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silentmoths · 1 year ago

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At your beck and call

Its moth, crawling out of the covid cave to drop this and then going back to bed.

wont lie this idea has been on my mind for the better part of a week, but between work and then being smashed by the ol' rona I havent had the energy, plain and simple. but I'm starting to get that back.

sorry if it seems a little rushed, brain wanted it OUT.

Butler! Zhongli x CEO (Afab) Reader.

Nsfw, does this count as office AU? i think it does?, humiliation kink if you squint?, aftercare because even when he's mean zhongli is an aftercare king.

You had never entertained the thought of hiring a live-in personal butler until one of your friends had mentioned it. She’d gone on and on about how her much time having one had saved, and how it gave her the peace of mind to relax every once in a while, a luxury you can't remember the last time you afforded as the ceo of a major company, sure you had secretaries, but they only worked within the firm, and your life?

God you needed a secretary for life.

Even then. It took you a few more months to finally cave and look into it. The agency you find has raving reviews; there’s an interview process, which takes another few weeks for you to finally sit down and do. They ask you many questions about your lifestyle, and what you need out of their service, and then it’s left in their hands.

And so, a week later, you receive a knock at your door.

Tall, sharp features, immaculately dressed.

But his eyes.

Holy shit his eyes.

Molten gold, almost shimmering in the morning light as your new butler bows to you. One gloved hand over his heart.

“Good morning Miss. My name is Zhongli.The agency has analysed your lifestyle and have thus extended your contract to me.” He explains.

Well damn, in the looks department alone you’d be leaving them a five-star review.

—

Your first proper morning with Zhongli working for you was…hectic.

Your morning alarm didn’t go off, thankfully your body-clock was pretty on point, but still, you’d slept in ten whole minutes, throwing off your schedule.

You barely even noticed that your clothes had already been laid out in the bathroom as you whirlwind through your bedroom to get ready, simply picking up the neatly folded pile as you went.

You resign yourself to a breakfast smoothie as you flurry into the kitchen, you simply didnt have any time to cook, and you’d have to clean the blender when you got home-

“Ah, good morning Miss. I trust you slept well?” Zhongli asks as he places down a plate of bacon and eggs at your usual spot in the breakfast nook. You stop, blinking at him with wide eyes.

“W-whats that?” you ask him, brain still not quite with it yet.

“Breakfast?” He counters with a tilt of his head. “Simply one of my duties.”

Right…

Right you had a secretary for your life now…

And fuck, he could cook.

You don't remember the last time you’d sat down, in your own house, eating a hot, home cooked meal for breakfast…usually it was toast, or if you didn’t have time to sit, the aforementioned smoothie that you really hated, but it was better than nothing, because when else would you have time to eat during the day?

But no, breakfast had been made for you, served with coffee and even the morning newspaper. Zhongli looks…immaculate as always, smile on his face as he cleans up and announces he will be awaiting you in the car.

That first day…no, the first week was such a learning curve… between him driving you everywhere, keeping you blessedly on time for your meetings, he also seemed to know exactly what you needed, sometimes before even you knew.

He sometimes appears with a small plate of cookies, and a mug of hot coffee, made just the way you like it, just as your mood was beginning to wane, and immediately you feel better.

As the weeks stretch on and deadlines draw closer, you find that he’s also an amazing sounding board, and your nights become a little less weary with someone else there to fill the silence, even as he silently goes about tidying your home, he’s never too far away.

—

Something around the latter half of the year just really made all your client’s extra demanding.

Your staff were overworked.

You were overworked.

You find yourself staying up later and later into the night, going over plans and documents, trying to sort all of this…this mess into something cohesive for both yourself and your poor staff.

You rub at your temples with a ragged sigh. What time was it now? You don't think you want to know…

A soft clink beside you draws your attention to a fresh cup of tea and you startle.

“Oh, Zhongli…I-I thought you’d be asleep by now..” you murmur softly, leaning back in your chair. Your butler simply smiles at you, even now at god-knows-what time passed midnight, he was still dressed in his usual work suit. “You should be too, Miss.” he tells you softly, but not condescendingly, like a worried friend.

“I cant yet.” you sigh, motioning to the armageddon of papers strewn across your desk “I need to get this sorted before the next review meeting but…augh I dunno…I just…I cant concentrate.”

“That would be because you are stressed, and tired.” Zhongli points out, chuckling softly at your side eye before he shifts, walking around your desk to come to a stop behind your chair. “Here… perhaps this will help…” he murmurs more to himself than to you, and suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, lithe, careful fingers pressing into your trapezius muscles. You grunt and wince a little, having been totally unaware of how tense your shoulders had been until now.

“Shh, just take a deep breath and relax.” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbles behind you as he slowly massages at the tension, his hands are gentle, but expert, and it takes you longer than it should to realise that he's not wearing his gloves for this. “Now…tell me what the matter is…”

With another set of eyes, and a clear explanation of what you need, by the time he’s worked all the tension from your shoulders, you’ve finally got a clear plan, and immediately set to work sorting and organising the moment his warm, surprisingly soft hands finally leave your shoulders.

Once all is said and done, you turn to your butler.

“Thank you, Zhongli…I…don't think I could have done that without you here.”

You’re met with a dashingly handsome, genuine smile, and a graceful bow of his head.

“It was my pleasure, Miss. I am here to aid your every whim.”

—

Meeting after meeting after meeting.

If you had to speak to one more person demanding things of you and your company today, you were going to scream. The sight of your black sedan, waiting dutifully for you outside the sliding glass doors at the end of the day was almost enough to make you cry as you all but collapse into the back seats with a groan.

“How were the investors today, Maam?” Zhongli asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches you in the rear-view.

“They could invest in some chill.” you mutter, taking a few moments before forcing yourself to sit up, knowing full well Zhongli wouldn’t move this car an inch until you had your seatbelt on.

“I hazard to say you could also do with, as you say, some chill.” He adds as he easily merges into the busy afternoon traffic. “You’re working yourself to the bone.”

“It’s just another month.” you sigh “investors always get antsy this time of year…”

“You said that last month too, you know.”

“Did I?” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose “Hey…when we get home…could I have another one of those massages?”

You loathe to admit how…reliant you had become on Zhongli’s ability to get the tension out of your shoulders, ever since that first night when he’d helped sort out your work with you, you’d been asking every other day or so for one, it was just so nice to relax into his care while you vented the day’s frustrations away, or soundboarded with him.

“Oh I think I can manage that.”

“Where would I be without you…?” you mumble softly as you let your eyes shut for a moment, just a moment to rest your aching eyes.

As it stands, that moment ends when Zhongli’s gentle hand on your arm rouses you. “Wh-wassgoinon?” you mumble, looking around.

“We’re home, Miss….you looked like you needed the rest so I didn’t rouse you.” Zhongli murmurs softly, reaching past you to fetch your bag.

He smells of tea, and spices…warm…comforting.

—

You groan softly as his fingers press insistently into your shoulders.

“You’re extra tense today…” Zhongli murmurs softly, leaning over to look you in the face “are you alright?”

“I-I…yeah…just…stressed I think.” you sigh, leaning your head to the side so he can get better access to your neck. You’d never admit it, but you were pretty sure at this point you were just craving his touch, you just…didn't have the time for skinship these days, how you’d managed to survive before hiring him? You had no idea.

Behind you, Zhongli hums.

“May I try…something different?” He asks quietly, rather unlike him, usually when he did something, he did it with confidence that you would be alright with it, and so far he’d never been wrong…why ask now? “I think your stress runs deeper than a simple shoulder massage can handle.” he adds when you look over your shoulder at him.

“I mean…I trust your judgement Zhongli…whatever you think I need…” you mumble.

You expect a change in his technique, maybe working a little further down your spine perhaps?.

Not to suddenly be thrown forward, chest pressed against the dark mahogany of your desk by a single,strong hand against your spine to keep you there as you gasp in shock.

“Z-Zhongli!?” you gasp, looking over your shoulder at your calm, gentle butler.

Only to find a sharp, seductive smirk plastered to his lips. His golden eyes are dark, predatory, you should be afraid.

Keyword: Should.

You watch, dumbstruck as he licks his lips, ripping your jeans straight off your legs like they were nothing, his ungloved hand grazing up the back of your thigh, and that touch alone has your eyes rolling back and a half-bitten moan falling from your lips. Gods how long had it been?

“Hmm, needy little thing, aren’t we? Thrown against your desk by your own butler and you don't even have the decency to be afraid?” Zhongli chuckles darkly as he shoves two fingers into you; the mix of pleasure and pain is enough to have your spine arching “Looks like I was right…you do need more than a little massage hm?”

“G-god…please…” you whine, the humiliation of the situation only making you hotter as he roughly thrusts his fingers, occasionally scissoring them to stretch you open, his other hand shifting from your spine to wrap around the base of your neck, holding you still as he works you open.

This new, rougher side to him…you didn’t know you wanted it...but god damn he was driving a hard bargain, plus it’s not like this wasn't something you may have thought about on a rare occasion or three… you’d just expected it to be…slower, gentler, but this? You could work with this.

“Please…? Please what?” he purrs, leaning over to nip at your ear “what do you want from me? I am at your every beck and call.” His words are low, dangerous, but genuine, and you shudder.

“You-!” you choke “please g-god, Z-Zhongli I want you to fuck me-”

One moment there’s fingers, the next moment nothing, and you want to cry, the petulant whine only being held back by the sound of a belt buckle.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m at your service.”

And then he roughly bucks his hips and good gods.

Considering he wore such fitted trousers, where the hell had he been keeping that??

That mix of pleasure-pain is back, but more intense this time; you definitely had not been wet enough, and yet? You wouldn't have wanted it any other way, the pain added it’s own flavour to your desire as Zhongli pins you against your desk, breathing ragged into your ear as he wastes no time, setting a brutal pace from the start that has papers and stationary clattering off your desk.

“So tight” he hisses “how long has it been since you’ve had a good fucking?”

Something about Zhongli swearing like that feels so wrong, but oh, so right in the moment.

For a moment, paperwork and meetings are the furthest thing from your mind as Zhongli shoves you even further onto your desk, free hand hiking your hips up so he can slam into you all the harder, the only sounds emanating within your study are the wet slapping of skin, and your cries of ecstasy.

He’s not gentle, and deep, deep down, you’re glad for it.

You needed this, spending every damn day for the last five years telling everyone else what to do? You needed this…loss of control.

Much like everything else in the last six months, Zhongli knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and before you even realised you needed it.

“Whats the matter? Nothing to say?” He grunts into your ear as he grinds himself so deep into you, you’re seeing stars. “You’re always so talkative…”

You can only moan pathetically in response, eyelids fluttering as he fucks you down into the table, his words are harsh, and humiliating, but all they do is draw your orgasm closer, barely even registering what he’s saying.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, one moment you’re seeing stars as your butler bullies his massive cock into you, the next minute your world turns white.

—

“Shh, try not to move…I wasn’t gentle with you.” Zhongli’s tone is back to being kind and gentle after…how many orgasms did he just force you through? You’d lost count…all you know was that it had still been light out when he’d first shoved you down…now as he passes by a window with you cradled gently in his arms, it was pitch black outside.

Gentle lips press to your temple as he perches on the edge of the bathtub, holding you on his lap with one arm while he reaches over to get the water started. Wetting a washcloth to clean away a good portion of the mess beforehand.

Your body aches, but in the best possible way. You feel…breathless and comfortable, fuzzy.

You wince as he lowers you into the hot water, your muscles tensing at the sudden heat before relaxing again. Zhongli watches you with a soft look. Even coming off the back end of some amazing sex, he still somehow managed to look stupidly put together, if not even more alluring with his lack of suit jacket; it had been abandoned sometime during round… three you think? One moment it was on, the next moment, you’re being pressed onto your back, the jacket is gone, and he’s rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and you’re at his mercy.

The lip of a water bottle presses to your lips, his other hand gently supporting the back of your head as you drink.

“How do you feel?” he asks once you’ve drunk your fill for now, like that switch that had turned him from the kind and courteous butler you had known to….whatever that zhongli was, had never flipped at all.

Despite this, you smile at him.

“I feel like…I need to ask you to do that again more often, Zhongli.”

To his credit, your ever-so-handsome butler laughs. It’s a warm, hearty sound, one that fills you with no small amount of joy.

“I am here to serve your every beck and call, I’m sure I can work this into the schedule.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

#Silentmothwrites #Zhongli x reader #Zhongli x reader smut #Zhongli genshin

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davidmann95 · 3 years ago

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Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

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tojisveryown · 4 years ago

Text

𝙸𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 | 𝟶𝟸

𝙰𝚌: 𝚠𝚃𝟼𝙸𝙳𝟸𝚀𝟺𝙰𝙺𝚄𝟿𝚏𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚝

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟻𝚔

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝙰𝚄, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

��𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟸 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍)

⋆ 💌⋆

3 am, it was three o’clock in the morning and you woke up to the sound of your phone going off. Who the hell would be up at this hour, especially since there was a lecture everyone had to attend in four hours.

You took a glance at your screen, slowly adjusting to the brightness, you allow yourself to wake up, you check your messages, and realize Gojo has been texting you nonstop

“Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this guy its three am..” you whisper to yourself trying not to wake up Utahime

“Who would ever wanna fuck you anyway?”

Sheesh.

Am I that un-fuckable? You walked over to the bathrooms and gave yourself a long and judgmental stare. “Shit, I am un-fuckable aren’t I?”

Before you let your insecurities get the best of you, you decided that it’d be best to catch some sleep and worry about your appearance later. It’s not that your body was ugly, or that your face was ugly, it was definitely how you dressed.

The way you dressed practically presented to everyone what type of vibes you give off, and as of right now you gave off pretty much “Hi, my name is L/N Y/N and I still shop at the kids' section from target.” and that is NOT the impression you wanted others to have when glancing towards you.

You sighed, “That fucking man whore really did a number on my self-esteem.” You rolled over and checked the alarm clock placed on the nightstand that was sandwiched into yours and Utahime’s bed. 5:38 am

“Maybe I should go shopping after the lecture.” you rolled off your bed and decided to get an early start. After finishing up you left the girls dormitory.

6:45 am

Coffee?

Coffee.

⋆ 💌⋆

You hurried to the coffee shop that was a floor below your first lecture, luckily there weren’t that many people waiting in line, after what felt like two minutes it was finally your turn to order.

“Hi welcome, what may I get you?” The barista said,

“Hi good morning, may I get an iced caramel macchiato?”

“Of course, that’ll be 5.47!″

You dug in your bag to find your wallet and before the lady could take your card a hand placed itself over your own “I got it, add a white mocha to it will ya’ make it for Y/N Gojo, thanks.” That voice belonged to none other than the pest you dealt with yesterday. “G’morin’ Y/N.” he smiled as he slung his arm around you leading you outside the small coffee shop.

“Mmm, so about yesterday.. I’ll forgive you if you let me take you out on a date? How ‘bout it?”

No. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

“Huh? I didn’t apologize.” You feel yourself leaning on the pillar that stood outside the coffee shop.

Gojo scoffed, “That’s exactly why, you won’t have to if you let me take you on a date. Think about it Y/N.” he leaned closer resting his forearm on the same pillar you were leaning against right above your head. He was practically towering over you.

“And if i don’t want to apologize?” He scoffed once more and held your chin, forcing you to lookup. His touch was cold, almost concerning really.. it’s probably from some sort of std.

“Y/N Gojo your coffee is ready! Y/N Gojo!”

Gojo stepped away to grab both cups of coffee, he handed you yours and walked alongside you. “You know Y/N, so many girls would kill to go on a date with me, you’re really missing out.” there he goes flashing that cheekily smile around again.

“Guess I’m not like the fuckable bimbos you go after then.”

“You know you could be if you wanted to,” he walked in front of you, turning on his heels so he was now facing you as he continued to walk backwards. “All you have to do is give me a call.” he pulled his sunglasses down and gave you a wink.

Cheeky bastard.

You shoved the iced coffee into the core of his stomach signaling that you wouldn’t be swooned so easily by his escapades, you held out your arm until he realized you were giving the coffee back. His fingertips grazed over your hand and you flinched at the subtle contact. Before Gojo had the chance to call you out you were submerged into the crowd.

“Y/N stop being so difficult.”

⋆ 💌⋆

6:58 am, you made it on time for your first early morning lecture and sat in the fourth row. As you began to pull your stuff out more and more people started filling up the seats. You were beginning to regret returning the coffee Gojo had bought for you due to the lack of sleep.

“Y/N don’t run off like that, I almost lost you in the crowd.” You turned your head and there he was, sitting right next to you while wearing that stupid grin “Sorry some of it spilled out, but it’s still perfectly fine.” he admitted as he slid the iced coffee towards you. You looked away, you thought Gojo would finally get the hint to leave you alone and yet he just kept going on Until..

“Good morning Satoru!” a girl smiled as she sat down in the row in front of us “Why do you have two coffees?”

He cocked a smile “Good morning Yuri,” he greeted before he took your coffee and handed it in her direction, “Ehh, they gave me an extra drink. But I wouldn’t mind giving it to you.”

You turned your head to watch the scene play out, that bastard and his cheap tricks. “That was supposed to be my coffee” is what you wanted to say, but you knew it’d be best not to get tangled in Gojo’s business. You turned away looking for a new seat. You packed your things and headed towards the back of the lecture hall.

The girls face lit up in excitement “Of cour-”

“Kidding, this is Y/N’s.” but before Gojo could turn his head back to you to flash that idiotic smile of his you were nowhere to be found.

⋆ 💌⋆

The lecture was finally over and just as you were finishing up your notes a figure appeared. “Y/N it’s rude to leave without saying anything.” He slid your cup of coffee on the desk.

“Thought you gave it to that girl.”

“I bought it for you, not her.” he stated firmly, he grabbed your bag and walked towards the door, “Are you coming or not?”

“Huh, where are you and I going? And give me back my bag.”

Satoru turned on his heels and leaned down to your height pressing his pointer finger on his lips. His crystal blue eyes met yours and you were at a loss of words, his eyes truly were beautiful and you almost let a compliment slip until you realized who those eyes belonged to.

“It’s a secret of course, and its ‘we’ Y/N, say ‘where are we going’, what good if there in having a parter if you aren’t even acknowledging them correctly?”

“You aren’t my partner, work alone.” you handed him the cup of coffee and seized your bag out of his arms. For the second time this week Gojo was now staring at your back as you walked away, your figure getting smaller and smaller each step you took before you were one with the crowd. Gojo stared down at the cup and noticed that you didn’t take any sips of the caffeinated drink that he purposefully bought for you.

“Warm up to me soon will you?” he whispered to himself as he passed by a trashcan throwing the drink away.

⋆ 💌⋆

The next morning you found Gojo patiently waiting for your arrival, in his hands were two cups of coffee, it doesn’t look like he’s noticed you so you take that advantage and walk behind a group of students going to their next class. As you were passing by desperately trying to avoid any form of contact with Gojo you unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation he was having over the phone. Unfortunately you weren’t able to hear the other side of the line.

“Another bet? Sugu’ that’s shitty” He laughed “No, she already thinks I’m an asshole and making a bet with you involving her would make things worse. Okay okay okay one month right? Okay bye.”

Fucking bastard. Who does he think he is, making a bet to see if he can fuck someone he called unfuckable.

⋆ 💌⋆

Just when you thought you were finally free from the virus known as Gojo, the chair next to you became occupied by the person you thought you’d be able to ignore.

“G’morin’ Y/N!” he cheered gaining the attention of all the students that had the decency to come early “Got you some coffee, promise I won’t give it to anyone this time.”

You ignored him and reviewed the notes you took yesterday, as class began the thought of Gojo sitting next to you slipped your mind until he moved his elbow with the intentions of hitting yours but knocked down the coffee he brought you onto your notes.

“Whoopsies.” He laughed it off and gave you his notes for you to copy off of

“Gojo I can’t read this.”

“You don’t have to be so picky Y/N, who else is gonna let you borrow their notes you don’t have any friends.”

Asshole.

⋆ 💌⋆

The next morning Gojo showed up with two cups of coffee again and this time he brought a couple of napkins. He sat down next to you and placed the cup in front of you.

“Didn’t you learn from last time?” you questioned as you slid the cup back to Gojo.

“Well maybe if you actually drank it I wouldn’t have spilled it.” he pouted and pulled out a new notebook “Here, since I did ruin your old one.”

You opened the notebook and there was a drawing of a penis on each of the pages.

You took a deep breath and faced Gojo, it took almost everything out of you not to dump the coffee on this man whore again.

⋆ 💌⋆

As the next day came you expected Gojo to sit next to you but today he didn’t, you finally got to pay attention and take proper notes without anything getting spilled on them. After class ended, you found yourself going to get bread from a bakery near your school, but as soon as you were about to pay a pair of cold hands reached over yours handing his card to the cashier instead of yours. “’s okay I got it.” he said smiling as he slithered his hand around your shoulder. You slid his hand off and pulled him to the back of the bakery.

“Woah Woah Y/N we can’t do it here there are people from our class watching!” He teased as he threw his hands in the air as a sign of defense.

“What do you want from me.”

“What?”

You took a step forward, closing the little space you had between the two of you “What do you” poking his chest with your pointer finger you inched closer “want from me?”

Gojo leaned forward and whispered “Be my partner again Y/N.” Gojo felt you stepping away, furthering the distance you once closed. He pulled you into his chest and rocked himself, along with you following side to side due to his strong grip. One of his arms wrapped around your neck as the other slid down to the small of your back. “What’s so bad about being my parter? Afraid I’m gonna use you like the chick you saw me in the library with?”

“I don’t want a man whore as my partner.” you huffed. Gojo flinched at the harsh words you used to describe him, nonetheless he still held you close, his cold hands grabbed your wrists guiding your arm to his back wrapping them around himself.

“What do I have to do to prove to you I’m not a man whore?” he asked rubbing your back and pulling you closer to his chest. God how many layers of cologne does this man lather on himself.

“You can start by getting off me.”

“Mmm.” he pulled you even closer to the point where you two had little to no space whatsoever between your two bodies. “Only if you agree to take me back as you partner.”

You sighed giving in “Let me think about it?”

“M’kay!” he said pulling you even closer before letting you go.

⋆ 💌⋆

You walked back to campus with Gojo, the walk was quiet and peaceful. The sound of cars passing by along with the birds chirping filled your ears and it was a much needed break after eating at the bakery with Gojo filling your thoughts with nonsense.

You and Gojo were on your way to the next lecture of the day until Gojo stopped walking.

“Gojo?”

“Sorry Y/N I have to take a leak, can you please wait for me? I wanna be able to sit next to you in class.”

You nodded and waited on a bench that was within a few feat of the bathrooms, moments later you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey that was fast, did you wash your hands?” You questioned finally looking up realizing it wasn’t Gojo but the girl who Gojo offered your coffee to, Yuri. “Oh.. Can I help you?”

“Is Satoru really dating you?” She began to laugh and the two girls behind her joined after giving you a hard gaze.

“What no-”

“Probably one of his bets with Suguru. Like Satoru would ever wanna date you. What are you after? His money?”

“Huh no.”

“Please, save the bullshit, how much did you sell yourself for Satoru to hold you in the bakery like that? Or did you force yourself on hi-”

Before she could continue the stinging sensation that was both on your hand and face shut her up. She held her hand up and you flinched waiting for the contact that her hand would soon make with your face, but instead when you opened your eyes Gojo’s hand had grabbed her wrist before the contact was ever made.

He shoved Yuri’s hand away and grabbed your hand dragging you to your next lecture.

⋆ 💌⋆

During the long boring lecture the only thing you were able to think about was everything that happened moments before class began. Losing yourself in your thoughts Gojo slid a piece of paper with the words: “are you okay :( ?”

You replied with: “Yes. I’m fine, thank you.” Gojo smiled to himself as he replayed the scene of him coming to your rescue, cocky bastard.

Ripping off a piece of paper from the corner of your notebook, you wrote down a few words and placed the folded piece of paper onto Gojo’s open palm.

“I guess, you can be my partner again.”

That day Gojo Satoru wore the smile that you gave to him proudly.

⋆ 💌⋆

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝙻𝙼𝙰𝙾𝙾 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎. 𝙰𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

⋆ 💌⋆

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @peppytine @enesitamor

𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜. (𝟺/𝟸𝟶)

⋆ 💌⋆

162 notes · View notes

contemplativepancakes · 4 years ago

Text

yarn rants with dandelion

3.5k of Geralt poorly hiding the fact that he knits from his family and, in general, being an idiot, read here on AO3

Geralt slams his laptop shut as his apartment door swings open, causing Eskel to quirk an eyebrow. “Whatcha doin’?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Geralt says in a rush.

“Uh huh.” Eskel raises his hands. “Can’t be any weirder than the porn Lambert watches.”

Geralt grunts, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

Eskel glances at his watch. “I figured you might want help before the game.”

“I’m ordering pizza,” Geralt says. “Actually, do you want to do it? I have cleaning I still need to do before everyone else gets here.”

Eskel’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead, and Geralt starts to sweat as he sees Eskel's skepticism. Geralt always makes a spread on game day, telling everyone he’s not going to wait two hours for delivery while they’ll be so busy.

“Um. Okay.” Eskel stares at him for a beat before finally pulling out his phone. “What am I ordering?”

Geralt shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He goes to his room, shutting the door behind him and hearing Eskel’s voice as he talks to the pizza place. Geralt looks to his bed, where a half finished baby blanket is laid out, before hastily gathering it and its attached ball of yarn up and stuffing them in a basket, piled high with various colors and weights. He throws some dirty clothes from his floor on top for good measure before reemerging from his bedroom, Eskel looking at him suspiciously from his spot on the couch.

“Sure you don’t need help with anything?” Eskel asks.

“No, I’m, uh, I’m good.” Geralt goes to the fridge and pulls out two beers, passing one to Eskel and keeping one for himself.

Thankfully, Eskel doesn’t say anything about his odd behavior, just watches the pregame show with him without comment until Letho arrives, followed shortly after by Lambert and Aiden. Geralt’s relieved, because then Eskel’s attention goes to their ridiculous dancing around each other instead of scrutinizing Geralt.

After everyone has left for the night, Geralt pulls his laptop back out, settling it on the coffee table in front of him and goes to get his blanket. He spreads it across his lap as he clicks play, the sound of a cheerful voice filling his living room.

“Hey, guys! It’s Dandelion, back with my latest yarn haul! I’ve got some awesome ones, and ones you should avoid at all costs, so watch and see which is which!”

Geralt lets himself stare for a second before he jerks himself out of the trance and looks back down while his needles click together as he starts to knit.

