side of the head before racing off. The lad was too exhausted to follow, so he just stepped over to Michael, the foliage underfoot following him as he went. Everyone else came up to congratulate him in time, Geoff doing that and apologizing for the harshness of his words in one awkward convoluted mess that Michael wasn’t even sure was an apology, but Gavin understood what the gent was trying to say. He’d learned to decode Geoff Speak over the years. 

Still, the person whose opinion Gavin valued the most was Michael’s, and once the excitement had died down and they’d retreated to their homes to rest, Michael stopped by to give it. 

“I’m real proud of you, Gav,” he said, making himself comfortable on the bed next to the lad without a second thought. 

“Proud of me?” he asked, snatching his blankets back from the lad as he tried to steal them. Michael always did this to him. 

“Yeah. Proud of you. For putting up with the bullshit and finding your magic. Even if it was a total accident.” Michael snorted out a soft laugh and smiled, crossing his arms beneath his head and looking over at the other. “You just lucked into it, just like you lucked into everything else.” 

“Including you?” Gavin arched an eyebrow as he met the other’s gaze, desperately wanting to wipe that smug look off his face.”

“Especially me, are you kidding?” That comment earned him a gentle smack to the chest, a kiss to the cheek, and a mutter of ‘I’m going to make a tree grow through your damn house.’

To everyone else, their relationship was indiscernible at best. But Michael and Gavin knew exactly what they were to each other, they didn’t need anyone else in their business about it. They were partners. Not just in life and love, but in their magic as well. As he learned how to hone and control his abilities, Gavin would decorate the city and beautify the buildings that Michael had created. And once he had mastered his skills, Michael began to create buildings specifically for Gavin to embellish. Dirt roofs became his signature style, the gravity-defying feature held together by the roots of the flowers that Gavin planted into them. The city had never looked better, and even those who were initially unimpressed by Gavin’s abilities had to admit that it was perfectly suited to him. He took great pride in rubbing it in their faces. 

Gavin was happy to not be a member of the mundane anymore. His spirits were higher, and he felt more useful to the city. His abilities, with more practice, extended beyond flowers and grass and into fruit and vegetable plants. The magic that Gavin held could sustain them all. 

But Gavin had always held magic within him, in Michael’s eyes. He had never been mundane. That gleam in his eye when he got another crazy idea to cause chaos was nothing if not supernatural, and his ability to find the fun in even the most boring of situations had proven to be valuable time and time again. It just hadn’t been the form of magic that Gavin had always desired, so he never took note of it despite it always being there. Michael was just glad he could finally see it in himself too. 

[maisondenachtai]

Hell Hath No Fury (Two-Shot)

Pairing: Frat!Chris Evans x Soro!Jealous!Black!Reader Warnings: no real warnings for this one, next one be on the look out. mentions of roughness...maybe considered dark! Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. (Author’s Note: This was written for @jtargaryen18​’s 30 Days of Chris! This was pretty much an idea that I blurted onto the paper so it’s not the best and I didn’t proofread it. lol....enjoy! Join the taglist gang!)

                 It was frat night at Jimmy’s. You knew that. Your girls knew that. Everyone within a 20-mile radius of the university knew that. Crowds over 30 avoided this night, for girls not quite of age it was the most important night to have a fake ID and the worst night to get turned away. For your girls it was a time to get plastered and mix with the frat boys. For you…well…you were there for other reasons.

               Walking into a bar always gave you a rush, especially a bar like Jimmy’s. As you pushed the door opened, two bells rung like signals making everyone turn to look at you and your friends. You smiled quickly scanning the crowd and found that your reason for coming to the bar was leaning against the bar, beer tilted to his lips, girl on the side of him, friends around him. You made sure to catch the eye of his friend, Sean, smiling as his eyes drifted down your body and then his hand went through his hair in an expression of exasperation. And when he nudged Gregory, pointing his beer in your direction, you moved from their eyeline before your reason could get a complete eyeful.

               You smirked as you made your way through the crowd, making sure to take the most indirect route to your destination, making sure that you were always at least half-way blocked by someone taller than you. Your smirk grew when you heard the tell-tale noises of Kappa Tau, the sound of yelling and glasses hitting the table louder than other noises in the bar letting you know that you were heading in the right direction. When you finally made it, you grinned as the men took you and your friends in and you sat on top of the table taking the nearest pint and drinking quite a bit of it.

“Hey.” Brody said, smirk on his face as you pulled the cup away from your mouth, wiping the remnants of the beer off of your mouth. “That was mine.”

“It’s mine now.” You grinned knowing that your smile could get you into and out of a lot of trouble. Brody rolled his eyes, smirk deepening showing the dimples in his tan cheeks. “What? Slumming it with us now? I thought you Zeta rolled with the Gammas, or…them.”

Zaria sat down making the boys around the bar make more room for her, “Well Chad said he wasn’t making an appearance tonight, and if Chad doesn’t come then Michael ain’t coming either. So it was either you doofuses or them.”

You smirked, running a finger down the side of Brody’s face. “And we much rather hang with you guys.”

“Oh really?” Brody sat back, looking up at you. “This have anything to do with why your boy is staring daggers at me right now?”

“I have no boy.” You shrugged, feigning ignorance even though you could feel the heat on the side of your body.

“Right.” Brody sat up again, leaning forward and tilting his head up so that your lips were nearly meeting. “Hey, I’m willing to play a part in whatever you’re trying to do-“ He said low enough for only you two to hear. “But you need to let me know.”

“He looking right now?” You asked him.

“Oh yeah.”

“Cool.” You kissed him then, placing your hands on either side of his face making sure that the kiss looked convincing. Your tongue maneuvered in and out of Brody’s mouth, ebbing and flowing with Brody’s tongue, and before parting you bit down on Brody’s lip making him chuckle.

“Fuck.” He said picking up his half drunken pint. “You really want trouble.”

               And trouble was heading towards you, you could tell because the crowd was moving, was parting for him. You could feel it when he got nearer to you, and felt the heat of his anger when he was standing just to the side of you.

“Y/n.” He said, gruffly.

You didn’t look up at him, still looking at Brody who was also ignoring him, sipping on his beer.

“Y/n.” He said a little louder.

You lazily turned your head, your hair brushing your back as it moved. “Chris. What’s up?”

“Let’s talk.” He said, placing his hands in his jeans. “Now.”

“She your property Evans?” Brody sat up, placing his pint down on the bar, sitting up and angling his body so that he was slightly in front of you.

“I wasn’t talking to you Michaels.” Chris said, eyes not moving from yours. You could tell he was clenching and unclenching his jaw, the vein in his neck was starting to bulge a little. “Come with me.” He simply said then, voice low. A warning.

“And if I say no?” You crossed your legs leaning back on the table, the latex of your dress readjusting itself around your curves. You didn’t miss how his eyes honed in on your legs, and then your body. When he met your eyes, you smirked.

He looked away then, mouth moving in what was no doubt a curse. “Y/n.”

“Chris.” You mimicked his tone, smirking at him and then sighed, sitting up again leaning towards him. “Listen, my twin is at the bar. It’s Christy, right? The fucking sophomore that dresses just like me. That wears her hair like mine, that is basically my fucking clone? Go back to that bitch and tell her Halloween is in two months and she needs to do me better.” You grinned as the boys and Zaria laughed.

Chris stepped towards you and you gulped a little, seeing how his eyes narrowed a little. You knew what that look meant and you were excited for it. “I’ll see you later.” He said nodding at you. He smirked then. “I like your dress.”

He walked away, crowd parting for him and then swallowing him. You took a deep breath, posture going from confident to hunched a little as you turned to Zaria. She shook her head, a cup to her lips. You grinned at her.

“Stage 2?” She said after a minute.

You nodded. “Stage 2.”

               Stage 2 was simple. Fuck with Chris.

               You leaned on the bar when you made it through the crowd, asking for two rum and cokes. You made sure your back was arched slightly, so the latex of your dress cupped your round ass just right. You turned your head slightly and found that you had a captive audience.

You looked at Sean, then Greg, and finally Chris who seemed to be getting more annoyed or angry, or both by the minute. You honed in on Christy who was still talking to Chris, who had already stopped listening to her.

“Hey.” You said, loud enough for Christy to hear you over the music and her own non-stop talking. She looked over, eyes slightly widening when she saw that it was you who was trying to get attention. She smiled then, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“It’s Crystal right?” You asked her, smiling innocently.

“Christy actually.” She said, voice smooth and soft.

You looked her over, smiling at her as she fidgeted when you met her eyes again, “You’re pretty. Do I know you from somewhere?”

You heard Chris suck his teeth, and saw him bring his drink, now a cup of something clear instead of the beer he was drinking. You pursed your lip as you made a show of really thinking about it. “Were you on homecoming court last year?”

She nodded smile bright on her face, “Yeah. I was Mrs. Freshman.”

You snapped, “That’s right! I remember saying that you were so pretty.” You could hear Zaria snickering back behind you and you nudged her discreetly. “Are you running again this year?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Do you think I could?”

You nodded, telling the truth this time. Although she was basically emulating you, you couldn’t deny that she was quite pretty. In fact, when you first saw her on Chris’s Instagram, it shook you that she was so pretty. You probably wouldn’t be going so hard if she wasn’t so pretty. It really grinded your gears. “I think you could and should. And you should get a move on. You’ve already lost a lot of time.”

“I’ll run then. What about you?” She asked, moving closer to you, completely forgetting Chris.

“Her? Of course, she is, what’s a drama queen without her crown?” Chris commented, making you look at him. He smirked then, knowing he caught you off guard.

