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torreshalstead · 2 years ago

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It Seemed Like a Good Idea - Chapter 1

Summary - Hailey’s US visa was due to expire, which normally wouldn’t be an issue as the CPD would get it renewed but due to a backlog of paperwork, this wasn’t possible. This meant Hailey was faced with the real possibility of having to leave the country, her job and everything she held dear. That was until Jay offered up a solution which would allow her to stay in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him - they could get married. Getting married was a good idea, right?

Chapter - 1/18

Notes - I really hope you enjoy the first chapter, I am so excited to be sharing this one finally, I’ve been working on it for a few months and I absolutely adore it. It’s full of all my favourite tropes and definitely some factual inaccuracies of the US visa process (going off my own limited experiences/friends) but it’s fiction! AO3 Link

It was a slow day in the bullpen, filled only with the sounds of fingers on keyboards and the rustle of papers. The tapping of Adam’s pen against the desk was starting to wear on Hailey’s last nerve. In an attempt to get away from it without snapping at him, she stood up and headed into the break room. Maybe coffee would be the solution.

‘Ruzeks' insistent pen tapping driving you crazy again?’ Unbeknownst to her, her partner had followed her into the break room and was leaning against the fridge. Being an ex-sniper, he had a way of walking without making any sound, it creeped Hailey out to no end and she had told him as much.

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if he could actually keep a steady beat to it’, she huffed, leaning her elbows on the counter and resting her head in her hands. ‘Thought coffee might help to clear my head but I can still hear it even from here’.

‘One second’, Jay said, excusing himself and leaving Hailey alone with the sound of the coffee machine bubbling away, the hot elixir dripping into her mug, the nonsensical tapping still echoing in her brain.

Hailey let her mind drift away from the bullpen and its noises but instead of zoning out to a place of peace, her mind was instead filled with worry; deadlines and dates swimming around her brain. It wasn’t unusual that she hadn’t heard anything by now, no reason to worry about anything.

‘I’ve sent him out to go get us actual coffee’, the smooth sound of Jay’s voice broke through her reverie. ‘You alright?’ he asked, her lack of a comment about him creeping up on her clearly concerning him. ‘You were somewhere else for a second.’

Hailey stood herself up straight, running a hand over her face and then over her hair, tugging her ponytail tighter. ‘All good, just a daydream’, she smiled, an empty smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes so she turned away from Jay quickly, focusing instead on the notice board instead. They had been partners for 3 years now, long enough for him to be able to tell when she was lying to him. He had the uncanny ability to be able to read her like a book.

‘Anything good?’ he asked with a smirk as he came to lean against the counter next to her.

‘Now that would be telling,’ she responded, her voice laced with sass.

‘Touché.’

‘There you are Upton’, Sergeant Trudy Platt said as she walked into the break room. The usually stern desk sergeant had a soft spot for Hailey, something that the rest of the unit never let her forget. Trudy had been the first person Hailey had spoken to when she entered the district 3 years ago, fresh faced and eager. It didn’t hurt that she had turned up armed with warm loukoumades, fresh from the Greek restaurant near her new apartment. Turns out it didn’t take much to get Trudy Platt on side.

‘Hey Sarge, what can I do for you?’ Hailey smiled at the older officer, unlike the one she had given her partner earlier, this one was warm and genuine.

‘This was sent down from the Ivory Tower, marked urgent so thought I’d best deliver it straight into your dainty little hands,’ she smirked as she handed over the envelope. Jay stifled a chuckle next to her which was met with a dainty elbow into his ribs.

‘Thanks Sarge, Ruzek’s just gone out for coffee, I’m sure if you stay long enough you could convince him to hand his over to you. That’s if you don’t mind the milky-est of coffees with far too much cinnamon.’

‘Trust that kid to have the worst taste in coffee’, Trudy made a look of disgust. ‘Chuckles, your order any better?’ She shot Jay a questioning look.

‘You’re more than welcome to have my iced mocha,’ he said with a smirk.

‘There’s not a snowball's chance in hell that you ordered an iced mocha,’ Trudy crossed her arms and pondered for a second, a calculating look appearing on her face. ‘You’ve got a coffee with a splash of oat milk, one sweetener and an extra shot but only on Friday’s right?’

Jay’s mouth hung open as Hailey laughed. Trudy had got it in one. ‘Hh.. how?’ Jay stuttered, the look of shock etched across his face.

‘There’s a reason I’ve got these stripes and you haven’t, Chuckles, don’t you forget it,’ she smirked. ‘Anyway that’s better than Goldilocks’s order of a vanilla latte. I mean do you want to be more of a millennial Upton’.

It was Jay’s turn to laugh as Hailey muttered under her breath that it was delicious.

Just then Kim burst into the room, her jacket half on, ‘Adam caught a case. He needs us down on Wabush, now.’

‘Sorry to cut this short Sarge, but duty calls,’ Jay said with a grin as he ran over to his desk, grabbing his jacket and plucking Hailey’s from the back of her chair with ease.

‘Can you put this in my drawer?’ Hailey said, holding out the envelope that Trudy had brought upstairs as Jay handed her jacket over.

‘No problem, stay safe,’ she responded, accepting the envelope back and watching as Jay and Hailey followed the rest of the unit down the back staircase to the rollup.

——————————————————————————

It was early evening by the time the team returned back to the district, tired and sweaty from a long foot chase that had ended the case.

‘Next time you catch a case Ruze, make sure the guy can’t run like some Olympic sprinter,’ Kevin said dramatically as he flung himself down in his chair, pulling at his damp orange shirt that was sticking to his skin.

‘Ha ha, if Halstead hadn’t sent me out for coffee then none of us would have had to endure such a lengthy workout,’ Adam said grumpily, wiping the dirt off his jeans. He had fallen flat on his face trying to take a left corner too fast and his jeans had paid the price.

‘But now the streets of Chicago are safer because of it, Ruzek,’ Jay said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. ‘So really you should be thanking me for sending you on the errand.’

‘Yes, thank you for ruining my favourite pants.’

‘I didn’t tell you to deck it Ruze, not my fault you can’t stay upright when you run,’ Jay laughed and the rest of the unit joined in, Adam excluded who sat with his arms crossed in a grump.

‘Anyway, let’s get cleaned up and head out. Paperwork can wait for a day, Molly’s?’ Jay suggested, everyone else nodding in agreement. ‘Hails, you in?’ he asked Hailey.

‘Yeah, I’ll meet you all there, just going to shower at home,’ she said, gesturing to her hair which was sticking to her head with a sheen of sweet, speckled with dirt.

‘Too good for the district showers,’ Jay smirked, ‘the more I know about you Upton,’ he winked as he followed the others into the locker room.

Hailey opened the top drawer of her desk, the letter from earlier sat on top of the pile of pens and post-its that littered it. She sighed as she picked it up, folding and shoving it into her back pocket. She'd read it once she got home, she already knew what it was going to say.

——————————————————————————

Hailey sat on her couch, hair still damp from the shower, the open letter clutched tightly in her hands.

She had thought she would know what it would say, know exactly what would be written on the official letter headed paper. But she had been wrong.

She was now blankly staring at it, the future she thought she was going to have disappearing before her eyes.

The letter from the ivory tower which she had believed would tell her that her visa was being renewed and she would need to head to the Canadian Embassy in Chicago for a quick meeting and to provide the evidence that she had continued employment at the Chicago Police Department, hadn’t said that at all.

It had said that at this time the department was unable to support her visa renewal request. The department was over 12 months behind on applications and as such her visa would expire before the renewal request was even seen to. It stated that once her visa expired, she would need to return to Canada and that the new application would need to be started from there and could take a further 12 months. That was if it was approved.

There was no way that Voight would be able to hold her spot open in Intelligence for 12 months, it wouldn’t be possible. So she could end up stuck in Canada, a place she had tried so desperately hard to get away from, with no hope of returning to the city that she loved, the district she loved and the job she loved for at least 12 months. And then there was no promise that her job would be waiting for her when she would finally make it back.

When she had submitted her request with 6 months remaining on her visa, she had thought it would take at most 8 weeks for the department to review her application and make their ruling. She knew that as long as the renewal process was in process and the initial application had been received by the embassy then she would be able to remain in the US and continue working until such a time as a decision was made.

But if they weren’t able to review the application for over a year, then she had just 4 months left on her visa. 4 months until she had to leave Chicago. 4 months until she had to leave the home she had made here, the friends she had made here, the job that had made her.

The letter fell to the floor as Hailey walked over to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey. This night called for it.

Whilst Hailey was at home, Jay was sitting in Molly’s with the rest of the unit, his head constantly jerking towards the door whenever he heard it open.

‘You’re going to get a crick in your neck if you keep doing that all night man, she’ll be here,’ Adam said loudly, currently finishing his third beer of the evening.

‘It can take us girls a while to get ready,’ chimed Kim with a grin. But Jay knew Hailey, she showered quicker than he did and was never one to make people wait unless she had a good reason to.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he said, heading out to the patio to find a quiet spot in which he could give Hailey a call without any of their friends eavesdropping.

She picked up after the third ring, only a fraction slower than she normally would. ‘Hey Jay.’

‘Hey, we’re all waiting for you, something hold you up?’ he asked, concerned. There was something off in her voice but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The line went quiet for a moment. ‘Umm, no, I just didn’t feel like it,’ she said, her voice sounding slightly timid, missing that bubbly nature it usually had.

‘You alright?’ he asked again, the worry in him starting to increase. She had been fine when they had left her at the district, sure she had been a bit more irritable earlier when they were working on paperwork but he had just assumed she was bored. She was never one who particularly enjoyed being stuck in the bullpen surrounded by paperwork. Hailey was the kind of cop who flourished on the street and in the interrogation room, not putting pen to paper writing it all up.

‘I’m fine Jay, just wanted a quiet night in.’

‘I’m coming over,’ he said firmly, coming to the decision that there was something wrong with his partner.

‘Honestly Jay I’m okay,’ she said but the finality in her voice wasn’t there, he took that as a sign.

‘I’m your partner Hailey, I’m coming over.’

‘Okay,’ she said quietly.

That was as close as he was going to get with Hailey admitting that she needed him. So he ducked out of the patio via the back entrance, his friends were already a few sheets to the wind so he doubted he would be missed. And if he was honest, they would only need one guess to figure out where he was going anyway.

——————————————————————————

It took him only 10 minutes to get from Molly’s to Hailey’s apartment block. He’d been nursing the same beer the whole time they had been sitting there so he was fine to drive. She buzzed him in without saying a word when he let her know he had arrived. Unsure of what to expect at her apartment, he approached with caution.

‘Hails, it’s me,’ he said as he knocked twice on the door. It opened slowly after a second, a dishevelled Hailey with red rimmed eyes opened the door.