Geralt lets the feeling of the yarn between his fingers soothe him. That’s why he watches these yarn reviews, after all. He hates going to the store for yarn, but he hates wasting his money on yarn that’s scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin even more.

Needless to say, he’s grateful to Dandelion for doing all the prep work for him, and he may or may not have developed a crush on the man. Who watches these videos and hasn’t? Geralt reasons.

Dandelion has an infectious enthusiasm, and Geralt can’t help the soft smile from spreading across his face as he listens.

Geralt keeps knitting until his skein is almost out. When he has less of a ball and more of a tangle left, he casts his eyes around for the next one before looking despairingly back at his blanket when he doesn’t find it.

Fuck.

He knew he should have ordered extra; he always does this to himself, but somehow he never learns. He groans as he pulls his computer onto his lap and opens up the website he orders his yarn from. He goes into his history and clicks on the link to his blanket yarn. It’s teal, velvety, and Geralt can’t stop running his fingers over it. When the page finally loads, out of stock blinks back at him.

Double fuck.

He’s never made a blanket before, and he’s drastically underestimated how much it would take. He’s going to need at least three more skeins. Yen’s baby shower is in a month and a half, and there’s no telling when the yarn is going to come back in stock. What if they discontinued it?

There’s nothing for it; he’s going to have to go into the store. He looks at the clock. First thing tomorrow, he decides, before it gets busy. He’ll go right when they open, before the store gets noisy and filled with women who always try to draw him into conversation for some reason.

Geralt huffs at the thought.

Geralt tugs his scarf a little tighter against his neck before he gets out of the car and heads into the store. There’s only four cars in the parking lot, so Geralt hopes he’ll be able to get in and out quickly.

Once he’s inside, he makes a beeline for the yarn aisle, trying to hold in his noise of dismay when he sees someone already standing there. Geralt avoids eye contact and feigns interest in the brightly colored acrylic yarns at the end of the aisle. The person is right in front of the baby yarn section, and Geralt tries not to tap his foot.

Just when Geralt is getting ready to pretend to browse other aisles while he waits, there’s movement behind him. “Lovely scarf,” a man’s voice says. “Looks very soft.”

Geralt turns around, only for his eyes to widen as he comes face to face with Dandelion.

He’s sure something very intelligent sounding comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t register it.

Whatever it was makes Dandelion laugh, sounding familiar and alarmingly close when they’re not separated by a screen. Geralt glances down at Dandelion’s basket to see it piled high with yarn.

“Nice colors you have there,” Geralt finally manages.

Dandelion beams. “Thank you!”

Geralt takes a closer look and realizes they’re rainbow colors. He heaves a tiny sigh. He’s a disaster. Does Dandelion think he’s flirting with him? Not that Geralt doesn’t want to be, per se, but—it’s complicated.

“Did you make your scarf yourself? Or did a boyfriend make it for you?” Dandelion asks.

“I made it myself,” Geralt mumbles. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved by this line of questioning or not.

“Oh?”

“No boyfriend.”

Dandelion turns another smile on him, and Geralt tries not to melt. “What are you shopping for?”

“Oh. Um. A blanket.”

Dandelion turns back towards the shelves with a critical eye before he plucks out a chunky bright yellow and holds it out to Geralt for his inspection. Geralt runs his fingers over it absently. “Feels nice.”

“Right? I love this brand. How big of a blanket are you making?”

“It’s for a baby.”

Dandelion’s eyebrow arches in question.

“My friend is adopting soon; I thought this would be nice,” Geralt says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Dandelion shifts his basket from one hand to the other. “Oh, my. That is very nice.”

Geralt grumbles as he piles more yarn than can surely be reasonable into his own basket while Dandelion eyes the shelf thoughtfully.

Geralt finishes putting the yarn into his basket and goes to leave the aisle, but Dandelion stops him before he takes more than three steps.

“Better get more than you think. I get what I expect to use, and then add 25 percent more.”

That makes Geralt crack a smile. “That makes an expensive hobby even worse.”

Dandelion shrugs. “The curse of being a creative.”

Geralt picks two more bundles from the shelf. “I suppose you’re right.”

Dandelion clears his throat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Geralt answers, and Dandelion looks him up and down. “Would you like to join our yarn circle?”

“What?” Geralt asks, throat dry.

Dandelion shakes his head glumly. “Nevermind. It’s just there are so few men…”

“I’ll join,” Geralt says, before he fully thinks out his words.

Dandelion brightens instantly. “Excellent!”

Dandelion follows him to the register, chattering the whole way, and by the time Geralt leaves the store, Dandelion has his number saved in his phone. Geralt can’t help but notice how the women are leaving him alone today, just shooting him the occasional baleful look. It’s a nice change of pace. Maybe he should run into Dandelion more often.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Dandelion says after he’s walked with Geralt to his car.

“Um, yeah, okay,” Geralt replies.

He slides into his car and watches Dandelion walk to a bright yellow slug bug. He quirks a grin. It fits him. Geralt’s just turned the key in his ignition when he realizes he didn’t even get the yarn that he came for. He sighs and shuts the engine off.

If he reemerges from the store with the yarn for the rest of his blanket in addition to two skeins of blue that remind him of Dandelion’s eyes, well, that’d be creepy, and it’s nobody’s business but his, anyway.

Geralt looks down at his phone. yarn circle at that coffee place on Main tomorrow at ten! you in?

He saves the contact in his phone, debating with himself before typing Dandelion 🌼.

He puffs a breath through his lips. He shouldn’t be this worked up about a text.

See you then , he types, and goes back to make the s lowercase.

“Who are you texting?” Eskel asks from his spot on the couch, setting down his own phone.

“Who are you texting?” Geralt retorts weakly.

Eskel looks at him, unimpressed. “My girlfriend, dude. Did you finally get yourself one? You know, it’s kind of weird Yen’s replacing you with a baby…”

Geralt grits his teeth. “She’s not replacing me. We just had conflicting goals for the future.”

“And what, pray tell, are these goals?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not kids. I’d be a terrible dad.”

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve hashed out many times before. “Hmm,” Eskel says pointedly, and Geralt gives him an eye roll right back.

“Are we watching this movie or not?”

Eskel mumbles something too low for Geralt to hear.

The next morning dawns bright and early. Too early for Geralt to reasonably head out to the coffee shop by the time he’s ready, so he takes the time to work on the blanket. He’s inching closer to being done, and he’s looking forward to starting something with the yellow yarn, but he’s not quite sure what he wants to make yet.

He wonders if he’s supposed to take his blanket to this yarn circle. Do they knit? Or just talk about it? What if they gossip the whole time? Geralt doesn’t have anything juicy to contribute; he doubts they want to hear about Eskel’s latest problems with his goat yoga business. Giving customers ringworm probably isn’t the best breakfast conversation. He takes in a deep breath, trying to stop the panic spiral.

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine.

It’s not fine.

When he walks in, Dandelion is already sitting at a table, wearing a floral button down that has entirely too many buttons undone to be decent. Geralt tries not to imagine what Dandelion’s chest hair would feel like under his finger tips, if it would be coarse and wiry or smooth and silky.

Geralt shakes his head and grunts a greeting when Dandelion waves him over.

“Hello, hello! Find the place okay?”

“No issues,” Geralt says, pulling out a chair and settling his bag with his knitting awkwardly on the ground.

Dandelion glances down at his phone, and whatever he sees makes his face tighten.

“Hmm, looks like the rest of the circle isn’t going to be able to make it. Flat tire.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow at him. “Do they...need help? I could go change it.”

Dandelion mutters something to himself before looking back up at Geralt. “I think they already have that covered.”

Geralt laughs and rubs a hand on his neck. “You know, I’m going to start thinking you were just trying to get me alone.”

Dandelion returns the nervous laugh and warms his hands on his mug. “Are you going to get some coffee?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Geralt stands up before turning back to Dandelion. “What do you recommend? I don’t come places like this very often.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like a coffee, black kind of person.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Geralt admits.

Dandelion’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “What do you mean you don’t drink coffee?”

“Makes me jumpy. My hands shake.”

Dandelion lets out a sharp exhale. “Wow.”

Geralt scowls. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! Well, maybe a little. You just better get hot chocolate, then.”

“Fine. I will.”

Dandelion’s laughter when Geralt returns to the table with a mug piled high with whipped cream is infectious.

He’s not sure what comes over him, but Geralt sticks out his tongue.

It’s not until he gets home that he realizes he never even pulled out his knitting.

Dandelion starts texting him more and more, and Geralt feels vaguely guilty when he watches Dandelion’s latest video.

He should probably tell Dandelion he watches them, but he doesn’t want it to turn into a thing , and he certainly doesn’t read too much into it when Dandelion mentions running into a handsome stranger on his latest yarn expedition.

He could be talking about anyone.

Geralt finishes his blanket for Yen, and he starts to think about what his next project should be. The yellow yarn is bright and warm; silky smooth between his fingers. He starts another blanket, because why not? He’s been wanting to practice cabling, anyway.

He brings it to the next yarn circle Dandelion invites him to, but it doesn’t get worked on, and Dandelion doesn’t say anything about where the rest of the circle is. Geralt doesn’t ask.

Finally, four yarn circles in where no knitting is accomplished, Dandelion gives up the ghost and asks Geralt out on a date. “That’s not what we’ve been doing?” Geralt asks with a small smile.

Dandelion shoves him in the chest, a teasing glint in his eye before his hand lingers on Geralt’s pec for a little too long. He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. “Great. I can’t wait," Geralt says.

“I’ll choose to believe that’s not sarcastic.”

Geralt pokes at him. “It’s not.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and hmm s right back.

A few weeks later finds Geralt sifting through Netflix for a movie to watch. “Hey, Dandelion!” Geralt calls from the couch, tugging a blanket up to his chin.

Dandelion freezes from his spot just outside the living room with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt says.

“What did you just say?”

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt repeats, more slowly this time.

“No, no, before that.”

Geralt thinks. “Your...name?”

Dandelion blinks at him. “My name is Jaskier.”

Now Geralt is the one who’s confused. “No, it’s not?”

“Geralt, I think I know my own name.” Dandelion’s face pinches. “Wait. You watch my videos?”

Geralt steels himself for the conversation. He had been wondering if he'd just be able to take the fact that he watches them to his grave. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“It seemed...weird," Geralt says haltingly.

Geralt’s still reeling from the revelation. He’s the world’s worst boyfriend; Dandelion has to be playing a cruel prank on him.

“And it didn’t seem weird to you that you were watching me literally sing your praises last week?”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

Dand—Jaskier drags a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“How was I supposed to know that wasn’t your actual name?”

“Geralt, we have been together for a month. How do you not know my name ?”

“It’s never come up!” Geralt says defensively. “You’re the one who never even introduced yourself. Talk about bad manners.”

Jaskier splutters, and Geralt can’t help but quirk a grin at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jaskier finally rallies. “We’re going to have a talk about online boundaries, but—”

“But what?”

“You’re so god damned stupid,” Jaskier says, before dragging Geralt into a kiss.

Geralt goes without complaint.

While Geralt ponders the new nature of their relationship, he finally finds a use for the blue yarn he’s been hoarding. The whole time he’s knitting the hat, he thinks of Jaskier. It’s exactly the right shade of his eyes, but Geralt doesn’t let himself contemplate it too hard.

When he’s finished, he finds an index card and scrawls a message. He wraps up the whole thing and gives it to Jaskier the next time he sees him.

Jaskier tears the package open and rubs the yarn between his fingers in delight. “You made this for me? No one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“I’m glad I could remedy that,” Geralt says gruffly, shifting uncomfortably at the adoring look Jaskier is giving him.

Jaskier notices the card and reads it before bursting into laughter.

Sorry I didn’t know your name <3

“You’re forgiven.”

On to the next order of business, then. Geralt clears his throat. “Yen’s baby shower is next week.”

Jaskier makes a noise of polite interest, not looking up from where he’s examining the stitches in the hat. Geralt really hopes he doesn’t notice where he dropped one.

Geralt waits for a few more seconds and sighs. Jaskier is really going to make him ask. “I was wondering if you would want to go with me.”

Jaskier tilts his head up and gives Geralt a bright smile. “Of course I would!” He pauses to think for a moment. “Are you...out to them?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbles. “It turns out my hiding spot for my play girls when I was 16 wasn’t as clever as I thought.”

Jaskier snorts. “It never is, is it?”

In the days leading up to the shower, Jaskier’s anxiety starts to show, but Geralt politely doesn’t comment. They walk up to the party arm in arm, Geralt carrying both of their gift bags. Geralt had told him he didn’t need to get anything, but he had anyway, insisting that he had just happened to stumble across the cutest onesie, Geralt! What a coincidence!

Geralt can’t help but smile as he looks over at Jaskier. Jaskier’s thumb is compulsively stroking over a spot on Geralt’s hand, and he’s even wearing the hat Geralt knitted him. Geralt’s chest feels tighter than normal.

“Oh, so this is why you haven’t been such a grump lately?” Triss asks once they walk through the door, taking their gift bags to set on a side table.

“I’m never grumpy,” Geralt says, and Jaskier has the audacity to laugh, so Geralt elbows him in the side.

Triss laughs at that, too, before she goes off to find Yennefer and drags her back to them. “Geralt!” she exclaims, rubbing a hand up his arm. “I’m glad you could drag yourself away from your very important activities that you refuse to tell anyone about.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks over to see Jaskier staring at him curiously.

“Ah, and this must be Dandelion!” Yen says, turning to Jaskier.

“Eskel wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Geralt hisses, but Yen just gives him a delighted smile.

Geralt sighs as she moves on to terrorize her next guest.

“Your friends are pretty brutal, Geralt,” Jaskier says lightly.

“You have no idea.”

Geralt leads Jaskier over to where Eskel and Lambert are sitting by the food table and attempts to make small talk.��

Almost immediately, Lambert asks, “What’d you get her?”

Eskel and Geralt share an exasperated look. “Why so competitive, Lamb? Over compensating?”

Lambert scowls. “I was just curious. You’re not going to be able to top what I got her, anyway. Best uncle ever.”

“You’re not going to be an uncle,” Eskel says.

Lambert is unconcerned. “Best uncle ever.”

Geralt crosses his arms and leans into Jaskier, trying to block out Eskel and Lambert’s bickering.

“I hate things like this,” Geralt mutters.

“Oh, don’t worry, Geralt. You being an unbearable softie is our little secret. I won’t breathe a word.”

Geralt grumbles. “That’s not why.” He pauses, then, “Why do I put up with you?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Jaskier says, turning his head to press a kiss against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt flushes at the touch and looks around, but no one is staring at them like anything out of the ordinary happened. Geralt relaxes back against him.

He’s almost dozing off by the time Yen gets to his gift, and he only realizes it by Jaskier digging a bony elbow into his stomach. He pinches Jaskier in retribution.

Yen opens the gift carefully, making the appropriate polite noises as she does so.

“Isn’t it soft?” Jaskier asks as she strokes her fingers over the blanket. “Geralt chose some great yarn.”

Geralt whips his neck around to look at Jaskier so quickly he thinks he heard something pop.

“What?”

“The yarn! It’s so nice and such a lovely color, don’t you think? Geralt did a wonderful job.”

“Geralt, you made this?” Yennefer asks incredulously, and great, her voice cracks.

Geralt sighs and tries to accept his fate of all the merciless jokes that are going to be made in his defense. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“When the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Lambert asks.

Geralt shrugs defensively. “I’ve been knitting for years.”

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the blue cap perched on top of Jaskier’s head, and teasing grins spread over their faces.

Geralt groans. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

As Jaskier takes his hand in his and squeezes, he thinks maybe that’s okay.

#fluff #au #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #contemplative writing

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btsficsforthehumble · 4 years ago

Text

adj.: 1. Modern, unfamiliar, or different

2. Not based on or conforming to what is generally done or believed

pairing: reader x ot7

genre: college au; angst, fluff, smut, poly, ot7

Summary: You begin your first year at a prestigious university, set out on achieving your academic goals when a series of men step into your life that change the way you view the definition of love.

Part Six

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.3k

The next day, you purposely run a little later than you normally would. You don’t know if you could endure another session of Taehyung being an actual menace at 9 o’clock in the morning. So, you take extra time to add some light makeup and pick out a pink checkered dress with a cream cardigan, and step out feeling cute, caffeinated, thanks to your morning coffee, and ready to tackle Calculus.

As you walk into the mostly full classroom, you naturally head to the spot you’ve stayed the last couple classes. This time however, you keep an eye out for Seokjin. Spotting him on the far side of the room, you send him a quick smile. Once he sees, he’s quick to send you one back with a nod.

He seems like a bit of a loner, you notice, with all of the other students engaged in hushed conversations around him, but with him seemingly content to lean on his head on his hand and stare off until class starts. He is strikingly handsome in a classical way that’s impossible to deny, which you suppose is intimidating. Coupled with him also being an older student in the class, it seems he creates a bubble around him that he himself is oblivious to.

You make eye contact with Hoseok as you head to your seat, to which he gives you a large toothy smile and a cute wave. You couldn’t hold the smile off of your own face if you tried, so you gave him a beaming grin with your own wave to accompany it.

Two seats behind Hoseok was the before-mentioned menace. His smile towards you was significantly less innocent. He was leaning back in his chair, legs stretched out far enough to be underneath your own seat, with his arms crossed. He seemed to be saying, “I’m too cool to be here.” After doing a judgmental scan of his posture, you raise an eyebrow and take your seat, and set your back firmly to him in hopes he’d get the message you didn’t want to be messed with today.

By some stroke of luck, your professor walks in almost immediately after your butt hits the seat. Pulling out your notebook, you steel yourself for the next hour of lecture in which you were refusing to let yourself get distracted. Even if Hoseok offered to study with you, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him by being clueless and then being a complete dead weight.

----

After another grueling class, you have to admit your fears about being dead weight feel closer to reality than what you’d want. In hindsight, you were really glad you took Hoseok’s offer to study. Well, if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way you’d turn that down even if you were a complete master at calculus. Hoseok is so bright and charming, and you feel drawn to him in the way flowers face the sun. He had such a happy and kind energy, that you have no doubt makes people from all walks of life love him.

Regardless of the boy’s personality, you are thankful for the fact that you had someone willing to help you with your least favorite subject. You need it.

You stand, and Hoseok soon follows. He turns to both you and Taehyung, “Are you both still good to study tonight? I know I need a review!” He lets out a laugh.

Taehyung answers before you get the chance. “Yeah, me too. Cafe Persona, right?”

You were a little surprised at his serious attitude. You hadn’t seen him act like he cared about anything, including his calculus grade, in the short time you’ve known him.

“Yep! Does that work? Y/n, are you still free tonight?” Hoseok answers, now looking at you expectantly.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, that works!”

“Great! Does seven sound okay?” Hoseok looks between you and Taehyung, causing you to glance at the other boy too. Taehyung was leaning with his hip to the edge of the chair, and ankles crossed with a straight look on his face. He balances relaxed and focused, and you can’t help but be intrigued by his attitude shift. He almost seemed like a different person from yesterday.

“Yep!”

“That works.”

You and Taehyung answer at the same time, causing Hoseok to grin at both of you. “Great! See you guys then!” Hoseok waves at you both before making his way out of the classroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

You give him an apprehensive look, waiting for him to say something flirty. Seeing the look, he gives you an understanding smile, seemingly not in the mood to mess with you. Slightly relieved, but honestly a little worried for him, you grab your back and go to leave. You pause, and look over your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” You surprise yourself as you speak. He has managed to worm himself into your heart at least slightly, it appears.

He looks up from his bent over position and gives you a small look of surprise, apparently just as bewildered by your words as you. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well after working on a project last night,” he explains.

You tilt your head to the side, now curious. You’ve never really thought about his life --- his major, year, anything. “What is the project for?” you ask.

“A sculpture class. It fulfills a requirement for art history majors.”

You aren’t going to lie, him being artistic and into history made you more attracted to him. That major fit him well, from what you have seen. He dresses in baggy clothes, usually in neutral palettes, and instead of him looking messy, he makes everything he wears look sophisticated in a way that not many people are able to do.

You say with complete honesty, “That’s actually really cool. It makes sense for you.”

Now standing, he gives you a genuine smile. “Thanks, I really enjoy it. What about you, then?”

You divert your eyes, not wanting to admit you hadn’t chosen yet. “I actually am undecided…” you admit.

“Ah, well, life is long. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.” His eyes hold yours as you speak, shining with sincerity.

You couldn’t help the blood rushing to your cheeks. You could tell that he really meant what he had said, not just saying it to be polite.

“Thank you, Taehyung… I hope you're right.” You glance down to your phone, breaking eye contact. It was a bit too intense for you. When you saw the time, you nearly jumped. You were close to being late for your next class.

“I’m running late, I’ll see you later!” you call over your shoulder, already hustling to leave the room. You hear him call out a bye as you leave, and feel his eyes following you until you get out of sight. He definitely left you with more complicated feelings towards him than what you had anticipated. But, that’s to think about another time --- you need to haul ass to get to Intro to Comp.

You make your way across campus surprisingly fast, dodging dozens of students who seemed to be less rushed than you. Nearly winded, you arrive just as the clock reaches the hour and the professor seems ready to begin. Embarrassed at the eyes on you as you walk in, you make your way to Jimin who you see sitting near the back as fast as you can without looking strange. You knew your face was red from the exertion and the embarrassment.

He laughed at your predicament as soon as you got close, and cleared the stuff of the seat he was saving for you.

“Shut up!” you whisper yell at him, but a smile breaks out on your face at his wide smile that showcased a just slightly crooked tooth. His eyes disappeared into crescent shapes at the force of his full cheeks lifting.

Once he calms down, and the lecture begins in relative peace, he leans over to you to speak without being overheard. “The LA was staring at you when you walked in, you know? His eyes never left you until you sat down.” He gives a conspiratorial grin.

“What? No way.” You give him an incredulous look. The LA seemed broadly disinterested --- disinterested in the class, disinterested in people, disinterested in you.

“I only noticed because I was watching him before you walked in,” Jimin admits with a giggle.

“He probably was just looking at me since I came in late, that’s all,” you justified.

Jimin raises a brow at you. “I guess we’ll see then, won’t we.” His eyes travel down the length of your torso and back up again, before giving you a smirk.

“Oh God. Whatever you are thinking, please don’t,” you whine.

He just widens his grin in response. Between Taehyung and Jimin, you felt that you’ve reached your mischief quota for the year already. You let your eyes slide shut and groan quietly.

----

“Come on y/n, don’t worry. I just have to ask him a question!” Jimin giggles, failing to hide his evil intentions. He wants to drag you up to have a quick chat with your broody LA, currently standing idle at the front of the room, watching the students filter out of the lecture hall.

“Sunbae if you do something embarrassing you owe me a drink,” you groan out. “Please, please be normal.”

“Don’t worry,” he draws out with a smile. A villainous smile, may you add. And with that, he drags you down the rows of chairs to the front of the room, stopping just short of Yoongi.

You hover slightly behind Jimin’s shoulder, wanting to leave but not wanting to abandon your friend. Yoongi looks back and forth between you and Jimin, and settles back on you, making you bristle slightly. It didn’t help that he had a delicate frown marring his features.

Jimin’s cheery voice quickly penetrates the awkward silence. “Hi, Yoongi right? My name’s Jimin! I was wondering if for the first project, we had to have a bridge structure? Or if we could use a double chorus maybe? Doctor Choi didn’t specify in class today.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “For the first project, use the traditional structure. Choi will grade you harsher if he thinks you’re a try-hard,” he gruffly answers.

“Hm, I see. I can be a bit overzealous at times, when I’m interested in something,” Jimin replies, this time in a much lower pitch. You watch his eyes roam Yoongi’s figure as he speaks, not bothering to disguise his interest.

“Can’t we all.” Yoongi’s voice is somehow even gruffer than before. And this time, he is staring straight at you as he replies.

Jimin notices, and gives a knowing smirk your direction. “Thanks Yoongi, see you next class!” Jimin sing-songs with a smile. He grabs your wrist, leading you out of the auditorium.

It’s a good thing he does, because your brain was short-circuiting after that interaction. You feel like a deer in the headlights, and nearly stumble as you try to keep pace with Jimin.

As soon as you walk out of the building, Jimin lets out a cackle, bending over from it’s force. “I told you! He definitely thinks you're hot, I mean, did you see the way he was looking at you? He looked like he wanted to eat you right there and then!” He lets out another loud laugh at his words.

You could feel your cheeks flaming. “Ugh, what the hell was that! Why’d you even say that to him! YOU were the one trying to eat HIM!” you yell slightly, waving your arms like a crazy person.

His laughter only gets louder at your response. “I wanted to test a theory! While I wish I was wrong and he wanted a piece of me, he only had eyes for you, darling.” His laughter died down slightly. “You look really pretty today, I don’t blame him,” he adds. His gaze turns slightly wistful, but it only lasts a second before he skips over to you and links your arms.

“That’s no reason to do all of that! You’re so embarrassing, sunbae!” You look up at him, giving him your best pout.

He pulls you closer, forcing your face to rest against his shoulder slightly. “Ah, the hot LA thinks you're cute! This is a win, my dear.” He gives a smirk down at you.

“I don’t know if that’s it. He seems kind of mean… maybe he’s just socially awkward or something,” you guess.

Jimin tilts his head, and says, “Maybe. Either way I know I had fun, your blush is too cute.” He gives you another mischievous grin.

You roll your eyes, and reach in your bag to check your phone. You needed to get some work done before your meeting with Hoseok and Taehyung.

Seeing the time, you quickly unlink your arms from Jimin’s and go to say goodbye. You want to have enough time to run though some practice problems before you go later, and you knew it was going to take you a while. It seems the time was causing you to have to cut all your conversations short today, unfortunately.

“Bye sunbae, I have to go. Oh, and you owe me a drink!” you declare.

He gives you a pout of his own at your leaving, but is quick to transform into a wide grin at your reminder.

“This weekend!” he calls as you start backing up. You roll your eyes in response, and turn around to walk in the direction of your apartment. It was time to grind out some work, and not think of the weird interactions with boys that had happened today.

#BTS #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly ot7 #houseofddaeng

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queen-scribbles · 3 years ago

Text

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat. “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history. “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here. “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection... charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be.

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen.

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

#queens fic #shoh #shepherds summer 2021 #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #ryn/red #i really got find them a ship tag #if you think their canon pining is good HOO BOY JUST WAIT #flamingelmo.gif #tlbt

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zordonmlw7 · 3 years ago

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Plaguetober Day 1 - Magic✨

“I’m never going to pass.”