“So rude. I’m not sure how you deal with him.” You smirked at Christy who laughed.

“He’s alright sometimes. I mean you’ve dealt with him. You know.” She shared a sisterly smile with you and you genuinely laughed. Your twin was alright. It was just too bad…

“You didn’t come here with friends? No offense Greg, Sean, but hanging out with these assholes must be boring.” You smiled at her, and then thanked the bartender when he brought your drinks over. You turned to Zaria. “This is Zaria, Zaria this is Cryst- Christy. Sorry babe.” You turned to her, smiling innocently.

“No, it’s okay. Hi Zaria.”

Zaria waved, smiling. “Hey girl. You look good, I swear I’ve seen that outfit before.”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. “Hey, what do you say you hang out with us tonight?”

Christy smiled, “Really…I mean, I came here to hang with Chris.”

You batted the air, looking at Chris quickly and loving the daggers he was staring at you. “He won’t mind. He doesn’t own you anyway. Hey, we might be able to find you another man tonight.” You smirked, getting on one side of her and Zaria took the other side, you guided her to an empty booth.

               You looked back at Chris, watching him with evil glee on your face as he watched you take his date away.

               For the past 15 minutes you had been listening to Zaria and Christy talk, sitting in the middle of them in the booth, your eyes only on Chris who was staring at you as well. He had not moved from the spot at the bar, his position giving him a straight unfiltered view of you. You circled the rim of your glass that had long been empty, watching him with lowered eyes. He brought his drink up to his lips, only nodding at something that Sean told him.

               You sat back a little, raising your head in defiance. You looked towards Christy, who was smiling as Zaria told her a story about a horrible professor she once had. When you looked back, you saw that Chris had looked at Christy as well and now was turning his head back towards you. You tilted your head a little, mouth turning up when he rolled his eyes.

“She’s cute.” You mouthed.

He sat the glass down, and stood upright. “Come here.” He mouthed back.

You shook your head, thrill running through your body when he stretched his neck, knowing if you were closer to him you would have heard that satisfying pop. When he focused on you again, he mouthed. “You’re driving me up the fucking wall.”

You laughed then.

Christy turned towards you, mousy eyes wide, “What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, placing your eyes on her. “Come on, let’s dance.”

               Stage 3 was going off without a hitch. You had Christy between you and Zaria, making a pretty sandwich on the dance floor. You danced with each other, against each other, alternating between grinding and actually dancing. Every now and again your eyes would turn to where Chris was. He was alone now, nursing another drink. Sean and Greg had long since abandoned their moody friend choosing instead to dance with two attractive girls. You almost felt bad for Chris, you had ruined a frat night for him at his favorite spot, but this was his fault. It was his fault that you had to go through such lengths to fuck with him, just to show him that he was fooling himself.

There was no replacement for you.

No fucking sophomore was going to take your spot.

               You made eyes with Chris, smiling when he sighed running his hand over his face. You would make all of this up to him one day, but right now he needed to suffer.

“Hey! I’ve got to pee.” You shouted.

“You want me to come with you.” Christy asked, still dancing against Zaria.

You shook your head. “Nah, I’m good. Dance. Have fun!” You grinned patting her shoulder.

               You made eye contact with Chris one more time, before turning and heading to the bathroom that was located on the other side of the bar, down a darkened hallway.

               You waited for five minutes before you turned and touched up your lip gloss. It would be any minute that Chris would be walking through that door. He would close the door and turn the lock, pushing you against the wall with his body, taking your neck in his hand. He would say through clenched lips,

“You’re going to fucking get it.”

And you would let him have you. All of you.

               You wiped at the corner of your lips, looking up at the small clock on the wall. Another five minutes had passed. You looked at yourself in the mirror, reflection the image of sex kitten perfection, but maybe you had miscalculated somewhere. You looked at the door, hoping that it would open and tell you that Chris still wanted you as bad as you wanted him.

…You waited another two minutes. It was busy. So maybe it was taking him a while to get through the crowd.

You sighed when another minute passed. This was getting stupid. You stood upright and walked over to the door opening it up.

But just as suddenly as you opened a hand was pushing it open, and that same hand shot out and grabbed your neck pushing you back into the bathroom.

You smirked up at Chris, his eyes darkened with anger or lust or both.

“What took you so long?”

[kurtty-drabbles]

The Omen au final part

N/A: Here we go. The last part, btw, I know Doom has a son but is funny how sometimes even Marvel forgets so...for this au I have an idea. Doom has a son who is bastard and wanted to be the next in line for the throne but Mike got this first.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead @everykurt

Victor II is the son of Doom with one of his ladies-let´s put nicely as no one has any doubt what the said the lady was truly up to with her liaison with Doom- thanks to his "right of the lord" and managed to convince the child, Lucinda, from Roma´s origins, was elected as she even devises a fake marriage with Steven to get Doom´s attention and mission accomplished. Yet, Doom has no real interest in the baby.

Victor II was considered a bastard and with Doom not being interested in heirs it seems Victor II could have a chance in be the next ruler. And this was even increased as Doom himself provide for his tutelage and Victor II was so sure he was the next heir...but, now, all his mother´s plans and all his "father" (as Doom refuses to be his father. Steven takes the mantle) are for nothing.

"Michael Darkholme is the ruler?!" Victor II asked angrily spatting words at the news his mother is revelling and Steven is showing the same sentiment at the situation. All this was for nothing?

"Victor, the battle is not over!" his mother tries to sway him to the light. Giving hope that he can be the king of this nation, yet, Victor II is not having in his heart to believe.

"Mother, he never officializes me, never adopted me. What´s the point if he pays me for my education in fancy schools and colleges if in the end...I´m nothing for him. Mother, Mother what I do now?"

And all the mother cna do is hug her child and promise her-with all her heart as she´s crying sharing the pain of her only son- things will be better. The battle is not over.

"You were the one in line for his throne...if something were to happen..." She speaks loudly to herself and has a cunning gleam in her eyes. "If this strange blue boy were to vanish...my son would be back to the line of the throne"

"But...Doom ...may pick others to be in my rightful place"

"No, Doom is an arrogant man. If one adopted child won´t work for him. He won´t adopt ever again."

And the family plots together to secure their place in the throne. Victor II is happy to have such a mother at his side. Latveria will be ruler by someone with power and Victor II knows this person can be only referred to him and only him.

What´s stronger than a sorcerer?

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Terry Pryde notices the change of Doom-well, she never liked the man in the first place but Terry is nothing if a very perceptive person-and now Doom looks more depressed then ever. Right now, the man is looking at one of his paintings and Terry is unluckily to be there.

To be fair. She thought to herself, he never once told me if I truly can walk around here or not and never once stop me...if I´m that much of a bore for him...please God, let continue to be so.

Sadly, Doom did notice her-he stops his painting. A woman with curly raven hair and an angelical expression - and instead of being angry or something similar to the man, king, sorcerer or whatever- invites Terry to see his painting.

"Is my mother! Isn´t she amazing? I lost her when I was a small child ...and now I´ll get her back, isn´t that amazing?"

"Magic, I suppose" is what Terry speaks. "then why are you so depressed?"

"I...don´t know"

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Mephisto honours his deals if nothing else-and Mephisto loves to play with the part of "nothing else"- and right now he has Doom´s mother next to him as Doom needs to fill his part of the deal, yet, the mother still believes in the best of her son. Something is amusing in her talk that allows Mephisto to make a small parallel with Raven Darkholme.

"So, you think your son won´t do it? Even if is the cost of your soul?" Mephisto asked amused at the mortal who while trembling in fear at his presence-and funny enough, Raven did tremble in fear at his sight once and never again- spoke with confidence how her son is noble and will never do such act.

Mephisto´s smile grew wilder when Doom shows up with Michael Darkholme next to him-his eyes are visibly showing his reluctance while Michael looks far too concealed to be either afraid of Mephisto or angry-and Mephisto watches in satisfaction as Doom´s mother (her name is long forgotten by Mephisto) looks in horror at her own son.

"NO, please, tell me you won´t do it" she´s begging and Doom ignores her as he speaks directly to Mephisto now. "Here is Michael your son...I brought him here...to hell as you requested. You can dissipate the illusion now" and adds "give my mother back!"

And the woman is now free to go to her son, however, she remains unmoved looking at Doom as if he slapped her face. "Victor, how could you? Made a deal with Mephisto? Sacrifice a child for this ..." and she crosses her arms at this.

Mephisto ignores this scene-a very amusing one if you ask Mephisto about it- and is looking directly at Michael. "You´re blue, just like her. Hello, Michael, I´m your father" silence is the answer as Michael only stares emotionless at his so-called father.

"I want to make a deal with you" and this time Michael decides to speak-never once he looks at Doom who was on his knees begging for his mother to listen to him.

"What can you give me that I won´t already be able to get it?" his answer is a bit colder and malicious-he´s aware of that, but, dealing with a smaller version of Satan Michael believes he´s free to speak a bit more cooler- as now his golden eyes turn crimson. "Father, you really don´t know...just like she never knew me...you thought I would bend down? No, no one will lock me up ever again" and with his own will Michael managed to destroy this part of Hell.

Now, they´re transported in a pocket dimension that Michael controls and Mephisto is impressed as is terrified-even more so as Michael is taking Doom´s soul and slowly changing Mephisto´s form into something less demonic as the mother was drifted away.

"Michael! What you did to my mother?"

"Show her mercy by freeing her from you!"

Mephisto is full human now. Doom is a statue now. Michael is breaking the statue piece by piece and as Mephisto has no power is easy prey to Michael.