They had been partners for 3 years so had seen each other in a variety of ways; post shootings, illnesses, an array of undercover attire, but he had never seen her like this. She looked so small, so sad, swamped in an old CPD t-shirt, leggings with paint stains adorning the fabric and her hair thrown up into a messy bun.

‘Hey,’ she said quietly, moving out of his way to let him into the apartment.

‘I was worried,’ he said as he looked around. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on her coffee table, an empty glass sat next to it and a piece of paper lying on the table. Everything else in the apartment was as he expected.

‘I’m okay, I just felt like drinking alone tonight,’ she said as she walked back to the coach, pouring some more of the amber liquid into the glass and taking a long swing.

‘Well, you’re drinking with me now,’ Jay said as he went over to grab himself a glass from the kitchen. The two had often shared a drink after a difficult case so he knew exactly where to find the whiskey glasses.

‘Can’t promise to be the best company,’ Hailey muttered, tucking her legs up under herself as he took a seat next to her.

‘That’s alright, you going to tell me what’s going on?’ Jay asked softly, glancing over at Hailey. For someone who was normally so confident and who radiates positive energy, the Hailey that was sitting next to him now was starkly different. He could tell that she was tipsy, the amount of liquor left in the bottle told him as much. But instead of being happy, outlandish and on occasion a bit flirty when she had had a few drinks, she was withdrawn, avoiding eye contact and attempting to make herself as small as possible on the couch.

‘You don’t need to worry about my problems,’ she said. There was no venom in her voice, more a lack of belief that anyone would want to listen to her. Jay knew enough about Hailey’s past to know that sometimes it had been the truth, that she had spent more time isolated and alone than someone should do. But that was no longer the case, she had people here that cared about her. He cared about her.

‘I know I don’t need to, but I’m your partner Hails, I want to,’ Jay said, still unsure what was going on behind those ocean blue eyes. He was usually quite good at getting a read on Hailey, even if she did keep things close to the chest. ‘If you tell me, I might be able to help you.’

‘I don’t think your charm is going to work on the US immigration office,’ Hailey scoffed lightly and downed the remains of her drink, slamming the glass down a little too loudly on the table as she picked up the letter and all but threw it into Jay’s lap.

Ignoring her comment, Jay started to read the letter.

Dear Ms Upton,

We regret to inform you that owing to circumstances quite beyond our control, we are unable to process your visa extension application within the given time frame. The current estimated wait time is 12 months. As your current work visa expires within this period, you will need to return to Canada and reapply for your visa from within your home country. You must ensure you exit the United States of America on or before the expiry of your current visa. Failure to comply with this could have a negative impact on any future visa applications you wish to make.

Unfortunately we, the Chicago Police Department, cannot guarantee that the position you currently hold in The Intelligence Unit under the command of Sergeant Hank Voight will still be available upon your return, should your visa extension be granted. We will endeavour to find a role that is equally suitable and of the same level should this occur.

We understand this is not the news you were expecting but please contact our personnel department should you wish to discuss the matter in any further detail.

Yours sincerely,

The Personnel Division, Chicago Police Department.

‘Your visa is expiring?’ he asked slowly, looking up from the letter that suddenly felt like lead in his hands.

Hailey nodded, ‘in 4 months.’

‘And there’s no way for you to stay?’

‘Not unless I can magically pull a green card out from somewhere,’ she said with a harsh laugh.

‘Surely there’s some other way-’ Jay started but Hailey jumped to her feet, her shins bumping into the coffee table and causing the glasses on it to wobble slightly.

‘There’s not Jay, don’t you think I’ve spent the last few hours thinking about this!’ Hailey said loudly as she started to pace up and down the living room, her hand rubbing over her face. ‘CPD should have been able to extend it no problem, I submitted the application 6 months before it was due to expire. Like I was supposed to do. And then 8 weeks later instead of getting confirmation that my visa is in hand and I can stay, I get this. Banishing me back to Canada and pretty much telling me too bad your job won’t be here when you return.’

‘I’m sure Voight-’

‘Even if Voight wanted to keep my spot open, there’s no way the unit could be down a detective for 12 months Jay, that’s a whole year! I’m not being the reason that there isn’t enough cover on a case and you get hurt. Or anyone else,’ she added after a second. ‘I’ll just have to try my luck when I come back. But it’s just not fair,’ she dramatically threw her arms in the air. ‘I worked so hard to get to where I am, to put together a life for myself here in Chicago. A life I was proud of. And I’m going to lose it because of some administration backlog at the Ivory Tower. Are you kidding me?’ She said loudly, falling back onto the couch next to Jay with a soft thud. ‘It’s not fair,’ she muttered, pouring another glass and downing it in one before the bottle had even been set down.

Jay was speechless. He had never seen Hailey so out of control before, she was spiralling and if he was being honest with himself, he was too. She was the best partner he had ever had on the job. She kept him on the straight and narrow, without her he never would have gone to therapy and goodness knows where he would be without that. She made him laugh, made him smile, always gave him crap about something or other but he didn’t care. She was his partner. His best friend. The possibility of her moving away, even if it was just for 12 months was not something he was willing to entertain.

‘I have an idea,’ he said, slowly swirling his untouched whiskey in the glass.

‘Okay?’ Hailey said from where she had through her arm over her eyes, her body completely relaxed into the back of the couch.

‘We get married.’

Hailey froze. ‘I know it’s crazy,’ Jay continued.

‘Crazy?!’ Hailey exclaimed, her arm flying off her face as she sat upright, spinning around to stare at Jay. ‘That’s actually mental Jay, you can’t marry me!’

‘It would just be until the department was able to get to your visa application, but in the meantime, we could get the paperwork started for a spousal visa, you’ll be able to stay in the country whilst we do the application, simultaneously the department would be putting your work visa together. Once that comes through, we’ll be able to get the marriage annulled and go about our business as usual. You’ll get to stay in the country and keep your job’.

Jay was aware that the idea was ridiculous, illegal if he was being truthful but he would do anything to keep Hailey here in Chicago, in Intelligence, with him.

‘I can’t ask you to do that Jay’, Hailey said, almost deflating at the words, pulling her legs back up on the couch and wrapping her arms around them.

‘You’re not asking Hails. I’m offering. I’ll marry you.’ Jay turned so his whole body was facing her, trying to show her that he meant everything he was saying.

‘You’re serious?’ Hailey said quietly, her eyes filling with tears as she raised her gaze to meet his.

‘As I’ve ever been.’

‘You don’t have to,’ she sniffed, wiping a finger underneath her eye to catch any escaping tears.

‘I know I don’t,’ Jay responded with a small smirk.

‘But then why?’ Hailey asked, confusion etched across her face.

‘You’re my partner and my best friend. I don’t want to lose you. Even for a year. So I’ll marry you.’

‘You know this won’t be easy. We’ll have to fool everyone,’ Hailey said after a second, the gears in her head grinding into action. ‘There can’t be any cracks, it’s not exactly the most legal thing to do.’

‘I know Hailey. We can do it.’ He smiled, the soft smile that made his green eyes twinkle slightly more than they usually did.

‘So, we’re getting married?’ She raised her glass up towards him.

‘We’re getting married.’ He touched his glass to hers, to her it was just an agreement but to Jay it was a promise. A promise that he was going to do everything within his power to ensure that she didn’t have to leave Chicago and Intelligence. That she didn’t have to leave him.

#upstead #Chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #one chicago #hailey x jay #upstead fic #chicago pd fanfic #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fanfiction #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fic

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the-scene-and-the-queen · 3 months ago

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“ Baby, why don't you come over? Red wine supernova, falling into me ”

Haruka Aisawa

She ノ It ꕀ Transfem , Faesari

Child of Pheme 『 Cabin 76 』

5'9

Abilites ꕀ Causing illusions , Charmspeak , Good hearing , Forcing you to spill your secrets , Shapeshift , Great at detecting lies , Cursing one to only spreading gossip , etc

Age ꕀ None of your god damn business.

Sexuality ꕀ Bisexual , Cupiosexual

Japanese ⸝⸝ Caucasian

Uses a gun

「“ My past? None of your fucking business. Move on. ”」

「 The biggest bitch you'll ever meet. Knows everything about everyone. Your secrets aren't safe. 」

#── .✦ Haruka fucks around 🎀

“ I know this pretty scene girl, I wish you could've seen her ”

Addison Derousse

Xey ノ Zir ꕀ Genderfluid

Child of Melinoe 『 Cabin 24 』

5'6

Abilities ꕀ Speaking to the dead , Summoning ghosts , Shapeshift , Slight amokinesis , Draining one's energy , Invisibility , Intangibility , Thermokinesis , Umbrakinesis , Manipulating the mist , Mind control , Limited charmspeak , Necromancy , Weak mystiokinesis , Mimicry (mimicking ones voice) , Regeneration , etc

Age ꕀ Mmm ... You don't need to know that ...

Sexuality ꕀ Demiaroace , Omnisexual

French ⸝⸝ Vietnamese

Uses a rapier

「“ My... Past? My mortal parent left me down in the underworld ... Im not sure why. I forget who, but some man took me back up to Camp Half-Blood. Thats all there really is to who I am... ”」

「 A more soft-spoken soul. Xey aren't fond of strangers. 」

#── .✦ Addison drifts away 👻

“ Got your finger on the trigger and you're aiming for the middle ”

@cursedreflections

OOC Info !

He ノ It , Transmasc ⸝⸝ Cenrell

A MINOR. ^_^

I have way too many oc blogs atp sigh

this will get edited when i remember what the fuck else to put here

also might put a third oc here if i think of it

#── .✦ Alex baps you 🐈‍⬛

#── .✦ Haruka fucks around 🎀#── .✦ Addison drifts away 👻#── .✦ Alex baps you 🐈‍⬛#pjo rp #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo oc #pjo oc blog #pjo ocs #pjo oc rp #pjo hoo toa #pjo series #pjo roleplay #pjo fandom #percy jackson #oc intro #rrverse #riordanverse

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69misato69 · 2 years ago

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Blossom (Childe x Zhongli) ✦ 2.6k, smut and fluff

archive of our own ✦ twitter

masterlist pinned on my profile !

zhongli is reluctant to reveal his female form to childe until he accidentally finds out that childe is into women as well - in other words, bigender (masc and fem pronouns) zhongli and bisexual childe

cw: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, orgasms, mentions of biphobia homophobia and transphobia, dysphoria, unprotected consensual sex, penetration

Top Childe x Bottom Zhongli

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

“Girlfriend?” Zhongli held onto the photograph in a state of confusion. Captured by the kamera was his beloved Childe in his adolescence, hugging a girl joyfully in the blistering cold of Snezhnaya. Childe nodded and chuckled at the memories flooding his mind, the nostalgia of his first love.

“So you also…like girls.” Zhongli gulped. “Yeah.” Childe affirmed before realizing the shift in Zhongli’s voice, the unfamiliar tone that the harbinger couldn’t really make sense of, “I didn’t think it would be an issue for you.”