Aerithea was staring blankly into her conjuration textbook. The mechanical clocks that all the wizards used over digital because it was ~aesthetic~ said it was 11:15 PM. Less than 10 hours until the exam. And she still didn’t know any of the material.

She conjured herself some scotch.

She may not be able to understand the metaphysical properties that allowed her to rewrite the laws of thermodynamics and convert mana into physical matter but she definitely DID know how to drink her problems away. And drink she did! In one go.

She stepped out of her dorm room to find the halls strangely empty. Midterms, she supposed. Stepping out of the building, Aerithea was greeted by the full moon. Great, that means the werefolk are transforming. The werefolk fraternities tended to throw wild parties during full moons that made parking anywhere in a 2 mile radius impossible. Today, however, the streets seemed eerily empty. She supposed even frat guys worry about midterms.

She sat on the steps and stared up at the vast and starry night sky. Aerithea had always been a natural conjurer. Her parents said the first spell she ever cast was one that conjured snow because she had wanted to build a snowman during the summer. All she wound up with was a puddle and wet clothes that her parents had to change her out of, but still. Her junior year of high school, she even made the school conjuration team and helped them reach second at the State competition, the highest her school had ever placed.

So when it came time to apply for colleges, it made sense to apply as a conjuration major. She just never expected it to be so boring. It was magic, for the gods’ sakes! She can’t even remember the last time she actually conjured something for class. It was all theory. How mana gets converted into matter and energy. WHATEVER! She just wanted to shoot fireballs and magically make stuff so she didn’t have to buy it herself. Why did she need to learn about the metaphysical properties of the universe?

A shiver suddenly ran up Aerithea’s spine. She searched her pockets for magic dispeling pepper spray but realized she left it in her room. A voice rang in her head. “I sense you are troubled. Perhaps you are in need of… assistance?”

Aerithea quickly caught on to what was happening. “Okay, just show yourself,” she said.

A misty figure appeared before her. Shrouded in black, and too ephemeral to have a precise form, the only details she could make out were glowing yellow eyes and a black-lipped grin revealing pearly white fangs. “Greetings,” the figure said.

“You want to make a pact with me, don’t you?” Aerithea asked while rolling her eyes.

The figure did not respond and just awkwardly maintained its attempt at a menacing face.

“...Well, yes,” it finally said. “I can grant you the power you need to pass your conjuration test,” it stated with a bit more confidence.

“Yeah, I…” As Aerithea spoke, she conjured an ice sculpture of a cherub with the figure’s same expression. “...got the conjuration part down.”

The figure continued to grin awkwardly. “...Oh.”

“What kind of divination did you even use to find me?” Aerithea asked.

“Well, I figured there would be plenty of students who would need help with their midterms so I used a tracking spell that was attuned to stress levels and thoughts of the word ‘test’. And then when I found you, I just did a surface level mind scan to see what words you had associated with ‘test’ and I found ‘conjuration’ so I figured…” the figure said.

“That sounds like something we had to do for Professor Dowty’s introductory divination course.” Aerithea said.

“That’s who I’m taking!” the figure responded.

“Yeah! She’s nice. Watch out for her midterms though, they sneak up on you.” Aerithea said.

“Wait what?” The figure’s face went from a bad attempt at menacing to concerned. “But she said we covered everything that would be on the test during her review session.”

“Yeah, she always says that, but then the actual exam has a bunch of questions from the textbook that she never brings up during lecture.”

“What??? Why would she do that?”

Aerithea gave an apathetic shrug. “I remember her saying something about how it's explained in the syllabus that you’re ‘supposed’ to use divination to learn the questions ahead of time and study for them accordingly.”

“What? She can’t do that! Why would she put something in the syllabus and not mention it during class. Especially with something like that! We haven’t even learned future telling yet!”

“You’re gonna have to ask her yourself. The one time I went to her office hours she pretty much spent the whole time ranting about how divination is about “knowing what you don’t know” or something. All it did was make me glad I’m not a divination major, heh.”

“...Well shoot, I have her midterm tomorrow.”

“Well at least I won’t be the only one failing a midterm tomorrow!”

“Wait, why are you even stressed if you can make that?” The figure vaguely pointed to the ice sculpture that was already beginning to have its features melt away.

“Because… okay, could you stop being all… misty? It’s weird talking to someone like that.”

“Oh… right.” The mist dissipated, revealing the figure Aerithea had been talking to this entire time was a dark skinned fiend with black horns and a tail with an arrowhead shaped end.

Aerithea responded, “Thanks. Okay, anyways, it’s not that I can’t conjure, its that its a conjuration theory class so its all explaining how conjuration works. The lectures are pointless to go to since the professor is basically just reading out of the textbook and drawing the diagrams straight from the textbook on the chalkboard. Then I don’t understand what the textbook is even saying half the time. And when I ask the professor about it, he just repeats the same thing over and over again without actually explaining any of it. It’s like we’re just supposed to memorize the book and write our answers word-for-word to get any credit for it. I hate it.”

“Yeah… that really sounds like it sucks. Makes me glad I’m majoring in patronage! We barely have to do any theory. We do have to take a bunch of practical classes, but they’re kinda fun sometimes, you know?”

“Yes!!! If I had known that majoring in conjuring would mean reading about conjuring all the time instead of actually doing it, I’d have majored in something else. It’s so frustrating.”

“Yeah, it sure sounds like it.”

The two just stood there, milling over their words. It became uncomfortably silent. Their conversation was clearly over, and the fiend was still there just awkwardly staring at the ground.

“... Anyways…” Aerithea finally broke the silence. “I should probably go back to studying for the test so I can hopefully at least still do well enough to pass the class. Good luck with your midterm too!”

“Thanks!” the fiend responded.

Though she had expected the fiend to finally leave, it kept standing there, making Aerithea uncomfortable. Deciding that ultimately, her studying was more important than awkwardly letting the fiend know where she lived, Aerithea broke and started heading back inside.

“Okay bye!” Aerithea said as she waved.

“Bye!” The fiend turned around and took a few steps before standing still again. Aerithea had had enough and just walked in.

Aerithea returned to her dorm to see her roommate, Lucille, had already gone to sleep. Lucky bastard. Figuring she shouldn’t ruin her sleep, especially since Lucille was a dreamwalker and would lecture Aerithea about it once she tried to sleep if she did, Aerithea picked up her books and went to study in the dorm common area.

It was going to be a long night.

#plaguetober #plaguetober2021 #I know its passed midnight don't @ me #shut up zordon

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trashfor-imagines · 5 years ago

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How I Met Your Mother Father: Haikyū Edition! | 3

Ft. Daichi / Sugawara / Asahi / K. Ukai

Summary: How you met your husband-o! This is also the last part. Let me know if you’d like to see any dating / wedding / married life scenarios with any of the boys I featured in this HIMYMF series. I’m also not afraid to write something a lil spicy spicy dirty for these boys either, you just have to reply / message me what you want. ;) Warnings: None. Sorry for any typos. I’ll be going back and editing. :)

Part 1: Ft. Kuroo / Bokuto / Akaashi / Yaku Part 2: Ft. Oikawa / Iwaizumi / Ushijima / Tendo / Semi

Daichi Sawamura

A shove from behind sent you flying forward onto the ground, rolling your ankle on the way down. A cry escaped your lips from the pain and tears pricked at your eyes as you felt your knee get skimmed from the sidewalk.

A series of shouts became louder and were fast approaching. Glancing up, you watched as the person who had knocked you over scramble to his feet.

You tried to move out of the way quickly as a police officer tackled them back down. Another officer slowed to a jog, kneeling beside you while a third went to help the first officer make the arrest for petty theft from what you could tell.

“I’m Officer Daichi. Are you alright?” he asked, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder. He had sweet brown eyes and a kind smile on his face. Looking him over, you felt your mouth go a bit dry.

Hot cop.

You were today years old when you realized that men in uniform could do it for you.

“I... my ankle hurts,” you managed to say.

His eyes widened and he looked at your feet. He asked for permission before checking out your ankle. The hiss you made when he barely touched you told him it was most likely a sprain.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Since you were injured, I’d like to get a statement for some paperwork. Is that ok?”

You nodded, allowing him to help you up. He was extremely thoughtful and careful with you as he took you to the hospital, holding your hand and making sure you didn’t place too much weight on your injury.

He stayed with you, even after he was done with his paperwork, and the two of you conversed.

Conversation with him was so easy and felt natural. He was quite enigmatic and mature, but every once in a while he’d let his silliness slip, telling jokes to make you laugh.

You talked about everything from your childhoods, your likes and dislikes, beliefs and motivations, work, and honestly no topic felt out of bounds.

When he offered to walk you home, you knew he was doing more than just his civic duty, but you couldn’t say anything other than yes.

You wanted more time with him.

“Miss (Y/N),” he spoke, taking his uniform hat off and holding it in his hands. “I don’t want to abuse my position, but could I freely call you and take you to dinner some time?”

And that was how you and Daichi Sawamura met, confidently marrying a year and a half later.

Sugawara Koshi

It was your first day of school.

Teaching that is.

You moved to Miyagi for an open teaching position for the First Grade.

Last year you were a teaching assistant, however the school didn’t have a classroom for you or a position teaching First Graders so you had to look elsewhere for work.

Invigorated by the excitement of your future here, you were all in and threw yourself into your lesson plans completing them within the first month before school began.

When you saw your classroom, you spent a two days decorating the ceiling of your classroom to reflect the solar system, hanging homemade planets and sticking glow-in-the-dark stars carefully so if you looked closely you could see the constellations.

You had 30 students, so you purchased picture frames, planning for the students to paint or draw something so you could hang them up on the blank wall. You had other art projects for the kids so they could decorate the classroom throughout the year, like making suncatchers and growing their own plant.

On the chalkboard, you wrote out the aisatsu (morning greeting) you wanted your kids to learn, as well as their homework for the first day: “Good morning. If we try, we can do it. Let’s do our best today.”

With your classroom organized how you liked and prepped for tomorrow, you headed to the teacher’s room to review your lesson plans.

The teacher’s desks were grouped in fours and personalized in their own ways. On your desk were a couple of succulents, textbooks for your classes, a cute twin bell clock, an architect desk lamp, and a framed photo of you and your parents the day you graduated from university. Your office supplies were neatly locked away in your desk drawers.

“Hello, you must be (Y/N) Sensei. Welcome,” sounded a kind voice across from you. “I’m Sugawara.”

Looking up, you watched as a man with light grey hair, hazel-brown eyes with a beauty mark under his left eye, and a gentle smile, set his things down on the desk in front of you. Quickly you stood, bowing politely before extending your hand. “It’s so nice to met you, Sugawara Sensei.”

“Just Sugawara will be fine,” he laughed, shaking your hand.

You smiled sweetly. “(Y/N) is fine for me as well.”

“First Grade as well then?” He motioned to the cluster of four desks you were a part of. “We get grouped together by year.”

You nodded, sitting down when he also made a move to sit. “That’s right. I’m really excited. I can’t wait to meet the other teachers.”

“Well between us,” he pointed at the desk beside you, “Yamasaki’s much older than us and usually sleeps at his desk.” He then pointed at the desk beside him. “And Nakamura is also older than us and I’ve noticed she doesn’t get along with other women.”

Your lips formed an O, surprised at this insider information. “Thank you for the warning.”

“We’ve got to look out for each other,” he replied, tidying a few things before picking up his briefcase. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

You could hardly sleep that night, excitement refusing to let your mind rest. When morning came, you were a bit early to school, a coffee and variety of pastries in hand. Dropping your things off at your desk, you left a note on the pastry box, letting Sugawara, Yamasaki, and Nakamura know they should help themselves, before dropping a few things off at your classroom desk and heading to the school gates to line up with the rest of the teachers.

“(Y/N)! Over here.” Looking around, you spotted Sugawara waving at you, that same gentle smile on his face.

“Good morning, Sugawara.”

“Good morning. I hope you have a great first day.”

“Thank you! You as well.”

You enjoyed greeting the students as the filed in through the school gates. They were so cute with their bright yellow bucket hats and wide eyes. It was almost too easy to tell who were first graders.

“Cute, right?”

You glanced at Sugawara and matched his happy smile. “Absolutely!”

When the gates closed, Sugawara asked to walk you to your classroom. It turned out his class was right next to yours.

You went through the morning routine with your class before helping them get settled in and assigning cubby holes and desks.

“Okay students, let’s get along, ok?”

“Okay (Y/N) Sensei!” You almost swooned at how sweet they were.

“The best way to get along is to get to know each other right?”

“Right, (Y/N) Sensei!”

“Today we’re going to go outside and learn how to make friends. Then at the end of the day, you’ll vote on your favorite person to be the class representative. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, (Y/N) Sensei!”

Lining your students up, they quietly held hands and walked in a straight line as you directed them to the grassy school yard that your classroom over looked, a volleyball in hand.

Having them form a big circle with you, class began with introductions around the circle consisting of their names, age, what was a dream they had for their future, what their favorite food was, and what was their favorite hobby.

Sitting in the grass, you started a game where you rolled the volleyball to a student and you would ask them a question about themselves, then they’d roll the ball to someone else and ask them a question. This game went on for a few hours and they were having so much fun, laughing and getting along.

Glancing up at the school building, you thought about how lucky you were to have such a sweet and well behaved class. A figure in a window caught your eye. It was Sugawara. He had opened the window and was leaning against the sill, grinning down at you.

He made a gesture down to you and your class, as if asking “What are you doing?” You bit your bottom lip as you smiled, throwing your hands up and shrugging back at him. Shaking his head, he ducked back inside his classroom, the smile never leaving his face.

Soon, the class went back inside and had lunch. Nap time was after that. Finally at the end of the day, you had them draw pictures you could frame and hang on the wall, and held a class election.

When school was over, you reminded them to do their history book reading for tomorrow and said goodbye to each student individually as they left the classroom, allowing them to hug your legs and say goodbye while you gave them a gentle pat on the head and told each one they did great today.

Leaning against the door frame, you sighed softly, smiling as the last of them disappeared.

“They’re great aren’t they?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled as Sugawara approached you, leaning on the door frame opposite you, the toes of your shoes touching. “They really are.”

It was the end of your first week and the day ended the same, with each student hugging you goodbye and you telling them they did great. And just like every day this week, Sugawara leaned on your classroom’s door frame and chatted with you.

“You really have a special way with them.”

“Yeah?” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s true. Even the other first grade students have started whispering about you.”

“W-What? Really?"

He began to list off the whispers he’s heard. “(Y/N) Sensei’s so kind. (Y/N) Sensei’s so fun. (Y/N) Sensei’s cool. (Y/N) Sensei makes me feel good. (Y/N) Sensei’s the best.” He paused, glancing up and meeting your eyes, “(Y/N) Sensei’s beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a faint blush staining your cheeks. “Oh.”

“I’m inclined to agree with our students,” his voice dropping low so no one could overhear.

And that’s how you met Sugawara and began dating, marrying two years later.

Asahi Azumane

“Who’s that guy?” you asked your friend who was the project manager running this photoshoot. You adjusted the settings on your camera, eyes dancing between the numbers you were programming and the man in question.

He was insanely tall and physical build was quite intimidating. You wondered if he was a delinquent in school as you snapped a series of test photos, using him as your subject.

“Asahi Azumane. He’s the apparel designer. He created the line you’re shooting today,” she responded, barely glancing up from her phone. “And don’t even think about it.”

“What? Are you worried about me? Is he a bad boy?” you asked, wiggling your brows at her in jest.

She paused and looked you in the eye seriously, before bursting into a loud fit of laughter and walking away. “Let’s get this started already!”

An irritated expression settled onto your features before you cast Asahi another glance, snapping a few more candid photographs of him.

The shoot was long. Drama with the models. You weren’t concerned though. Your rate was hourly and they were paying you big yen for this spread. No, you were more concerned with the tall babe hanging out at the snack table.

Adjusting your camera strap like you were wearing a crossbody purse, you moseyed over to the refreshments, picking up an assortment of things before standing next to the man casually.

“So you designed this line?” you asked. You almost dropped your plate when he jumped in surprise.

“Aha... Sorry, just, you’re asking me?” He smiled awkwardly, clearly embarrassed of his reaction.

You looked at him incredulously, before laughing, gently bumping your hip against the spot just below his own. Good grief he was so much taller than you. He was absolutely your type.

“Yeah. I don’t usually get to talk to the designers when I do these types of shoots. It’s usually an assistant, project manager, or a marketing rep, so this is a really cool moment for me.”

He smiled with more confidence, relaxing visibly.

“So... Tell me about what your vision for this whole line is.”

Just as he became fully confident and the two of you had finally gotten the conversation flowing freely, it had been thirty minutes and it was time to wrap up. You kept in mind your conversation with Asahi and used your knowledge and skillset to capture what it was he envisioned.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to speak to him again.

You didn’t reach out to your friend to bother her about Asahi; you just weren’t that type of girl. Instead you resigned yourself to sighing thoughtfully as you daydreamed about him every once in a while, staring at the photos you’d taken of him in secret.

It was a week after the shoot when your friend called you to meet at her office to pick up your check. You were wondering if you should dress to embarrass her or not when you realized that you might run into Asahi in the same building. Fashionable it was; you even added heels.

You walked confidently into your friend’s office building, slipping into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

Glancing up as the elevator sounded, you sighed - someone was just getting on. You wore a bored expression as the doors opened, but the person standing there immediately changed your attitude.

He looked at you with realization and smiled as he stepped in. “Miss Photographer,” he spoke, his voice friendly and kind.

“Mr. Designer,” you greeted cheekily.

“It’s good to see you again.” He pressed for the floor above your destination. “I saw the photos you submitted. I really loved them. The pictures were exactly what I was hoping for. And I heard marketing is really impressed with your work. I might have overheard them tell the project manager she should hire you again.”

“I think you should give yourself more credit,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the elevator wall. “I wouldn’t have changed my approach if I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Asahi blushed and the two of you started to banter, but you were an observant person and you almost wondered if this man realized he was flirting back with you.

He gravitated closer to you, also leaning against the wall beside you. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he shifted closer and closer before his arm finally touched your own.

Bingo.

The elevator bell pinged your stop and you quickly pulled a business card from your purse and slipped it into his front pants pocket bravely.

“Call me and ask me out, okay? Or I’ll come down here looking for you,” you teased, walking backwards out of the elevator.

“W-What?” he floundered, blushing as he watched you with wide eyes.

You sent him a wink, “Don’t let me wait too long, okay?”

The doors closed and you were absolutely pleased with yourself.

And that’s how you met Asahi Azumane, going on a date two days later and marrying three years after, but this time, you didn’t have to ask.

Ukai Keishin

“Excuse me, do you have-”

“We’re out,” was the dull and bored cut off reply from the employee, his feet propped up on the counter and his face hidden by the newspaper he was reading.

Are you kidding me? Aha!

You snatched the bandaids and alcohol wipes off the shelf, walking up and setting the items on the counter. Your voice was monotone as you spoke, “Found it. Thanks for your help.”

He lowered his newspaper to peek at you before bursting out in large gestures, scrambling to his feet. “Is, uh, is this it for you?” It was almost cute how he was trying to be cool.

“A pack of Cherry cigarettes,” you replied, pulling out your coin purse.

“You know... it’s a bad habit,” he said, grabbing a pack and placing it on the counter.

“Says the man who reeks of smoke.”

“Touché,” he replied, staring at the counter and realizing he definitely messed up his shot.

With a sigh, you brushed your hair behind your ear, “They’re not for me.”

“Oh...” He tried to peek at you inconspicuously. “Boyfriend?”

“If you must know, they’re for my father.”

“Oh!” he visibly perked up at that. You had to restrain yourself from laughing at him.

“So what’s my total?” you asked when he hadn’t said anything for a while.

“Right. It’s 950¥.”

“Thank you,” you replied, pulling out some coins and bills.

“Keishin! Keishin, is that a young woman I hear?” a voice from the back room called out. There was some shuffling of footsteps and the man behind the counter visibly stiffened. “Keishin! Is she single?”

“Mom! Please!” he yelled back.

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh, but you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile.

“Keishin! Don’t yell!” An older woman poked her head out, her eyes landing on you, “She’s beautiful!” She quickly beelined to you around the counter, bowing deeply to you.

“Oh... thank... you,” you froze, unsure of what was happening. You glanced at the man behind the counter - Keishin, you assumed - who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Young miss, my son looks rough, but he’s really a good man. He’s not the smartest, but he’s very strong and has a good heart. He’ll treat his future wife very good. Please consider him.” She stayed bowed and it was getting extremely uncomfortable.

He leaned over the counter and whispered, “She won’t get up unless you give her an answer. Sorry about this.”

You observed the way he looked at his mother and it struck a heartstring. He didn’t look mad or annoyed, or anything of the sort. You could just see that he loved his mother very much.

Turning back to older woman before you, you sighed softly, resigned, and bowed to her in return. “Ma’am, I will consider him.”

The two of them looked up at you in shock.

“WAIT YOU WILL?!”

And that’s how you met Ukai Keishin, marrying exactly one year later.

#daichi sawamura #daichi x reader #sugawara koshi #sugawara x reader #asahi azumane #asahi x reader #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu #volleyboys #how i met your father #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #karasuno

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

Text

Lopez’s 8 Ch.10 | Brittana

And that's a wrap! It's been fun & I've really appreciated all the engagement this story has received, really brought me back to the good ole Brittana days. THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone that has commented, reviewed, kudos'd(?), sent asks, PM'd, DM'd, MADE A WHOLE AS TRAILER and FIC ART etc... It really has been a pleasure writing for you all.

Maybe I'll see you again in the near future when I finally publish my Quarterback!Britt and Cheerios!San verse? Look out for a little something called Lost in the Lights *smirky smirk, wink wink*

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Sugar let’s out a dramatic sigh as she stares longingly out of the front window. She’s surrounded by the others – minus Rachel, Santana and Brittany – and they’ve been doing their best to keep themselves busy.

Quinn considers it a nice break before she has to return to her boring life in the ‘burbs and has been catching up on some reading. So lame, Sugar thinks.

Emma’s busy scribbling new designs inspired by the heist in her sketchbook like non-stop and Sugar’s sure that Santana would confiscate it if she knew what the so-called designer was coming up with. Sugar’s not going to tell though, she’s no snitch bitch.

Mercedes is up to something shady for sure. Sugar thinks she has an online gambling addiction, but like…do you, boo. She considers asking if Mercedes would hook her up with an account too, because she thinks she’d probably be good at scamming people online. Afterall, she’s an ace doing it in real life! Maybe that’s her next venture?

Tina’s trying her hand at Tinder and failing miserably. Sugar’s tried to help, but Tina’s got such questionable taste in men that she loses interest.

So now, Sugar just stares longingly out of the window waiting for the day Santana finally gives them the okay that it’s safe to come out of hiding. She lets out another dramatic sigh and this time Quinn gives her a pointed look from over the top of her book. The bossy blonde really has that mom-glare thing down pact, but Sugar’s seen worse.

“I’m so bored,” Sugar grumbles and knocks her head against the window to rest there.

“It’s been two days,” Quinn points out as she turns the page.

“That’s so long,” Sugar pouts, “I hate it.”

“Me too,” Tina pipes in from the couch, “I didn’t know we’d be stuck in this musty old loft after everything.”

“Mercedes?” Sugar calls out as she turns away from the window, “Can you put on Run Joey?”

Mercedes pokes her head out from behind her laptop where she sits at the poker table and her brow is raised high, “Hell no.”

Sugar frowns, “But it’s so good.”

“It really isn’t,” Mercedes replies.

“Speaking of Run Joey, I’ve been thinking…” Tina wonders aloud, “How come Rachel gets to leave while the rest of us are stuck on house arrest?”

“Because she can’t draw attention to us by skipping out on her previous engagements,” Quinn responds, “She has to continue with her life as normal.”

“What about Santana and Brittany then?” Sugar questions.

Quinn rolls her eyes and shuts the book in her hands in favor of sitting up from where she was lounging near Tina. She can feel the other’s eyes on her, she knows they’re also curious as to why the rules don’t apply to Santana and Brittany too.

“They’re doing a lot more than you know,” Quinn replies and she makes a point to glance at everyone, “This job didn’t just end at the Gala like it did for all of you. There’s still working being done in order for us all to get paid and stay out of jail. They’ve both got a lot on their plates so be grateful all you have to do now is lay low.”

That seems to shut Sugar up for the moment.

Quinn’s quite pleased with herself for that so she rests back and reaches for her wine glass before opening up her book again.

“Besides,” She says in a calmer voice, “Being in here isn’t so bad, it’s kind of peaceful.”

Tina eyes her as she takes a sip, “You just day drink and read all day.”

“And it’s amazing when you have a kid at home and a husband who sometimes acts like a kid too,” Quinn replies before she’s lost in her book again.

“I like it too,” Emma speaks up from her work station. She smiles with a little shrug, “I’ve been so inspired by all of this and all of you. I’ve been using this time to sketch out designs. I’m thinking about using my share to open up my own place.”

Everyone nods and starts to wonder what they’ll do with their share after all of this too.

A moment later, Brittany’s pulling open the heavy loft door with Santana close behind her. They’re holding hands – which is new – and talking excitedly about something until they realize that everyone but Quinn is staring at them.

Santana frowns, “What? You all look like we just walked in on you talking shit about us.”

No one speaks. Quinn she keeps her eyes on the page she’s reading but there’s a hint of a smirk there that Santana notices. The brunette narrows her eyes at the others.

“Wait, were you?” She questions and there’s a slight edge in her voice.

“No,” Tina says a little too eagerly, “We were just talking about how much we appreciate having this little break while you two are out there doing…whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Santana doesn’t know if she believes her or not, but she doesn’t really care at the moment. She’s still high on how great of a day she’s had with Brittany. She was intending to attend these auctions alone just so she can observe their hired actresses at work, but Brittany offered to keep her company and Santana figured who is she to deny her girlfriend of that? In fact, it kind of worked out in her favor because if Brittany hadn’t come then she would’ve had to eat lunch alone and there would’ve never been a quickie in the car between auctions.

Even though they were technically working, it was nice to be out and about together as an actual couple. This whole hand-holding thing is also pretty awesome too!

“Well good,” Santana responds with a smile, “As a matter of fact, I have some news that you might like.”

The others perk up and gather around Santana while Brittany takes a seat next to Quinn.

“Our merry band of lovely old ladies that we’ve hired are making great progress with selling off the pieces of the Toussaint,” Santana explains, “Sales should be finalized tonight so once everything’s deposited in Dani’s account then we’ll be golden.”

“Wait. Dani’s account?” Tina asks.

“What are we getting paid with then?” Emma asks too. The others look around at each other confused and begin to talk amongst themselves.