"How about a deal, father? I´d not kill you here and there and you´ll never show your face here again or bother my plans..." and he smiles deep down Michael knows Mephisto is a toy from Zaorva and he can´t kill it, but, a bit of terror does not hurt anyway.

Mephisto gulps and curses himself. He thought this would be easier.

Oh my dear Mephisto. HER voice echoes in his mind. Kids can be so rebellious sometimes.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

"So...Mephisto shows up?" Kitty asked fearfully as Michael is giving the story of what truly happened "and you and Doom fought him?" Michael nods solemnly as he looks at the body display on the bed- fake as it can be no one managed to tell this is not a human body and certainly not Doom.

Not even Terry who is distrust of everything related to Michael can see an error in the body or in the story. If magic exists, if demons exist. Why not satan?

Clea is wiping at the loss of her boss-never lover as she couldn´t love him as he wishes- and thought the best way to honour his memory is to assert who will be on the throne- and she chooses now to speak how Michael is the next ruler of Lavteria. "Is what Victor would have wanted"

Michael looks at Kitty to see her reaction-this time there´s no pretence here- and Kitty opens her mouth and closes as she asks one thing only- "Michael, what we do?" Oh, this to Michael knows well enough.

"We shall honour Victor´s wish. I never wanted to be a ruler...but, I can´t leave Latveria without a king even more as is because of me Doom died" is a confession that earns sympathetic glares from everyone thanks to his fake story.

"Oh, Michael" Kitty hug him. Michael hugs her back. He´s not a good person. He knows, but, he hopes to not spiral down to madness and nothingness.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

It has been a year ever since Doom´s death shock the nation and the world- his heroic sacrifice to save a young mutant who he saw as his own son- is a story that people love to share and tell and Rogue is often hearing tales as Michael Darkholme ruling Latveria, well, not officially as Michael has now 16 years old but people seem to expect great things from him.

"Mommy" Rogue speaks to Irene who is listening to the news of Michael as well. "You saw this would happen?"

"Michael will be a good ruler and a good husband...And Rogue, my child, Michael is fine right now"

"Without us?" _________________________________________________________________________________________ "Michael!" Kitty speaks as the azzure boy-now a bit taller since last year- is guiding her hand towards the city and showing the changes his suggestion caused and Kitty is the one impressed and in awe at the sight of what they accomplished. "This is amazing!"

"I know...We did this together"

"Yes, together!" she flashes a gentle smile and her hand still holding his. Michael is so happy to the point he didn´t even notice a pair of eyes looking at his form with anything but contempt.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Mystique manages to infiltrate the house where Victor II is located-as all people present have one thing in their agenda how to take Michael out of the throne- she arrives there to see Victor II, Clea and Scarlet Witch present.

"Are we ready to do this?" Mystique asks as Terry Pryde enters in the room locking eyes to Mystique. "We need to take Michael down...we all have reasons to be here...I just want my son back. What happens with the nation of Latveria does not concern me"

"I just want my daughter to be safer from the Antichrist"

[social-holland]

Forgive and Forget | Prologue

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: mention of emotinal abuse, mob stuff

Summary: Thomas Holland is the most dangerous man in England. His family had been in power over the last few decades. But as one of his business deals threatens to go down south, he meets Y/N Y/L/N and she turns his world upside down.

Words: 2196

Additional Notes: I finally could upload it. Sorry, that it took so long but nobody complained so it should be okay. Hope you enjoy it. Since english is not my first language, I would be grateful for suggestion if you have any. :)

Prologue| Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

The blond man shortly laughed until he ended the phone call and left his office to move the dark corridor along. Most people would describe it as intimidating. There were barley lights on the black painted walls and at the end of the hall was a big dark wooden door. And behind that sat one of the most, if not the most, dangerous man in England. Thomas Holland.

His name alone left most people scared. Usually the people who had to do with him and his business. The blond man was part of Thomas business. He was his right-hand man but also so much more. Harrison had been Thomas best friend since they were born, the one he grew up with and the person who was there when Tom and him first got into both of their father’s businesses.

The Hollands have been the most powerful mobster family for generations and had the Osterfields as their right-hand man/women for probably just as long. All before Harden Osterfield, his very own father, tried to take the Hollands down. Something the blue-eyed boy did not like to remember.

He shook his head trying to get rid of the memories that were about to flood his head. He knocked shortly on the door before opening it. The room smelled like it was freshly cleaned and the dark laminate was still a little shiny from it. "Careful or you will end on your bum.“

“Made that experience already today, Holland?"“Fuck off, Mate. I am not in the mood.” The dark haired man spoke. He was still focused on the paper on front of him. “Well, not my fault. I told Jackson to have the money by today, even pressured his wife.” Harrison refills Tom's glass and pours some scotch for himself before sitting down on one of the stools in front of the desk. Tom shoot his friend another annoyed look. The mobster hated when clients didn't listen to him. Fuck, he hated when anyone didn't listen to him. Even more when they were not able to pay their debts. “At least his wife will shut her mouth.”

”She better or she will end like her husband.” Thomas closed the folder and pushed it over to Harrison. A light smirk on his face. Harrison knit his brows. “Cromwell again?”

“That's right. Fucked up again.” Tom leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his drink. His smile widened. “What does he offer now? Judging by your smile it must be very good.” Haz knew that smile, it meant there would be a good deal.”

“20% of his complete business.” Before his friend could respond Tom continued,” But that's not going to be the deal. He is too much in my debt to be able to gamble and as you know the Cromwell business has been and is doing very well for the last five to ten years. There is a lot of money to collect.” Harrison leaned back into his chair and smiled. “Spill. What did you plan?”

-        -     -

Y/N groaned. She was late. This was her second week and she was late again. Freaking Rachel. She knew her friend didn't meant bad but her boss would kill her or at least yell at her. She hated when people fought and even more when someone was yelling at her. To her misfortune was this her boss favourite occupation. She didn't even need to make something wrong for him to do it. This was how he was and she had no doubt why he got so great along with her father. They were basically the same. Her boss, Michael Cromwell one of the most well know of CEO's in England, and her father had been friends even since they both went to University.

It was not the best job and if there was another possibility she would have quiet after the first day. But nevertheless, the job did pay well and she needed all the money, she could get, to pay her student debts off. It was only a semester left until she would be finished and after that it would only be harder and Y/N would rather throw herself over a cliff than asked her parents for help or at least anymore help.

She quickly moved into the building where Cromwell& Partner Holdings was stationed. It was a modern skyscraper with 42 floors which were completely owned by the company. Of course, her boss was located on the top floor which made her even more late. She showed one of the security people her ID before moving to one of the escalators. She run a hand through her Y/H/C hair. Groaning when she saw herself in the glazed elevator door. Her hair was a mess. She tried to comb it with her hands to make it look at least a little decent.

When she arrived at the office, she threw her bag behind her desk and made her way to her boss. Trying to prepare for the storm which was about to hit her. It was only a couple of steps and a door between her desk and the office but for her it felt like eternity.

She knocked on the door and opened the door. She entered the lavish office and closed the door behind her. Knowing that Mr. Cromwell always insisted of having it closed. The walls of the office were painted grey and next to the door was a little long lounge where people could sit together. Decorated with plats and expensive paintings. On the other side sat her boss behind a big work desk and looked angered at her. “Miss Y/L/N, you are late. Again.” His face was already red and she moved closer to him, trying to be at least polite. She opened her mouth to answer but before she could speak, put Cromwell his hand up, showing her to not even start speaking.

“I don't care about your pacific excuses. We will have a talk about that later. For now, I want you behind your desk and completing the work I gave you yesterday.” She wanted to speak up and tell him that she already completed it but he continued,” You fucked up the papers, again. I start to wonder why I even gave you a chance. Even through your father warned me that you fail at everything you lay your hands on. But I thought behind a pretty face should at least be a little bit of brain, so let's hope you not fail again.” The red in his face was replaced with a sinister smile.  He just loved to put her down. It made him feel powerful to put woman down and she was his perfect victim.

She tried everything to not let his words get to her. Her father had never approved of her and always tried to put her down. Something that was also resembled by his friend, her boss. No doubt had he encouraged it.

But she needed this job so much, so she nodded her head and waited for him to dismiss her. “By the way, in half an hour will two gentlemen arrive here and I want you to inform me when they arrive. Don't dare to forget that.” And with that he waved his hand at her, showing her to leave.

She didn't need another word or sign from him, turned around and closed the door behind her. A breath leaving her body and she tried to relax herself.

For the next half an hour she worked her way through the already done papers. Correcting the mistakes her boss had highlighted, occasional rolling her eyes over it.

-  -  - 

Ten minutes after the guest were set to appear did her phone ring. “Y/N. Tom Holland is on his way to Mr. Cromwell. He is in the elevator now.” The receptionist of the building let her know. She sounded a little scared when she spoke the name Holland. “Thank you, Lucy. I will let him now.” She answered friendly. “Be careful.” Lucy whispered before ending the call. It confused the Y/H/C woman. Why should she be careful? This was just another client, like everybody else. Probably some old guy, with a lot of money, trying to get even richer than he already was or needed.

Before she was able to call Cromwell, the elevator door opened. And moments later her all glass-door as well and two young men entered the outer office where she was seated. Boy, was she wrong. The looked about four to five years older than her and were dressed in expensive suits. Both a slight smirk on her lips, confidence radiating of them. The shorter one of the man moved first, a step ahead of his friend, he had curly chocolate brown hair and the same coloured eyes. His suit looked a little more expensive than his friends and he had a pair of sunglasses in his hand. He intimidatingly glanced at Y/N but at the same time he almost seemed interested in her.