Zhongli placed the photo inside the clear casing of the album and collected his thoughts, “No, of course not. Why would it be an issue?”

The ex-archon seemed more relaxed, though Childe couldn’t help but regret what he said. Surely, with Zhongli he had let his guard down to a great extent, and there weren’t many secrets that he kept from the man he loved. But some things, based on Childe’s experience, were better left unsaid.

“I know the look on your face a little too well.” he rested his cheek on his own palm and faced away from him, seeing Zhongli’s expression had already lit a fire of sadness and worry in his stomach. Back when Childe first immersed himself in a serious dating life, he was used to revealing this as if it was nothing, just a piece of information about himself.

Soon after he had to face the harsh reality of what his partners came to think of him, questioning his loyalty, drifting off from him over time the more they thought about it. How can you commit to an insatiable man that you can never satisfy, because he desires more than you will ever be? A man that’s half this and half that, and never full anything. Did Zhongli think that way too? After tasting the rejection of those he held near and dear to his heart, would this lessen him in the eyes of a god as well?

Zhongli, however, held Childe’s hand in his own, “My love. I don’t have a single malicious feeling towards you, regarding this or anything else.” he said reassuringly, attempting to get Childe to turn towards him.

“Then why do you look so disappointed?” Childe kept his hand over Zhongli’s palm, but refused to turn back as he stared at the wall in front of him. If he did, he could easily see the loving gaze in Zhongli’s eyes, the spark of the amber pupils that only glowed for him.

“Ajax, there is something that I never told you about as well.” Zhongli cleared his throat, “It is an unfamiliar feeling for me, because I have never felt…insecure about something like this before.”

Childe looked back, but Zhongli’s eyes were fixated on the ground, he sounded hesitant to go on. Childe gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You see, given that I am, well, used to be, from a different species, I am not quite accustomed to the distinction between male and female that humans have constructed. Transforming into a mortal body has limited my abilities to shift back fully, especially without my Gnosis. However, traditionally, with dragons, we are able to impregnate as well as carry eggs ourselves, so we aren’t really fully male or female, does that make sense?” Zhongli finally looked up to find the harbinger listening attentively.

“So like you’re both and also, neither.”

“Exactly. But, now that I am living in a mortal body, the only ability that remains is being able to shift between a human male and a human female.”

“So you…have another form?”

“I do.”

“That I never saw before?”

“Yes.”

“But why would you feel insecure about—” Childe connected the dots rather swiftly. Someone as smart as Zhongli had probably noticed long ago that humans were too caught up in physical nuances. Therefore, changing the form that Childe fell in love with inevitably came with the risk of changing the nature of their relationship.

“I figured, if you only like men then that is what I should stay as.”

Childe should have felt relieved after his suspicions were proven wrong, yet he didn’t.

“But…don’t you like being that way as well?”

“Not as much as I like being with you.”

It was true. Not because it wasn’t that important to Zhongli, but because there was nothing he loved more than Childe.

“Even if I didn’t like girls, you would still…not lose me over this. I find it hard to believe that you would assume I would just…leave you.”

Imagining anyone rejecting Zhongli was out of reach for Childe. He was, truly perfect, absolutely flawless, a pillar of safety, he exuded warmth and comfort. But if he hesitated this much to even tell Childe, let alone show him, then, most likely, he must’ve had a hard time about it before.

“Zhongli…” Childe cupped his cheek, as the thought of his beloved’s heart breaking weighed heavy on his chest, he realized how much the ex-archon probably had to sacrifice in order to fit in. Ironically, he had to conform to the very people he ruled over for centuries.

“It’s okay, my love. I do understand why humans find it disturbing.” Zhongli’s hand encased the warm hand over his cheek, seemingly he had come to terms with the harsh reality that his days of unconditional acceptance by his people were now behind him.

“ I don’t.” Childe protested, “I…want to see it.”

He refused to be another mortal that Zhongli had to hide away from.

“You do?” Zhongli’s brows raised.

“Wait so, is it just like a…’you but with a vagina’ type of thing or more?”

“More.”

“Tits?”

“Mmhm.”

Childe gasped, then covered his mouth in embarrassment. “Okay okay, sorry. I will be very respectful.”

Zhongli chuckled and made his way out of the bedroom. Childe sat alone on their bed, curious, eager and excited. After a few minutes Zhongli appeared at the door once again, dressed in a brown kimono-like gown decorated with golden embroidery.

Though Childe was used to seeing Zhongli in the beautiful gown around their home, the figure inside was both familiar and drastically unfamiliar at the same time. Zhongli more or less retained the same shoulders and waist, but her hips, thighs and arms had filled out, and most noticeably the fabric tightened around her breasts, contrary to the usual way it draped over his flat chest.

Upon closer inspection, Childe noticed that her facial features were also slightly softer. Even with all the changes, Zhongli still felt like Zhongli, the presence that Childe loved to feel in the room was a constant.

Zhongli slowly approached him, stopping when she arrived in between the harbinger’s legs. Childe was mesmerized, almost hypnotized looking at Zhongli. He traced over her hips gently.

“Zhongli you’re… beautiful .”

It came out almost involuntarily, an utmost necessary remark of appreciation at the breathtaking sight. Zhongli’s cheeks turned bright red as she ran her fingers through the soft, ginger locks.

“I’m sorry for asking so many questions but do you—um…feel like a woman too?” Childe paused, trying to find a proper way to phrase it. Zhongli smiled, it was comforting, knowing that she was with someone that would cherish everything about her no matter how confusing it could get.

“I do.”

Childe hummed, “You are. And a very pretty one at that.” He grabbed the tails of the small knot that held the two sides of the gown together, “May I?” he asked eagerly. “I’m all yours.” Zhongli cupped his cheek lovingly, a tender touch as always.

Childe placed a kiss on her palm before leaning on it, “You are.” he untied the bow, “I’m so glad that you are.” The gown hit the floor, pooling around Zhongli’s ankles. Childe pulled her closer, one hand on her waist and the other around her breast. His kisses trailed from Zhongli’s tummy all the way up to her nipples as gentle kisses turned into soft bites, eliciting moans from the ex-archon’s lips.

“You sound so sweet as always, Zhongli.” Childe stood up and placed a passionate kiss on her lips, “And you taste just as sweet too.”

Zhongli melted into his arms, allowing Childe’s tongue to roam her mouth freely, his hands to lay her down on the bed, and his body to weigh on her as their kisses deepened. Childe rid himself of his clothes as well, and he took his time exploring every inch of Zhongli’s soft, velvety skin with his mouth.

He moved down, dragging his tongue over her thighs as the ex-archon’s hand gently caressed his hair. Childe held her legs in place before leaving a shallow lick towards her clit. Zhongli hissed as her lover’s lips trailed along her pussy, spreading sensations that she never experienced before.

Zhongli couldn’t stop the twitching of her legs, slightly embarrassed that she was getting worked up so fast, but Childe didn’t seem to mind. He spread the lips even further with his fingers and dug deeper, occasionally pulling back to place gentle kisses on Zhongli’s clit.

The ex-archon gripped onto the sheets, biting down on her lower lip in a futile attempt to silence her whimpers, doing absolutely nothing as Childe obediently ate her out. “I’m not very experienced in this form, A—Ajax. But if you tell me what you need—I’ll try my best.” Zhongli struggled to speak, holding her breath not to embarrass herself further.

Childe pulled away and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand with a chuckle, “How about you just lay back and keep moaning for me like that?”

‘Butterflies in her stomach’ would be an understatement for the state Zhongli was in. “I—can do that.” she stuttered shakily. Childe hummed, he sucked on his finger before pushing the digit inside slowly. Zhongli instantly tightened up around him, a bit alarmed by the intrusion. “It’s okay, my love. I’ll just stretch you out, okay?” Childe cooed as he left soothing kisses on Zhongli’s stomach.

Zhongli hummed and took a deep breath while relaxing onto the mattress. Childe smiled, his moves eased up over the course of a few minutes. He added a second digit, reveling in the pleased noises the ex-archon was letting out.

Childe pulled away after thoroughly preparing Zhongli, licking the translucent remains off his fingers as he positioned himself on top. Zhongli’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, almost as if she had already missed him. Childe lined up with Zhongli’s entrance and tucked the disheveled strands of hair behind her ear.

“Now keep your eyes on me, okay precious?” Childe requested with a soft, loving tone. Zhongli nodded and locked her eyes onto the harbinger’s, feeling the urge to look away as Childe started pushing in. “You’re doing great, just breathe.” he reassured. When Childe looked at you with those pretty, blue eyes and his gentle voice rang in your ears, it was impossible to feel pain or strain. Zhongli only felt him fill her up more and more, shaking out pleasure to every nerve ending like a tree branch sprouting with flowers.

Childe’s base eventually hit Zhongli’s groin, he pressed his lips onto the ex-archon’s, distracting her as he began thrusting in and out slowly. Zhongli’s moans escaped into his mouth and her slender fingers cupped his cheeks affectionately. Childe played with the golden-brown locks of hair scattered over the pillow as his other hand toyed with Zhongli’s nipples, kneading her breasts while she grew more and more sensitive.

When Childe pulled away from the kiss, he came across the euphoric, beautiful and lewd expression that he loved so much. Zhongli looked down, her eyes remained fixated on their bodies. Childe chuckled, “What are you watching?”

Zhongli held to the harbinger’s neck for support, “I…never saw it like this before.” She felt her insides squirm as Childe slid in and out. Zhongli couldn’t take her eyes off of their bodies uniting, now clear as day with nothing in between.

Childe pulled her down a few inches and raised her hips off the bed slightly, giving her a clearer view, “How about this, better?”

Zhongli whimpered, she leaned on the harbinger’s forehead with her own. “Look how well you’re taking it.” Childe pressed a kiss on her forehead, “My beautiful wife… and my husband.”

“Ajax…” Zhongli moaned. Childe never got tired of hearing his name spill from Zhongli’s lips. Lustful and needy, writhing under him as her heart overflowed with gratitude and love. Her hips and legs contracted as she squeezed Childe tight, releasing with heavy spasms and satisfied mewls.

Childe let her ride it out with soft thrusts, “Good girl.” he pulled away, only to thrust back in roughly. Zhongli gasped, tears pooled around her glowing eyes. “Ah, sensitive?” Childe grinned, “Should I be more gentle?” his grin melted into a fake pout.

Zhongli’s chest was heaving, “No… Please—keep going.” she pleaded breathily. Childe nuzzled his face on her neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin lightly, “Good.” he purred, “I’d like to see how much I can mess you up.”

Zhongli reeled him in for a tight embrace, as if Childe was a dove in his grip, too precious to let go. She felt almost light-headed, indulging in every single wave of pleasure that was inflicted on her body by the harbinger.