Santana catches Brittany’s proud little grin and matches it before turning back to the others, “You’ll get your money, don’t you worry about that. Just have a little patience.”

It’s late in the morning the next day when Brittany gently wakes Santana with kisses all over her face. Santana blinks away the sleepiness with a content smile while Brittany hovers over her whispering, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Santana mumbles back. This little cocoon of warmth that’s a combination of being wrapped up in the comforter and Brittany’s arms is the perfect place to spend all day, but she knows she can’t. At least, not today.

“What time’s your meeting?” Brittany asks as she dances her fingers along Santana’s hip.

“Two,” Santana replies with a sigh. When she glances over at the clock on her nightstand, she groans at the time there, “I should be getting ready.”

“Yeah you should,” Brittany says but she only holds her closer.

Santana nods, “A few more minutes.”

“Okay.”

So Santana cuddles further against Brittany for a few more minutes. Leaving this bed is the last thing she wants to do, but there’s a lot riding on this meeting and she knows it needs to be done. She knows there’s not much to worry about, she knows what she’s doing, but she’s still nervous about it.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Brittany asks like she’s inside Santana’s head.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

A moment later Santana’s tilting her head up to kiss the hinge of Brittany’s jaw. There’s a little flinch and Santana smiles at how Brittany so easily fell back asleep, “I have to get up, Britt.”

“Yeah okay,” Brittany nods a little sleepily.

Santana smirks as she plays with Brittany’s hair, “You can stay. I just need to shower.”

“No, no. I’ll get up too,” Brittany says as she begins to stretch her tired limbs, “A hot shower sounds like a good idea.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Santana agrees and plants one more kiss to her lips before she’s going to get the water started.

They’re a little sluggish as they strip down and step in to the shower. It’s a stark contrast to the chill in the air, but it helps ease them both out of their slumber.

But it’s not the temperature of the water or the freezing air of the loft that Santana focuses on. It’s how Brittany offers to wash Santana’s hair for her, how they take turns standing under the warmth of the spray to wash off, how the wet kisses pressed to bare shoulders elicit moans, how hands disappear between slick thighs, how whispers of I love you can’t help but leave their lips as if they’re the only words they can remember.

Before they became a couple, showers involved hot, dirty sex. There was a common goal of getting off and making the other person come just as hard. Knees would ache from kneeling on hard tiles and there was always that threat of someone slipping and busting their ass. It was always quick, always rough in the best possible way, and sometimes it’s still like that, but most of the time it’s not. Now it’s softer, gentler, and there’s this care…this love they share and it’s like they’ve reached a whole new level.

Don’t get them wrong, they’re still always down for some hot, dirty shower sex but they’ve also realized that with feelings it’s so much better too.

Once they finish with their shower, Brittany slips into her trusty overalls and heads downstairs to see who else is up while Santana continues to get ready. Thankfully, Quinn’s made a fresh pot of coffee and together they sit at the poker table just chatting about nothing too important. Quinn reads the morning paper because she likes the nostalgia of it and hands Brittany the comic strips because she knows they’re her guilty pleasure.

“Can I see that after you?” Sugar asks when she peeks over Brittany’s shoulder to see what she’s reading.

“Totally,” Brittany smiles and reaches for her coffee cup, “Almost done.”

“Morning all,” Emma greets cheerfully as she finally steps away from her desk to top up her tea.

“Morning,” Quinn and Brittany say in unison while Sugar’s got her mouth full of donut holes.

They make a little small talk while Emma waits for her tea to steep and in that time, Tina and Mercedes wander over.

“Sup y’all,” Mercedes says with a head nod before heading to the coffee pot. She notices how much is left and looks to Tina, “You want some?”

“I think I’ll have tea today,” Tina answers politely and goes to sit with Brittany and Quinn at the poker table, “You mind if look at the real estate ads?”

Quinn quirks her brow and hands them over, “Thinking of buying yourself a place?”

Tina nods, “I love my family but I can’t stand living with them. It’s time for a little space of my own, especially if I’m still single. Mom’s the worst matchmaker of all time.”

They all laugh at that and fall into this comfortable lapse of chatting about nothing in particular again. Brittany takes the moment to appreciate this; how just a few weeks ago they were all strangers to each other strung together by a common goal and now look at them. She doesn’t know if she’d go as far as saying they’re all friends, but they do make a pretty good team.

And for a moment, Brittany feels a little sad that it’s all going to end soon. They’re going to get paid and go their separate ways and continue on with their lives. Maybe she won’t hear from them ever again – aside from Quinn – or maybe they’ll keep it in touch? Maybe someone will devise a master plan of their own and try to rope her and Santana into just like they did to them?

Who knows, but for now she just enjoys the company.

“Where’s Santana?” Emma asks before she sips at her tea.

The others look around for her too then look to Brittany for an answer.

“She’s getting dressed. She’s got a big day ahead of her,” Brittany replies. She doesn’t want to give too much away just incase this plan happens to fall through and they need to devise another one.

Quinn looks to her curiously though like she’s trying to connect the dots on her own. She probably can and that’s what’s great about their friendship. Quinn just gets it most of the time and they don’t need to do much explaining.

The others on the other hand look around at each other like they’re trying to understand Brittany’s cryptic words. Surprisingly enough though, no one asks Brittany to elaborate. Instead, they get whatever they need from the kitchen and disperse.

Brittany’s brows rise at that, “I thought I was going to be interrogated.”

Quinn just chuckles, “They know better now.”

Brittany looks impressed but doesn’t ask. She just downs the rest of her coffee before passing off the comics to Sugar then heads to the garage to keep herself occupied.

Upstairs, Santana spends a little longer on making herself look presentable. Not that she has to try very hard – she always looks presentable – but today’s going to be different and maybe she needs the extra confidence boost that comes with looking smoking hot. Her hair falls over her shoulders in perfect waves, her make up is on point, her outfit hugs her curves perfectly; she’s like a damn superhero and looking this damn good was her superpower!

She gives herself one last glance in the mirror before she’s grabbing her purse and heading downstairs. It’s no surprise that everyone’s spread out in the common area and Quinn’s already got a wine glass in her hand and it’s barely half past noon. She can’t really judge her though, she’d totally do the same if she was in her shoes.

“Going somewhere fancy?” Quinn questions as Santana appears by the poker table.

She just shrugs casually, “Not really. I just needed this.”

“You look like you’re on a mission,” Quinn nods.

“I am,” Santana smiles proudly and looks around, “Where’s – “

“Garage.”

“Of course,” Santana chuckles, “Later Fabray.”

In the garage, Brittany’s crouched beside her motorbike looking over something when she hears the door close behind her. She turns to find Santana standing there and her jaw drops.

“Woah,” Brittany breathes out as she slowly rises. A little chuckle escapes her as Santana saunters over, hips swaying rhythmically, “Now this is a look.”

“I try,” Santana smirks although a warmth rushes over her.

Brittany’s eyes drag up and down Santana’s frame and it’s like she’s seeing her for the first time all over again. Her heart swells and beats hard in her chest because she loves this woman, this beautiful, beautiful woman, and crazy thing is…she loves her too.

Brittany licks her lips and sighs, “You look beautiful, baby.”

And that’s what creates a crack in Santana’s cockiness. She can be all big and bad and drop dead gorgeous, play the role of HBIC like no one else can and run a whole girl gang practically on her own…but whenever Brittany calls her baby it just does something to her. She feels like this giddy, silly love-sick girl and as much as she finds it a little embarrassing how one word can have her walls coming down, she also kind of loves it too.

“Thanks,” Santana smiles before she’s leaning in for a kiss. It feels like a sigh of relief and she does it again and again until Brittany’s mumbling against her lips.

“I really can’t get over how good you look,” Brittany says a little dreamily before she teases, “Sucks you’ll be wasting it on a meeting with someone trying to lock us all up.”

Santana throws her head back with a laugh, “Please. You’re the only one I dress up for.”

Brittany quirks a brows as Santana draws even closer until her lips are brushing the shell of Brittany’s ear.

“Wait until you see what I’ve got on underneath,” Santana whispers huskily.

It sends a shiver down Brittany’s spine and settles low between her thighs. She has to bite her lip to keep from smiling too big, but the anticipation just eats her up. She can’t wait for Santana to come back and she hasn’t even left yet.

Santana looks pretty pleased with herself as she watches Brittany’s thoughts drift and her pretty blue eyes become darkened with lust.

“Such a tease,” Brittany mumbles as she pulls herself back from drifting too far off. She wants to touch her but her hands are already a little greasy and she doesn’t want to wreck Santana’s dress – at least not until she comes back – so she twists her rag in her hands instead to keep them busy, “You positive you don’t want me to go with?”

Santana smiles fondly, “Yes Britt, I can handle him on my own.”

“I know you can. Just thought I’d go for like emotional support or something,” Brittany replies with a shrug.

“I love you,” Santana tells her, “But I got this.”

“Alright,” Brittany nods then glances over at her bike, “Need a ride then?”

“With this dress on?” Santana laughs, “Not on that thing.”

“Fair enough,” Brittany giggles and goes over to grab the keys to the Fastback before handing them over to Santana, “How about this one?”

Santana recognizes the keys and smiles, “You know me so well.”

Brittany buffs her nails on her overalls and grins coyly, “Duh.”

“Okay well, I’ll be back later,” Santana says, “Stay out of trouble.”

“I’m not making any promises,” Brittany winks as Santana walks the short distance over to the Fastback and gets in.

“Well in that case…,” Santana smirks and beckons Brittany down to her level. The blonde obliges happily and leans on the frame of the door so she can be pulled in for a kiss.

“Good luck,” Brittany mumbles against soft lips before she’s pulling away and closing the door after Santana.

Santana only parrots back the words Brittany once said to her, “Don’t need luck when you’re this good.”

The meeting place decided upon is some random diner Santana and Brittany have walked by countless times. When Santana pulls open the door, the bells above jingle and alert everyone of her entrance. She sees the double-takes from the older men lining the bar and curious glances from the waitstaff. She knows that all eyes are on her, she’s the hottest bitch in the place so that’s a given, but she’s there for business and quickly glances around the place for the man she’s meant to meet.

“Miss Lopez,” Someone calls out to her and Santana turns towards the voice.

The insurance investigator smiles brightly and Santana has to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she makes her way over to him. She can already smell the hair product wafting off of him and the way he smiles at her just makes Santana want to punch him.

Blaine Anderson; just an overachieving, annoying little weasel that has somehow managed to climb ranks stupidly fast and has been breathing down the necks of her family for years. The Anderson and Lopez rivalry is a tale as old as time and here Santana is upholding that legacy.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lopez,” Blaine greets politely once Santana’s close enough and goes to shake her hand.

“Anderson,” Santana nods and slides into the booth so that she sits across from him.

“Interesting place for a meeting,” Blaine notes as he looks around, “Why not my office?”

Santana scrunches her nose, “And finally see what kind of hideous bow tie collection you probably have set up there? No way.”

Blaine’s smile falters as he presses a hand to his bowtie.

“Besides,” Santana adds as she looks down at the menu, “Apparently this place does the best tiramisu and my girlfriend loves that stuff.”

Before Blaine can ask anything further, a waitress comes over and tops up his coffee.

“You want anything, dear?” She asks Santana.

“Coffee and one of those tiramisus to go. Please.”

“Sure thing, hun,” The woman nods and she’s off. It only takes her a few minutes until she returns with a warm mug and fills it close to the top with fresh coffee.

The pleased smile returns to Blaine’s face, “Girlfriend, huh? Maybe you really are on the straight and narrow.”

Santana quirks a brow, “Not so much the straight but yeah. I’ve been keeping myself out of trouble. That’s why I’m here. Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

Blaine laughs and shakes his head as he pulls out a few pictures, “Oh? Then explain this.”

Santana knew this was coming. She didn’t spend all night at the Gala in the camera’s view for nothing, so she leans forward to admire the pictures of her.

“Damn, I look hot!” Santana says as she looks over each one, “Can I keep these?”

Blaine’s easy-going demeanor begins to shift into something a little more serious, “Santana please. This is very serious. Millions of dollars worth of diamonds are missing and it can’t just be a coincidence that you were there the night of its disappearance.”

“Why not?” Santana questions as she sits back and cocks her head to the side, “I love a good party as much as the next person. You’ve got the receipts. Does it look like I was up to something? Because to me, I look like I’m having the time of my life.”

“And I wonder why that is,” Blaine questions with narrowed eyes.

Santana shrugs and averts her eyes to the pictures again, “Look at me, surrounded by beautiful people with a drink in my hand just as the good Lord intended. Who wouldn’t have a good time?”

Blaine let’s out a tired sigh.

Santana can tell he’s at a crossroads and getting frustrated so she’s pretty damn pleased about that. It makes her swell with pride because she really has this thing wrapped up so tight that not even Blaine can figure it out. But she knows he’s a smart son of a bitch so she doesn’t get too cocky just yet.

Blaine continues to stew while Santana brings the mug close to her lips. Riling him up is a lot easier than she suspected. She figured he’d have way more on her than just a couple of pictures and she’s surprised considering his merit.

“Honestly, with your track record and your family history I don’t know what to believe,” Blaine admits. He looks up at Santana – like really looks at her like he’s trying to see something beneath the surface.

Santana’s a pro though so he’s not going to find anything there. She’s not going to crack and deep down Blaine knows that.

“Well, one look at these pictures I think gets me off the hook,” Santana explains and taps at one of the pictures, “Solid alibi right there, don’t you think?”

Blaine crosses his arms and Santana feels as though she’s almost won.

“Can I go now?” She asks even though she knows she’s not yet finished with him.

“I still have questions,” Blaine replies, “And don’t you need your tiramisu?”

“You’re right,” Santana smirks and lifts her mug to her lips, “You’ve got until the waitress brings it over and then I’m out.”

“Fine,” Blaine sighs, “I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how the hell this happened. How such a valuable necklace practically disappeared in thin air. I’ve got suspects who should be guilty but aren’t and then there’s you who had been smiling for the camera all night.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a real shit show on your hands,” Santana dismisses, “Doesn’t concern me.”

“But it does,” Blaine urges, “I know you had something to do with this but I just can’t…I can’t connect the dots.”

“Because like I said,” Santana replies, “I didn’t do it.”

Blaine laughs again before he sighs, “Listen Santana, I don’t want you.”

“Never heard that one before.”

“Let me clarify,” He says, “I don’t want you, I want the necklace. I don’t care how you get it back to me, I’ll make something up. I’m just tired of doing this.”

Santana perks up; this is going way better than she anticipated.

“I honestly don’t get paid enough so just tell me,” Blaine adds, “Where’s the necklace? That’s all I’m after. The sooner I wrap this case up the faster I can get back to my life.”

Santana smirks, “Which I’m sure is very bland and boring, just like you.”

Blaine doesn’t take her bait, “I’ll ask again. Where’s the necklace, Santana?”

“The whole thing?” Santana questions before she shrugs, “No idea, but I might no where some of it is.”

“Some of it? Some?” Blaine looks like he’s going to have a heart attack.

“Hypothetically, yes,” Santana replies, “Maybe like ten percent of it? Give or take?”

Blaine mutters to himself beneath his breath while his face goes a little red. It takes him a minute to get himself together and then he’s turning to Santana and calmly asking, “Where?”

Santana doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she slides her phone across the table. On it is a picture of Dani from the Gala and it all begins to click for Blaine.

“Right,” Blaine nods, “A classic case of revenge. An eye for an eye so to speak.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“You know this isn’t healthy, right?” Blaine says worriedly, “It’s not good for the heart to hang on to so much pain, Santana. I know a great counselor that specializes in –“

“I process shit my own way and it’s working just fine for me,” Santana brushes off as she slips her phone back in her purse,” Now, for argument’s sake…how does one get a search warrant?”

Blaine bobs his head from side to side as he thinks, “I’d need probable cause.”

“That’s what I thought,” Santana smirks. In that moment, the waitress brings over her takeaway box and Santana smiles up at her in thanks before looking back at Blaine, “This was productive.”

“I suppose,” Blaine frowns as Santana stands and throws down a couple bills on the table.

“Wait for my call,” She tells him before walking out.

Back at the loft, Brittany’s trying her hardest to keep busy while she awaits Santana’s call. When her phone finally does ring, she practically lunges for it.

“Hey San!” Brittany greets eagerly, “How’d it go?”

“Perfectly. He’s got nothing on us which I was really surprised about but I’m not complaining.”

Brittany feels like a weight has been lifted, “That’s so good. Did you find out about the warrant?”

“Sure did and you were right! It’s absolutely genius, obviously.”

Brittany blushes, “He’d need probable cause?”

“Yup and that should be easy to get.”

“It should,” Brittany nods, “I’ll make the call now.”

“Great, I’m on my way back. I’ll see you soon.”

They say their goodbyes and then Brittany’s dialing another number.

“Hello, Rachel Berry speaking.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Hey Rachel. It’s Brittany.”

“Oh!” Rachel’s voice turns chipper, “Hello Brittany, how are you?”

“Good. I’ve got a job for you,” Brittany says, “It’s a very important task.”

“Of course, I’m ready. What do you need me to do?”

“We’re going to need a certain picture taken of an item,” Brittany begins to explain, “But this item currently resides in Dani’s jacket from the Gala. We’re going to need you to get in there and take a picture of it.”

Rachel’s quiet for a moment and Brittany begins to wonder if the call disconnected on accident.

“Hel – “

“This is amazing. Oh my God!”

Brittany bites her tongue while Rachel excitedly rambles. Really, she starts to tune out the more she talks but it’s one question that reels Brittany back in.

“You want me to seduce her?”

“I don’t really want to know how you do it,” Brittany responds, “Just get it done.”

“I’m on it. This is so exciting! My first job. I can play this so many ways, but which to choose? Maybe I can use those handcuffs I bought? I’ve been wanting to try those out on someone. They’re authentic.”

Brittany frowns with disgust. Imagining Rachel Berry seducing Dani with a pair of handcuffs is not an image she wants or needs.

“Gross,” Brittany mumbles.

“I see why you people do this! God, the thrill of it is invigorating.”

“Yeah. Okay. Well, text me the picture when you get it.”

“Of course. Should I wear a lacy – “

Brittany hangs up on her immediately.

Later that night, most of the team has headed off to bed aside from Mercedes who spends hours on end on her laptop doing who knows what. Santana and Brittany wander up to Brittany’s room but neither of them are tired. They know Rachel’s out there doing whatever she can to get this picture and they can’t really settle in for bed until they receive it.

Instead, Brittany lounges on the bed with a motorcycle magazine in her lap while Santana lazily watches her turn the page. She’s got her head on Brittany’s shoulder and their legs tangle together for warmth. It’s a nice way to end the night, wrapped up in each other like this, and Santana basks in how easy it is to feel so comfortable around Brittany.

“I never thanked you for talking to Rachel,” Santana mutters like she’s lost in thought.

Brittany snickers, “That’s okay.”

Santana tilts to look up at her, “No, seriously. You came up with the search warrant idea and using Rachel…I never would’ve thought to do that.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Brittany shrugs.

“Not without you guiding me,” Santana replies and leans up to kiss the underside of Brittany’s jaw, “So thank you. Thank you for having my back.”

Brittany smiles fondly, “For you? Always.”

Santana blushes, “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Brittany pretends to ponder, “Once before I think? But tell me again.”

Santana giggles and whispers I love you between sweet kisses.

Brittany gets the text from Rachel shortly after. The picture shows a piece of the Toussaint Santana planted on Dani the night of the Gala and it’s perfectly framed alongside the necktie Dani wore.

Rachel B. – Is this acceptable? I’ve got her handcuffed to the bed so I can take another if you need.

“Oh wow,” Santana laughs once Brittany shows her the text, “Rachel really does move quick.”

“Apparently,” Brittany nods, “And she found a use for those handcuffs she told me about after all.”

“She told you what she was going to do?” Santana scrunches her nose cutely.

“It was against my will,” Brittany sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” Santana teases then glances back at the picture, “This is perfect though. I’m going to forward it to myself. Tell her I said thanks.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy that you approve,” Brittany says and gets to work typing a reply while Santana hurriedly sends off the picture to Blaine.

Santana L. – This should do it. Have fun!

Blaine texts back almost instantly and showers Santana with gratitude. All she cares about though is that she and her team are off the hook. Blaine assures her that they are.

Now, it’s only a matter of time before everything falls into place like pieces of a puzzle.

Within a day she gets word that Dani has been arrested. It’s not looking good for her ex considering the amount of evidence pinned against her, but that’s what you get when you fuck over a Lopez.

Santana hopes Dani feels everything she did when she got picked up. She hopes Dani squirms under the hot lamp in the interrogation room. She hopes Dani feels regret set into her bones for what she did to Santana. It’ll only be then that Santana finally feels like she can move on with her life, like that chapter is done and dusted.

Maybe she’s petty for setting Dani up like this, but she doesn’t care. In the end, Karma’s a bitch and so is she.

“It’s official,” Brittany exclaims as soon as she finds Santana lounging on the couch with Quinn.

“What? What’s going on?” Santana sits up while Brittany dances around in front of her. The others notice the commotion and come in for a better listen.

The blonde has her phone in her hand and starts to read off some article for all to hear that explains the Toussaint debacle and how Rachel Berry’s mysterious last-minute date was the one who made off with the necklace and is now looking at a long time in jail.

“You hear that, San? She’s looking at a long sentence,” Brittany says excitedly before she’s wrapping Santana up in a tight hug. The others cheer too and exchange hugs.

It’s the best news Santana’s heard in awhile because this is it. This is the end. They did the job and Dani’s paying for it just like Santana planned and now all there’s left to do is celebrate!

Similar to the day after the Gala, Santana and Brittany grab pizza and alcohol and let the team go wild. Mercedes sets up the music this time and everyone dances like crazy with a slice of pizza in one hand and their choice of drink in the other. Even Santana and Brittany let loose and the others can’t get enough of them.

“You’re so much better when you’re tipsy!” Sugar cheers as she clinks her bottle with Santana’s.

The brunette just laughs and continues to dance on Brittany until Rachel arrives with a box of champagne. Everyone flocks to her and for a moment Rachel thinks it’s because of her, but she’s quick to realize it’s only because she brought the expensive stuff. Still, she doesn’t really mind and pops a bottle to catch up to her new friends.

“You guys started without me!” Rachel looks somewhat offended but Tina just pats her back while Sugar takes the box of champagne off her hands then comes back around to give her a drink.

“Got you a whole box to yourself,” Tina says as she pushes a box of pizza into Rachel’s hands too.

“Is it ve – “

“It’s vegan,” Quinn assures her with a small smile before she clinks her glass with Rachel’s.

“You can never be too sure,” Rachel explains and shoots a weary glare in Brittany’s direction, “I’ve been poisoned before.”

Quinn just snickers into her glass.

“Wait, wait!” Santana stops before everyone gets too wasted. Mercedes stops the music and the others look at her curiously. Santana just climbs up on the coffee table with Brittany’s help, “I want to say a proper thank you.”

“Here we go,” Quinn chuckles to Brittany, “She going to turn into a weepy, hysterical drunk again?”

“She just has a lot of feelings,” Brittany giggles then slaps at Santana’s ass.

“Hey, quit it down there,” Santana swats away at Brittany’s hand.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Sugar starts to chant and soon the others are joining in.

“Okay, okay! Shut up, I’m going,” Santana laughs before she tries to compose herself. “I just wanted to say that you guys are fucking awesome,” Santana says with a raised bottle, “Thank you for being apart of this. Really, couldn’t have do it without you. We make a pretty awesome fucking team.”

Everyone starts to clap and cheer and Santana laughs as she steps down, bracing herself on Brittany’s shoulder.

“You’re cute,” Brittany whispers and plants a kiss on Santana’s cheek.

Santana just blushes and goes to reply but it’s drowned out by Rachel who’s still pretty sober.

“I do have one question. Really it’s an observation,” Rachel says and everyone turns to her, “I believe there’s a small discrepancy in the amount of money we’re all receiving. Something’s just not quite adding up? Not that I’m complaining, but…”

The others start to panic but Santana just smirks at Brittany.

“You want to tell them?” Santana asks and there’s this Cheshire grin spreading up to her cheeks.

Brittany shakes her head, “You do it.”

“Alright,” Santana shrugs and turns a proud smile to the others, “You thought we were only going after one necklace?”

Brittany chuckles, “You don’t know us at all.”

Now everyone’s even more confused than before, but their eyes follow Santana and Brittany as they walk away from them.

“While everyone was so focused on the Toussaint, no one even bothered to check on the other exhibit,” Santana explains simply.

Brittany moves to open the door of a fridge that had been moved off to the side of the kitchen. It’s filled to the brim with the crown jewels of eight different royal families that just so happened to be on display at the Met and the best part is…they aren’t replicas.

“Woah,” Sugar breathes out.

“All or nothing!” Brittany cheers while the others scramble to get a closer look.

“Oh my God!” Emma gasps, “They’re real?”

“Oh they’re very real,” Santana nods.

“I was wondering why we suddenly had two fridges,” Sugar mumbles, “It makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, how did you manage to do all of this?” Emma asks.

Santana glances over at Brittany and smiles proudly, “The floor’s yours, B.”

“Well like Santana said, everyone was distracted with the Toussaint missing and being on lockdown. We used that to our advantage and decided to go on a little private tour for ourselves,” Brittany explains simply, “Why go through all that trouble just for one necklace, you know?”

“Exactly,” Santana nods, “We weren’t just printing off the diamonds needed for the Toussaint either. Tina made replicas of all the jewelry on display in that particular exhibit.”

“I’ve never worked so fast in my entire life,” Tina admits quietly.

“And it’s very much appreciated,” Santana commends, “After that, it was all acrobats.”

“Yup! And that’s where I called in a favor,” Brittany adds then cups her hand around her mouth and calls out, “Yo Chang!”

Everyone turns as Mike Chang enters.

He’s looking dapper in his dress shirt and vest but his rolled up sleeves make him look just a little more casual. There’s this charming smile on his face as he strolls over to the others.

“Dibs!” Tina, Sugar and Rachel all yell out at once. They glare at one another when neither of them backs down.

“I said it first,” Tina urged.

Sugar waves her off, “No, I did!”

“Neither of you stand a chance,” Rachel turns up her nose, “I’m famous.”

“Just barely,” Sugar frowns.

“Mike here is a former Olympian,” Brittany introduces as Mike joins her side.

“Interesting. I too am award-winning,” Rachel comments.

“It’s nothing special,” Mike replies with a chuckle, “I didn’t win a medal or anything.”

“That’s okay,” Sugar and Tina say in unison with these too-sweet smiles on their faces.