His friend, on the other side, had blond hair. His blue eyes were sparkling but his expression was just as intimidating to her as his friends. His suit was dark blue and he was a little bit taller. He stayed a step behind his friend and watched him as he leaned against her desk.

They were intimidating and now she understood why Lucy had warned her to be careful.

She is new. Were Thomas thoughts when he looked at the young woman behind her work desk. Cromwell used to have a busty and annoyingly assistant. But she already gave him another vibe. Reserved, maybe shy but at the same time there was something about her that intrigued him.

“You are new here.” He friendly stated. “Y-Yeah. Been w-working here for about two weeks.” She stated and immediately wanted to slap herself. He didn't ask for that. But fuck, he was so attractive and she felt like she lost her mind. Both chuckled at her, like they could read her mind.  

She looked down on her paper work again, feeling the blood rush into her cheeks.

Her Y/H/C hair falling over her shoulders and her Y/E/C were staring at him for a moment before she spoke,” I am just going to inform Mr. Cromwell before you will be able to enter.”

“Oh sweetheart, believe me, I don't need to be announced. Williams knows me. If you will excuse us.” The brown-haired man, who had been staring at her since they entered the office space, said politely but not arrogant. The men moved but before the blond guy could open the door or she had the possibility to inform Mr. Cromwell his friend, and probably boss, turned around and spoke,” Sweetheart, be good and tell everyone who wants to speak to William, that he will not be available for the next hour.” His eyes fixed on her still a smile directed at her. He turned around and both men disappeared behind the door.  

Even after they had disappeared behind the door she still had the brown eyes in her mind. They were so pretty, hard but nevertheless pretty. Tom Holland, she at least assumed it was him, was attractive. But he would never see her as that. He was a freaking business man, the suit just underlined that and people like him never took a second look at her. She needed to get him out of her mind and concentrate back on her work. This was important. She tried to focus back on it.

Now she was even more in trouble. Mr. Cromwell hated when she didn't follow his orders and she did not inform him. But at the same time, she didn´t even had time to do so. Y/N signed. It didn't matter, he wouldn´t listen anyway and enjoy taking his anger out on her.

And that's exactly what happened after both man left Cromwell's office exact an hour later. Now even smiling wider, the opposite to her boss. His face was just red like he was really angry, pissed to be exact. The deal was probably not going good on his side.

Both men stopped before her desk.  “I will let Harrison pick up the payment on Thursday. And let you know later the week about my decision.” The brown haired stated. His tone of his voice icy and let no place for declining.

The blond man watched Y/N. He didn’t look angry, he watched her.  Her eyes fixed on her work. She  didn't dare to look up. She knew, she would be in even more trouble if she did so. That's how she missed when Thomas turned around to her and still watched her, before they moved to the elevator. His gaze fixed on her until the elevators closed. He couldn't take his eyes of her.

As soon as the doors closed and the elevator moved, her boss started screaming at her. Putting her down and it took everything in her not to cry and to stay strong.

Only four more hours until she would be able to leave this shit hole again.

Chapter 1

Tagged: @tomhollanduniverse @spideytaeh

[brerediddy]

more than survive - chapter 13

“So, it just bit you and all of a sudden you have...superpowers?” Michael seemed hesitant. Not disbelieving by any means, just hesitant. “I’m not sure how the science checks out there.” His fingers drifted absentmindedly along Jeremy’s shoulder as the shorter boy rested against his collarbone, lanky legs draped over his lap.

“I’m telling you, dude, there’s nothing else it could have been. I got bit by a spider, went to bed, and then I woke up like this. With spider-powers.”

“Okay, okay,” the bigger boy accepted with a light smile. He reached out for Jeremy’s hand, weaving their fingers together. “So then what?”

“So naturally, I started fighting crime,” Jeremy shrugged. He grinned and poked at Michael with his elbow. “No, but really. It was kind of an accident.”

“How do you accidentally become a masked vigilante?”

Jeremy leaned back to straighten his spine a bit, leaning against the cushions instead of his best friend. He was still holding onto Michael’s hand firmly. “I was in town to pick up a new game-”

“Apocalypse of the Damned Second Edition?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeremy nodded. “Anyway, I was in town. And when I left the store, I saw a guy shoving some poor kid up against a wall. And, like, normally I wouldn’t get involved. You know me. I’m a wimp.”

“Apparently not,” Michael countered softly.

“I’m a wimp,” Jeremy confirmed, nodding. “But this guy was towering over him, and the kid probably wasn’t more than twelve. So I told him to cut it out and before I knew it, he lunged for me. And I knocked him out.”

“Jesus, Jere, you’re such a badass.” Michael beamed at him for a moment before adding, “Although, maybe that would have been a good time to fill me in about your new powers. Y’know, a way to break the ice...like, hey, I kicked someone’s ass today.”

“I know, I know,” Jeremy conceded. “I get it. I messed up.”

Michael shrugged. He shifted to lean his head against the other boy’s shoulder. “Continue,” he hummed.

“So I figured, hey, I could do the superhero thing. I thought I’d at least give it a shot and if it didn’t work out, then it didn’t work out.”

“Naturally.”

“So I made the suit-”

“You made the suit?”

“Yeah, how else was I going to get it?” Jeremy asked, dumbfounded. Michael lifted his chin to look up at the other boy.

“Jeremy, that’s amazing. The suit is awesome . Where did you even learn how to do that?”

He shrugged. “YouTube.”

“Maybe if being a superhero doesn’t work out, you could go into costume design.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The taller boy shifted once more, trying to get comfortable. He ended up laying in Jeremy’s lap, looking up at his best friend’s face. Long fingers worked through his hair gently, relaxing him. He knew that the more up-to-date parts of the boy’s story would probably stress him out, but he was enjoying the easy nature of the conversation for the time being. At least Jeremy was being honest with him.  

“So I fought petty criminals for a while, like, mainly just bullies. But then more and more villains came into the spotlight to challenge me.”

All of the headlines Michael had seen suddenly congregated in the forefront of his mind. He couldn’t believe that all of that was Jeremy. His dorky best friend. “I talked to you about Spider-Man,” he murmured, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “Did I say anything wrong? Jesus, I probably sounded like an idiot.”

“No, no, you were fine,” Jeremy assured. “I mean, you were practically fawning over him.”

“You act like he’s not you.”

Jeremy cleared his throat, trying to figure out how to phrase his thoughts. “He’s not, really. I don’t feel like...like, me , when I’m Spider-Man.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Michael inquired, eyes focused on the other boy intently.

“It’s a good thing,” he explained. He wasn’t sure what to say since he’d never really voiced this feeling before. “He’s like, the better version of me.”

“I don’t know about that. I think you’re the best version of you.”

He smiled down at his best friend, his heart skipping suddenly. “Thanks. It’s just...complicated. Sometimes I feel like he’s who I should be.”

Michael nodded. That made sense. Spider-Man was confident, brave, inspiring, and witty. The hero was what everyone wanted to be: that’s why he’d made that stupid fanpage in the first place.

Jeremy continued on, “Michael, can I tell you something?”

“That’s kind of the whole point of the conversation, isn’t it?”

“Touché,” the smaller boy laughed. “I know that I’ve lied to you a lot. And I know that I’ve fucked up a lot. But sitting here and telling you everything that I’ve wanted to since day one feels awesome. You’re awesome.”

Michael melted, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to gaze at the other boy. “I’m glad you feel that way. As much as I wish you’d told me sooner, I’m really thankful that you’re telling me now.”

“Me too,” Jeremy spoke softly. “I don’t even know what else to say. Just...thank you for hearing me out.”

“You’re my best friend. What was I supposed to do? Ignore you forever?” Michael teased, “We both know that I’d break in a few days.”

Fond blue eyes met brown and Jeremy added, “You’re taking this whole thing really well.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I mean, I could have left you in the lake while I had a personal crisis, but that would have been a bad plan.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you didn’t go with that.”

“Speaking of bad plans...do you care to explain how you ended up there in the first place?”

Jeremy sighed, his fingers stalling in Michael’s hair before continuing slowly. “So, the SQUIP is a dick. As we know. And, um, I’ve kind of been working with him for a bit-”

“The SQUIP? You’ve been working with a supervillain?” Michael shot up, staring at Jeremy eye-to-eye. “Seriously?”

“I know, I know,” he responded, folding his hands in his lap to occupy the space that his best friend had abandoned. “But I had to. It was the only way to placate him.”

“From what? Invading Poland?” Michael asked incredulously. He couldn’t think of one reason, not one, to work with such a monster.

“He threatened you.”

Oh. Oh. That changed a few things. The taller boy chewed his lower lip and cast his eyes towards the floor. “...Really? How’d he even know that I existed?”

“He can read minds, I guess, and he knew that I would do anything to keep him away from you.”

“Jeremy, I-“

“I know, I know. I’m stupid. I didn’t have a choice,” Jeremy mumbled.

“No,” Michael spoke softly. He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss against his best friend’s cheek. “Thank you. I mean, it sucks. But thank you for protecting me.”

The smaller boy gave a nervous smile and responded, “Anyway, that’s the college guy that I said I was working on a project with.”

“Oh my god,” Michael groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I was jealous. Of the SQUIP.”

“You were jealous?”

“Of course I was. I mean, I was offended that you didn’t tell me. But, mostly, I was just pissed off that I might have missed my chance with you.”

“Well, now you know,” Jeremy said, face tinged pink. Michael was jealous. He didn’t know why the idea put butterflies in his chest, but it did. “He did experiments and shit, mostly. That’s why we were meeting in an abandoned part of town.”