Childe held her hips, inserting himself even deeper when he accidentally hit the wall. Zhongli cried out, a single teardrop streamed down from her cheek to Childe’s neck. The harbinger pulled away apologetically, “Sorry, did I hurt—”

“Again.” Zhongli hissed viciously. “Hm?” Childe’s brows raised, “You like it?”

“Do it a—Ah!—again, Ajax.” Zhongli’s nails began to grow into Childe’s skin, and Childe obeyed quickly, pushing towards the ex-archon’s cervix. “Fuck.” Zhongli snarled, more tears flooded her cheeks and mixed into the drops of sweat glistening on her forehead.

Childe let out a relieved chuckle, “Can’t you ever like something that won’t leave you so sore?” Zhongli held his face with her sharpened claws, “Why, are you sick of taking care of me?”

Childe attained a faster rhythm, “Of course not.” he gripped on Zhongli’s hips tight enough to bruise, “I am your humble servant, Rex Lapis. I live to serve you.”

Zhongli laid back comfortably, becoming more confident with Childe’s appreciation bordering on worship. “Then is this—your idea of an offering?” she cooed, petting the harbinger’s freckled skin.

“I can only pray that you accept.” Childe smirked, his hand trailed down to Zhongli’s stomach, hovering over the muscles that contracted and released with every thrust.

He pressed his palm down softly, pressuring the area, “Since you showed me something special, I might as well do the same.”

“It’s—” Zhongli felt a warm wave wash over her. When Childe lifted his palm, the pale skin was stamped with a familiar symbol resembling a three-leaved clover, the riptide signet that decorated most of Childe's clothes.

“A present.”

The blue hue illuminating the circular shape quickly faded away.

“Won’t it glow again?” Zhongli asked, hoping the answer would be yes. Childe held her hand and led it over the symbol, allowing it to burn bright in the color of the harbinger’s eyes.

“Only when you touch it.”

Zhongli felt her tears of pleasure transform into tears of happiness, happy that she was lucky enough to be with Childe, happy that her beloved would always claim her, even at moments where she couldn’t claim her own self, and even if the entire world rejected Zhongli, there would always be someone by her side.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me, Zhongli.” Childe left a peck on the ex-archon’s bottom lip, “I’ll love all there is to love.”

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin fluff #tartali #chili genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #queer fiction

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asknueidentified · 2 years ago

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“Someone suggested to NaN to try designing an adventurer arc as I would.... despite being a mere mortal in body, soul and mind.... and utterly lacking in magic to add that extra level of verisimilitude.”

“Well, with those limitations.... I can only think interface screws abound... you’d be surprised what the Roll20 interface will let you get away with...”

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Up late doing game prep, mind started to wander, ended up on the old tumblr account on a whim, likely cause a few of my current game’s players are role playing their PCs on here now. Anyhow, my mind drifted to said suggestion of preparing an adventurer arc as Nue would. And it’s an interesting thought experiment to say the least, not the least because it’s been ages since I’ve gotten into Nue’s headspace, and I’m out of practice. Figured I’d write this up, it ended up a little more rambly then I intended, but hey, what do you want? It’s the wee hours of the morning and I should really be asleep.

Now while, I didn’t have time to actually build an adventurer via Nue logic; and truthfully couldn’t really be true to her in doing so since I’d be reigning in her worse impulses in trying to actually make the game fun; I did end up with some thoughts for what might be fun to do to my players if they ever end up in a context that this would be appropriate.

Probably the biggest one is to make use of Roll20′s ability to have players on different maps. Since the players don’t immediately know if they’re on different maps from each other, this could allow you to have subtle (or not so subtle) differences in who sees what. There are only really two big interface tells that they’re on different maps, the first is that when initiatives are bound to tokens players only see things in the initiative tracker that are on the same map as them, which with multiple windows and quick mouse work and some clever token bound macros you could make non obvious enough (or just avoid combat). The second one you have less control over being player pings, though you could probably play that off as Roll20 being busted if you timed the session to be right after an update (remember when them messing with the lighting layer broke token health bar justification for a week?)

This could be used to do things like swap out map images briefly for one player but not others. For example, my PCs are currently on a haunted ship, so if I were to this now, and one of the PCs failed a save against one of the haunt effects, I could change the map layer image for just their instance of the map to some version that I’ve added a shit load of blood splatter to. Probably via having the map layer be a multi-sided token on each map. Of course the problem with doing that is that the new image would have to be loaded, and if the player’s connection is slow, it could be obvious that’s what I’ve done, before the effect fully loads, never good to draw attention to the smoke when one is playing with smoke and mirrors. So I might have to do it by having each map image over top of one another on the map layer to make sure each image is cached on the player’s side.

The next idea that occurs to me would be to use animated tokens. It wouldn’t have quite the same effect as the first time I used it (when the PCs encountered an entity of divine rank), as the feature had just been released so the players didn’t even know animated tokens were possible. But I almost never use animated effects so I think it’d still have a use. In the context of the above multiple maps thing. What if I made an animated token of each of the PC’s token’s each fading slowly into the token of the enemies, set to not repeat? Then on each player’s instance of the map I make sure to do that to every PC other than their own, can they remember who was friend and foe?

Then there’s the shit I could do with some of the roll20 API things... actually I’m not going to detail that here... I just found one I’m actually going to do to them in a session or two... and ya, they might read this.

Beyond that there’s interface screws I can do on discord. I think the most useful would be to slowly (or perhaps suddenly, context depending) lower the bitrate of the voice channel until it sounds like a tin can. That could if used, and timed properly be quite creepy I think.

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

Course managing all that, especially the map thing, would be a nightmare. But hey, I could always use an excuse to justify adding yet another monitor to my setup.

Anyhow, I should probably sleep. Though I must say, even though this wasn’t really RP blog worthy, I find myself sorely tempted to make a go at resurrecting this blog. But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t have the time, and at best it would probably be me just ranting about TTRPG stuff.

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maestro-of-clockwork · 11 months ago

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YESS WE ARE INTRIGUED we need a YouTube style story time from you about you commiting vehicular manslaughter cmon!! I love your stories

I stand corrected, at least in your case. Allow me to regale you with the story, then. :)

Last Wednesday morning, I was someplace in Europe, taking in the scenery. I was standing on a bridge that spanned the width of the motorway below. Admiring was what I was originally there to do, really...until my eyes drifted away from it all, and to the cars whizzing by underneath me.

I got to thinking.

Things were too calm, weren't they?

The breakfast I had at a lovely cafe prior to this...the nice chat I had with tourists on the way to the bridge...the gorgeous scenery around me...all of it was entirely without incident.

My unoccupied mind allowed that to echo through it, but not to where it was uncontrollable. I could have easily turned around and ignored it all, but the fact of the matter is that I didn't. Browsing my options, my eyes wandered about until I caught sight of a tanker truck filled with petrol.

What made the situation worse was that truck was also speeding, going fifteen kilometres over the speed limit. The other vehicles behind it were maintaining similar speeds, as well...

Now, I'm sure you're aware of my ability to pause my effect on certain objects, yes? Of course, you are.

Freezing that tanker truck for one second was all it took for the chain reaction to take effect. The cars directly behind it collided into it, and brutally. Due to how sudden the stop was, how fast they were driving, and how heavy the tanker truck was, they crashed in a way that easily resembled crumpling paper.

The truck's driver tried to come to their senses - you could tell it from how erratically they drove - but in their confusion and utter panic, they made the worst choice they could have possibly made and swerved right into another lane as fast as they could...causing the truck itself to tip over on its side. While everyone was trying their damndest to avoid the now-tipped over truck, the petrol spilled out across the motorway because of oncoming cars crashing right into the tank itself.

One after another, after another, after another, they all hideously bashed into each other in their fight to survive...

It felt like hours had passed until it stopped. I knew that it wasn't hours, though, but minutes.

Six minutes.

All of that destruction in six minutes.

I didn't even lift a finger for the rest. All I had to do was take advantage of just one of the many fools who were speeding that morning.

I had to have stood there for minutes on end, simply breathing all of it in. I don't often enjoy the scent of petrol and burnt rubber, but I did that day. It wasn't until the paramedics and policemen arrived that I finally left, and let me tell you that I walked away from the scene with a pep in my step!

I hope you enjoy reading this, Anon. Do let me know if you'd ever like another story...

#ask and you shall receive. {{ a s k }}#tw car crash mention #[[ jesus okay i didn't intend to make it this detailed but alright ]]#tw implied death #sit and i shall tell you a story. {{ memories }}

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renardchien · 11 months ago

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After what is at least six years I'm free of depression

After what is at least six years I'm free of depression, though until last year I didn't really understand I had it. I thought I was ok but now it feels like a weight has been lifted from mind. The bad goop has been drained away from my heart.

Let me be vulnerable here on the internet for a minute and talk about it. I'm not even clear when it started but it was negative thoughts and self-deprecation. Humor became nihilistic. It was slow and it crept up on me. I had no idea it was happening.

I knew I wasn't happy somewhere in there but it was a small voice in an ocean. What it did do was let me be very kind. I never would put anyone else down because I couldn't imagine someone feeling like I did. That probably should have been a sign.

Some of the best moments of my life happened during that depression. I didn't necessarily recognize them at the time because they were overshadowed by the fog of my mental state. It was not until now where I can really appreciate some life events that I had.

Unfortunately I think my depression put a lot of stress on the people around me. I drifted away from people. I became antisocial. I had negative views, high sarcasm and a lot of self deprecation. That said, I don't think people knew I was depressed. I didn't even know. Each day I would put on a smile to wear all day. It was exhausting and I just told myself it was normal. I was there to help many people through tough times and try to be a lighthouse for them even though I was drowning. Self deprecation can be dangerous because it made people laugh. It made them smile. It didn't feel bad, but over time people would start to repeat it back to me. They would put me down because I was putting myself down. I would laugh, but it hurt.

The saying is to put your oxygen mask on before helping others but I was putting everyone else first and not taking care of myself. I had, and still have, imposter syndrome but not just for my job. It was for every part of my life. I felt like I wasn't good enough for my job, relationship, my friends, my students, etc. For awhile I used self checkout in stores because I felt like I wasn't worth the cashier's time. It felt embarrassing for them to bag groceries for someone as lowly as me. I also put my job first as an excuse instead of admitting I was depressed, and that was unhealthy.

I also didn't know how to communicate. Communication is probably the most important skill for a human to have. You can get far in survival by just communicating with others. I didn't communicate these problems. I blame a lot of that on society and toxic masculinity. From a young age, I was raised to just hold in all emotions and not show any feeling. That's a problem to begin with. Even now, men tend to have strong reactions when they see another man cry. It's like they don't know how to process seeing another man show emotions. I think that also limits their ability to feel and show happiness, love, trust, etc.