Santana rolls her eyes; the three of them look absolutely ridiculous fawning over the guy but she guesses that’s what happens when you’re cooped up in a house for weeks without sex.

Santana obviously wouldn’t know about that though, she’s lucky enough to get it on the regular.

“Anyway,” Santana pulls their attention back, “He used his sick gymnast skills to help us clean the place out.”

“Being flexible has it’s perks outside of the bedroom too, right Mike?” Brittany jokes with a nudge to his arm.

“Uhhh…sure. Yeah,” Mike shrugs awkwardly.

“You’re so hot,” Tina practically drools over him.

Santana looks embarrassed for her, “Jesus. Get it together, girl.”

“You have no game,” Sugar shakes her head disapprovingly at Tina.

“What?” Tina gasps, “He is!”

“Yeah, but you don’t just blurt it out,” Sugar argues, “It’s like you’ve never talked to a hot guy before.”

“Sorry Mike,” Brittany says coolly, “They haven’t been around a guy in awhile.”

Mike smiles, “That’s cool.”

“Like I was saying,” Santana continues, “While Mike and Brittany did that, I kept an eye out incase any guard decided to take a peek. It was a tight time frame but we made it work, clearly.”

“That’s amazing,” Emma applauds.

Santana smiles proudly, “So with this little diversion, everyone’s cut is now up to about 38 million.”

“Holy shit!”

Santana chuckles at the outburst and turns to Mike, “Mike, you’ll get a good chunk from me and Britt’s share.”

“Appreciate it,” He bows his head.

Santana sinks into Brittany’s side and the blonde wraps her arm around her shoulders while they watch the others implode.

“Spend it wisely, ladies,” Santana tells them and cuts her eyes to the only guy in the room. She gives him an apologetic smile, “And Mike.”

In the coming days, one by one the girls on the team return to their lives with their bank accounts a lot fuller than they arrived. There are whispers of road trips and extravagant gifts to themselves and the start of small business ventures and Santana feels kind of proud that she’s funding that in a way.

She doesn’t really care what they do with their cuts, she just hopes that they enjoy themselves.

Quinn’s the last to leave and she joins Santana and Brittany for breakfast before she goes. She’s not really sure when she’ll see them again, so she makes the most of what’s left of their time together.

They talk, they laugh, they reminisce and then they say goodbye.

Santana actually gives Quinn a hug and she’s sure Brittany’s going to tease her about it later for being an undercover softie. She doesn’t mind though, she knows Brittany happens to love that part of her even if she teases her about it sometimes.

“Don’t be strangers,” Quinn tells them as she gets into her car, “Beth misses you both dearly.”

Santana snorts, “I bet she doesn’t even remember us.”

“She’s a sharp kid,” Quinn replies, “She’s remembers everything.”

“We’ll visit,” Brittany says and hugs Santana to her side, “We’re her god parents after all.”

“Still don’t know why you picked us,” Santana jokes, “Don’t you have any other friends besides us?”

“You think I consider you fools my friends?” Quinn teases right back.

Brittany lets out a laugh, “Let us know when you get home, okay?”

“Will do,” Quinn nods, “And you two…be good.”

Santana and Brittany exchange a look and smirk.

“We’ll try,” Santana lies and they way goodbye as Quinn backs out of the driveway.

They watch from the garage until they can no longer see Quinn’s taillights. It’s weird how quiet it is now after so many weeks of having a full house. Santana can’t tell what that feeling is under the surface but when she looks over at Brittany beaming, it eases.

“So,” Brittany hums as she turns to Santana and sets her hands on the brunette’s hips, “Got anymore grand plans in that beautiful mind of yours?”

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Santana flirts as she melts into Brittany, “But I think I’ll take a little break for now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Santana nods, “I’ll probably do some of the things I told my parole officer I’d do.”

“Gonna get yourself settled down with a wife and pop out a couple kids?” Brittany jokes with this sparkle in her eye.

Santana smirks, “Is that a proposal?”

“Well I do have a shit ton of diamonds now,” Brittany ponders aloud before glancing down at Santana, “You can take your pick.”

Santana lets out a laugh, “I’ll think about it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Brittany winks.

“In the meantime though, there is something I’ve been wanting to try…” Santana husks.

Brittany quirks a brow, “Finally giving the armpit thing some thought? You won’t regret it, babe.”

Brittany starts to unbutton her top and Santana laughs as she stops her, “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

“Oh. Well, what’d you– “

Brittany’s words fall short as Santana walks over the short distance and slings her leg over Brittany’s bike. It’s probably the hottest thing Brittany’s ever seen and she watches in a daze as Santana run her hands over the handlebars. She has played this exact scene so many times in her dreams, but never would she have thought Santana would finally agree to it in real life.

Then again, Santana’s kind of been on a streak when it comes to doing things out of the ordinary. Just look at their relationship, they’re actually in one! Who would’ve seen that coming? Definitely not Brittany.

Santana clears her throat and it pulls Brittany’s attention back to her. There’s this sexy, sultry smile on her lips and this mischievous glint in her eye when they catch Brittany’s.

“Take me for a ride?” Santana asks but it sounds more like a demand that Brittany’s all to willing to participate in.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Brittany smirks before rushing off to grab their helmets.

#Lopezs 8 #FINAL CHAPTER BABY #im actually crying lol #brittana #Brittana fanfiction

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fallenfurther · 4 years ago

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A break in the clouds - Part 5

Finally gotten round to writing up and reading through the next few chapters of this one. It’s almost finished (I might actually get this off my WIP list soon!). I hope you all enjoy the next island resident’s interaction with Scott’s son.

Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Grandma

*********

Jeff

It had been an emotional rescue. Jeff had tried to help as much as possible. John, though more accurately EOS, had fed him tasks when they came up, but the feeling of helplessness had still settled within him. He had relayed information to the local authorities, reviewed visual data that required human eyes, and second checked all her communications. It had been scraps, leaving Jeff plenty of time to watch the drone footage and listen to his boys communicate to one another. They were professional, continuing on despite the harrowing sights they endured. It was an aspect of the job he wished he could take away. They weren’t always keen, but Jeff had made a counselling service available to the whole family, fully vetted and qualified to deal with their circumstances. It was always there if they needed someone to talk to and help them process the events of any rescue. He hoped at least one of them would be using it after what had occurred today.

Slipping the stylus from its place, Jeff signed off on the mission report, then sent it to the GDF and local authorities with a sigh. His head fell into his hands and he closed his eyes against the world. Taking deep breaths, he tuned into the world around him, letting the sounds take over his mind. The gentle hum of the air-conditioning unit, an electrical buzz from somewhere to his left and the soft padding of bare feet. Eyes still closed; Jeff zeroed in on the familiar sound. Only one of his sons would creep around the place barefoot and no matter how much Gordon tried, he hadn’t been this light-footed in years. It was a sound that transported Jeff back years. Before he could open his eyes, the clatter of metal hitting the wood of his desk filled the room.

“Vroom! Vroom!”

A smile crossed Jeff’s face as he raised his head, putting the stylus down in the process. A small head bobbled along his desk, just ahead of the toy plane that was being forced along the table by a small hand. There was a small pause in the plane’s taxiing.

“Vroom! Vroom!”

Jeff pushed his chair back as he stood, allowing those young blue eyes to meet his. A glance at the clock confirmed Jeff’s suspicions. A small guilty smile crossed the boy’s face as he continued to roll the plane down the makeshift runway. A few quick strides around his desk, and Jeff slipped his hands under the boy’s armpits, scooping his grandson up into his arms. There was a small grumble from the child.

“You should be asleep.”

“Fly plane.”

“It’s naptime, young man.”

“No.”

The boy shook his head vigorously, taking Jeff back to a very similar time in Kansas, when a similarly aged Scott had refused to nap. If his grandson was anything like his father, then it was not going to be easy to get the boy down again. The slight shift in time zones never helped the child either. Carrying the boy to his room, Jeff placed him on the plane covered bedspread. Immediately, his grandson went to climb down. Jeff grabbed the boy and sat in the bed with him, only to be given a pout when the plane was removed from the child’s hands.

“My plane.”

“We can play with the plane later. Now, we sleep.”

The little boy was having none of it, and started wriggling away from Jeff, who just wasn’t quick enough. A small knee landed in a sensitive area, stealing Jeff’s breath with a groan.

“Careful there, boy.”

Jeff wheezed as his grandson paused in his escape for a second to peer at the older man. Twisting to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing the mild throbbing to the back of his mind, Jeff made a grab for the boy. He caught him, but not before the plane was back in the toddler’s hands. He looked down on the child.

“You aren’t going to go to sleep, are you?”

“No.”

Jeff sighed. His grandson would be a pain later on, having not had a good nap, something Scott really didn’t need right now. The least Jeff could do was give Scott some time to rest.

“If you’re not going to sleep, why don’t we play planes quietly in here?”

At least Scott wouldn’t worry about his son’s whereabouts if he came to check on him. The lad grinned as Jeff let him wiggle out of his grip. He watched as the child pottered over to the box of toys and dug into it for another plane. Jeff had had a similar box of planes as a child, a passion his mother had a hand in, even if it was only a hobby for her. Scott had shared the interest, which he was now sharing with the next generation. Not that Jeff could blame him. With the most technologically advance machines taking off around him, it would be surprising if his grandson didn’t pick up even the smallest interest. Carefully Jeff lowered himself to the floor, finding a comfortable position against the bed. A plastic GDF flyer was brought over and placed in his hands before his grandson darted off to start circling the room. A few energetic laps later and the boy finally realised Jeff hadn’t moved. Pausing mid-flight and pointing at the flyer, the child made his demand.

“Fly Grampa. Fly.”

Jeff responded with a serious face and a nod. Carefully repositioning the plane’s engines so they pointed down, he slowly made the plane rise in a hover. This seemed to be exactly what the boy wanted as he continued his loop around the room before turning and heading straight for Jeff.

“Fire!”

The boy blew raspberries, which had Jeff biting his lip to stop from laughing. His grandson could be so damn cute. As his grandson approached, Jeff played dutifully, pretending to dodge all the bullets being fired at the flyer. He swung it this way and that until it was time to admit defeat. Jeff spiralled the flyer and crashed it into the floor.

“Bang!”

His grandson’s face lit up with glee as her flew his plane away at a slower pace than before. A yawn stretched across the child’s face and Jeff smiled. He knew it was just a matter of time now. His grandson continued, rolling the toy along a chest of draws before slowly plodding back to Jeff and falling to his knees. The boy was visibly fighting to stay awake now, the last burst of energy ebbing away. The flyer was retrieved and both planes were wafted about in a slow dogfight. Another large yawn stilled the boy’s body. His arms fell to his sides and the toys clicked as they hit the ground. Large sleepy blinks broke the boy’s gaze, and the flyer was released so he could rub his eye. Jeff opened up his arms.

“Come here, son.”

His grandson shuffled forward, and Jeff guided the boy into his lap. His grandson leant against his torso. Wrapping his arms around the boy, he took the plane from the child’s hand and held it up before him. It was an old Spitfire. Jeff spoke softly into the boy’s ear, whispering all the facts he could recall about the plane. He pointed out the guns and explained the colours and symbols. The child’s head had slumped before he had finished the explanation. Quietly placing the toy to the side, Jeff peered down at his grandson. The closed eyes and gentle rise of the chest confirmed he’d fallen asleep.

With the utmost care, Jeff lifted the boy and tucked him into his bed, slipping the blanket up and over his small body. He knelt for a minute, taking in the peaceful form on his grandson. He heart was full of love, not only for his grandson but for the sons he’d put to bed so many times, so many years ago. Brushing his fingers through the child’s hair and away from his eye, Jeff leant forward and planted a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

Jeff’s body complained as he stood, age and time in deep space taking its toll on his joints. Turning to leave, he paused at the sight of Scott leaning against the doorframe. There had been no sound of footsteps that Jeff could remember so he had no idea how long he had been observed. Scott just nodded and Jeff headed out, turning on the forgotten baby monitor so they would be alerted when the child woke. It was only after he had softly closed the door, that Scott spoke.

“Thank you, Dad.”

It was barely a whisper, but the relief in that man’s exhausted eyes was clear. Jeff placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. The man was a great father. Jeff was so proud of him.

“No problem, son. I suggest you have a nap also. He’ll have a new bout of energy once he’s awake.”

Scott sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. Jeff knew how tiring parenting could be, and Scott had a demanding job on top of all that. His son had struggled to sleep before he’d become a father, so Jeff was happy to see Scott nod and head towards his own room, yawning and stretching with each step.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #tracy baby #scott tracy #scott's son #naptime #not wanting to sleep #pilot in training

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ehud1564 · 3 years ago

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The Dragon's early awakening

Introduction, part 1

Summary: Kagami joins Fransua Dupont Highschool. Meaning for Marinette that a new girl is in Adrien’s general field of view, and in front of Marinette. How will she react to it? Will she and Kagami be friends? Will she learn a lesson?

Also posted on fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13926798/1/The-Dragon-s-early-awakening

And here's the google doc I'm working on so you can see how I'm progressing: https://docs.google.com/document/d/18T5_-_GYRtF940AJAzyJpT-t6uVQUQyCyyu3EcFeExc/edit?usp=sharing

Kagami woke up at 6:30 AM. She immediately got up from her bed, heading to the shower. Her mind was racing with meaningless thoughts, as it always was in the morning. She was awake enough to shower but not much else. She had a quick shower and quickly got dressed. After this preparation Kagami sat down on her bed and started mentally preparing for the day ahead of her.

Today is her first day in a new school. After she managed to join Mr. Darjencourt’s fencing group, her mother signed her up to a school and bought them a house. It seems they will be moving to Paris permanently.

Her mother was rich enough that they could spontaneously move to Paris, and still keep their house in Japan. Kagami didn’t know how her mother was so rich. She knew her family was always known as rich and famous. But she wasn’t sure how they got there or what they did except fencing.

She knew that while her mother could own multiple houses, most people could not. Some people couldn’t even have one house. She made sure to donate all the money she can get hold off. But it wasn’t much. She was very limited in what she could get. She tried to sell one of the house decorations once, thinking her mother wouldn’t notice because of her blindness. She got beaten and heavily scolded. Since then she never tried selling anything her mother owned. She tried selling her fencing equipment and got a similar result.

Her alarm clock signaled it’s time for breakfast. The personal chef made her a simple meal of Eggs on whole wheat toast, and gave her some yogurt and a few fruits. Kagami made sure to thank him, but mostly focused on her thoughts.

There is one person she knows in Fransua Dupont. And that is Adrien Agreste. The fencer she had to defeat in order to join the group. She hopes she’ll be able to make more friends. But she could only hope.

After eating her breakfast, She put on a coat and took out her bag to go for a morning jog, packing extra clothes in her bag to change. She went through the jog and kept trying to mentally prepare herself.

She ran through different scenarios through what could be when she gets to school. She knew the classes in Fransua Dupont were small. Small enough for her to be very noticeable, but big enough to be very draining to Kagami.

Kagami was never good at interacting with other people. She found interacting with a few people at once hard and draining.

After 15 minutes of running, she reached the school and went to her class. She sat down at a table, and started reviewing her schedule. She was completely alone in the class, having reached the school so early, 45 minutes before the first period started.

She checked her schedule again and reviewed the lesson she had for today. Even though her mother is pretty strict, she doesn't care about Kagami’s grades much. She only sees school as a waste of time for Kagami. Because of that Kagami doesn't work too hard in school, and it doesn't cause her stress.

Kagami is mostly a source of rest and fun for Kagami. Even if she isn’t good at the subject, she can take her time. And it gives her time without her mother. She likes being without her mother. No expectation, she doesn't have to be perfect.

It’s not that she didn’t like her mother. But being next to her makes her miserable. It was why she woke up at 6:30, to get out of the house before her mother woke up.

A student has arrived to the class. He wore a green shirt and glasses. “Oh, hello.”. Kagami replied “Hi” with an awkward smile.”Are you searching for a place to be alone? If so, I’ll recommend you use the library. I have a lesson here soon.” The student asked. “No, this is my homeroom class. Though I appreciate the suggestion. I’m new here so...”

“A new student! Nice to meet you! My name is Max Kante!” He put his hand forward. “Kagami Tsurugi. I apologize but I do not shake hands.” She said. “That’s OK. So what school are you from?”

“I’ve been homeschooled for a while, and I’ve been through plenty of schools.” Kagami replied, fishing in her mind to see if she remembers the last school she was in. “Well that’s interesting! Why were you moving?” Max tried to pull a conversation. “Me and my mother are looking for a fencing school for me. We’ve been through plenty of schools, but we haven’t found one that proved a challenge. That’s why we came here. I now learn Fencing in Mr. Darjencourt’s group, which runs in the Gym of this school, led by Mr. D'argencourt.”

“Ooh nice! Why here specifically?” Max questioned, proud for developing a conversation. “Well we were told this place was the best. And it held out better than the others.” Kagami responded. “Not by much though”.

A new student entered the class room, he wore a red Jacket and a few Sweatbands. “Hi Max! Hi… I don’t think we’ve met!” Kim called excitedly.

“This is Kagami Tsurugi! She’s a new student in our classroom!” Max filled him in.

“Hi.” she called.

“I’m Kim!, very nice to meet you!!” He gives her his hand, which she refuses. “You too Kim”.

“So you fence! That’s a sport right?” Kim asked excitedly. “Yes.” Kagami replied. “Awesome! Another Athlete!! Woo!!! That’s so cool!!” Kim cheered.

“Yeah,” She said awkwardly. She doesn't know how to handle someone as excited and friendly as Kim. No mental preparation prepared her for that. She should have got there later. Maybe she would have been more prepared if she didn’t get before everyone.

Max and Kim started conversing between themselves thankfully. Max was talking about a video game with Kim. Kagami opened her phone to the Making friend apps, trying to figure out what she is going to do.

A new student entered the class, a red head who wore an orange shirt, holding a sketchbook. She prayed he would leave her alone and he did. Instead he began sketching. How much time was left before class? She checked her phone and it was much more than she expected. She didn’t properly appreciate how bad it will be to get to class so early.

If only she could distract herself. But she can’t and she feels very awkward. She wonders what the boy is drawing. She loves to draw, but asking him seems very risky. She thought she might draw, but the room dosen’t feel private enough for that.

Another student entered the room. A girl with purple highlights in her hair. She sat down behind Max, making no comments of her.

Soon later a group of 4 people entered the room. A boy who wore a black shirt with a skull on it, a girl with a green sweater with pins on it,A girl with pink hair and a green pattern throughout her sleeves, and a blonde girl wearing a pink dress. “Oh hello! Nice to meet you!! I’m rose!!” The blonde girl cheered enthusiastically.

“You’re kind of in my seat” Said the boy wearing a skull sign.

“Yeah sure sorry I’ll go.” Kagami got up and sat one chair ahead of the chair she was in.

“So what’s your name?” Asked the girl with the pins. “I am Mylene”

“Ivan” the boy added.

“I’m Alix” Said the girl with pink hair.

“Hello. My name is Kagami.”

“Nice to meet you Kagami!” Rose cheered before going to sit next to the girl with highlights in her hair.

“A little warning, this seat also belongs to someone. The only available places are next to Nathaniel, and next to me.” Said Ivan, pointing to the sketching boy.

“Hmm?” Nathaniel hums as the sound of his name.

“Do not sit next to nathaniel. Nathaniel is terrible!” Alix said loudly.

“I’m right here. I can hear you.” Nathaniel said despretly.

“Yeah that’s part of the point!” Alix shouted at him.

“What did he do?” Kagami asked, somewhat curious. What could have caused such a reaction.

“He made a comic of him saving one of our classmates from Akumas, and then of that classmate falling in love with him in that comic. The classmate knew none of it and didn’t give him any permission.” Ivan explained.

"Then he made a comic of Ladybug falling in love with an Akumatized version of him!" Kim added.

“That’s bad.” Kagami replied. “What’s an Akuma? And who's Ladybug?” She asked.

“You’re new in town?” questioned Millene.

“Somewhat, yes.” Kagami Answered.

“Wait just one minute!” Max said and opened his phone. After a few seconds of messing with it, he said "Come here!”. Kagami went to stand next to him and he gave him her phone.

“She explains it better than any of us can! I’d say she’s somewhat the expert." Alix added seeing the video. Mylene and Alix went to talk in their seet, and Ivan opened his own phone in his seat.

Kagami pressed play, and the video started. There was a short musical intro, and then a girl appeared on screen. She wore glasses and had red hair. “What’s up, Peeps! It’s Alya Cesire, bringing you the one and only Ladyblog! If you're planning to move to Paris, this video is a must watch!” The girl in the Video, Alya, said with excitement.

I already moved. Maybe I should have done my homework. Kagami thought to herself. to be fair, I didn't think we'd actually move here.

“If you ever visit Paris, most likely you’ll come across an Akumatized supervillain.” Alya said as she lost her enthusiasm.3 pictures of people appeared on screen. One girl with dark Red hair and the Wireless symbol on a black shirt labeled “Lady Wifi”. Another, a muscled man wearing a black shirt and golden jewelry Labeled “The Pharaoh”. The last one, A woman with green skin and red hair Labeled “Befana”.

“Akumatized villains, often shortened to just Akumas, are created when someone feels an extreme negative emotion. When you experience an extreme negative emotion in Paris, A supervillain named Hawk Moth can send an Akuma-” A picture of a black butterfly appeared on screen ”'-a corrupted butterfly, to you. The butterfly can enter an Object of yours, and will allow Hawkmoth to speak to you and corrupt you. He will give you superpowers, and his corruption will make you want to hurt others.”

“But, when Hawkmoth first Attacked, two heroes came to save us!” Alya said, regaining her excitement. And a picture of two people appeared on screen. One was wearing A red bodysuit with Polka dots, and was Labeled “Ladybug”. The other wore a black suit and had a bell on his neck, and was labeled “Chat Noir”.

Kagami remembers Ladybug. She met her in the Louvre after… Something... happened. Probably something that has something to do with an Akumatized Villain then. That explains it somewhat.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir rose to fight Hawkmoth, they can save the Akumatized people, release the butterflies from Hawkmoth’s control, and undo the Damage the Akuma did to Paris.” A clip of Ladybug throwing a parachute with the same pattern as her suit plays. It turns into a swirl of Ladybugs all over the place, who started fixing things.

Neet

“Since then, Hawkmoth is trying to get the Heroes’ Jewelry. That became the main target of most of his Akumatized villains. We’re not sure what he can do with them, though I have several theories on my Ladyblog!” Alya explained.

"If you decide to move to Paris anyway, or if you’re interested in Any more detailed explanation, consider giving my Ladyblog a visit! It has everything you need to know, and so much more! For example, the ladyblog has: Akuma Alerts, a Chat to talk to people close to the fight, clips from past fights, clips from current fights if I happen to be there, Personal theories and so much more! Support me on Patreon! Hope I’ll see you on the Ladyblog! Ladyblogger out!” Three links appeared on the videos, one to her Patreon, one to the Ladyblog, and another to the introduction page.

“So, any Questions?” Max asked Kagami.

“I’m not sure yet.” Kagami answered hesitantly, and gave him his phone back..

‘Well I’ll send a link to the Ladyblog, so you can learn more on your own. I’m sure you can also Ask Alya yourself, if you have any questions!” Max said.

ha? she thought.

“Ask me what?” The girl from the Video, Alya, was standing in the door, with a boy wearing a blue shirt with an eye on it, and had earphones hanging on his neck.

oh. She also goes here.

“Hi Alya! We have a new student coming from out of town! So we showed her your video to show her what are Akumas!!” Kim said, as Alya walked towards her.

“Neet!” Alya said, and turned to Kagami. “Hi. I’m Alya. So where are you from?”

“I'm from Japan."

"Oh nice!! Why did you move?"

"For Darjencourt's fencing team."

"Ooh you're a fencer?! That's so cool!! You're probably very serious if you moved just for a fencing group. So are you happy with the group?" Alya asked with excitement.

As Alya and Kagami started their conversation, Max called to The boy “Hey Nino! I'm working on something new, do you wanna check it out?”.

“Hell yeah dude!! Coming right up!” Nino replied enthusiastically, and made his way to stand next to Max.

"It's OK. Better than most groups I've been too, but not great. I might have found someone that is equal to me." Kagami replied to Alya.

“What dose that mean? And who is that?” Alya asked.

Kagami started elaboratinh “This boy was the only one who had ever came close to defeating me. I have been through countless fencing schools, and no one has ever came as close as him. His name is Adrien Agreste, He told-"

“Why are you talking about my Adrikins?” A blonde girl wearing a yellow Jacket yelled at Kagami. Next to her stood a redhead girl wearing glasses and a sweater with purple green and black.

"Fuck off Chloe!!" Alya yelled at the blonde girl. The sudden swear took Kagami by complete surprise.

Her name is Chloe. It's starting to become harder to remember all of their names.

"The audacity! How dare you speak to me in such foul language!! Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!!" Chloe yelled at Alya.

"Anyway, you loser need to stay away from MY Adrikins" Chloe shouted at Kagami and placed her finger on Kagami's chest.

That girl knows Adrien

Kagami wanted to knock Chloe at a table. She doesn't handle being touched well. But she doesn't want to get in trouble. The last time a similar event happened, Kagami couldn't be at school for two full weeks. She had to spend them all with her mother, who put her under very intense training. She tried her best to ignore her.

"Oh shut up. You're the only loser here Adrien isn't yours and you're harassing the new student. Go away or I'll make you!" Alya stepped in.

The door opened and in came Adrien? So they are in the same class. Now she knows that everyone are friendly enough and she won't need him. But they're too friendly, and Kagami has somewhat of a problem dealing with their energy. She supposed she'll adjust eventually. If she can stay here long enough.

"Adrikins! This new loser was talking about you!! Put her in her place." Chloe told Adrien in her sweet voice.

"Oh, Hi Kagami. Didn't know you were moving to the same class as I am."

"Hi." She said unenthusiastically.

"Oh, your name is Kagami! I admit I forgot to ask! Sorry!" Alya apologized to Kagami. "That's a really nice name! What are you named after?"

"Hello everyone! How are you this day?" A red haired lady with a cyan coloured jacket. Said standing next to the teacher's table.

"Talk to you later Kagami!" Alya said sitting in the seat ahead of Ivand.

"I'm here! I'm here!" A girl with blue hair and a gray jacket ran through the door. Kagami recognised that girl as Adrien's friend, who also tried out to the fencing group, and greatly misjudged her.

She shouldn't have been given responsibility as a referee. She did what she could with what she knew. In retrospect, it wasn’t her fault.