“E-Experiments?” Michael stammered. “Like, MKUltra?”

“No,” Jeremy hurried to amend. “He mostly just took down information about me, like my strength and my suit and everything.”

The taller boy blanched, his mouth opening slightly in shock. “You gave the supervillain information about how to beat you.”

“There’s more.” Jeremy shifted his eyes and picked at his nails as he said, “I, um, took some kind of pill. It was a weird microchip-looking thing.”

“You did what?” Michael breathed in for a long moment. He didn’t want to get mad at his best friend, since he was just trying to protect him and all, but really? What the fuck was that boy even thinking? Was he thinking?

“He said that it was either me or you,” he defended. “Besides, it didn’t even do anything.”

Brown eyes grew wide and Michael exclaimed, “That you know of!”

Jeremy crossed his arms protectively. He knew that the other boy was right, but he really couldn’t help it. He had to do it. “It didn’t work. Whatever the SQUIP was trying to do, it didn’t work. That’s why he threw me in the lake.”

Michael chewed on his lower lip. He couldn’t believe that all of this had been happening to his best friend and he had no clue. How could he have not known? Was he the world’s worst best friend? “And now we’re here,” the bigger boy said conclusively.

“Now we’re here,” Jeremy affirmed with a nod.

“What about all of the villains who aren’t the SQUIP?” Michael asked, leaning into Jeremy’s scrawny side. “You kicked all of their asses, right?”

“Right, yeah,” he said in response, raising an arm to rest in a curve around the other boy’s shoulders. “I guess so.”

“You did. I run a fan-page, remember? I know pretty much everything that’s been in the news.”

“True, true,” he allowed. Jeremy chewed on his lip, wondering if he should bring this into the conversation or not. On an impulse and with his heart beating into his throat, he said, “So, I killed that guy.”

Michael paused, his breath catching. He knew all about the man—some kind of dangerous killer with super-strength. He’d sunk that ship. Spider-Man had drowned him in response. It was odd, in a way, to think of it now. Before, it was just a story. Hero beats villain. Typical. But as he thought about the event in recent context, with Jeremy at the forefront, it didn’t just feel like a story anymore. It was real. A man had died and Jeremy had caused it. Not that his best friend was in the wrong, of course, Michael was sure that it was self-defense. But he knew Jeremy well enough and he knew that he must have brought it up for a reason. Finally, the bigger boy found the nerve to speak. “It wasn’t your fault. You were protecting everyone.”

Jeremy nodded half-heartedly. “I mean, kind of. Everyone was off the boat.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was in the middle of everything, he had a gun. He was shooting and I was just trying to stop him.” Jeremy gripped at Michael’s shoulder a bit tighter, breathing in deeply. “I threw some debris at him and before I knew it, he was gone. I didn’t know he was dead until the next day. You told me about it at school.”

Michael remembered. He knew that something had been up with the boy that day but he was never able to put his finger on it. “Oh. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have found out that way. I’m sure it’s not easy to think about...but you made it out safely. That’s all that matters.”

“Someone is dead. Because of me,” Jeremy mumbled. “Not very heroic.” He shook his head and spoke once more, “I wish I could take it back.”

Michael leaned up to kiss the side of his best friend’s face. “I’m sorry. I’ve never really thought about the emotional damage of being a superhero,” he admitted. “But I’m glad he didn’t shoot you. Whatever it took to prevent that, I’m thankful.”

“Me too,” Jeremy accepted in a small voice. Trying to lighten the mood, he added, “Getting shot isn’t fun. I can’t imagine if it were lethal.”

Michael froze. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean, I haven’t actually been shot. Just grazed.”

“Explain. Now.” His voice was steel.

“Well, um,” Jeremy murmured, trying to stall. He knew that he was being honest with Michael now and that was cool and everything, but he didn’t consider all of the details that came along with it. “Here.” He moved away from his best friend so that he could push the sleeve of his shirt over his shoulder, the one that wasn’t resting behind Michael’s head. This effectively showed off the bloody gauze that had started their fight from before; it seemed like a million years ago. “When you got mad at me for being in the city alone, I was actually trying to take down some petty crime. There was an ATM robbery and a hammer and a van and a gun,” he rambled, not keeping eye-contact.

Michael’s eyes narrowed, leaning forward across Jeremy’s chest to inspect the gauze. “Y-You were shot ?” His mind was recounting the events of the previous afternoon. “You brought me Buon Cibo. You were shot and you brought me Buon Cibo. What the fuck?”

“I was in the area,” Jeremy said. He neglected to mention that he’d slept in garbage in the area, but it wasn’t important. The blue-eyed boy swallowed and added, “Then, I mean, with the guy on the boat. He got my leg.”

“Jesus, Jere,” Michael huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He reclined back to rest against the arm of the futon. “There’s so much that I had no idea about. Like, not the slightest fucking clue. How does that happen?”

“I never told you,” he shrugged. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“But I’m your best friend, I should have known. I should have figured it out.”

Jeremy reached out a hand to press against the side of Michael’s face. “You knew that something was up. It’s not your fault that I didn’t tell you. How were you supposed to figure out that I’m Spider-Man?”

Michael didn’t seem to register the words that came out of his mouth. “You went to school the day after being shot in the leg,” he said calculatedly. His eyes scanned the other boy’s frantically and he asked, “D-Did you even get stitches? Did you go to the hospital?”

“No.”

“Jere-”

“I don’t have to,” he said in a soothing voice, trying to calm Michael down. “Everything heals on its own, okay? I’ll show you tomorrow. This,” he gestured to the injury on his arm, “will be gone by the afternoon.”

Michael seemed disbelieving but now wasn’t the time for skepticism. He picked at his nails and suddenly, a thought struck him. “You weren’t even mugged.”

Jeremy let out a long, defeated sigh. “No. No, I wasn’t. I know it was shitty, I know I shouldn’t have let you believe it. I’m sorry.”

It was weird to have everything that he thought he knew turn out to be a lie. He asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice even, “So what actually happened?”

“Did you hear about the bomb thing? In a warehouse?”

“That’s what happened?” Michael thought he was going to be sick. Jeremy. Bombs. Guns. Vans, SQUIPs, drowning. Bullet wounds, bruises, handcuffs. His mind flipped through every unexplained injury, every I’m just clumsy, every slight limp. Every headache, every night that his best friend was mysteriously absent.

What he concluded, by the end of it, was that Jeremy had been in a lot of shit.

[strainingfororiginality]

Chapter 6.2 - Defiance

As the tall creature walked by them, it turned, flinging its white hair over its shoulder as it nodded enthusiastically to Sempronius.

".ניאַגאַ טיי ... עזירפּ עהט עקאַט האט עפיוו רווי ו שניי, יאַדאָט ללעוו ירעוו טהגואָף ווי"

Laughing heartily, he nodded back, returning an equally amusing retort as the being chuckled loudly before walking away.

"! סעמאַג רווי אָטני רעטנע רעה tel ט'נאָד ��עהט יקקול צודזש טקופע ווי"

"Hmmm …" Quintus looked over the taller centurion, cocking his head to the right as his eyes grew wide. “You speak this language? You speak Enochian?”

"Apparently so." Sempronius said with impressive arrogance, causing Honoria to roll her eyes at his joking attitude.

"You are allowed to know this?" Quintus questioned. He assumed it was something that Man was not to know. In all of his travels through Heaven, he had not come across a single human who knew the speech.

"Of course. Why wouldn’t I?" Sempronius looked at him with intrigue. “And no, it is not forbidden. Knowledge is given freely now.”

"Where might I be able to learn this?" The dhampir probed eagerly.

"There aren’t classes, if that is what you are asking." Honoria chimed from behind. “And it is not a simple thing that humans can just learn. Roni spent years learning it all on his own. Years.” She reiterated, hinting at some past annoyance that this caused her.

"Bah. It is not that difficult a language." Sempronius started to say before correcting himself. “Well, I mean … it is the most difficult language, but it is not impossible to learn it. I don’t know it fully. No man can.”

Honoria raised a brow to Quintus, saying again. "Years."

"Would it be possible … " He paused for a moment as he replayed the conversation he overheard from his cell between the two Hayyoth when he first arrived. The secretive conversation between Ozryel and Michael. “Can you teach it to me?”

"I suppose." Sempronius shrugged. “Although, I am not sure why you would want to know it. I learned it simply to read the most ancient of archives.” He turned to regard Quintus, almost hopeful in his expression as his eyes showed that he was considering Quintus in an entirely new light. “Are you a scholar, Quintus?”

"Mister Quinlan." A voice rang from behind them, and he recognized it immediately. Since he had been here, no one has called him by any name other than “Quintus” and he cringed. Turning to face the silver-armour clad Governor, Quintus glared at him with pure disgust. “May we have a word … in private?”

"Can this wait?" Quintus sighed with tired annoyance. This day had been the first day since he arrived that he actually enjoyed himself in even the slightest way. Today, though he hated to admit it and regardless of how it had unfortunately ended in Uriel’s absolute dominance of him, he actually quite enjoyed himself. There were moments when he laughed, especially as he watched Honoria besting men two, even three times, her own size. For the first time, today, he nearly felt happy. Nearly. “I was having a conversation with--”

"No. This will not wait." The tone was commanding and his head cocked to the right as his eyes began to squint. He really didn’t feel like being dominated again and Honoria read his intentions to argue quite clearly as she placed a gentle hand on his forearm, taking his attention from Michael.

"It is fine. You can find us later." She smiled and he felt his anger abating as he nodded slowly, accepting that it might not be in his best interest to be difficult right now, as much as he wished it.