Anyway it eroded a lot of my life and no one knew. I didn't even know. Then the pandemic hit. Alone in a new city far from anyone I knew. For about six months I didn't see another human being. I had lots of remote calls but no seeing of people in person. No touch, no body language. Really alone. The world starts to feel different when you're depressed and alone. That wasn't good. That's when I knew I needed help. I tried therapy and antidepressants. It made things slightly better but I feel like I was six feet deep by that point.

Once I felt 5% better, I stopped therapy and antidepressants because I told myself I was all better. I felt better so why was I not better? Then it just kind of eroded away again. At that point I felt frustrated that I wasn't feeling good. I was adamant about telling myself I wasn't sick and that nothing was wrong. I never would judge any person for having depression. I would try to help but for some reason I was really hard on myself. I was angry at my brain for not doing what I wanted it to. Like someone else was running the ship and I was upset with them.

It took awhile for me to say that I was not okay and I needed help again. This time a therapist really helped me understand how deep I was. Just at the bottom of a well with no self worth. We started cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). The first time it didn't work for me but I don't think I was trying very hard. This time I did try and I felt like I had to really fight for it. I'm lucky in that I had access to a therapist and antidepressants. Not everyone does. I also had support from my job, which many places don't. I'm very lucky that I have a wonderful boss. Many people would be put on performance improvement plans, which are designed to be about as painful as possible. Even people that aren't depressed and get put on performance improvement plans, end up depressed. They are designed to fail you and crush you. Thankfully my boss and my job were supportive. Even with that support it was a battle that took me probably like 7-8 months. Really had to focus when I had invasive or self deprecating thoughts.

I forget what the therapist called it but I was like capturing those thoughts and then letting them go. I had to make sure each time those thoughts occurred, I acknowledged them and promptly focused on something good instead. It didn't feel like much and it was very very slow. Like I said, I had to fight for it. Over time it got easier but it took many months. It wasn't until probably the last two months that I started to feel alive again.

It really is night and day. I feel happy again. My heart is full of life. I find joy in doing things, old and new. I think I forgot what is was like to experience very real joy. I forgot what it was like to see a movie trailer and feel excited, or to eat a pizza and think of it as more than just substance. Now I smile a lot. I don't have to wear a fake smile all day. It feels genuine. I can be myself now without worrying what people think of me. It's a new confidence. I'm social again. I feel like life is at my fingertips just ready to be enjoyed when I want. One of the things I really struggled with was making decisions, but now it feels so much easier and I am more confident in the decisions I make.

I won't say it's happiness or bliss all the time. I'm still early in rebuilding my relationships but it's very rewarding. I feel like I'm part of communities now and that how I contribute matters. There's still sad days or the flash of emotion but that's normal. That's human. Not all news is good news. To the most part I feel happy most of the time.

That was a long winded way to say to get help and stick with it. I really had to fight for mine but the weight off of your chest it completely worth it. There are different therapies for different people, so you might need to try a few different approaches to find one that works. You might think you're "happy" enough or that you know what it's like to be better, but I assure you it's far better than you think. Being free of depression and happy isn't really describable. While I was depressed, I couldn't even imagine what the happiness would feel like. I thought I did, but it wasn't even close. If you go through it, I promise you getting out of depression is much better than you could ever imagine.

#depression #mental health #therapy

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lyricc0900 · 2 years ago

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Chapter 6

Sol POV

Returning to the tower, we celebrate a job well done, my first success on a mission. Enjoying the drinks and takeout, I keep to myself, enjoying the happy atmosphere around me. Feeling my social bar going low, I sneak away from the party and return to my room.

Showering I slip on my tank top and shorts before laying down. Letting the day run through my mind I smile, calling out for him.

"Loki?"

"Sol."

Hearing him say my name puts butterflies in my stomach, "I finished my first mission today; it was a success!"

"Oh, please do tell."

Smiling, I give him a brief run down, telling him of my stealth, defense skills, and the fact that I found out my new ability. He seems intrigued, commenting here and there with witty remarks making me laugh from time to time.

Our conversation lingers on before I can barely keep my eyes open. The next day I wake up bright and early; Natasha decided to give me the day off. Getting ready for the day, I slip on a pair of tights and a loose shirt. Heading out, I make my way to the kitchen for some juice.

"Lady Sol!"

Turning my head, I see Thor smiling at me brightly. Walking over the scoops me up into a tight hug, losing some air, he puts me down. "I heard what happened! Congratulations! I wish I was here for the festivities."

I give him a small smile, "Thanks, Thor."

Chatting with him as I pour the sweet liquid, I can't help but hold back a laugh as he munches on a brown sugar pop tart. With Loki on my mind, I can't help but hear his voice drift away.

"Lady Sol? Lady Sol!"

Snapping out of it, I look up at him, he seems worried, but I give him an apologetic smile, "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"Lady Sol, what seems to be on your mind?"

Feeling a bit nervous about talking to him, I turn to make sure we're alone. We were on the balcony since we were talking and walking, but I want to make sure. Leaning against the rail, I look up at him worried. "Well, you see..."

"Please, tell me what's troubling you."

"Well, I've been talking to Loki for a while now. We've been talking through our minds. To be honest, now that I'm saying it out loud, it sounds bad, but he's not that bad. I can talk to him for hours, well we have, and I enjoy our time together even if he's so far. I haven't told anyone about it, but I hope you won't be mad."

Finally, looking up at him, I'm a bit taken back by his happy expression and his sudden question. "Would you like to visit him?"

I sit up straight, "Wait, really?!"

"Why, of course, I'll have to get permission, but I have faith you'll be able to see him."

"But wait, this doesn't make any sense; why aren't you mad? I have a feeling this isn't allowed."

Smiling at me gently, he crosses his arms, "I saw the way you looked at Loki when we departed. And I've seen how calm Loki's been during his time locked up. He seems less frantic since he's seen you, actually. I'm sure that your chats with him are making him better."

Feeling my heart rate speed up, I smile a bit, "Thank you, Thor."

"You're Welcome, Lady Sol."

Returning to my room, I can't help but have a skip in my step. Wanting to burn some energy, I continue practicing my magic. Seeing as I can teleport now, I decide to brush up on that and test my limits. Opening a book of the world, I start to hop into different locations. Risky, I know, but I feel like I'm on cloud 9, so I don't take much of the risk into consideration. After jumping around the world, find a nice place to fly around a bit. Getting the hang of it, I return to my room humming a tune.

Writing down some notes in my notebook I hear someone knock on the door, opening it; I find Thor standing before me.

"Hey, Thor, what's up?"

"Hello, Lady Sol; I wanted to ask if you would like to join the others and me for dinner."

Thinking about it for a moment, I decide to go, "Sure."

Following him to the dining hall, I sit down in the empty seat beside him and Tony, completely ignoring the stares I get in the process. Grabbing a plate, I eat quietly while the others chat. Thor must have noticed I wasn't really engaging because he starts to tell us one of his many tales.

Embracing the stories, they run through my head like a movie. Laughing at Thor's jokes; I look around the table to the others staring at me. I smile at them, a bit confused, "What's wrong?"

Bruce shakes his head, "It's nothing."

Continuing with dinner, I speak up, telling them the story of when I ended up blowing up the cabin in engineering camp. Long story short, we were having a rocket-building contest, and I went a little overboard on the material, which led me to get banned from the said camp forever.

This made the others laugh; feeling my shoulders fall, I lean back a bit, relaxing in the presence of the others. It reminds me of the family dinners I would have with my parents. How we would have big dinners full of joy and laughter. I truly miss them, but I know deep down there watching over me and wishing me nothing but happiness. The next day Thor has to go, but he promises he will return for me as soon as he can.

Waiting for his return, I can't help but get excited to see him again, excited to see Loki. The days turn into weeks as I continue my life as normal, talking with Loki, training, and missions until the day comes when a beam of light shots from the sky to reveal the God of Thunder himself.

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

#loki #loki x oc #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #marvel #faniction #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#loki fandom #loki fanfiction #fate:lokixoc

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toxicgreenslushi · 2 years ago

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I'm still here in a physical body. But often I have drifted into an inner world. I felt so much pain, confusion, and anxiety that I was weighed down by it constantly. Although I've come so far, I still come under attack of this delirious form of reality. I barely know what I'm doing, I am just a physical body and my mind is far away. I numb out because I cannot focus on the present. Everything, even the smallest things, cause me anxiety. Masking has helped me navigate the world I was born into, but it hasn't aided me in proving to others (mainly physicians) that I am not as stable and composed as I appear. I can be, momentarily, in short bursts. I do my best to use my toolbox of coping mechanisms. But ultimately I succumb to the nothingness.

I search for joy, but at times it feels futile and infuriating. I can only let time move me forward. But time, life, death, the collective reality, it all seems unexplainable and unbearable. I don't want to die yet, but right now I don't want to live either. Because living feels like a chore. Regular everyday things feel insurmountable. Muscle memory keeps me riding the train through this abysmal time. Time. Aging. Death. There is no real explanation that soothes a person like me. It just happens and you have no power to command it, you have do not have the option to pause. So I no longer pause, I just have limited ability to keep up the charade. Some days I feel like a stranger or someone who ought not to see me breakdown may witness my full mental break. A snap. Cracks in my very fragile composure. So I look to what made me happy before. I do what I think may bring me some spark of joy. I know all feelings pass. But what answers does life hold for me? What do I even desire anymore? I keep going for the simple things. I keep going for love. I do not want to be this shell of a human being. I am just wandering through life again, half assing most of what I do. Not really able to show up 100%. But I show up. I show up and I'm horrified.

Joy. Joy and love and grace. I seek these things. I seek stability if such a thing exists. I am still here. Someone cares that I'm still here. I have not finished my mission. I have not accomplished all that I was put here to do. Yet, I have become more confused on what those duties and purposes are. So I start small, I set small goals. And if all I can do is show up, well, I'm here.

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tempportal · 1 year ago

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Maybe Five shouldn't be so surprised that Becker accepts the whole superhuman abilities thing without question or hesitation, considering she seemed to take the news about the end of the world in stride, too, but damn if it doesn't throw him off his game — his brain just kind of sticks, for a second or two, as he tries to process her complete and total belief in the situation at hand (in him. she believes him. she believes him. she believes him. he's not sure he'll ever get used to that) before he realizes she's asking him questions, and he should probably try and answer them.

(It kind of scares him how much he's willing to tell her. It kind of scares him how desperate he is to make sure she doesn't stop believing him.)

"I don't know too much about that," he admits. "There's obviously not a whole lot of public information about all of this, and my own sources were..." his mind drifts back to the Handler, entirely without his permission, her red lips and her red nails and her red high heels flooding his head until he can barely breathe past the rising tide, "...limited." He swallows, a little too hard, and pushes himself onward. "From what I could gather, though, their powers all seemed fairly standard: telepathy, telekinesis, ESP... I'm pretty sure a couple of them had electrokinesis, too, and one of them could induce visual and auditory hallucinations in other people. But that's pretty much all I've uncovered so far."