"Hello Marinette you're right on time! I was just about to introduce the new student!" Mrs Bustier said to the girl as she went to sit. Alya went to sit next to her, and Nino went to the seat ahead of Alya. Adrien sat next to him.

"Please be a dear and come here Kagami" Kagami obliged to The teacher's request. “This is our new student, Kagami Tsurugi! She came to us from Japan, for a fencing group! I hope we all give her a nice welcome! I am Caline Bustier, and you can call me Mrs. Bustier.”

Mrs. Bustier. That’s her name.

“Sit next to Ivan please! Ivan, please raise your hand so Kagami will know who you are.” Ivan raised his hand. Kagami already knew who he was. She went to the seet to his right. She would have much preferred to sit closer to the forng. She sat down next to him and took out her glasses.

A literature lesson has started. They started studying a new piece, so Kagami could follow the less. Kagami was not good at reading between the lines, and understanding Metaphors. She wrote everything down on her tablet.

The lesson felt longer than she expected it to feel. But eventually it ended. They had a short breakfast break. "Catch you later Marinette!" Alya told and got up from her seat. Kagami took out an apple from her bag and ate it slowly.

"Hey Kagami, want to go with me to the Cafeteria?" Alya asked. "I still have a lot to talk to you about! And alot to ask you!"

Kagami stood up and said "Lead the way please Alya." Knowing where the Cafeteria is might come handy. Kagami isn't planning to buy food from the Cafeteria,she preferred to bring food from home. That way, she'll be able to donate more of her allowance. She started following Alya, as she led her to the Cafeteria.

"Give me your phone number so I can add you to the class group chat." Kagami gave Alya her number, and she saved her number. She fiddled with her phone a little, and Kagami got a notification.

"Well, where were we before the lesson? Oh yes! You said you tried a lot of fencing terms, but they disappointed you? Which ones did you try into?” Alya initiated a conversation.

“A few. We’ve tried pretty much every famously good fencing school there was. It's wierd that the one we settled on was running on a school's gym." Kagami responded and took another bite off her apple.

"Here we are, the Cafeteria! Do you want to buy something?" Alys asked Kagami as she stood in line.

"No thank you. I ate breakfast and I brought food from home." She responded. She took another bite and she was getting close to finish the apple. She stood next to Alya in line.

"You can go sit at a table if you want! You don't have to stay waiting with me!" She didn't know where or why to sit.

"Kagami! Hi!" Adrien called out to her. "I have something to talk to you about. Can we go to the library for a few minutes?"

The library. Max said it's a good place to be alone, and seeing places of the school is good.

But what did Adrien want to talk to her about? That sounds weird.

"OK. Lead the way." Adrien grabbed her hand, and started leading her. She didn't feel great with that. But she didn't know how to politely ask him to let go.

Marinette watched the scene taking place in front of her from her table. Adrien came up to Kagami and started dragging her somewhere. She slowly stood out and followed them, doing her best to stay hidden. She had to hear what they were talking about. She couldn’t let Adrien be alone with Kagami. She followed them to the library, and hid behind a bookshelf.

"Since your new here at school, I thought we'd review the material you missed!" Adrien said to Kagami. His father told him he intends to do business with Kagami's mother, and so he has to be Kagami's friend.

"Alright. So what should we review than?" Kagami responded. She wasn't sure they had time for that, the first break wasn't that long.

"Since the next lesson is Math, we should review it first. There'll be an Algebra test next lesson, but I don't know if you will take it. Since you're a new student and all. But let's start with Algebra incase you do!" Adrien responded and took out his Algebra book. "Take out your Algebra book and let's begin!" They started reviewing the material.

Kagami was quite good at Algebra, and she was aware of that. Adrien was impressed with her but she thought the way he was impressed was weird. He was impressed with everything and made her break down the exercises to too many small steps. As if she can't make larger steps. Like she's a child who's expected to know absolutely nothing about Algebra. She knew Algebra damn it! She didn't like it very much. Maybe she'd find someone else to review the material with her.

Adrien was surprised with Kagami's skill, but was unimpressed. He pretended to be though, pretended to be proud of her so she would like him. He was honestly bored out of his mind.

Marinette was in terror watching the study session. Kagami turned out to be great at Algebra and it seemed Adrien was very impressed! Almost as if he's… flirting? This can't be happening!!!!! She started spiralising.

She had to do something about her. Something to keep her away from her Adrien. Something. But what?

If she could get her away from the school, than she'll leave Adrien alone. Or at least she won't be in front of her. She can try and get her in trouble with the school.

For that she'll need to impersonate her, and the best way to do that. Was to get her phone.

Marinette used the same trick as she did with Lila. She used a bookcart to get close enough to them slowly, and than threw a few books at a shelf to distract them. She had enough time for her to get Kagami's phone, hide it in her perse, and stand us from under the table. She exchanged greetings with Adrien and went away.

She hid behind another shelf of books. Tikki came out from her perse close to her ear and asked whispering "Marinette, why did you take her phone?"

"I need to use it to get her away from Adrien!" Marinette exclaimed.

"But why? What's wrong with her being next to Adrien?" Tikki continued to question. She did somewhat know why. But if Marinette will confess it, maybe she'll see reason. Or hear how she sounds like.

"Look at her! She's so smart and pretty, and she's a good fencer! If I don't do anything about it, Adrien will fall in love with her for sure! I have to do something about it!!" Marinette said anxiously.

Tikki facepalmed and shook her head. The bell rang, and Tikki flew into Marinette's bag.

She's supposed to have an Algebra test now.

That's it! The test! She could convince the Teacher Kagami cheated on the test!! Than Kagami will be off the school for sure, and Adrien will not fall for her!

Marinette went to the classroom And sat down in her seet. Adrien and Kagami already arrived before her. The teacher walked in after Marinette. She was a tall white skinned girl with black hair. She wore a black jacket on a white shirt, and a pair of blue Jeans, black glasses, and black shoes.

“Good morning! are you all Ready for the test?” The teacher asked.

“Not at all Mrs. Shamai.” Nino replied. Nino Lahife was a fairly average student. He was OK at Math, his grades were never good, but never raised concerns. He was pretty much OK in all fields equally.

"Don't worry Nino! I'm sure you'll do great!" Alya cheered him on. Alya Cesire was not a good student, but Mrs. Shamai really appreciated her, mainly because of the Ladyblog. If Alya spent half as much on school as she does on the Ladyblog, she'd probably be the best student in class, Maybe even the school. But than, Paris wouldn't have the Ladyblog. And that'd be a catastrophe for everyone.

So she sometimes cheats the system a little in Alya's favour. She lets her get away with not doing homework, she judges her tests softer. Alya is doing so much for Paris, so she does that for her.

"Hey Mrs." A student called. She doesn't recognize her. Oh! She's probably the new student.

"Hello there! Are you new? My name is Michal Shamai! And what's yours?" Well what is she going to do with her now. Obviously she can't take the test. She'll have to speak to her after class to see how much she knows and schedule private lessons to cover what she doesn't.

"My name is Kagami Tsurugi." Kagami replied trying to stand out.

"Well it's lovely to meat you Kagami! We have a test today, but you'll take it another time. Take one test so you can see what we learned so far and you can go on break. I'll need to talk you after the test, OK?" Michal told Kagami, doing her best to be bright and accepting.

"OK." Kagami took a copy of the test, and left.

Marinette found that pleasing. Kagami now has the means to cheat. If only she could get out, she could send the answers to the test from Kagami's phone, and make everyone think it's Kagami.

"Everyone turn of your phones. If you need to have it on, put it on my desk." Adrien and Max stood up and put their phone on her desk.

Adrien always needed to have his phone on and ready to take calls. She knows he has a busy life and was expected to disappear any minute.

As a student, he was a good student. She didn't like him, cause he was a rich boy. But she couldn't deny that his grades were always good. From what she seems of him, it's not like he has a knack for it. It seems he just has good teachers and high expectations.

Max used to give his phones to her on tests, to avoid distractions as he once told her. It was always off. He was a good student, he had quite a skill for Algebra. She liked him too, he was very nice.

They both sat down and Michal gave out the tests one by one. By her orders everyone turned over the test and started.

Marinette started the test, and started doing it as fast she could. Skipping questions, not really doing everything. After ten minutes, she stood up and gave Mrs. Shamai the test.

"Are you sure Marinette?" Mrs. Shamai asked her. Marinette was very bad at Algebra, and got easily confused. Her grades were very low. Watching her give the test so early means she probably gave up. That felt wrong with her.

"Positive!" Marinette said.

"Please try more." Mrs. Shamai requested. She saw the test and it was almost empty. "If you really can't, we can schedule a private lesson and go over it. Ok?"

Marinette knew she couldn't escape that. Maybe if she'll take it, she'll have an opportunity to raise her grade. "OK" she answered and got out of the classroom.

It was time for her to execute her plan. She started first by going to the Teacher's Lounge, and secretly looking in Mrs. Shamai's locker. She found another copy of the test and started searching for Kagami. Fortunately she found her in the same table she had the study session with Adrien.

She used one of the free algebra apps and inputted the questions from the test. She opened Kagami's phone. Who'd she send the answers to? Everyone. The more the better, the more chance of Mrs. Shamai finding it.

She copied the first answer into the message and sent. She patiently waited, checking every chat window if the message was read. Most of them haven't received the message, but Adrien received it, so she stuck to him. She sent the second message to everyone again, and waited patiently again.

She did it again. Now the message was shown as read. She had to act quickly. She opened YouTube through the browser on Kagami's phone, played Wind Up God from Pandora Voxx on full volume, and made her escape. She knew the song only started five seconds in the video, so she could have time to escape.

Kagami suddenly heard a very loud noise. She went to check it and found a phone playing a song. Her phone. She turned it off. How did get there? How did she not notice it was lost? She didn't think she took it out from her bag. Why was it playing that song? Was it stolen?

Mrs. Shamai was watching the class, when Adrien’s phone got a notification. She saw how everyone got distracted. Adrien can only check his phone privately if he gets a phone call. Meaning it’s very urgent. If that happens, he will leave for the day and will do the test another time.

Adrien got another notification. And another notification. “Adrien make the notifications stop. If you have to check it, show it to me so I know you don’t cheat.”

Adrien stood up and opened the phone so both he and Mrs. Shamai could see it. He got a message from Kagami? He opened the message and saw it’s conents. Mrs. Shamai gasped, and Adrien tried explaining he didn't try to cheat.

“I didn’t try to cheat! I promise! It’s not my fault! Please don’t fail me.” He begged Mrs. Shamai.

“Leave it for the principal.” Mrs. Shamai said. She called the principal and told him what happened.

Kagami heard a voice calling “Kagami Tsurugi to the principal's office”. That sounds very bad. She started spiralizing. That was very very bad.

In a different place, Hawkmoth was rejoicing. "I can feel it. The anxiety and distress of a girl who might lose everything." A butterfly landed in his hand, and he corrupted it. "Fly away my little Akuma! Wait for her anxiety to blow up, and evilise her!!"

Marinette had done it! She managed to execute her plan, and run away undetected! Now Kagami will stay away from Adrien for sure! In the corner of her eye, she saw a black butterfly. “An Akuma? Who might it be for?” She asked out loud.

“You know exactly who it’s for Marinette!!” Tikki said with anger. Obviously, she was referring to Kagami.

“Oh Please come on. There’s a Math test today. Basically everyone is upset. It can be for anyone.” Marinette said annoyed, not fully grasping the effect she had on Kagami. “We better transform.” Marinette ran to the bathroom which were luckily empty. “Tikki Spots on!”

Kagami didn’t know where the principal office was, so she had to ask many people for directions. But eventually she found it and entered to find Adrien, Mrs. Shamai, and someone else. Probably the principal.

“Young Mrs. you’re in great trouble!” He yelled at her. Adrien looked at her in a way she couldn't decipher. Mrs. Shamai was glaring. What did she do to deserve this? Why were they so angry at her? She looked down in shame.

The Akuma following Kagami had settled hiding behind her, waiting for a command from Hawkmoth.

"What happened?" Kagami asked trying to hold back tears.

"You know exactly what you've done young lady! You thought we wouldn't catch you? But we did! Mrs. Shamai saw what you sent to Adrien." The principal replied mockingly. What messages? She didn't even have his number! Was her phone stolen? Oh no! She'll get in so much trouble!

"I never sent Adrien anything!" Kagami said, panicking.

"That won't work on us now. We have evidence. Helping someone cheat? On your first day?How dare you! We are going to call your mother!" The principal told her.

Hawkmoth felt a very sudden increase in Kagami's negative feelings. "Catch her my Akuma!". The Akuma obeyed and entered Kagami's phone, clutched in her hand. Kagami's sadness and fear started to transform into burning wrath.

Adrien made a quick escape, and ran away to the Bathroom.

"Come on, can't we sit this one out? You have a Math test! And I have some perfect cheese to indulge in!" Plagg started complaining.

"No time for Cheese! Plagg, Claws Out!"

"Elemental, I am Hawkmoth! This thief thinks he can destroy your world? Well I'm giving you the power to break their world! And everyone's world! All I ask in return is Ladybug's and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Will you help me?" Hawkmoth said in his usual dramatic fashion.

"Yes, Hawkmoth." With that, Kagami became wrapped in purple, and the Principal and the teacher scrambled to escape.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #kagami tsurugi #Max Kante #alya cesaire #MLB #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alix kubdel #long post

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

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Prompt by @fruity-hub-blog. Phor the Phic Phight.

The night was auspicious for a summoning, all the stars and planets in their ideal locations. The date, Beltane, was excellent. The mansion was old, Gothic, and had more than a passing reputation for being haunted, not to even mention the town. The candles were high-quality all-natural beeswax. The chalk was the purest white. The altar at the center of the geometrically perfect chalk circle was of clean-cut marble. The practitioners were experienced. The ritual...

Well, that remained to be seen.

But still, they couldn't ignore the opportunity to summon the Dark King, the Lord of the Afterlife, the Ruler of All Ghosts and Spirits. It was the kind of thing that only came along once in a lifetime, if that.

Each of the thirteen of them had their lines, their part of the ritual that they had memorized after months of practice. It was complex, but also oddly simple. Elegant. Refined. Perfect.

The grandfather clock in the drawing room began to toll midnight, the signal to begin. The practitioners' voices wove together, reaching up, up, up, and hopefully through the veil separating the mortal world from the one belonging to the spirits.

The candles flared, first yellow, then red, then green, reaching higher and higher until the circle looked like a cage with bars of fire. A wind whipped through the room, twisting and tangling the flames. The hoods of the practitioners' robes were blown free, exposing their faces. A few put up their hands to shield their faces from the flames, but none of them stopped chanting.

The leader, their high priest, took his dagger from beneath his robes and drew it smoothly across his hand. He let the blood puddle there, before flinging it out, towards the altar at the center of the circle. The book they had read had suggested that the ritual was more likely to be successful if the high priest made a more significant sacrifice at the altar, or if the high priest made the sacrifice at the altar, in the circle, thereby putting himself at the King's mercy, but, well. The practitioners were all dedicated. None of them was that dedicated.

A few drops of blood hit the altar, and there was a flash of light that was bright and somehow dark all at once. The practitioners had to avert their gazes.

"What have you done now, Daniel?" asked a mature, highly annoyed voice. It echoed weirdly around the room.

"I didn't do anything," said a much younger, but still male voice. "I never do anything. Whenever something happens, it's because you decided to go all power h- Ellie!?"

"Ow," this third voice was younger and female. "That was weird. What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't- Oh. Hello. Uh. Hm." Two pairs of green eyes and one pair of red blinked out of the circle at the practitioners. "We seem to have been summoned by a cult. Hi, Mr. Thunder." As the practitioners' eyes adjusted, they saw one of the three (three!) ghosts they had summoned wave to one of their more junior members.

Lance Thunder made a strangled noise. "Phantom? And the Wisconsin Ghost?"

The smallest ghost snickered. "The Wisconsin Ghost? Really?"

The largest ghost growled. "That is not my name. I am-"

"Oh my gosh, is that blood?" asked Phantom, pointing at the altar. His finger traced the line back to the high priest. "Dude, you're bleeding. Are you okay? You should probably get that looked at, it looks pretty deep from here."

The high priest blinks for a minute, then turns his gaze to the eldest ghost. "You... must be the king," he said, forgetting his planned speech, "and these," he hesitated for a moment, "phantoms are your attendants?"

There was a beat of silence then an uproar of laughter. "Him? King? You're joking right?"

"He's so bad at getting people to listen to him that he makes his own followers from scratch!" exclaimed the younger ghost. "And I still told him to stuff it!"

"People hate him more than they hate me!" Phantom took a deep breath and seemed to settle himself. "Why would you think he was a king?"

"We were, er, we were trying to summon the King of All Ghosts," said Lance Thunder when it became clear no one else was going to answer.

"Pariah Dark? Why?" asked Phantom, clearly taken aback. "The heck would anyone want to do that? Don't answer, we all know you're the lunatic that let him out last time."

By this point, the ghosts had moved so that they were standing on opposite ends of the altar, the Wisconsin Ghost on one side, and the two green-eyed ghosts on the other.

Lance glanced at the high priest again. "To... ask a boon."

"Right," said Phantom. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't get him, honestly."

"But-" said the high priest, reemerging from his stupor. "Why you? Why three of you? This doesn't make sense! This was for one, specific, ghost! There shouldn't be three."

The ghosts exchanged glances. Phantom, with the air of someone trying to be subtle, tested the boundary of the circle and winced slightly as his hand met an impenetrable wall.

"Most likely," said the Wisconsin Ghost, clasping his hands behind his back and standing straight, "it is because Daniel and I were the last ghosts to be in Pariah's presence, as we were the ones to defeat him."

"Please, you showed up at literally the last second and turned a key. You didn't fight. I guess you were there, but that doesn't explain Ellie. You secretly a king, Ellie?"

"Nah, but I bet I'd make a great queen." She struck a pose then let it drop, shrugging. "I'm going to be honest, though, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The similarities between Danielle's ectosignature and yours probably confused the spell. Now, if you are all quite satisfied that we aren't the ghost you are looking for, release us. I'd prefer not to have to waste time breaking out. My night has been disrupted enough."

The high priest twitched, then clenched his uninjured hand. "No," he said.

The Wisconsin Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"No. Perhaps you aren't the ones we wanted, but we would be fools to throw away this opportunity." The high priest took a deep breath and uttered a word of binding.

Lines of light sprang up from the circle, wrapping around the ghosts. The boy was the first bound, then the older ghost, and finally, after what almost seemed like confusion, the girl. The lights tried to arrange them on the altar, but that only resulted in the ghosts being mashed together in a confusing pile.

"Oh, come on!" said Phantom, wriggling. "I've already filled my ritual sacrifice attempt quota this week!"

"Stop that at once, Daniel, you're kicking me in the face!"

Phantom wriggled harder.

"Bring the book," ordered the high priest. "Perhaps it can shed some light on these events and tell us how we might reap benefits for ourselves."

"Are we going to put them in thrall?" asked one of the practitioners, excitedly. "Make a bargain? Collect their powers? Sacrifice them to higher beings?"

"Wow, all of that sounds terrible," said Phantom, craning his head back so that it hung off the edge of the altar. "Like, really terrible. You shouldn't do any of those. Trust me, they'll all backfire horribly."

The book, an old crumbling thing that had long been in the family of the high priest, was brought forward and opened. He flipped through the pages, slowly. He had read the book cover to cover many times, but some kind of power had been infused into the pages, and he often found passages in them that he would swear he had never laid eyes on before. That was how he had come across the ritual to summon the Ghost King and extract a boon from him.

The priest stops, a sentence catching his eye. Should a title be contested, it may be that all spirits with a claim to it are called. This gives the priest a sacred task, to mediate the dispute. The priest read through the next few pages.

In all honesty, the high priest didn't put much stock into things like sacred duty. Although his great-grandfather had been invested in the art and ritual for spiritual reasons, the high priest was of a more practical bent. So what if ghosts existed? People had always at least suspected that. All it meant was that you had to secure your position in the afterlife, too.

One of the other practitioners cleared their throat. "Master," said Lance Thunder. "I really think that we should just let them go. I mean, Phantom is a tutelary spirit."

"I mean, thanks, but I'm actually terrible at school."

"Be quiet, Daniel."

"So?" asked the high priest.

"So, we need him to keep the town from being overrun with ghosts," said Lance Thunder.

"With the powers we can gain from this, we could protect the town ourselves," said the high priest.

"You know," said Phantom, "saying 'could' sort of implies you won't. And this is a really uncomfortable position. The last cult I got kidnapped by was much better about positioning. I'm definitely going to have to give you a negative review."

"This happen to you a lot?" asked the girl. "Where do you even go to review cults? Yelp? What are the criteria?"

"Oh, the usual. Comfort level, sincerity, complexity, effectiveness, originality... I'll give them points for originality, since I'm usually summoned by myself. I mean, I don't summon myself, but I'm the only one summoned."

"No, no, I get it."

The high priest pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew there were spells to shut up summoned spirits, but he needed them talking, for now.

"One of you," he said, "will be King."

"No, we aren't," said the girl. "We just established that."

"Hold up," said the boy. "'Will be?' Not 'are?'"

"You are the contenders for the position," said the high priest, with as much authority as he could muster. "You must determine which of you it is to be."

"Well," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Clearly I am the only suitable option."

"Oh, come on. You have to see he's trying to play us," said Phantom. "We pick one of us, and then that's the one that has to do this 'boon' thing, and they'll turn the rest of us into 'thralls' or whatever."

"Perhaps. But, then, you should have no trouble acknowledging me as King."

"I literally just outlined why I would have trouble doing that."

"What does 'thrall' mean, anyway?" asked the girl.

"Like, slave or something. I don't know. It was in a song that S- uh, a friend likes."

Obviously, they weren't going to cooperate. The high priest would have to get more serious. "Fetch the water of life," he ordered, pointing at Lance Thunder. It would do the junior practitioner good to remember who was in charge.

The man scurried off, light from the next room briefly spilling past the doorway.

"Isn't that vodka?" asked the girl. "Like, alcohol?"

"I don't know. Ask this guy. Reminds me of a sci-fi thing, though."

"What about this situation is sci-fi? I'm not up on genres, but, still, this has to be horror."

"Or humor, yeah."

"Oooh, burn."

"If you two are quite done," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Perhaps you might share your plan to get out of this mess."

"You don't have a plan," said Phantom, "you have a power grab. A really dumb one, that won't work, just like all the other ones."

"He's got a point, though. How do we get out of these ropes?"

"No idea."

"I thought you did this all the time."

"Not this specific variation," protested Phantom. "None of the others had this glow-y rope thing going on. They don't exactly feel like real ropes, though, if you get me. A human could probably put their hand right through them."

"Wonderful, Daniel, but that isn't exactly something we can take advantage of, is it?"

"I'm just pointing it out, you don't have to be a jerk about it," said Phantom. He shifted again, very deliberately putting his feet in the older ghost's face.

"Daniel, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Weren't you complaining about being enslaved a moment ago?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally on that. Got it covered," said Phantom.

"What do you mean, you have it covered?" said the high priest, aggravated by the constant banter. "You can't possibly believe you're getting out of this. This circle was designed to hold the King of All Ghosts!"

"Sure," drawled Phantom, "and government was designed to keep things in order, but it doesn't do a particularly good job of that, does it? Not to mention, you got three for the price of one, here. Ghost King is pretty singular, generally."

The high priest let his eyes flick over the circle and the bonds. Nothing was out of place. Everything was secure.

"Also, I'm pretty sure Mr. Thunder bailed on you, dude."

"Yeah," said the girl, "unless this house is way bigger than it has any reason to be. Even bigger than Vlad's."

"Or if he can't find it, I guess."

"Or if he has to buy it from the nearest liquor store."

"Nice. Hey, guess what, guys? If any of you want to bail, now's your chance." Phantom smiled, showing off a set of too-sharp teeth.

"No one is going anywhere," snarled the high priest. Lance Thunder had been gone for much longer than he should have been, however. He frowned at the door.

"Oh, hey, I got the blood," announced Phantom.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, "you got what?"

"The blood. I knew there was some on here. I saw it before. Really dumb leaving it out like this, you know. There's lots of stuff people like us can do with blood. It's way better than hair."

"Daniel, are you implying that you know magic?" said the Wisconsin Ghost, completely incredulous.

"That's the part of this situation you're having trouble with? But, yeah. Enough to screw with cultists who don't understand the meaning of 'personal space' or 'bio-hazard' and leave their stupid blood everywhere."

"You're going to have to teach me," said the girl.

"My friend, you know the one, is way better than me."

"That makes sense. So, are you going to blow him up?"

"I was thinking about it, but that would leave all the other guys."

"Not if you made the explosion big enough."

"That's true, but I was thinking about maybe turning him into, like, a werewolf or something. Have him tear apart all these other guys. I did say you could bail, it isn't my fault you've stu-"

"You can't do that!" snapped the high priest. "He can't do that. He's trying to trick you into letting him go free."

"Are you sure about that? I'm a ghost after all. I'm old enough to have seen Rome burn. I know more than you, even if I like playing the teenager. It makes people underestimate me." Phantom's lazy smile turned sinister. "Don't you feel what I'm already doing to you? To all of you. You could still escape," his voice buzzed uncomfortably. "All you need to do is let us go."

A few of the practitioners shifted.

"Don't-" started the high priest.

It was too late. One of the others had darted forward and upended a candle. Wax spilled over the clean chalk lines, breaking them, obscuring them. The lights flickered. The ghosts were gone.

"You don't actually know any magic," stated Vlad as they hovered over the house.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know enough to scam a cultist," he said. "But, if you're asking if I could do what I was saying? Nope."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Ellie. "I was excited."

"Clever, I suppose," admitted Vlad. "But this doesn't resolve our previous business. Which of us is King?"

"Oh my gosh, Vlad, let it go," said Danny.

"I can't do that. This is a very important matter, not that a child like you would understand." Pink sparks leaped from his fingertips.

The other two ghosts drifted back, their dropping body temperatures making mist condense from the air around them.

"Well," said Ellie, "I'm not sure that it counts for anything, but I nominate Danny. Full offence, Vlad, but you suck."

There was a tiny popping sound, very like the sound a tiny firework might make, and a green and glowing crown expanded into being above Danny's head. All three ghosts stared at it for a minute. Danny was practically gaping.

"Oh," said Ellie after a moment. "I guess it does count."

Danny made a very strangled sound before diving out of the way of Vlad's attack. Ellie responded with a ghost ray of her own. The chase was on, and soon they had left the mansion far behind.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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norabrice1701 · 4 years ago

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An Offer Received - Part IV

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!reader

Summary: Life as Mr. Conrad’s foot soldier has consequences.