As they walked away, Sempronius turned with an uncharacteristic grin as he shouted back to Quintus. "If you are serious about learning, find me in the Halls of Knowledge."

And then they were gone, leaving him in the unpleasant company of the Governor. As he turned to the Hayyoth that stood beside him quietly, he folded his arms across his chest to convey his annoyance and Michael began to walk, waving for him to follow.

"Come with me." When Quintus just stared forward, refusing to immediately follow, Michael turned back to him with a dramatic sigh, all too audible from beneath the helmet.

"And … What happens if I refuse?" The dhampir questioned, continuing his hateful squint. “What would occur, Governor? Would you strike me again? Or perhaps just … cage me again?” All amusement from the day had faded away and he was no longer willing to just accept whatever role Michael had intended for him without proper motivation.

"Quintus, I don’t have time for one of your hissy fits right now." Michael said his proper name this time and he heard something he had never heard present in the angel’s voice before. Concern. “We don’t have time for this. Please.”

There were no further words spoken as he followed the Governor back to what looked like the same hallway that Raphael took him through when they first met. He wasn’t sure if it was the same room, because he imagined they all looked exactly the same, stretching on endlessly in each direction, but that detail mattered not.

Michael entered a room and waited for Quintus to join him, before the door was shut and the runes burned a bright amber on the walls as their privacy was ensured.

"What is it?" Quintus attempted to control any and all emotion that might escape through his voice, but his worry over what might have affected the Governor in such a way was difficult to mask. The only reason he would have taken him here to speak was if something had occurred concerning … “What has occurred?”

"Nothing." Michael assured him, unconvincingly. “I just need … some information from you. I was hoping you could help point me in a new direction.”

"What type of ... “ Quintus furrowed his brow as he bared his teeth in frustration, curling his lips up while he spoke through a snarl. “Information?"

"I’m having a bit of … “ A pause and another uncomfortable sigh. “Difficulty right now in locating someone and I was hoping you might be able to point me in the right direction."

"Locating someone? Someone?" Quintus shook his head once as he tried to peer into the darkness of the helmet’s eyes accusingly. “Who, exactly, have you lost, Michael?” He asked fiercely, but the fact that they were in this room sent worry shooting down Quintus’ spine. He already knew who had been … lost.

"I haven’t lost anyone." Michael laughed gruffly, waving his hand to dismiss the statement but the attempt at false confidence was unsuccessful and Quintus was not convinced. “It’s just difficult to see into Earth right now and I would like to check up on her, as was per our agreement.”

"You …" Quintus rolled his head to the right, as he often did when he was increasingly frustrated. Closing his eyes for a moment in at attempt to calm himself, his head swam with fury and terrible possibilities flooded his conscience. “Lost … her?”

"As I have already said, half-breed …" Michael’s own calm demeanor was melting away. “It’s simply dangerous to look for her right now and she is not where she last was. There is no reason to overreact, this is just a precaution.”

However believable that lie must have sounded before it left the Governor’s mouth, Quintus already knew better. He felt it. There was something hidden deep within the angel’s tone that belied a far greater concern than he was outwardly admitting. He would have accused him of the lie but he was unable to formulate anything other than the same sentence again as his hand went up to his forehead. "You … lost … her?"

"Stop overreacting." Michael tried, waving his hands again. “She is not lost. I just need to know where I can find her. Perhaps you aren’t the right person to ask then.”

"I agreed to this." Shaking his head, the dhampir stepped away from the angel, still holding his temple as the frustration mounted. “You … your Djinn King … assured me … that she would be watched. That if I did this … she would be kept safe.”

"Quintus, I don’t have time for this fit--"

"You assured me, Governor." Turning, he said simply as he released his head and his eyes squinted with dismay.

"That was the deal. Yes. But I can only watch her if I know where she is." Michael huffed from behind the security of his mask. “If you are … unwilling … to help me with that, then whatever happens will be on you.”

"Whatever happens? Do you honestly think me a fool, Exalted One? I am well aware of what that is ..." Quintus sneered, pointing to the staff that Michael clenched possessively within his grip. “And what it is capable of …”

"Psh, please, half-breed. You know noth--"

"I know nothing?" Quintus interrupted and for the first time, he felt as if he might have the upper hand, as aggravating as that was, given the circumstance that was unfolding before him. He knew the angel was utterly and completely full of shit. “You think I am not fully versed on what your precious gift is capable of, Governor? Do you really think that I have spent the last half a year wandering aimlessly without any purpose? That I have not gleaned as much knowledge about you and your kind as possible?”

Michael shifted slightly and Quintus felt the possibility of an upper hand only becoming more apparent. He could hear the angel’s lips part in preparation for a retort against his words, but there would be no retreat from his growing advantage. Anger flowed over him as he considered the possibility that, if this was a bluff, what else had this angel lied to him about.

"Raphael would feel any use of it, Quintus." Michael tried but the dhampir shook his head, unaccepting of the excuse.

"If that was true, then how would you look upon her if you knew where she was?" Silence. The angel was considering words and Quintus pounced again. “How did you look upon her in the past?” Silence and Quintus became enraged. “Or did you ever?!”

"Of course I did!" Michael spat, thrusting a finger into Quintus’ chest as he poked him firmly and the dhampir took a step away. “I always keep my promises, half-breed.”

"When it suits you, it seems." Quintus said with disappointment.

"Everything that I’ve done has been for her sake." Michael reminded him.

"For her sake? For her sake? Are you quite certain of that?" Quintus repeated, his rage boiling. “Or is it her father’s sake?”

"For the sake of her entire family. Regardless, her safety depends on your compliance at this moment."

"Yes, this is what you have said. Over and over and over again. Yet, with no explanation or truth to follow it. You seek to continue control over me by threatening her."

"I’m not threatening her, Quintus. It’s the exact opposite of that." Michael’s voice was ripe with frustration. “We made you a deal. A promise. The Master’s destruction for her continued existence, but I cannot uphold my end of that bargain unless I know where she is.”

"But how is this possible? How do you lose a soul? Is she ..." Quintus held in the word that nearly escaped, his eyes closing as it echoed in his mind. Oblivion. The Second Death …

"She exists still. Trust me." Michael assured him with a relieved sigh. “But … there are ways to … obfuscate yourself from Heaven’s eye.”

"Obfuscate?" Quintus tilted his head to the right. “How?”

"Does it matter?" Michael waved his hand. “It has happened, and right now, we need to focus--”

"Yes. It does matter. Or do you not recall, Right Hand?" Quintus scoffed at the angel’s attempt to drive the conversation. “Because I was told there was no way to hide from Heaven’s vengeance. That the only path forward in which she could survive was for me to leave her. Or do you not recall?”

"At the cost of the rest of the world?" Michael asked. “For the price of everyone else? If you hadn’t--”

Quintus raised his hand to silence the Governor’s pending sentence as seriousness replaced his expression. "Never assume that my sacrifice was ever made for the sake of the world of Man." He said firmly, bitterness rich in the delivery of his words. “I would have let that entire, repugnant place burn to ash if it meant that I could have stayed.”

"You would have both been on the run for the rest of your lives." Michael argued. “You would have damned her to that fate?”

"In a heartbeat, Exalted One." Quintus sneered. “And there is no doubt that she would have gladly chosen that fate, with me, if we had given her the choice.”

"I know, Quintus." Michael said slowly and gravely. “More than you realize … I know.” For the first time, there was empathy in his voice. “I understand your longing more than anyone can.”

"Yet you’ve kept this from me? That we might have been able to hide from--"

"No. I didn’t keep it from you." The angel’s shoulders relaxed as defeat replaced his frustration as he confessed. “I wasn’t aware of the ability to obfuscate until … now.”

"So …" Quintus scoffed. “You are not as powerful as I had assumed.”

"Will you help me or not?" Michael asked, ignoring the dhampir’s comment.

"Has she done this to herself or has someone else done it to her?"

"I don’t know." Michael shrugged. “That’s exactly what I need to find out.”

Quintus considered very carefully now, staring at his companion in silence for a moment. Many things rattled through his mind and though his heart told him to give full compliance, his mind tugged fiercely to consider what was happening. The angel hid much from him and now was an opportunity for clarity.

Moving to the small table in the center of the room, he sat at one of the two chairs on either side, waving an open palm for Michael to join him. Perhaps, for the first time since they’d met, they might be able to speak as equals instead of the angel holding *all *of the cards. Then let them parlay.

"You wish information from me." Quintus said. “Then I propose a give and take.”

There was discernable apprehension from Michael as he stood his ground, grunting frustration towards the dhampir and refusing the offer. "We don’t have time for this."

"Very well then." Quintus was so very tired of being controlled and so he concentrated, slowing the timing that flowed all around them and grinding it to a painfully slow churn as he smiled up to the Governor. “Time is quite malleable here, is it not?”

The Governor growled and begrudgingly taking the seat opposite of him while Quintus cocked his head left and then right, regarding his target carefully as if he were a bird of prey.

"Who is her father?" Quintus asked.

"What the fuck does that matter?"

"Information is power, is it not? I wish to know it." He stated matter of factly.

"OK. If I tell you this, you’ll help me if you can?" Michael tapped his fingers on the table. “No more delays?”

Hmmm. He very nearly agreed to the offer, but as he stared at the angel, he realized it was far too simple. This information had been hoarded with such ferocity that he doubted it would be given up so easily. Michael was clever and he should tread very carefully. "Perhaps."

"Adam Theodore Maxwell." Michael said simply, confessing it all too quickly.

That did not seem like the name of a celestial being and Quintus shook his head. "He is just a human?"

"As much of a human as she herself is."