There is still so much he doesn't know, and it's a bitter pill to swallow, but damn if he's going to let it stop him now that he's already come so far.

Five goes quiet as Becker careens sharply away from questions in favor of a full-on rant about the apparent injustice of the whole Hawkins Lab situation, which might actually be kind of funny if it wasn't so frustrating and pointless and childish. He can admit those kids got a pretty raw deal in all of this, and he can admit their fate wasn't fair, but Jesus fucking Christ, what is? The world takes a massive shit on everyone. What exactly does she think she's going to accomplish by sitting there and crying about it? And who the hell does she think she is, trying to say they should walk right up to Ava McGee and tell her hey, by the way, you're going to end the world in about twenty years! No pressure! Best of luck!

"No, no," Five instinctively latches onto her wrist, even though she hasn't tried to get up yet, and besides, it's not exactly like she can run off and spill the beans when he hasn't even given her a name, or an address, or anything to go off of. He doesn't want to take the chance that she'll work it out on her own — April Becker is many things, but too smart for her own good is somewhere near the top of the list. "We are not telling her anything. We can't. The timeline is already fucked up enough as it is. I shouldn't have even told you." He huffs out a heavy sigh and slowly relaxes his iron grip on her when she realizes she's not probably not going to go anywhere. "Look, this—this is a very delicate situation, okay? It's the butterfly effect — one small change, and everything goes off the rails. If you really want to help, the best thing you can do is nothing."

The cool wave of relief that washes over him when he hears those words — of course I believe you, like it’s a foregone conclusion, like she’s surprised she even has to say it out loud, like she can’t even conceptualize a reason not to believe him, like he’s telling her the simplest and most fundamental fact of life imaginable, like he’s saying the sky is blue and she’s saying I know, because how could she not? — is so absolute that his whole body feels almost limp with it, tight knots of tension and fury built up over the past forty-five years unraveling in mere seconds, and he goes down to the pavement beside her before he falls over and hits the hard ground far more painfully.

Five waits, patient and perfectly silent, on the cold concrete as April stumbles her way through the first few minutes of shock and horror (there really is no other way to react, he knows, when you realize the whole world is going to end, and you are going to be there to see it) before she inevitably pulls herself together (quicker than he expected, but he shouldn’t be too surprised about that, really — if there’s one thing he’s learned in the last few weeks, it’s that he should not underestimate April Becker under any circumstances) and poses a brand-new string of questions.

(She really does believe me, he thinks, half-breathless with the sheer wonder and awe and hope blooming in his chest. She really doesn’t think I’m crazy. She really does believeme.)

“I—I don’t know all the exact details, but… I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what happened.” Five clears his throat and leans back on his hands, the rough asphalt scraping uncomfortably against the soft skin of his palms. “Like you said, Hawkins Lab conducted a series of experiments during the height of the Cold War to test out the effects of LSD on humans and figure out if it could be useful in interrogating prisoners of war or undercover espionage agents. The subjects involved in these experiments… well, the survivors went on to have children, and…” As he edges closer and closer to the end of his explanation, he slows down, his clear and ever-confident voice growing softer and softer until it’s barely a whisper in the air between them.

(She’s not going to believe me, and the solid, inflexible certainty of it settles in the pit of his stomach like a block of sparkling ice, cold and hard and heavy. She’s not going to believe me. She’s not going to listen. She’s going to think I’m crazy. She’s going to think I’m making it all up. She’s going to think I’m lying to her. She’s going to think I’m lying about the apocalypse, too. She’s going to think I’m making that up, too.)

“All the children were born with superhuman abilities,” he says, finally, wrenching it forcefully out of his mouth like he’s pulling a bad tooth. “And… when Hawkins Lab found out about that… well, it was just Round Two for Project MKUltra.” He tells himself that he’s only shaking because it’s cold out here, damp grass beneath his fingers and crisp gusts of autumn wind blowing through his hair and tugging lightly at the hem of his jacket. Why does he always get so psyched-out about this shit when he thinks about Hawkins Lab for too long? Human experimentation isn’t exactly a brand-new concept to him, after all, and besides, he’s witnessed the darkest depths of human depravity with his own eyes. Hell, he pretty much is the darkest depths of human depravity at this point.

But he thinks about those ice-white walls and ice-white floors and the paper gowns and the wires and electrodes sticking to the scalp and long narrow corridors and all of a sudden, he can’t even breathe, his chest collapsing inward on itself like a dying star.

When Becker’s next question comes, it’s so unexpected that it actually does the trick — he snaps back to reality in a single sharp burst, blinks away the lingering afterimages of the surgical scalpels gleaming bright under the blinding fluorescent lights, and refocuses on the girl beside him instead. “I—I’ve met her, but… I’m just here to stop her before she ends the world. I’m not particularly attached to her, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

#hvbris

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bubbledumbbinch · 4 years ago

Note

Heya! Congrats on the 100+ followers!! Your writing is really good and I enjoy reading your works!

If you dont mind, what would be your headcanons on the TWST dorm leaders of what prefrences they have for a S/O? Like what would they want in an S/O? (Also Im sorry if this has already been asked Im also kinda new to your blog as well ;w;)

Hii!! And thank you 🥰🥺💕 that means a lot to me!! I hope you stay and continue to enjoy yourself here!This hasn’t been asked before so I hope you enjoy!!! ;w; I hope you all enjoy I had a fun time (and a difficult time) writing this out! I think I made it too long, again ;w;

I made this SFW uwu just some fluff!!!! But please keep in mind before you follow me, I MOSTLY POST NSFW works.

Warnings: slight story spoilers for episode 5, for Idia’s part, if u squint

Pairings: Dorm Leaders x Reader

I put things under a cut for length!!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle would probably want a partner who does well in school - at least someone who tries to! It would go against his own desires to do well in life if he has a partner who doesn’t have the drive to succeed like he does.

He isn’t particularly fond of people who have a lot of potential yet waste it on being lazy. Like I said before, it goes against his own morals.

I also see him wanting someone fun-loving! Riddle grew up in an environment where fun was essentially taboo so he would be drawn like a moth to a flame to someone who has so much energy in them. Remember one of his best childhood friends is Che’nya so he would probably not hate the idea of joking around and being silly once in a while!

Someone who would love sweets like him! Not too often so he could maintain his shape, but someone who would love to indulge him once in a while!

Riddle would love to see an S/O who makes time for him and the unbirthday parties that Heartslabyul hosts! He feels like a good dorm leader and seeing you make an effort to come makes him feel like a great boyfriend too!

“Ah, Y/N, I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it today.” Riddle sighed to himself in relief. He feared his rose would come to the party late. “Ah, sorry Riddle! I was late because I was studying for Professor Crewel’s exam but I lost track of time!” You breathed out, a bit exhausted from running.

The redhead only nodded and smiled at you. “Don’t worry about it, my rose. We’ve only just begun the party, so no need to fret.” Riddle’s gentlemanly ways never failed to make your heart soar. “No no, I’ll make it up to you! I’ll bake you a tart sometime, you’ll let me right?” You playfully nudged at your boyfriend’s arm and smirked.

Riddle could only blush furiously. “Th-that would not be a bad idea. I suppose I would accept the gift graciously, dear, but only if we can cook it together. I believe it would be beneficial to both of us to learn!”

Leona Kingscholar

Someone who loves to nap with him like all the time

Leona would definitely want someone who is willing to praise him a lot. Growing up he never really had that and felt like he was overshadowed by his big brother, so this guy needs validation like crazy. Tell him how strong he is, how much you love him, how warm he is… he’ll scoff and look away but you could see the faintest blush on his cheeks. He secretly loves it.

I feel like Leona would like bratty tsunderes, for some reason. He would be the perfect teasing type for them and I think I can just picture Leona and his S/O getting into play fights that lead to something more, if you catch my drift.

Someone who can be “refined” enough for show so that when he brings you home to his family, they can accept you fully. The last thing he wants is his family pestering him about how his potential mate isn’t a good fit.

As tough as he may be he def wants someone at the end of the day to stroke his head and calm him down after a long and stressful day.

“Oi, herbivore, come here and be my pillow.” Leona’s gruff voice broke the silence of his room. He was sitting up on his bed while you studied on his desk. Giggling, you made your way into his bed, crawling over to where he was. Leona pushed your torso down gently and started nuzzling his head on your chest, and you could feel the vibrations coming from his body that was like a low growl. Or was it purring?

“Of course, anything for my big strong boyfriend, the best Magift player in the school, my one and only love~” you endlessly praised him, smiling at him as if he were a rare diamond. Leona only huffed as he wrapped his muscular arms around your form, effectively preventing you from leaving.

“Tch…. Damn right….” Leona mumbled. “Why don’t you tell me more while I start drifting to sleep?” Leona smirked. Running your fingers through his hair carefully, you obliged, feeling Leona’s breathing become more calm as you continued.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul would ALSO want someone who praises him, due to his years of being bullied. Call him beautiful, smart, tell him he’s the most cunning man on campus. He EATS IT UP. This man will swear on his life for you.

He also would want someone who has the ability to work hard… what? The Mostro Lounge needs extra workers sometimes! Azul thinks that if he can own the lounge, manage contracts, AND study hard for school, his S/O should be able to match him!

I can see Azul absolutely praising/spoiling his S/O too. Since you give him so much happiness in his life he should pay it forward, no? What would you like, a new dress/suit? A new piece of jewelry?

Someone !!! Loyal!!! Azul wants someone who he can feel secure with in a relationship, so he probably wouldn’t want you to flirt with anybody else since his insecurities will SPARK UP like crazy!

Azul wants someone who loves him for who he is, unconditionally!

“Angelfish… hello, good evening. I’m sorry if I am a bit more tired than usual, I just finished with ordering more inventory for the lounge and dealing with some paperwork.” Azul sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You dropped your bags on one of the chairs of the VIP room and walked over slowly to your octomer boyfriend. Bringing your arms to his shoulders, you slowly begin to knead and massage his arms gently. Azul groaned at the contact, muscles aching.

“How is this, Azul? I know how hard you work, you deserve to take a break too, sometimes…” you spoke gently into his ear, kissing the shell of it. The contact gave him slight goosebumps. “Ah, I would love to but, I have so much more to do… I know it’s going to be a late night for me, so why don’t you head on to sleep?” You tsked, upset with his answer. “I know it’s late Azul, that’s why I’m here. You know, if you keep doing this you’ll get wrinkles, right?”

“Ahem! Well. Then, this might be a good place to stop if that’s the case…” Azul huffed, standing up quickly to retire to his room, you in tow.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim wants someone who is cheerful! They may not be a ray of sunshine like he is, but I honestly can’t picture him with someone smug/gloomy. Kalim might be dense but he isn’t THAT stupid. I think he would be able to notice if you were upset which makes him upset.