Rating: Controlling behavior, threats, f-bombs, Dark!Conrad

Previously: Part III.2 - 5 Months

A/N: Still here, and still going! The life delay took longer than anticipated, but excited to wrap this up! Thank you to everyone who’s liked and followed this tale!

GIF credit to original poster via the Tumblr search!

Part IV - 5 Minutes

You only limped for two weeks while the incisions healed. But every time you took a step, you swore you could still feel the VI emblazoned in your skin. His mark. His brand. A constant reminder of what you’d been folded into. And, worse, given your word to support.

It should repulse you more, but strangely…it hadn’t been bad so far. Nothing in the office environment changed. You still reviewed divisional output, provided daily briefings, and assisted with whatever Mr. Conrad needed to keep LOKI as the industry frontrunner. He remained just as cold and detached as he had before he marked you, except for a searing, possessive gleam that darkened his eyes if you held his gaze for too long. As if he dared you to give the situation a voice, dared you to press him for everything that remained unspoken.

But you bided your time. At first, you had wondered – now that you were a marked foot soldier – if you would be privileged to know more about the mysterious Operation ‘Blue Sea’. But apparently there were still limits to Mr. Conrad’s trust. As infuriating and frustrating as it was.

It made you wonder if he could actually do it. Would he build the sixth greatest empire that the world had ever known? Was that even possible? And if he failed, what then? How many foot soldiers would go down with him?

Those thoughts shouldn’t concern you right now, though. Mr. Conrad had a meeting in 29 minutes and he needed your notes from this morning’s divisional alignment meeting. Your fingers flew over the keyboard with swift accuracy, recounting the discussion as it happened and nothing more. Mr. Conrad was more than capable of drawing his own conclusions.

“Hey, you.”

The familiar voice warmed your insides and you couldn’t help but look up with a smile. Sebastian Barnes had always been handsome with his dark hair and stormy eyes, and those lips that always edged a playful smile. You’d been surrounded by so much cold precision as of late and Sebastian was a welcome wave of comforting warmth.

He chuckled softly, gaze dancing over your face. “It’s good to see you, too. Been a while.”

You hummed in consideration. “Too long, probably.”

“Too long, but hopefully not too late.” He glanced around the office suite. “Swanky new digs. It’s obvious the new gig agrees with you. Certainly suits you, anyway. Mr. Conrad’s never had someone represent him so directly.”

You arched a dubious brow. “He doesn’t trust me that much.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re good at everything you set out to accomplish. I admired that about you from the start.” His smile brightened boyishly as he stole a quick glance to Conrad’s closed doors before turning back. “But hey, I was wondering if we...could do dinner tonight. We’re both guilty of work getting in the way, but…I think I’d like to make that change. At least, for myself - new year, new resolution and all that. So, yeah….dinner tonight?”

Your throat tightened, so desperate to say yes, to enjoy a night of easy conversation and free laughter outside the delicate web of Conrad’s design. But how could you possibly take that risk? You shook your head slowly, regret softening your face. “That sounds wonderful, Sebastian, really - but I’m…I’m not available. Tonight...or any other night.”

His brow pinched in obvious confusion. “No? Oh, no – please don’t tell me I’m too late. What…is there – is it me? Or…someone else?”

You bit your lip, not wanting to lie to him. “I – yeah, I guess you could say there’s someone else.”

“How did I lose out, huh? We had a good thing – good, if infrequent. How did I get bumped out of line?”

It was a fair question. You’d never said you were exclusive with Sebastian, but you weren’t the kind of girl to play a string of lovers. You sighed, glancing quickly to the clock on your computer screen. Time was running out before Conrad’s meeting. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you started softly, “it had nothing to do with you – I really did enjoy our nights together. But this other guy, he just…just swept me up.”

That seemed to take him aback as he pulled a confused face. “What does that even mean?” He glanced up from you, around the suite. All at once, an idea flashed on his face, revulsion and disbelief seeping into his eyes. “Oh, Christ…I didn’t want to believe it. But it’s true, isn’t it?” He stared at you as if he’d never seen you before. “You did fuck him to get the job.”

“No, god no. I didn’t fuck him to get the job.”

“Oh, so you just fucked him after you got the job?”

You glared up at him, feeling your cheeks flush, betraying the truth. “It’s not like that.”

“Jesus.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and down his face. His eyes locked to you, passing undeniable judgment. “I defended you, you know. I thought ‘no, she’s above sleeping with a guy for professional gain.’ I mean, you slept with me with nothing to gain.”

“Sebastian, stop talking. Please-.”

“How could there possibly be another explanation?” He studied your face, tilting his head as he seized on another idea. “Wait…please don’t tell me that you actually like that cold bastard?”

“It’s…it’s complicated.”

“It’s really not. Unless he forced you…,” he blinked, eyes probing your face for more, “please don’t tell me he forced you. Or, better yet…please do. It would be gratifying to take down that smug son of a bitch.”

“No, he didn’t force me. And you should really stop talking now.” You cast a sideways glance towards the still closed double doors. “You do realize that he can probably hear you.”

“Don’t know that I care much. Whatever he did to you, said to you…he stole you from me. And that…,” he paused for a breath, sadness seeping into his face, “that hurts, you know. I like you – well, I did like you. But I guess you weren’t the girl I thought you were.”

You sighed, welling with heartache and hoping this would be the end. The last thing you wanted was for Conrad to make an unwelcome appearance, so better to just rip the bandage off. “Yeah...I guess not.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it just as quick. He half-nodded, still looking hurt and baffled, but then he turned for the office suite doors. Your heart longed to call out after him – he really was a decent guy who deserved someone better than you. Someone better and stronger who wouldn’t have fallen into Conrad’s calculating clutches.

The hydraulic hinge hissed as the door closed behind him and tears stung your eyes. You bowed your head, fighting them back. You knew that you needed to focus now – this meeting was soon. Your notes were expected. You could cry all night, pound the pillows in frustration, and numb yourself with wine later. Later.

“…Darling?”

Your head shot up on the gentle endearment, startled at the suddenness of the voice.

Conrad stared down at you with an alarmingly compassionate, concerned edge. His expression looked so genuine, but you knew him well enough now to know that it wasn’t genuine. How could it be? He hadn’t been genuine with you since that first meeting.

“Darling,” he repeated, his voice so achingly tender, “you look so terribly upset.”

You forced yourself to summon a smile, hoping your eyes and cheeks weren’t too telltale red. “I’m fine, really. Just...early spring allergies.” You sniffled, mostly for effect, but also to help clear your tears. “But I do appreciate your concern, sir.”

He shook his head, the concerned façade disappearing to reveal pure disgust. “You’re a terrible liar, and you should know better.” He crossed behind your desk in a predatory flash, standing alongside your chair, a firm hand on the back to hold you steady. You breathed deep his subtle cologne as he leaned down, warm breath against your ear. “Tell me the truth. Right now. Otherwise…well, you remember what I said about punishment?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hanging your head. What did you have to lose? Sebastian already thought the worst of you. You already wore Conrad’s brand. You swallowed hard. “A lover’s quarrel, that’s all. A quarrel that ended hurtfully.”

Chilled fingertips crept across the skin of your neck. “Good girl. Though, I confess myself disappointed - you never told me that I was second. That someone else in this building was first to convince you to spread your legs.”

You froze, suddenly confused. “I...I wasn’t a virg-”. Your words choked off as his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough. Panic rose in your chest as you forced yourself to keep breathing.

“Don’t be stupid.” His words were little more than a deadly hiss. “It would be embarrassing for a woman of your age to still wear that mantle. Just as I won’t be made a fool of playing second fiddle to a man like Barnes.” His thumb stroked delicately against your skin as he continued to hold you, lips skimming the shell of your ear. “So, you will tell me each detail - how he touched you, how he fucked you. And only when I am satisfied - only when you have earned it, and you’re begging me - will I fuck you until you forget his name and yours.”

You twitched in your chair, feeling your heart race. Nothing about that should sound appealing, but some dark part of you thrilled at his show of dominance. Even if it was, at base level, nothing better than a threat.

You swallowed, gaze darting to your computer clock to stall for time. “But, sir -.” You gasped as his hold tightened.

“You’re not invited to speak unless asked a direct question.”

“But - your meeting!” You tried again, voice ragged. “The notes you need-.”

He sneered a discomforting laugh. “Fuck the meeting. Believe me, this time next week - it won’t matter.”

Fear raced along your spine, both at his words, and the sudden withdrawal of his hand and suffocating presence. You gasped for breath, trying not to jump as strong fingers pressed to the underside of your chin, tilting it sideways and up to look at him.

His eyes burned with dark, glacial fire, his posture the mark of controlled composure. “My office. Five minutes.”

He turned for his office, nothing hurried in his stride, and you drew a deep breath. You didn’t realize you’d forgotten to breathe as the words slammed home in your brain.

His office. Five minutes. Fuck the meeting. Everything he expected you to tell him.

You rested your head in your hands, fighting to bury every last feeling you had for Barnes. They wouldn’t help you, and you refused to give Conrad the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Perhaps you could - well, not lie exactly - but stretch the truth. What you shared with Barnes was not Conrad’s business, and if he thought he could make you think differently...then, he had another thing coming. If he wanted to control you, flay you open and rebuild you in his image, then...then you damn well wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Two minutes now. You hit the ‘do not disturb’ setting on your phone and computer status before rising, steeling yourself. Your heels sank into the carpet as you approached his open office door.

He stood at his desk, grey suit jacket slung across the back of his chair as his fingers worked at his tie. Your throat went dry at the sight - he’d never been seen around the office without his tie perfectly placed.

With a whisper of fabric, he pulled it free from his shirt collar, letting it drop to his desk. His gaze landed on yours as his fingers turned to his cufflinks. “Close the door.”

Your heart accelerated, feeling the heady pulse of adrenaline as you followed his order.

The cufflink clinked to the glass desktop, nimble fingers now rolling up his sleeves to expose strong forearms. “You understand my expectations?”

You bit your lip. “Yes, sir.”

He turned his attention to his other sleeve, letting the anticipation, the tension build.

His office had never felt so suffocating, the air so thick you might choke. You watched as he came around the front of his desk, fingers skimming the discarded tie in an unspoken threat, an unspoken promise. An unbidden current of heat flared to life within you.

He leveled you with those piercing eyes. “Now, where were we?”

Up Next: Part V - 5 Days

#tom hiddleston #villain #the art of villainy #hiddlesedit #good to be bad #world domination #loki #avengers reference #fanfic #an offer received #wannabe writer #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #not rpf

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beyondconfessor · 4 years ago

Text

Principle Decisions [9/24]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: Entering a beautiful woman’s house, cold and wet, then having her clothes disappearing to where she wouldn’t be able to have access to them. Whatever was a woman to do?

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

Sabrina did not come down for breakfast. It was raining, heavy outside and Zelda was willing to push her anger aside to ensure her niece was taken to the school safely, but while she was drinking her morning coffee over breakfast, she heard the noise of someone trying to quietly sneak their way down the stairs, before the door opened and shut.

When Zelda walked around, an aching sensation gnawing at her stomach, she peered out of the foyer’s windows and noticed that Harvey had picked up Sabrina.

She hardly trusted a teenager to drive safely on the roads. Still, despite her frustration that her niece was clearly trying to sneak her way around her, it was nonetheless sweet to see the boy come to the door the Spellman home with an umbrella, so Sabrina didn’t get wet from the short distance between the veranda and the car.

As it was, Zelda had a meeting with Prudence that morning and needed to leave early anyway, this way at least, she didn’t need to drop Sabrina off on the opposite end of the town on her way to work.

It was raining heavily, and she pulled up at the parking lot, she grabbed her own umbrella to make her way onto campus as the rain continued to wash down.

Sometimes, with the rain they were heaving like this, the main road would flood and block her from coming in. She was already considering cancelling classes for the day unless it let up, but would review how many people actually lived off-campus before making that decision.

Setting her computer up in her office, she removed her coat and sat her umbrella aside before sitting down just as Prudence turned up. “Professor Spellman,” she said with a tight surprise. “Have you read your emails this morning?”

Zelda fixed her damp hair, opening her laptop up as she settled in her chair. “Not yet, should I have?”

“It’s just that…um, the grades you put up are wrong.”

Zelda paused, “How so?”

“You gave Dorcas, Nick Scratch’s results and Agatha now has Nick’s, which works in her favour, I suppose. But…it’s like that across your entire class.”

Zelda’s stomach clenched as she saw a dozen emails from students, questioning their marks. Flicking into the system, she opened it up and reviewed. She wasn’t sure how that had occurred. She wasn’t even sure how many it affected but knew that it was going to be an absolute pain to undo.

Once a grade had been placed up in the system, it wasn’t something easy to undo. It was far easier to screw up the system and adversely affect a person’s weighted score than it was to undo it––the easiest way to fix it would be to manually work out what everyone’s weight score should be and then add in extra credit to move the weighted score up or down, but that would take hours of work.

Literal hours that she could not place onto Prudence’s plate.

Zelda combed her fingers through her hair, feeling a wave of dizziness rush over her. On top of this, she would have to go to Faustus and advise as to what had occurred, explaining the error and what she planned on doing to fix it.

Given that she was apart of the Liberal Arts, there were fewer scholarships that would be affected, but she wasn’t entirelywithout scholarship students. After all, Prudence was one herself.

“I see,” Zelda, wishing she could scream. She swallowed back the frustration and anger, feeling it turn into a lump in her throat. She needed to fix this fast.

“Professor?” Prudence asked softly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“This is my mess, Prudence. I will fix it.” She paused, drawing in a tight breath before noticing that the woman remained hovering in her office. “Do you mind if we reschedule this meeting, I need to fix this as fast as possible, before any of the scholarships are adversely affected.”

“Of course,” Prudence said. “Did you want me to take your first class this morning?”

Zelda looked to the time, and then out at her window to the heavy rain. “No, I think classes should be cancelled, given the weather. Are you okay to make it back to your dormitory?”

“I’ll probably go to the cafeteria,” Prudence responded. “But you have my number if you need me?”

Zelda nodded, gesturing loosely in agreement. The truth was, she didn’t know what was easier. A part of her wanted to double down on the mistake and affirm that it was correct––absurd as the idea was––and another part of her wanted to just up and quit, never to be seen again. The amount of work it would take felt overwhelming. She’d been stressed before, but this, after everything else, felt near impossible.

She began by putting her anxiety aside and sending out an email to Faustus to let him know what had occurred before any complaints were raised. Then she sent out a following email to the affected classes, letting them know she was aware of the error and would rectify it by the day’s end.

She cleared her schedule, pulled out her calculator and tried to remember basic maths before setting to work.

She didn’t eat, didn’t bother taking so much as a cigarette break. Instead, she had a pot of coffee made and set to work, moving from her desk only to attend the bathroom.

It seemed almost a saviour that the rain had occurred, allowing her a reason to cancel the classes and focus on the task at hand.

Once it was done, only then did she take the time to look at the clock and notice it was the end of her office hours, with nothing completed but a rectified mistake and half a dozen emails assuring the scholarship students that were any questions to rise, she would personally fix the issue herself.

Zelda packed her bag up, switched her heels for flats as a heaviness weighed on her shoulders before she made her way through the storm, back to her car, feeling as if the day was wasted. She sat in her car, sitting back in the leather seat as sheets of rain ran down her windscreen.

She wanted to cry or scream or do something, but she didn’t have the energy for any of it. Instead, she put her seatbelt on, turned on the engine, removed the hand brake before reversing out of the parking lot.

The rain narrowed her vision, and as she went to return home, she found herself notably blocked by flashing lights, warning her that she couldn’t take the main road.

Side road it was then—typical of today.

Zelda grew up by the forest. She knew forest roads better than most––though her time dating a ranger and firefighter (separately) certainly added to that knowledge––leaving her to use the mud slicken paths to find her way home.

But it was dark, and it was storming, and she was prideful, eventually finding her car inevitably bogged in a puddle deeper than she’d estimated.

She stepped out of the car, pulling out her umbrella to look at the wheels and knew there was no way in Hell she’d be able to get the wheel out herself. Especially in the rain, the mud was too thick; even now her shoes were sinking in the ground.

No, instead she was stuck having to climb back in her car, soaked from the rain and see if she had service (she did not, because of course the storm was interfering with that).

It left her with two options. Option one was to stay in the car and wait for the storm to recede, when she could go and get help. Option two was to go out and get help now.

It was likely safer to keep with option one, far more practical, but it’d been a shit day. If she was honest, a masochistic part of herself was hoping that something else would go wrong so she could truly scream out at the world and just let out all the frustration and anger she was feeling.

Pulling her coat firmer around herself, she took out her umbrella.

The flats she wore were only markedly more practical for the weather than her heels, but not by much. Zelda climbed out of her car, clicked the doors locked (though if she was going to get robbed, may as well being in the middle of fucking nowhere) and then made her way eastward through the forest on the fire trail, knowing that it would lead to one road or another, where she could try and signal down a driver.

The forest was wet, and the foliage was slippery. More than once, she slid, catching on a nearby tree to stop herself from falling into the mud. But with all the shrubbery, it didn’t seem to matter. Her stockings were soaked and mud-splattered (ruined forever, and she’d barely worn them, so that annoyed her too), her dress clung to her, completely soaked even with the protection of the coat.

It was all too much. She could feel the tears pricking in her eyes, a sob making its way up her throat.

She knew she should turn back. Go back to the car and wait for the storm to clear—however long that would take––but didn’t. Instead, her stubbornness kept her walking through the forest until she saw a flicker of light.

Gold and red, perhaps headlights, or a home. If it was a house, she might be able to request some neighbourly help and hope to God that they were home and would let her use their phone. Otherwise, she was uncertain as to what she was going to do.

The house was a cottage, alone on the old highway. But the lights were on at least.

Zelda made her way up the wooden step, happy for cover from the rain as her back spasmed with shivers, freezing as she knocked on the door.

There was a pause inside, and Zelda knew it was likely someone not expecting any company. And then the door opened, and Zelda found herself face to face with the last person she expected to live in a cottage.

“Lilith?”

“What are you doing here?” Lilith asked at the same time.

Zelda shivered from the cold, feeling the wash of warmth come through from the house with the smell of a wood fire going. “I got bogged. I didn’t know you lived here. I just need to use your…your…” she shivered again, teeth chattering and suddenly the door was being opened wider and Lilith was ushering her inside.

“Bogged?”

“The road was sh-shut due to the r-river o-over f-flowing,” Zelda said, allowing herself to be tugged towards the fire. There, she stripped off her jack, water still dripping off her in a puddle around her feet––embarrassing if it weren’t for how dreadfully cold she felt.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling it wetly stick to her face.

“Where did you get bogged?”

“F-forest road. I k-know the roads,” she said, kneeling before the fire.

“Not that well, it seems,” Lilith muttered as she took the jacket. Zelda didn’t see where it disappeared to, only that Lilith returned and began unzipping Zelda from her dress.

“I’m fine,” Zelda insisted. “I just n-need your telephone.”

“Well, the lines are down, and I don’t get service out here,” she admitted. “So you’ll have to wait, now stand up and let me undress you before I get cross.”

“Wouldn’t want that.”

“My crop is never too far away,” she warned.

Zelda turned and shot her a look, “I thought you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“You don’t listen, do you?” Lilith sighed, unzipping the black dress and helping Zelda to get out of it.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a clever girl, work it out,” the words were spoken sharply, and Zelda realised that the events still hurt the woman.

No, that wasn’t necessarily true. She was hurt by what Zelda had said.

Taking the dress, Lilith wrapped a towel over her and gave her a heavy look before she disappeared with the dress. Zelda huffed, turning back to the fire and feeling the shaking ease. Her muscles remained tight, a bone-chill holding onto her as she tried to inch closer and closer to the hearth to feel the warmth.

“I’ve run you a bath,” Lilith said, returning suddenly. “We can try the phone lines again after you warm up.”

“I don’t need a bath.”

“The fact that you’re still shaking tells me otherwise. Now it’s either this or I bend you over my knee and give you an enema to stop you from getting hypothermia,” Lilith said, her brows raised. “Is that what you want?”

Zelda rose to her feet, disgusted at the implication and allowing herself to be led down the hall, where she was shown to the bathroom. The bath was positively ancient-looking, and the water had been run halfway, deep enough for her to submerge herself into.

Zelda removed her slip and then with clumsy hands began to try and undress herself. Lilith worked faster, unclipping her garter belt and helping her to slide out of stockings before she undressed her.

It was terrible intimate, and twice Zelda slapped her hands away only for Lilith to arch a brow and step back, allowing her to fumble before she took over again.

Finally, Zelda was able to climb into the bath.

The heat scorched her body, but pushing past it, she submerged herself in the heat and felt it slip over her, watching as Lilith picked up her clothes and disappeared with a short, “Don’t get up to trouble.”

If Zelda was honest, this was traversing a fine line between fantasy-nightmare. Entering a beautiful woman’s house, cold and wet, then having her clothes disappearing to where she wouldn’t be able to have access to them. Whatever was a woman to do?

Sinking in the bath, she thought about the implications of it. Truthfully she doubted that Lilith had any bad intentions, no matter how snide her comments were. And yet a part of her couldn’t admit to hoping a little bit for wicked intentions.

She could hear the shuffling around, telling her that Lilith was up to something. Zelda felt the heart of the water soothe her aching muscles, the cold drifting from her bones at the very idea of what could occur. After all, she had stumbled across Lilith’s cottage, her sanctum, so to speak. Likely the woman wouldn’t be terribly pleased…

And yet, as lovely as the idea was, Zelda knew that realistically speaking what was likely to occur was Lilith having her clothes dried by the fire, as she tried the phone line again, unimpressed with the situation.

“Here,” Lilith said, entering the bathroom. “Your clothes were filthy––unfortunately your stockings were beyond saving, but I’ve put everything else in the wash so you’ll just have to wear this for the time being,” she said, setting down a nightgown with a dressing robe beside it and a new, fresh towel.

“Thank you,” Zelda said. “You don’t need––“

“To stop you from dying? Unfortunately, a duty of care is written into the law, and I could be charged with willful neglect,” she said. “Despite what you may wish.”

“I was hardly close to being pneumonic,” Zelda snapped. “It was a bit of rain, not a snowstorm.”

“You were half-drowned,” Lilith said, with an air of disregard, as if she couldn’t be bothered to argue. “Now out you get before you do drown.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Aren’t you?” Lilith said, her smile wicked. Though when Zelda stepped out of the bath, Lilith hands came out and patted her dry with the towel, brushing over her body in a way that Zelda felt the woman enjoyed doing too much if the wicked smile was anything to go by.

Then Lilith was stepping back, and Zelda was finally allowed to dress in the gown and dress, a warm flush dropping over her as Lilith hand her the towel to dry her hair.

The water was murky from the mud and dirt, and more than a few leaves floated in it as Lilith pulled the chain from the plug and set it aside to drain, leaving the bathroom in such a way that Zelda’s eyes followed her movement, familiar with the walk leading her up to her bedroom floor.

“Are you following?” Lilith sang down the hall, and Zelda hated how her heart skipped and an urgency to follow filled her.

Despite her frustration with her, the woman remained to hold a tight control, in a way that was utterly freeing at the best of times and entirely frustrating every other time.

Nonetheless, she followed down the hall, shutting the bathroom door behind her, its lights clicked off.

Lilith led her into the kitchen, where she’d already made a pot of tea, setting it down before her, not unlike their aftercare sessions. Zelda looked to the stove, where it was clear the woman had been halfway through cooking her tea when she’d interrupted her.

And on queue, her stomach gurgled. Zelda flushed, looking away, thankful for the tea.

“Sit down,” Lilith said, shooing her to the kitchen table. And then Zelda watched as she set out two dishes and opened the oven, pulling out a small casserole dish.

“I don’t need––“

“Don’t be impolite. I wasn’t joking about finding my crop, and if need be, I will pull out the wooden spoon if you continue to be rude,” she looked over her shoulder, giving a purposeful look. “Now sit there and wait for dinner to be served, like a good girl, and then we can check the phone lines.”

Zelda didn’t see why she couldn’t check them now, but she sat obediently at the table, her finger pushing at the fork with disinterest. She was embarrassed overall by the situation and further humiliated by the fact that she was just sitting here, waiting for this like it wasn’t her own fault for being here whilst Lilith treater her like a temperamental child.

It didn’t ease the urgency in her to apologise, and there was still a part of her that wanted to stomp off, back to the woods to find her car. She wouldn’t because that was stupid, but the feeling remained there.

Lilith took her plate and began serving the meal. “If I didn’t know how utterly stubborn you were, I would never believe such a story as you getting bogged on the fire trails. Most people would have turned back and waited until the storm passed,” Lilith said with a look.

“I’m not most people,” Zelda said, hating how the woman made her feel like a child under the scrutiny of a teacher. “The fire roads go directly to the Spellman house, and usually it’s fine. I’ve driven it through rain before.”

“But this time you were unlucky.”

“Yes, well, the hole was significant. I would argue it was man-made, but it could just as easily have been created by an animal, digging for something,” she said. “And then the rain just happened to be getting worse.”

“Yes, well, here you are. You’re lucky I live here. Not so long ago, no one lived here, and it was just an old, decrypted house.”

Zelda rose her eyebrows. “So you haven’t always lived in Greendale, then?”

“No. I moved about…oh, a year ago,” she said with a soft hum. There was a softness to her face. “But I was familiar with Greendale. I used to have a few regular clients from here and Riverdale that would pay me to come to visit them for a weekend.”

“Why?” Zelda asked.

Lilith looked at her, tilting her head, “and why not?” she asked.

Knowing she’d overstepped, Zelda felt like she should apologise, but as the woman’s expression stared at her as if waiting for her to argue, Zelda couldn’t hold back from her comment. “Why would someone need a whole weekend of sex and kink?”

“For many reasons that include the fact that it’s not just about sex and kink,” Lilith said, setting Zelda’s plate down before her as she took her own dish to her side of the table and sat down. “You should try it out for yourself and see.”

“Is that your sales pitch?”

“It is,” Lilith said, her eyes sparkling with humour. “Now, explain to me again what occurred. You were coming home from a day of work, saw that the main road was cut off and decided…to go through the fire roads, even though there was a storm?”

As if on cue, thunder roared outside with a flash of light.

“Yes,” Zelda agreed. There was little more to it than that.

“And…you had no idea I lived here?”

Ah, Zelda realised. “You think I drove through the forest road, and intentionally got bogged and decided to traverse through the storm to your cottage? That’s counting on a lot of things to occur at the right moment.”