He stared for a moment, his calmness threatening to fade, while his fingers came up to his lips, brushing them carefully as his mind raced with possibilities. "You claimed that she was nephilim. You claimed THAT is why she would be hunted down."

"She is nephil, Quintus. But that taint occurred further back in her bloodline than just her father."

"Further back?" Quintus asked. “How far?”

"Sixteen generations." Michael admitted.

This shocked him somewhat and he stared down, furrowing his brows at the table. "So, she is actually less than one one-hundredth of a percent angel?"

"Haha! Not even close." Michael laughed heavily at the fast calculation, shaking his head. “I really don’t have time to explain genetics right now, boy. We--”

"Very well." Quintus concentrated again and the time slowed even further. He had gotten quite good at this feat and he smiled as Michael’s palm hit the table with annoyance at his show of celestial prowess. “There. Now … explain it to me like I’m FIVE years old.”

"You little shit." Michael pointed a finger at him menacingly and Quintus grinned at the show of frustration. “There isn’t time for this--”

"Then by all means ..." Quintus leaned back, rocking the chair up on two legs as he grinned mischievously, waving a hand towards the door. “Please leave.”

"You are playing with her life, right now." Michael tried, but Quintus chuckled loudly at the attempt to silence his prodding. “Do you understand that?”

Tread carefully, Quintus. He told himself. He commanded himself and then, he ignored himself fully.

"No, my dear Governor, it is YOU who are playing with both of hers and mine, and given your obvious ineptitude to carry out the agreement we had in place, I now have doubts of your ability to do as you agreed to, at all. Therefore, I am not longer feeling so … complicit." Crossing his arms over his chest, he shook his head with absolute disgust. “I had mistakenly assumed that you could be trusted with her life and that is not an error that I intend to make again.”

"Do not insult me, child." Michael growled at Quintus’ lack of submission and there was a tense moment of utter silence before the dhampir spoke again.

"Like I am FIVE."

"Humans were made to breed souls." Michael started as he leaned back. “To breed and change and evolve. Their programming ... their DNA, as they’ve decided to call it … mixes and transforms when they breed, creating countless variations and combinations. Varying permutations of long and complex sequences. It is how they were made, but it’s not how angels were made. Our coding is rigid and immutable.”

When it seemed like the explanation was finished, Quintus looked at him exasperated. "Continue."

"You really want the kindergarten explanation of it?" Michael asked.

"Like I am FIVE, Governor."

"Fine. A child gets their code from a mixture of their parents. You throw it into a blender and out pops a new person, with dominant traits from each parent, right?"

"I know how genetics work." Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked for the explanation of a FIVE year old after all.

"One parent has blue eyes, the other has brown. Chances are the kid’s gonna have brown. Yes?"

"Governor--" He was going to ask for a speed up of the topic, but Michael waved for him to be quiet while he continued.

"And then you throw in chromosomes. Y and X, right? Man and woman, put them together you get a somewhat random mixture. A roll of the dice. Angel and woman, you don’t get something random at all. There is no real mixing. That is, if the angelic genes are passed along at all. It’s usually another 50/50 chance, then it’s like oil and water and everything that is passed on from the father is dominant."

"Everything?" Quintus asked in confusion. “So the child is a clone of its father?”

"No. No. It’s still a half-breed. It has characteristics from the mother, passed along the X. But, everything that comes from the Y wins and never mixes. Following me still?" Quintus knew the question was meant condescendingly but he nodded anyways, allowing the lesson to continue. “So, that child goes on to have a child of their own. Oil and water again, 50/50. Everything that is passed on from the father is dominant … again. Only the half of the genes from the mother get replaced each time. Celestial DNA is never diluted, because it always wins.”

"So …" Quintus took a deep breath in, mulling it over slowly and carefully before speaking again. “Their child is still half an angel, but now half of the new mother?”

"Yes." Michael nodded. “Familial speaking, while that child is the nephil’s son, genetically speaking, he is actually his brother. Well, half-brother. Different mothers.”

Quintus curled his lips up, not wanting to fully grasp the implications of that thought. He found himself thinking the idea of it was beyond strange, but as the reality settled in, he nodded. "So, she is nephil."

"Yes. There is no half. You either are or you are not. She is nephil and so was her father. And so was his father. And on and on … "

"Father." Quintus noted. “You continue to say son and father, yet she--”

"It’s all on the Y chromosome. It always is. Once that special chromosome is lost, then the taint of that bloodline is cured."

"But …" Quintus squinted, tilting his head to the right. “She does not have a Y.”

"Yeah … well ..." Michael nodded, thrusting his hand towards Quintus himself as justification for his next sentence. “Genetic mutations have been known to occur, haven’t they? She isn’t the first female nephil. There have been others, but the occurrence of it is rare. I don’t know what causes that … mutation. But regardless, she’s the last bit of evidence of that … indiscretion.”

A genetic mutation, like Quintus himself and he accepted the information silently, internalizing the strangeness of it all until Michael spoke again.

"Now …" The archangel tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “Do you have any recommendations of where I should start looking--”

"Do not distract the conversation. You did not answer my question." Quintus said. “Her progenitor. Who is it?”

"No." Michael said coldly. “Absolutely not. I know your past, General. I know the atrocities that you’ve carried out and were left … undiscovered during your trial. Genocide, slavery, murder, rape, torture.” He shook his head with disgust. “I will not allow his fate, or the fate of his entire family, in your untrustworthy hands.”

Quintus smiled meekly. "I have done many terrible things. But I’ve learned that, as a Hand of God, the brunt of my indiscretions barely make a dent in your own atrocities, Great Governor." Both men stared in silence for a moment before the dhampir shrugged. “But what difference would it make?” Quintus pried. “Do I not already hold his fate in my hands by knowing of her very existence?”

"I will not betray his trust. This is final."

"Then …" Quintus considered silently as he leaned forward and tapped the desk with his index finger. Would he really be willing to play such a game? Had he been bluffing about helping the angel? “Then I will not betray her trust either.” A powerful feeling, blooming from the depths of his mind, urged him to remain patient. Something, deep within, was telling him not to trust the angel further. If she was actually in danger or not remained to be seen.

"Wait … what?" Michael shifted aggressively. “Her trust? What does that fucking mean?!” He groaned, tightening his right fist.

"It is quite clear you dislike me, Governor. Whatever your personal feelings against me are, professional relationships should be a give and take, yet all you have done is take and I feel as though I have given quite enough. Until I know that we can trust each other, I am not willing to comply with you any further."

"You little shit. This isn’t about you! This is about--"

"No. It is absolutely not about me. And given your mishandling of the situation already--"

"Your ego is clouding the gravity of the situation." Michael slammed his fist down upon on the table as it creaked under his angered strength.

"My ego kept me alive for over two thousand years." Quintus countered.

"Yeah … you. But what about your loved ones."

Taking a deep breath, Quintus closed his eyes, holding in the rage that so readily wanted to erupt. He had never been good at holding in intense emotion when his lost loved ones were used as conversational bait. Cracking his neck, he opened his eyes, staring coldly at the Hayyoth across from him.

"This is a mistake." Michael sneered. “You’re only alive because I’ve permitted it! I’m your only ally here.”

How many times had he heard that statement so far? Ozryel, Raphael, Ancharia. He was done with all the mind games and he was done with this conversation.

"My ally?" Quintus laughed out loud. “You blackmailed me to obliterate myself for some hidden, and likely political, agenda. Perhaps you are the one being blackmailed?”

"And you did it. You saved her." Michael brought his hand to his forehead as he sighed deeply. “You saved them all, Quintus. Please, if you know anything--”

"As you have explained it to me, Governor. Is it not Heaven itself that is her true enemy … and, therefore, by proxy, my enemy. The threat upon her very existence comes from your brothers, does it not? Those with whom you share an unshakeable mental bond. Explain to me how her being hidden from your continued manipulation would be a bad thing?"

"I should have known." Michael said in utter disgust. “You would just leave her to the wolves then? Did you love her at all or were you really just having fun?”

Quintus smirked, refusing the bait to antagonize him, as he stood, staring down at the defeated angel. "She is so very far from being sheep, Governor. She is one of those wolves." As he walked towards the door, he spoke calmly, grabbing the handle. “In fact, one of the strongest I have ever known, and I choose to have faith in that strength.”

As he walked through the door and down the hallway, there was mild panic building within his chest as his heart began to race. What had he just done? His bluff was entirely successful and though he was proud of himself for it, his eyes grew wide as real concern for her flooded into his soul.

He waited around long enough, remaining submissive and docile for her sake. Adhering to the deal he made for her safety. He had faith in the angel’s promise but now Heaven didn’t seem as all-powerful as he had assumed. Now he understood it was not without flaws and, therefore, it had vulnerabilities. Weaknesses that could be exploited.

He remembered Ozryel’s warning and he turned the direction he assumed the cells would be. She warned him that his Poet was not safe and he ignored that statement, assuming it was yet another method to control him. But now it was time for answers and who better to ask than the creator of knowledge itself.

There would be no further dilly dallying as he was more motivated for action than he had ever been before, as he had absolutely no plans of leaving her to any wolves. Hayyoth or otherwise.

He needed to get back to Earth at any cost, moreso now than ever before.

Note from Author:

This was an incredibly challenging chapter to write. On one hand, I very much enjoyed having the dynamic of power finally shift from Michael to someone else (Quintus in this case), but on the other hand, it was really difficult to get the flow of how that might occur out. I wound up writing and rewriting this dialog quite a few times.