Someone who is down for anything, Kalim would love to take you on a ride on his magic carpet at random hours of the day so be prepared to drop whatever you’re doing if you want to appease your impulsive boyfriend!

A fun loving person for sure, who isn’t super self conscious about what people think. If he asks you to dance with him he would really love for you to join! He wouldn’t want you to say something like, “oh, but I’m a bad dancer…” Kalim would shake his head and ask you why you would say that! It’s all about having a fun time together, right?

A patient lover is what Kalim would want as well, someone who’s kind, too. At the end of the day when Kalim is ready to sleep after his crazy antics, he wants a partner he can be able to lay next to and feel like himself.

Someone who loves him even if he weren’t rich, Kalim would want someone for their personality and not materialistic things or beauty. Kalim sees someone for their heart ! (*´꒳`*)

You yawned heavily while rubbing your eyes. Was that a tapping noise coming from the window? “Ugh…. What time is it?” Checking your phone, you saw it was 1:30am. You also had a text from Kalim.

*tap tap tap*

You groggily walked over to the window and opened the curtains to see Kalim sitting on his magic carpet with the biggest grin upon seeing you. Opening the window, you giggled lightly. “Good evening Kalim, fancy seeing you here so late.”

“Hi, Y/N!! I woke up and felt bored so, you wanna join me on a night ride around campus?” Kalim practically beamed at you, even this late at night. His smile never failed to make your heart flutter. The boy’s positive energy also transferred to you, effectively waking you up.Stepping onto the carpet from your window was your answer. After getting situated, you kissed Kalim’s cheek and held his hand. “Of course Kalim, I would love to.”

Vil Schoenheit

Someone who can tough out his callous words and treatment. Vil might be a bit much, but the reason why he does this is because he does it with the goal of ultimately helping you. He only wants to see the best out of people, including but not limited to his little sweet potato!

Someone who is patient. He knows he checks who the most beautiful person is quite often and he doesn’t do it to annoy you, it’s just for his own personal validation issues. Lay a hand on his arm, back, or head to give him praises and let him know he’s beautiful to you no matter what.

Someone who is willing to pepper him lightly with kisses (not the face though, he has makeup on!). He definitely eats it up and loves it so much, he feels like you are treating him like a king. He’ll pay that back tenfold and give you beauty treatments, it’ll feel like you’re at the spa on a weekday!

Vil is constantly posting on Magicam, depending on whether you’re comfortable enough to be posted on there he would want to make sure you are okay with him constantly taking photos to be posted on there. Whether it be food you cooked, matching couples outfits, or even pictures of you without makeup, be ready to face comments of all sorts coming from his fans.

“Mira Mira on my phone… Currently, who is the most beautiful of all?” You heard Vil speak outside of his room. Currently you sat on the small chaise at the foot of his bed. Vil told you he needed to step out for a second, so you could get ready for bed now. After putting on your sleeping clothes, Vil finally came back in, seeming more irritated than before. His eyebrows furrowed and his body looked tense.

“Vil, are you alright?” You questioned him as you made your way to his bed, slipping under the covers. Vil only sighed and exchange a quick “Mm.” as he changed into his pajamas and came to join you. He was turned so his back was facing you and he was a bit distant. You knew he didn’t get the answer he wanted when he got those search results back. You didn’t know how to convince your boyfriend otherwise but you decided you needed to talk to him.

“Vil, darling…” you spoke gently as you nuzzled closer, your chest pressing into his back. Your arm wrapped around him to pull him closer, to which he responded with finally relaxing in your touch. “You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me, Vil, I don’t know if you realize how lucky I am to have such a loving, caring, and talented boyfriend like you. Your beauty is simply the cherry on top of the person I fell in love with. To me, you’re perfect. I love you.” You ended your tangent by placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder, dozing off.

You couldn’t see Vil but he trembled lightly as tears silently fell down his face. “Thank you… I love you too, my sweet potato.” Vil whispered into his pillow. With you, he always felt like the most beautiful person.

Idia Shroud

Personality wise, I don’t think Idia would be picky. He’s a shy person and honestly would be surprised he could get an S/O at all! So is Ortho!

Speaking of Ortho, Idia wants someone who is kind and loving to his little brother. Knowing his partner loves his brother would only make him fall for you harder!

Probably someone who would give Idia his own space until he finally felt comfortable and wanted to take it further, he would prob take a few days to even kiss you!!!

Idia wants someone to be his player 2 :) like actually, come over and game with him and he’ll probably be the happiest boy ever.

Big big bonus if you love anime, cosplay, gaming, etc. It’s one thing to be an otaku like Idia but when he has a partner to fully indulge in his interests with?? It’s a win-win situation for everyone! He wants to do a couple cosplay one day if he gets the courage to ask you.

Someone who won’t pressure him too much. If you remember how Riddle pressured Idia into trying to speak publicly, you know how much of a scary situation it put Idia in, even though he was able to do it. Stressing him out is just gonna make him unhappy :(

Someone who enjoys spending as much time inside as he does! I’m not talking a hikikomori but someone who wouldn’t be opposed to staying inside with him 99.9% of the time lol

“Y-Y/N-shi, would you like to g-go on a date with me soon?” Idia fumbled with his fingers, looking away as he asked you. You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Idia, this is the first time you asked me to ‘go on a date’. Don’t tell me, are we actually going out somewhere?!”

“Eek! D-don’t be ridiculous, Y/N!!” He almost screeched the words out. Suddenly he pulled out a couple of VR headsets with hand controllers, and handed one to you. “Fuhehe, I just made a bunch of simulation locations. We could go to the park, a restaurant, even an amusement park..!” He grinned showing off his teeth.

You giggled at Idia’s enthusiasm, loving the way he gets after speaking about his own creations. “What a wonderful idea, Idia. Maybe we could take Ortho to the ‘amusement park’ too? We’ll be a big family.” You mused. Idia’s face brightened and a faint pink tinge covered his cheeks.

“F-family, huh? Ah, Y-Y/N-shi…. That would be n-nice…” Idia blushed as he considered what the future would bring for the both of you.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus would also mostly not have preferences on a person’s personality. Like, he wouldn’t say something like: “I want someone shy vs someone bold.” Anything his child of man does is interesting to him and he’s entranced by you!

That being said, Malleus would not tolerate rudeness, disrespect to him, Lilia, or his fellow dorm mates, etc. He may love you but he values those bonds more, especially Lilia’s and his grandmother’s.

Malleus wants someone who is willing to teach him human tendencies, since he is curious about them. Malleus will also probably never stop asking you about your life in the previous world, and listen passionately as you describe the hobbies you had, family members, etc.

As long as you continue to love and treat Malleus like a normal person and with kindness, he will continue to love you endlessly. He’s so unused to it that he will feel so special as you only coo in awe instead of fear away, if he showed you a magic trick or maybe donned more of his draconic features like his tail or long claws.

You walked with Malleus under the bright moonlight in the woods near Ramshackle dorm. His height and charm never failed to impress you. And his face, he was so very handsome. His striking green eyes always made you feel hypnotized and his horns were so well taken care of, you almost wanted to reach out and-

“Hm, Child of Man… you do know it’s quite rude to stare, yes?” Malleus chuckled and suddenly broke the silence, making you gasp. “Ah, sorry Tsunotarou. I-,” searching your thoughts, you just couldn’t think of anything quickly enough. “I just couldn’t help myself. You’re very attractive.” You murmured, admitting defeat.

“Oh? Do I not intimidate you, my dear? Usually humans and even other fae fear my features and tend to shy away…” Malleus looked down in thought as he continued walking. You wrapped yourself around one of his arms as he walked, effectively stopping him in his place. “Well, you don’t intimidate me! I like being around you, so, let’s keep it that way. I want to stay with you for a long time so don’t get too tired of me okay, Malleus?”

Hearing you say his given name only made the fae’s heart beat harder in his chest. Surely you knew what you did to him. He smiled down at you, green eyes softening in your gaze.

“I assure you I won’t, little human.”

#riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twst headcanons #twst dorm leaders #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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sisterlelianas · 4 years ago

Text

another life (oh, if only you knew)

ao3 link

this is a “small” (🤡) one-shot where our lady alcina dimitrescu meets the woman who ends up being her future lover for the first time before she’s turned into a vampire. they meet again, centuries later and are both unprepared to face each other, in their own way. In other words: they are gay ❤️ + someone tell these two fools how to navigate their feelings for each other, PLEASE

word count: 10.810 words (yeah, i know)

author’s notes: a huge chunk of this was written before i played the game, meaning most of it (including things regarding Heisenberg’s powers, etc) is not canon compliant, still, i feel like going against canon is a good thing for us, anyway. y’all know what i mean. SO! this one-shot is actually really close to my heart. alcina and the girls live in my head absolutely rent free and i don’t even mind. hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it

p.s. this is the first fic that i have ever posted and written. blame it on our milf

Big, social gatherings were useful in their own, distinct way. Meeting counts, their wives, the countesses... the secret lovers of those same counts, which everyone, but the wives, were aware of... there were plenty of those. Never a dull moment, truly. Attending a party your dear, darling husband organised, however, was a different story. Alcina Dimitrescu was not the kind of woman to be more than glad to step back from her role and allow a man to take the reigns for her, to allow him to play the part of the head of the house. She oftentimes found herself wishing for his... mysterious disappearance. He could even flat out drop dead - she was not picky.

The overwhelming noise of constant blabbering from her guests was beginning to irritate her, though. Meaningless social affairs were most definitely beneath the Countess - hiding the frown that would frequently settle on the corners of her mouth, after a particularly loud cackle from one of the men, by sipping some wine seemed to be turning into a recurring move for the woman. Everywhere she looked all she could see was uninteresting people playing a part. Acting as if they were all happy to be there. What else was new? The same faces carrying out the same conversations. The worst part was that her husband had the most... particular taste in friends. They were all male, of course, and so incredibly stupid and dull. The kind you look at and just know they won’t be saying anything insightful throughout the entire affair. Men, the Countess mused. What else could you expect from such limited beings? The mere thought of them making her frown deeper, her lips pursing slightly for what seemed like a millisecond.

Her husband was fuelled by attention - seemed to thrive off it, actually. She turned to look at him from the red, bergère chair she was sitting on and observed his behaviour from afar. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding a golden goblet filled to the brim with red wine. The contents of it would often spill and fall to the floor whenever he would give a hearty laugh or swing his arms around to better illustrate whatever dull-witted point he was trying to make. The goblet was filled to the brim no longer and his cheeks were rosy, meaning he was far from being sober, at that point. It was only a matter of time before she had to step in and chastise him for acting like a fool whose goal seemed to be disgracing House Dimitrescu, something the Countess would never turn a blind eye to. She held on to her own goblet of wine tighter, then. Luckily, it was not made of glass, or it would have shattered.