“Your story is that you got bogged, for all I know, your car is parked a little way up the road.”

“For what purpose?” Zelda said. “Certainly you don’t think that I would be so insecure as to manufacture a moment.”

“I’m never certain about these things. Comes with the territory.”

Zelda quirked her head, studying the woman’s expression. If she had to make an educated guess about what the woman was inferring to, she’d say that there had been a time someone had come across her private residence under false pretences.

“I have better things to do with my life than chase after a woman,” Zelda advised shortly. Privately adding that she was not interested in anyone who had terminated their services because she had some moral compass to show off.

“And what does a woman like you do to occupy her time––outside of soliciting the services of a dominatrix?” Lilith enquired

Zelda smirked. “I work at the university, as you know.”

“Mm, there’s more to it than that.”

“Yes. I complete my own academic papers, but I’m behind on them at the moment.”

“What are your papers on?”

“Language. I had one on the context of language and how it shifts with religious texts, changing the meaning. But my most recent one is more-so about the development of language in cultures and how it shifts––mostly around youth culture, I suppose.” She sighed, thinking fondly upon all the academic books she’d lost when the technician had accidentally deleted all of her stuff due to a virus on her computer––though he said it was more common with university students and suggested raising it with the school.

“Sounds fascinating.”

“In a sense,” Zelda said. “Most people would advise it’s dry. And I suppose it is in their own ways. The students I have hope to become translators or work for the EU in some capacity. Few of them would ever think to follow an academic path, so what I find interesting, they very rarely agree.”

“What did you hope to be when you studied?”

Zelda hummed, realising what the woman was doing, and yet she couldn’t help herself from revealing the truths, “I had an aptitude for language and followed it for that sake alone. I wanted to travel, so I did, spending much of inheritance and earned money travelling the world and learning different dialects. Then I returned home and took up studying for a PhD.”

“Why, Greendale?”

“Because it’s home,” Zelda said, but that was a lie. “Because Sabrina couldn’t live in the city,” she admitted with more honestly. “She deserved a good school and being able to walk home without fear of something happening.”

Lilith nodded. “Understandable,” she said. “When I used to live in the city, I was mugged once. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what that felt like. Though looking back, I don’t think he even had a weapon, just the threat of one and that was enough.” She tilted her head, and her eyes narrowed as if she was scrutinising a thought.

“So why did you move to Greendale?”

“Change of scenery,” Lilith said, her smile tight as she set the fork down. Zelda nodded, dropping the question there. Whatever the reasoning, it was still raw and tight, enough that it fractured the woman’s mask.

They chatted politely over the rest of the meal, Lilith enquiring as to her work, and Zelda asking about the school. The topic remained not dissimilar to what you might have over a work conference with a stranger because it was polite to network rather than taking an absolute interest in what the person was saying.

And when dinner was finished, Zelda rose, taking their dishes to the sink, before beginning to wash up.

Lilith watched her with interest, making no polite comment that she didn’t need to. Although Zelda knew it was an expected social factor to wash dishes if the other person cooked, she couldn’t help but feel annoyed by the fact that Lilith didn’t argue.

It was like when the receipt was placed down for dinner, and the other person doesn’t make a move for it, knowing you’ll pay. It was polite to do the social dance.

“You can try the phone,” Lilith said. “It seems to be back up, but I would suspect that you’re likely to stay the night.”

“And why is that?” Zelda asked, aghast at the woman’s presumptuous way of speaking.

“Because the road remains washed out, and I highly doubt that you’re looking to get your sister bogged on the same fire road as you did.”

Zelda pressed her lips shut and looked away. It was a valid argument. Though she was sure someone she knew had an appropriate car, it was far too late now to ask for such a favour and…

…she wasn’t entirely displeased at the idea of staying the night. It would provide her with more opportunity to…

She stopped the thought there, reminding herself that Lilith had terminated those services, demanding she see a therapist first. Huffing, she stepped away from the sink, pulling out the plug and drying her hands before walking over the phone like that hung on the wall.

It was corded, which seemed all the more ridiculous as she lifted the receiver and heard the familiar sound of a dial tone. Clicking the numbers, she heard the phone ring before it was picked up.

“Spellman residence, this is Hilda.”

“Hilda, it’s Zelda,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know––“

“Oh Zelds, I was worried when I heard the road was flooded. I tried your office, but it rang out.”

“Yes, well, I’m safe, but I likely won’t be home until tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know that I was fine.”

“Wonderful news. Are you staying with the Blackwoods?”

Zelda paused, torn between lying to her sister for simplicities sake, or admitting the truth. “I’ll speak to you tomorrow, thank you, Hilda,” she said before hanging up the phone.

Lilith looked at her, brow’s raising but didn’t seem to argue either way. “Well,” Lilith said with a flutter of her eyes. “I suppose the question is…what did you want to do now?”

Zelda drew in a breath, feeling a low flutter in her belly. She knew what some part of her wanted, but there was no way she was going to admit that. Instead, she returned the question to Lilith, “And what are the options?”

“Hmm, I have some books, we could play a game. Otherwise, we could just adjourn to the living room.”

“And do what?”

Lilith smiled at her. There was demureness to it and were Zelda not so distrusting of the woman. She may have believed it to be genuine. Truthfully, the demure look only made her all the more suspicious. Nonetheless, Lilith led her to the fire and sat down on the lounge, reclining across in a way that had Zelda averting her gaze from her legs as she sat down in the armchair.

For the first time, she swept her eyes over the home. There was a strangeness to it in contrast to the other house. This house seemed smaller with the narrow rooms, though it was definitely twice as large given that it had more rooms. The furniture was old, and as Zelda’s eyes wandered over the mantle and strange collection of knick-knacks, she wondered how much of it belonged to Lilith.

Certainly, she wouldn’t have placed muted colours as a choice of the woman––especially with how modern and bright the other place had been.

“Is this your home?” she asked.

“As much as any other place I live in has been,” Lilith responded. “Why do you ask?”

“It doesn’t suit you.”

Lilith laughed. “No, I suppose it does not. I didn’t decorate it, but it suits me well enough,” she said with a tight smile.

“Did you decorate the other place?”

“Yes, and no,” she answered. “I chose the art and the bed, everything else just came with time.”

The answered puzzled Zelda. As she understood, Lilith had only been living in Greendale shortly. The wealth depicted in two homes cast a strong contract. Here, everything looked old, like it’d been owned for decades and whomever the owner was, had intentionally picked the pieces to match. In contrast, the other place had a more contemporary feel to it.

But Lilith’s answers were deliberately misleading, and Zelda knew that if she wanted to clarify, she would have done so already. Instead, she’d chosen to remain a mystery by design.

It left an awkward silence, one that provided Zelda with too much time to go over the other day, remembering Lilith’s words. Telling her that she wouldn’t engage in her alleged self-harm––and yet, she’d gone out of her way to flirt with her today, to the point that it left no mystery that should Zelda return it, the woman would happily engage in a service.

Right now, she was lying on the lounge in a way that was intended to look casual, but Zelda knew very well was posed, having done similar acts of seduction herself. While she appreciated it, it left her confused.

“What did you mean by earlier?” Zelda asked. “When you said that I don’t listen.”

“You don’t listen, what is there to interpret in that?”

“I listen quite well,” Zelda countered. “You’re just vague, which says more about you than it does me.”

“That may be true, but you don’t listen. You half listen and then extrapolate whatever answer you want from that––in this case, it seems to cast yourself as the victim.”

Zelda’s jaw clicked, a fit of furious anger rising inside of her. “And what in God’s name do you mean by that?”

Lilith smiled. “Why haven’t you booked another appointment with me?” Lilith asked.

Zelda blinked, taken aback by the comment, “You said I couldn’t.”

“I said no such thing. In fact, I offered to leave your last session as free given that we didn’t finish it, which was awfully kind on my end, despite how rudely you stormed off.”

“I was not rude, and you said that you wouldn’t complete the requested services anymore.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I said I wouldn’t engage in your self-harm; there’s a difference. We can still engage in BDSM. It just means that if I say it’s over, it’s over. You don’t get to push your limits without negotiating them with me first.”

Zelda’s chest tightened as she looked away. “I wasn’t trying to push my limits.”

“No, you were trying to punish yourself. I won’t engage in that, the only person who gets to punish you, is me. When you engage my services, you’re mine, do you understand?”

Zelda flushed, staring at the fire. The words your mine rolled through, echoing softly. She quite liked the way that sounded. “I don’t want to punish myself.”

Lilith sighed, sinking in the chair like she was terribly bored. “The therapist I gave you is good. I used her services myself.”

“And what did you need them for?” Zelda asked. “Were you punishing yourself?”

“Don’t do that,” Lilith said, looking her sharply in the eye. For a moment, all humoured had failed, and the woman was looking at her intently. “You’re better than that.”

Zelda shifted, biting back the seething comment. “And who made you the authority?”

“I did by being a dominatrix, and you placed yourself as the submissive.”

“I didn’t appreciate it.”

“No,” Lilith agreed and then she drew in a tight breath. “I will admit, I went about it the wrong way. When I went through…something similar, it was difficult to see that I needed help. You don’t need to see a therapist if you don’t want to, but I do ask that you consider it.”

“I have, and I’ve elected not to.”

Lilith nodded, her expression tight. “Then I won’t push again. But should you ever want a recommendation to a therapist, I will provide it to you.”

“Thank you.”

“And now just comes the matter of you storming off and being quite rude. Are you going to apologise for that, or should I find my cane?”

Zelda shivered and looked away to the fire again, not wanting the woman to see how intently she would enjoy such a thing. The idea of being bent over a surface and feeling the cane crack over her skin. It was enough to make her deeply aware of the lack of underwear underneath the gown.

“Unless that is something you want?” Lilith said, a low, soft laughing ringing from her lips as she sat up.

“No, I––” Zelda said, but her voice was swollen with arousal. All she could think about was Lilith’s hand running over the welts, telling her how good she was being.

Her face felt hot as she bit her lip.

Lilith was standing in front of her before Zelda was even aware of standing. And then, as Zelda looked up, into her eyes, she watched as Lilith bent before her, hands on either side of the armchair, so Zelda sat up straight and pressed back in the seat, watching as the woman’s eyes came to level with hers. “You don’t need to lie to me, if you want me to spank you, all you need to do is ask me nicely.”

Zelda swallowed, staring back, afraid that if she blinked, the woman would devour her.

She could smell her perfume––faded, but sweet coming from her skin as one hand lifted and seemed to curl under her chin, tilting it up. “Ask me nicely,” Lilith said. The words were softly spoken, but there was no mistaking the authority in the command.

“And what would ‘nicely’ look like?” she asked.

“You’re a clever girl, I’m sure you’ll work it out,” Lilith grinned, and it only fed into the situation as Zelda found herself growing bold.

If Lilith wanted to play, she could play. She’d had enough of being seduced––Lilith may have experience of ruling her authority over others, but Zelda had never had a complaint with her own techniques.

“Do I just say, ‘please, Principle Wardwell, won’t you bend me over your knee’?” she asked, grinning as she watched the woman’s smirked falter, her pupils dilating. Zelda leant closer and felt Lilith’s fingers slide down her throat. “Or should I just get on my knees and beg?”

Lilith’s eyes darkened, and she gave a wolfish grin. “I like the idea of you begging.”

“You’re going to need to try harder to get me to beg for you. I’m sure a clever girl like you can work it out.”

“Disrespectful,” Lilith said, her hand coming to slip around Zelda’s throat, holding it steady but not painfully. “You can try to wind me up all you want, but you still need to ask me nicely.”

Zelda drew in a deep breath, knowing she was already under the woman’s skin. “Please, Principal Wardwell,” she purred, and Lilith smirked at her, her fingers tightening as she leant forward and kissed her. Zelda’s eyes fluttered shut, her mouth soft and pliant as she felt the woman climb on top of her, one leg on either side, effectively pinning in her place as she used both hands to cup her face, kissing her softly, and then hard, her teeth coming out to catch against Zelda’s bottom lip before she sucked on it until Zelda moaned.

And then Lilith was kissing down her throat, and Zelda didn’t know how this was going to end up with her getting spanked, but she could feel the flickering warmth in her belly as lips kissed over her neck, each one soft and tender until the woman’s teeth sunk against her shoulder.

Zelda’s nails dug in the woman’s thighs as she rocked forward,

Lilith laughed as she pulled away, giving the spot a lick before she stared into Zelda’s eyes, flicking between them as if she was trying to read her thoughts.

“I’m going to punish you in a way that you’re not going to like,” she said. “It won’t be what you want.”

“And, pray tell, what do you think I want?”

“I think you want me to pull you over my knee and spank you until you’re absolutely soaked, and then you want me to fuck you while you squirm in my lap and listen to me tell you what a good girl you were for taking such a punishment.”

Zelda shifted at the words, feeling the flush brush over her. She swallowed the words, afraid that if she tried to deny it, she’d only make a fool out of herself.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to spank you, but you were very disrespectful for me in my own home, and naughty girls get punished before they get treats,” she stepped away then and then Lilith was taking Zelda’s hand and tugging her out of the armchair, up the steps to the second floor and into Lilith’s bedroom.

Her real bedroom, that had a simple bed, with simple covers and a thick, fur throw strewn over it to keep the heat in.

Lilith shut the bedroom door behind her and then grinned at Zelda. “What’s your safe word?” she asked.

“Music box.”

Lilith smiled, her fingers running over the satin collar of the dressing gown Zelda wore as she pushed it off her shoulders. “I’m going to make you beg, Zelda Spellman. You came into my territory, in my home. You’re mine.”

“Am I, now?” Zelda asked, feeling her heart flutter.

Lilith’s smile only widened as her fingers played with the straps of the nightgown, pushing them off Zelda’s shoulders too, so the dress fell, catching over her hips before Zelda tugged them down, standing obediently before her.

Lilith leant forward and kissed her again, and Zelda pressed into her, her fingers settling on Lilith’s hips. She didn’t understand how the woman could threaten her and make her feel safe at the same time as if she was in complete control and giving it all up at the same time, but Zelda softened against her, mouth parting to slip her tongue over Lilith’s.

She was eager and nervous, uncertain about what was to follow.

And then Lilith was pulling away and tucking hair behind her ear before she whispered. “On the bed, in the centre for me, please.” And then she stepped back and watched her, teeth biting her bottom lip as she nodded for Zelda to get into position.

Zelda climbed onto the bed, sitting in the centre.

“Oh no, on all fours, facing the head of the bed.”

Zelda drew in a breath, her heart beating faster. It would leave her exposed. Very exposed. But Lilith just waited where she stood, eyebrows raised as she waited for her to either obey or disagree.

Those were her two options. She could do what was asked of her, or she could refuse, demand something she wanted.

She didn’t want anything else.

Zelda obeyed, rolling onto her hands and knees, back straight as she stared at the head of the bed.

“That’s my girl,” Lilith said, and then Zelda could hear her walking around the bedroom, liking admiring her position. “Scooch back a bit,” Lilith said. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Zelda bit her lip, manoeuvring herself backwards. There was no graceful way to do it, and she suspected that that had been Lilith’s plan, to humiliate her just a bit as she was crawling backwards on the bed.

“Stop.”

Zelda paused and then looked over her shoulder, feeling the heat rush across her face, down her body despite how the cool air felt against her naked body (especially to where her sex remained exposed).

“Eyes ahead. Good girl,” Lilith said, and Zelda felt her hand slip down, over her back, across her backside. “Now, stay right there, don’t move,” she said.

Zelda shivered as she felt the hand lift away, listening as Lilith walked around the room, opening up a drawer and pulling something that sounded reasonably heavy out from it. And then, Zelda felt Lilith touch over her ankle, a cuff wrapping around it but Zelda felt what was like a bar press over her other leg, and then Lilith was moving her other ankle, adjusting it, so her thighs were quite wide apart.

“A spreader?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” Lilith confirmed, buckling her other ankle into a cuff. “It leaves you so beautifully exposed before me.” And then when all was done and buckled, Lilith’s hands were dropping over her waist, sliding down her backside and thighs as she ran her nails bluntly over the skin.

Zelda shivered, but try as she might, the bar kept her legs spread and she was unable to press her thighs together.

She was just open. The woman could do and see as she pleased.

Zelda drew in a deep breath, calming her beating heart as Lilith hand’s continued to run over her, petting her softly. It was both patronising and yet calming at the same time, and Zelda wished that she could find it annoying.

“Now, I would say…five for each infraction, does that sound fair?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?” Lilith prompted.

“Yes, Principle Wardwell.”

Lilith laughed before Zelda heard her draw in a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever tyre of hearing you say that.”

And then Zelda felt her hands running over her again, pressing across her lower back and drawing her nails down the muscles. “Five lashes for each infraction, I’ve counted your rudeness three times.”

“Three?”

“Mmhmm. Three times I threatened to spank you, so here you are. Fifteen lashes that we’ll do in lots of five.” And then she was quiet again, and Zelda was taking a deep breath, waiting for the first strike to hit.

It came sudden and firm against the left cheek, and Zelda squeaked, surprised by it but otherwise fine. The second was as firm on the other side. She bit back her sound, digging her hands in the fur throw and waited. Another strike came, low and managing to hit both of her upper thighs, stinging it enough that Zelda gasped.

Three strikes.

Was she meant to be counting them? She couldn’t remember.

Another strike came, and Zelda felt it rock over her. Her ass was warmed already by the strikes, a heat pulsating across it that paused as she felt the cane gently kiss against her. Holding her breath, she wondered briefly if that was meant to be number five.

And then she saw the shadow flicker, giving her enough time to brace as the strike hit her hard and true on her upper thigh, stinging across it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as she breathed through the pain, feeling it pulsate over her.

“You did well,” Lilith advised, her fingers coolly pressing over the marks, running across the welted lines.

Zelda squirmed at the touch, feeling her own wetness grow slick––it was somehow all the more embarrassing to know how on show she was, how easily Lilith could see how wet she was getting it.

Zelda ducked her head, staring at the fur throw and drew in a tight breath. As humiliating as it felt, she still squirmed at the sensation, wanting to feel Lilith’s fingers continue to draw over, mixing plain with pleasure.

“Ready for the second lot?”

Zelda nodded, and then squeaked too late as she felt Lilith pinch a welt in warning, “Yes, Principle Wardwell.”

“Good, you’re learning.” Lilith stepped back and drew over her thighs. “Let’s see, shall we. I could be very, very cruel but I don’t think I will. I think I’ll be nice.”

Zelda whined.

“I know what you want, but this isn’t about that,” Lilith said, her hand running over her back, stroking across the curve of her skin. And then the next strike came, and Zelda’s eyes squeezed shut as it cracked over her ass, hitting the very edges of her vulva with deliberate intention. It stung enough that she felt tears prick into her eyes, but Zelda’s fingers curled into the throw, breathing out hard as she pressed against the spreader between her calves.

She couldn’t lie. It hurt, but it hurt good. Like she could feel the impact and the pain rolling over her, but also the endorphins flooding through her bloodstream.

“Would you look at that,” Lilith teased and then her fingers were sliding over the outer labia, and Zelda was whimpering at the light touch, feeling the woman spread her wider. “My, my, you do enjoy a good spanking, don’t you?”

“Yes, Principal Wardwell.”

“Mm, perhaps I should get creative, think of other ways to punish you for rude behaviour. Maybe make you––“ she was cut off as a ding sounded, far below in the home. “Excellent, the washing machine’s done. Do be a dear and stay where you are. I’ll be quite cross if I’ve seen you’ve moved.”

“Yes, Principal Wardwell.”

Zelda held her position, waiting, and then feel the faintest touch on her back, before she felt Lilith’s fingers comb through her hair, moving it in place. And then she was gone, feet padding out of the room.

Zelda could hear the stairs creak with the weight on them, before that too faded, leaving the house quiet.

There was the sound of a door opening, and then there was silence, and Zelda waited and waited and waited. Feeling seconds tick as the heat and sting on her skin turned cold and then faded to a dull ache. There was only quiet and her thoughts.

And all she could think about was that if anyone walked in except Lilith, she would be terribly on show. Every part of her naked and exposed for view. Realistically, she was safe. It was unlikely that someone else would make their way to the house, be invited inside and then make their way up the stairs to Lilith’s bedroom.

And yet, despite the knowledge of this, Zelda couldn’t help but feel the prick of anticipation. It wasn’t entirely impossible, just improbably. It could happen. Someone could come across the lone house and visit her.

A stair creaked, and Zelda felt the anticipation break across her skin. She was almost helpless.

What would happen if someone were to––

“Look at that,” Lilith said, and Zelda prided herself in the fact that she didn’t jump, despite her surprise. “You remained perfectly in position. Aren’t you just an obediently little woman?” Zelda could hear her steps down, listening as they stepped over her to behind her, taking the cane from the bed.

“Are my clothes––“

The cane struck low, on the side of her thigh and Zelda gasped, surprised by it. “Subordinates are quiet unless spoken to,” Lilith reminded her. “Now, where were we?”

It was a rhetorical question, and Zelda refrained from allowing a response to be pulled from her as she felt the woman walk around the bed, seeming to take her form in. “I think two more lashes should do it.”

Zelda’s brow pinched. She was certain that there was at least eight outstanding.

But Lilith’s fingers touched over the welts and Zelda hissed at the touch. Two spots were more painful than the others, and Zelda felt Lilith’s fingers glide over it, rubbing the nerves raw. It twisted painfully inside of her, and although there was certainly enjoyment to be found, for the most part, she felt the pain act like pins against her emotions, pricking her pain until she felt like she was going to cry.

“You’ve done well,” Lilith said. “I’m reducing them because your skin's a little more delicate than I anticipated. But I’m proud of you, so don’t think that’s it’s for any other reason.” And then the weight shifted, and Zelda felt her head bow. The strike came, hard and firm, pressing over one of the smaller welt and Zelda moaned, feeling it spark up her spine. Tears were pricking in her eyes now.

And she wasn’t sure if it was from the strike or the words I’m proud of you that were running through her head. It was absurd to get so worked up over the phrase. Absurd to feel them prick sharply into her, harder than any strike. Anything at all.

Proud of you.

God have mercy; she ached.

The last strike came, and like a crumbling damn, Zelda’s body bent over. She wasn’t going to cry; she was determined not to cry.

And yet Lilith’s fingers were fast, and the spreader was unbuckled and removed, and then the woman was on the bed, and Zelda was pulled into her lap. And Zelda hated it, hated how the woman’s fingers drew over her hair, how she hushed her and ran hands over her body and whispered how good she’d been.

Because it hurt, it hurt more than it should, and Zelda wanted it again. She wanted Lilith to whisper into her ear and press kisses to her shoulder, and tell her that she’d done really well, even if it wasn’t true. She wanted it so badly.

She closed her eyes and felt the combing stop, but Lilith’s hands remained on her, one settled on her head, the other curled around her body, pressing against her chest, steadying her.

And then when the pain was over, Zelda drew a breath and rose, feeling the embarrassment wash over her again, just as it had in their first session.

She licked her lips, trying to think of a dry comment to make or something to say to soften what had occurred but Lilith only looked into her eyes, and all the words died in her mouth.

“I’m going to insist this time that I put cream on it since you’ll be staying the night.”

Zelda made a noise of disagreement but shifted away, winching as she pressed against a welt. “Fine,” she agreed. “Only because I won’t have access to my own.”

Lilith gave her a look and then shifted off from the bed, going over to her dresser when she shuffled through the drawers, before pulling out a container of cream.

She returned to the bed, and tugged at a pillow, pulling it down next to Zelda, “Lie down, and I’ll place it on,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Zelda obeyed, rolling onto the stomach and resting her arms over the pillow, placing her head on it in a way she was comfortable.

And then she settled, feeling the fur of the throw press against her as the cream was unrolled and the woman’s fingers were dipping in it. “Do you do this for your clients, too?”

“I do,” Lilith answered. “Some, like you, are stubborn, which makes it harder to provide adequate care. But I usually find a way.”

Zelda hissed as the cream touched over a welt before she softened again. The woman’s touch was firm, rubbing it into the skin, and she felt her stomach twist at the intimacy of the situation. It came at no surprise to herself that sex and kink were easier than allowing someone to rub cream into the welts.

“None of them have broken,” Lilith said, as her fingers drew down her thighs, both hands rubbing over her left, the thumb firmly rubbing it in––and yet despite how intimate it was, it didn’t feel like foreplay. It felt like what it was, aftercare. As if Zelda was an invalid needing cream for bedsores. “They won’t scar, but they’ll sting for a few days.”

“Wonderful,” Zelda responded dryly.

“Oh, yes,” Lilith said. “One of my favourite things is knowing that even after you leave, you’re going to think of me,” she said, drawing the cream on the other side now. “When you get in your car, when you sit in your office when you’re at the dining table, you’re going to feel it press, and you’re going to think of me.”

“They won’t be happy thoughts.”

“They will be,” Lilith said. “You’re a masochist, Zelda. Try as much as you like. You do like this.”

She felt a bite rise in her. “And yet you said that it was self-harm.”

“Mm, there’s a difference,” Zelda felt Lilith's fingers draw away, and despite how much easier it was to relax when they weren’t there, she missed the touch, the feeling of her drawing over the skin. “What you wanted the other week was complete destruction. You were pushing yourself, refusing to stop. This was different.”

“I didn’t cry last time.”

“Crying isn’t always a sign of pushed limits,” Lilith said. “I think you know the difference between today and the other day and are trying to be deliberately obtuse, so you get what you want.”

Pushing up, Zelda felt a flare of frustration rise at the woman’s words. “Which is what?” she asked, her jaw clenching as she anticipated the woman’s indifference to her fight.

But Lilith only smirked at her. “you know what, Zelda. I’ll play with you on negotiated terms, but I’m not your partner. I can’t be the emotional support you need.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Zelda huffed, pushing up onto her hands and knees before she paused, wincing as she felt the pain sting over her. The welts hurt differently than before. This was a dull ache that throbbed, rather than the sharp sting.

But she pressed on, moving to push off the bed. Not that there was far she could go. She was stuck in the woman’s house until the storm ended––or, more realistically, until tomorrow. A part of her wanted to seduce the other woman, dominate her in a different way that she’d been until Lilith was left wet and wanton against her mouth, but she had a sneaking suspicion that sex was off the table for the moment.

Taking the nightgown from the floor, she placed it on, before pulling on the dressing gown and drew her hair over her shoulder.

Lilith remained sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with mild interest as if she wasn’t sure what might occur next.

“What time is it?”

“Relatively early,” Lilith said, “though I have some administration work to do. Did you want a cup of tea?”

“Please,” Zelda agreed.

_________________

#lilith #zelda spellman #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic

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