Though Part 1, A Savage Inconvenience, was Quintus’ story, Dawn still played a significant role and had considerable agency. Because Part 2, An Insatiable Ache, is Dawn’s story, Quintus will also still play a significant role, with much agency as well.

Since a continuing theme of the story is that Hayyoth work best in pairs, there is a push/pull dynamic in play here that I was hoping to get across in a subtle way. Even across the divide between Heaven and Earth, they are still fundamentally connected through the Veil and because of such, they are still subconsciously affecting each other even if they don’t realize it yet. Pushing and pulling, planning and conspiring, aiding and abetting.

Anyways, I hope everyone is still enjoying the story! I’m sorry that updates have slowed down and I hope to pick back up the speed of writing. Life gets in the way sometimes and affects motivation to write, but I hope you still with me.

♥ U ALL!!!

[teddyryker-blog]

no place like home // task 5.

For Teddy, the Foxhole Court had always represented a place of safety, a place where he could go and know that the outside world couldn’t get him, a place where for even an hour of practice he could be completely himself. But now, sat in the locker room with a journalist and a camera, his skin itched with anxiety, he stared at his surroundings like he was seeing them for the first time, tapping his foot anxiously on the tiled floor until his leg got tired. He hated Wymack for letting these people in, depending on how well this interview went he might end up hating him more.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“You could too.”

“I need you here.”

“You’re being selfish. I’m coming back, you idiot.”

“But you don’t want to do you?”

Teddy woke with a start. This was how it was these days, waking up with a jolt and Jewel’s voice ringing in his ears. The dreams didn’t start until a week or so after the Ravens game, after he’d tried to forget all about it by drinking, getting a shitty tattoo, focusing all of his energy on practice and looking after Bacon. The dreams were exhausting and Teddy woke up with headaches, he hadn’t felt completely awake since they started. They woke him up at ridiculous times and they rattled him too much to let him peacefully fall asleep again.

He sat up, the room dark, and felt around on the end of his bed until Bacon nuzzled his wet nose into Teddy’s palm, his tail thumping on the mattress and assuring Teddy that he was okay. I’m here, I’m safe, it was just a dream, he isn’t here; it was the same mantra he mentally uttered to himself every time he woke up now, sometimes the reality of it hit him too hard and he’d lie back down, quietly sobbing into his pillow until the sudden wave of grief passed and Teddy managed to pull himself together enough to get started with the day.

The day of the interviews had loomed over Teddy, the press conference had only intensified his contempt for journalists and news outlets alike. He’d made it pretty damn clear he was interested in this predicament, he’d been absolutely serious when he threatened Grant with ‘gone girl’ing’ himself. As much as he hated it, Teddy knew there wasn’t a way around it at this point.

“Do you want a water or something before we get started?” The journalist, Alastair, asked. He looked to young to be on a job of this calibre (maybe an intern or something), who was barely taller than Teddy and kept dropping his notebook and muttering ‘darn’ under his breath like his mother would smack him over the head if she heard him cuss.

“Please.” If Teddy had learned anything from being in the public eye, it was that drinking during an interview was a good way to delay answers, give him time to think of something that wasn’t rude or irrational. Alastair tossed him a bottle of water and Teddy caught it. He held the bottle tightly and smoothed his thumbs over the condensation on the plastic. 

“Nice catch.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.” Alastair sat next to Teddy on the bench and turned so he was at an angle so he could face him head on. He looked Teddy over, squinting like he was judging him a bit. “Nervous?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said, laughing lightly, “honestly, I’m not a big fan of the press.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I’m nice,” Alastair said, the humour in his tone and the smile he cracked surprising Teddy. “I’ll go easy on you.” Teddy smiled back briefly before dropping his gaze and sipping at the water to distract himself. He felt more at ease, thinking he’d let his anxiety get the better of him because of that mess of a press conference. This was different, there weren’t dozens and dozens of reporters hounding him and Alastair seemed nice. “Okay so starting off nice and simple: what’s the atmosphere amongst the team like now after that win?”

It was nice and simple, an ideal question that Teddy knew he could answer. “I guess we’re more excited about the upcoming game. Motivated,” Teddy said, “the last game gave us a confidence boost for sure.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alastair said, smiling again. Teddy smiled back nervously and drank from the water bottle again as an excuse to break eye contact. “Do you plan to play professionally after college?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Teddy said on the tail end of swallowing his water. It was a lie of course, Teddy knew exactly what was going to happen after college and it didn’t involve Exy. He’d go to work for his dad, it’d stay like that for the rest of his unless he went to prison or got himself killed. It didn’t make much of a difference to Teddy at this point.

“Fair enough. What got you into it? Have you always played?” His tone was conversational but when Teddy looked down he could see the questions all scrawled out in the notebook, some were underlined or circled in different colours, so much so that the pages kind of just looked like one big mess.

“My sister got me into it,” Teddy said, choosing his words carefully as not to open a door that could lead to questions about him and his family. “She signed me up to a little league team when I was...12 or 13? Just so I’d have a hobby really. I’d dabbled in it before but after that it became a pretty consistent part of my life.”

“Any other Exy players in the family?”

“Nope.” No that he knew of anyway. Neither his brother or sister had played, they’d both dropped out of high school at 15 but for very different reasons. Michael spent most of his academic career under suspension, after dropping out he committed his time to working for their dad and developing an addiction to meth. Mandy dropped out to raise Teddy, she’d had neither the time nor the confidence to play a sport like Exy even before that. Teddy didn’t know enough about his dad to make a judgement though, really all he knew about his dad as a person was that he was born in Italy and nearly died once after he got shot when he was 16. Maybe he had played Exy, it was a mystery to Teddy.

“The first one to go to college too?”

“No, my sister went to community college for a while.” The words were out of Teddy’s mouth before he could even think about it. They’d been quick fire questions, he’d been dumb enough to follow Alastair’s pace rather than thinking about his responses. “It wasn’t for her,” he said quickly.

“I see.” Alastair didn’t sound convinced. He squinted at Teddy and it took him a moment to realise the other was reading him. So far this was one of the weirdest interviews Teddy had ever had, it felt more like an interrogation in some ways and a simple conversation in others. “So, you grew up around a considerable amount of crime-”

“Well, I’m from the Lower Bottoms in Oakland so yeah.” Teddy got defensive quickly, he saw where the question was going and he wanted to keep far away from talking too in depth about his family. The fact was that Teddy couldn’t, he’d be putting himself in very real danger if he did.

“I’m just wondering if - in your opinion - would you be playing Exy at all now if a team like the Foxes didn’t exist?” It was Teddy’s turn to squint dubiously now, not out of offence but confusion.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Well...” Alastair sighed as he thought of a way to rephrase, clearly trying to keep from getting on Teddy’s nerves. “I imagine a lot of the people you grew up with went down, well, pretty different paths right? Like, the crime rate from your neighbourhood is high and there’s a high drop out rate for students, so I’m just wondering if you would’ve ended up similarly if you didn’t have Palmetto.”

“I was never like that to begin with,” Teddy said sternly, “like yeah, I came from a bad neighbourhood but I went to a really good school, I had awesome coaches and friends like I could’ve gone to a lot of different teams,” he explained. “But I wanted to be in this program. The Foxes are great because they give chances to players from out-of-the-norm home lives and histories and that’s why I wanted to play for them.”

“So it must be kinda hard when you see your childhood friends taking pretty different roads, right? When you’re enjoying success?”

“Not really. You just have to work for it, y’know?” That wasn’t necessarily true on Teddy’s part. Obviously it was hard to not feel bad for the people he grew up with, he’d gotten to go to college and play for the Foxes when so many of the kids he grew up with were in prison, in rehab, working 3 jobs to support kids they were too young and dumb to be raising.

“Does it help having a support from family and friends?”

“Of course,” Teddy said quickly. He had to be careful here, as far as anyone here knew everything was fine with Teddy and his family (or rather, as fine as things could be). He’d only be getting himself in trouble if he said otherwise. “Having a support network at home is always helpful but when you’re here, it makes more of a difference when the team is close, y’know? When everybody on the team supports each other, it makes it a hell of a lot better when you go out and play with them.”

“And do you think the Foxes are that kind of team?”

“Yeah, definitely. They’re the best.”

Well, that went...smoother than Teddy expected. It was a little surreal walking back to his room after the interview, to have faced a member of the press and not be seething with anger or anxiety. It went well, as much as he hated to admit it (and he’d never admit it to Wymack). The questions had remained mostly relevant, nothing Teddy couldn’t respond to even if he had to bullshit his way through some of them, it was much easier than he could’ve anticipated.

He felt lighter when he shut himself back in his room, greeted by Bacon trotting over to him and jumping up at Teddy until he fussed over him. He felt better, getting it all over and done with had lifted a weight of Teddy’s shoulders, now he felt like he could focus a little more. After making himself some well earned coffee, Teddy sat on his bed and decided to get some studying done with Bacon curled up at his side watching him type and read like he understood anything that was happening. For a minute, Teddy felt genuinely content...until he felt a familiar disturbance under his mattress.

Teddy’s heart sank and he put the pieces together quickly: it was his emergency phone, the one that only rang in case something was going wrong, the last time he’d used it was when he’d smashed up his previous one. Teddy hand dived under the mattress and he snatched it up, his heart pounding as he recognised Mandy’s number.

“What’s wrong?” Teddy immediately asked when he picked up.

“They found Jewel.” Teddy’s stomach flipped, he went lightheaded and it was like he could feel the blood draining from his face, along with all of the remnants of his good mood drifting away as quickly as they’d appeared.

“What?” He asked weakly.

“Last night. I’m sorry, Teddy...they just arrested Mikey...”