She exhaled harshly from her nose, once, before a charming, almost musical laugh broke her reverie. She had to keep herself from snapping her head to the side to look at where the sound had come from, making her movements slow and precise instead, so as to not draw attention to herself or her newfound curiosity. Well, well. Now that was a pleasant sight. The sound had come from a woman. An extremely beautiful one, at that. Her hair was brown, braided most elegantly, and complemented her features in a way that was almost indescribable. The warm lighting of the ballroom they were in altered it’s hue, reminding the other woman of free, autumn leaves, drifting gracefully in the wind. The Countess wondered how long the woman’s hair would be if she were to free it from the pins that were holding it in place.

Her dress was red, cut somewhat generously at the front. Bold, for the gathering she was attending, though it certainly made a statement, it would seem. The frame fitting, silken dress appeared to draw the attention of several men, who, of course, barely even bothered to make eye contact with the woman whenever they spoke to her. This made Alcina’s lips curl down momentarily in disgust. Men could truly be such dogs, she thought.

The brown haired woman captured the attention of every person around her whenever she’d speak, although the smile she wore did not reach her hazel coloured eyes - it had a subtle, mechanical look to it - and her posture was slightly too stiff, as if she studied every move before actually moving. Her smile, her demeanour... it was all clearly forced, but only those who were paying very close attention could see through her mask. The woman’s eyes then shifted downwards when she sipped her wine. She felt a pair of eyes on her - sort of like how you feel when roaming around in a haunted house, you don’t see anything, yet feel everything, only this time, the feeling was more than welcomed. Drifting her eyes upwards, she finally met the Countess’s gaze. Almost like a magnet. How intriguing. She was, indeed, hauntingly beautiful, the mysterious woman thought.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, in a way that was almost too cliché. The brunette half-hoped she could relive the moment all over again. She could not look away. They both couldn’t.

The woman’s lips were still hidden behind the glass of wine, but her eyes told the Countess all she needed to know. They stared at each other for what seemed like centuries and every second of it was absolutely delicious - the brunette didn’t shy away from Alcina’s prying eyes at all, she seemed to revel in the fact that she was the one the Countess was looking at - her chest puffed slightly, her head tilting upwards a bit, and when she finally removed the goblet from her face she had an almost missable smirk painting her soft, red lips, making one of Alcina’s eyebrows arch slightly. Ah, at this rate, the things you could see just by looking into another person’s eyes was almost criminal.

Their staring contest was, much to Alcina’s chagrin, broken when a particularly loud and obnoxious laugh came from her husband. The fool was probably trying to charm one of his guests for the umpteenth time that evening. Having had enough, she stood up at once and took long strides towards him so as to not allow him to embarrass himself, or, rather, her, any further. The room didn’t fall silent, but several people spoke in a hushed tone as they watched the Countess walk towards the opposite side of the room. The way she moved was almost hypnotic - the skirts of her dress shifted delicately, her face completely still, not betraying any emotions, not a hair on her head out of place. It was almost as if she was floating.

“Beloved,” the sound of her voice evoked an immediate reaction out of her husband, who quickly turned to face her, visibly sputtering, and out of several other people near them. Heads literally turned.

Everyone knew who was at the helm of House Dimitrescu, it didn’t matter how many parties her husband attempted to throw or how many Counts he tried to butter up. There was only one, and it was not him. It was her. He knew this. She knew this. Everyone did, and playing the part of the good, perfect, respectable wife was beginning to wear the woman down in a way that was borderline dangerous, at that point. Men are technically allowed to rule sometimes, unfortunately. This was not one of those times.

“My dearest wife-“ her husband started, slurring his words slightly. She immediately cut him off by grasping his arm in a way that told him to stop talking, but also looked relatively loving to whoever was watching, “A word,” she was not asking, she was telling.

The brown haired woman, who had previously captured the Countess’s attention, watched as the couple walked, with their arms linked, towards a secluded part of their castle. She noticed how the black haired woman nodded curtly towards her guests as she walked past them, not wanting to be a poor host despite being displeased with her husband’s behaviour. Brown eyes took in the other woman’s.... figure as she walked away. A sight to behold, as she had initially guessed. Her dress hugged all her curves in the most mouthwatering way. It was almost too difficult for one to tear their eyes from her.

In the meantime, the party was simply not the same when she was absent. Like an ever-present energy, not a soul in that room could look at the Countess and mistake her for a person who could go unnoticed. Even if she wasn’t in the room physically, everything had her name written all over it. It was hers. It was all hers.

——

Several moments passed before the Countess and her husband decided to grace the party with their presence once more, still, the brunette immediately took note of it and watched as the other woman navigated the room confidently to greet some of her other guests, never once breaking into a full smile, however. Maybe they just hadn’t earned it.

If she wanted to greet her and leave a lasting impression, before having to leave the party, it had to be now.

——

“— they are positively dreadful. I cannot bear the sight of them. The man calls himself a painter yet cannot seem to find within himself the ability to paint properly!” a man loudly said, some of the guests laughing along with him. Others at him. Alcina’s facial expression, on the other hand, remained completely neutral with no signs of her cracking a smile anytime soon. The man noticed and, unfortunately for him, made an attempt to mansplain art to the Lady of the House. The group fell silent, uncomfortably so, as the man waited on Alcina to grace him with a response. It did not seem like he was getting one.

“You are out of your depth, Constantin,” Alcina immediately recognised the lilting voice, looked over her left shoulder and towards the sound. It was her. The phrase was voiced with a hint of playfulness so as to not humiliate the man any further, “Our host knows more about the wonders of the arts than you ever will.” She was standing directly beside Alcina now, yet seemingly refused to meet her gaze, choosing not to break eye contact with the man who dared question the Lady’s knowledge instead.

“In fact,” she inhaled through her nose, pursed her lips - allowing a hint of contempt to escape her for a fleeting moment - and clasped her hands at her front, “I believe we are all uncultured, empty-headed people in comparison, no? Some more than others”, she gave the man a pointed look, making the people around her chuckle in consensual agreement. That’s when she finally turned her head to face the other woman, whose gaze had been boring holes into her head as soon as she had decided to stand beside her. That’s when the brunette noticed that no one else was near the Countess, but all directly in front of her. It was as if she had stepped onto the woman’s stage. The realisation made her bow her head humbly before turning her body to fully face her, “I don’t believe we’ve met, my Countess”, she extended her hand, “Angela Drăculea, I have been meaning to make your acquaintance for awhile, now”.

This time, her smile had reached her eyes, which were now half-lidded. The laugh lines that formed charmingly around them only seemed to become more noticeable once Alcina took her hand in her own and hummed in acknowledgement, “I don’t believe our husbands have met”, she stated matter of factly.

“I beg your pardon?” the other woman said. They were still holding each other’s hands, the feeling sending shivers down Angela’s spine - she even seemed to draw nearer when the Countess spoke, which did not go unnoticed. Like a sailor being charmed by a siren, completely unaware of the perils surrounding such action. Alcina’s gaze refused to leave her own. It soon became intoxicating.

“He would have introduced us by now,” her calming voice said, before finally dropping the other woman’s hand, “Unless you come here uninvited and are a trespasser,” once again, it was not posed as an inquiry, it was as if she was throwing statements at the other woman, gauging her reaction to them.

The brunette squinted her eyes without dropping her endearing smile, “Our husbands have not met, no.” she squared her shoulders, then, and allowed her gaze to drift downwards, towards the Countess’s necklace, though she doubted that that’s what the other woman was really looking at, “I am afraid I have no husband to introduce in the first place,” she playfully said, giving her a knowing smile and looking into her eyes once more. Angela was good at matching other people’s energy. If they teased, she would tease back. If they taunted, she would follow. If they threatened...

A hint of a smile ghosted Alcina’s lips, “Is that so?”

The atmosphere changed around them almost immediately. Some of the guests even squirmed uncomfortably whilst watching the verbal exchange unfold. It was not a normal conversation by any means. The brunette seemed to be speaking to the Countess for a particular reason. Alcina, on the other hand, was testing her. Watching her. Studying her, in a way that was not totally uncomfortable but also let the other woman know that she was not to be taken for a fool. Even so, their audience didn’t seem to bother this so-called ‘Angela’, Alcina noted. If anything, it only seemed to encourage her. Interesting, she thought.

The woman gave a smile, that was absolutely sinful, and bit down on her bottom lip for a split second. The woman opened her mouth to say something before placing her, now empty, goblet of wine on a round, silver platter one of the servants, who walked past her, was holding, “Indeed,”

“Rather unusual, wouldn’t you say?”, her tone lost all signs of amusement, then, and her expression turned almost sour. The sudden change of heart caught the brunette off guard, but unfortunately to Alcina, she was quick-witted and would not back down easily.

“Some would say so, yes,” her chin tilted upwards almost imperceptibly. She couldn’t stand taller than the other woman even if she tried, however. They were about the same height, Angela was slightly shorter, but the way the Lady of the House carried herself made her look taller than any other person in that room, almost incomprehensibly so, “Some would even go as far as to question my womanhood. Be that as it may... it is not how I see it.”

Alcina’s nostrils flared for a brief second, she had a feeling that the woman before her was about to cross a line that should never be crossed. Not with her. It was as if she was pushing all her buttons just to see if she could. A mistake. Nevertheless, she pressed on, “How do you see it?”, she glowered, daring her to speak her mind.

Angela didn’t look the tiniest bit regretful. It drove Alcina mad. She was a lady, therefore making a scene was absolutely out of the question, but Gods be damned, if the woman in front of her didn’t stay in line—

“Complete and utter freedom.” she cooed. The last thing Alcina expected was for the woman to bend at the waist, then, seemingly choosing to remove herself from the conversation now before it ended poorly, and moved to hold the Countess’s hand in her own once more. She paused, allowing Alcina to remove her hand from her grasp. When that didn’t come, she looked up from under her lashes, not moving from the position she was in, and placed a deliberate kiss on her hand, feeling it tense up under her touch.

Once they stood at eye level, the first thing Angela observed was the Lady’s facial expression. First, her eyes flashed dangerously. Then, her jaw clenched. But then, and much to the brunettes dismay, Alcina’s face went blank. All terrible signs, when one is making an attempt at courtship, really. No matter though, because the last thing Angela noticed before finally moving away from the Countess were her eyes. One’s body always betrays them, it would seem, for the woman’s pupils were blown and only one word was written all over her face. Desire.

“In another life, perhaps?” was all the infuriating woman said, a soft smile on her face, before finally moving away, turning her back on the Lady and disappearing into the crowd. She left just as the Countess’s husband decided to join in on the conversation he had just missed. Whatever it was that he said, it earned him a hissed out reply from his wife.

———————————————

“My decision is final, there will be no argument. Remember from whence you came,” was all the priestess had to say for the room to settle down, “Unless any of you provide me with a reason as to why our plan should change, I advise you all spare me your childish, petty squabbles”. Her voice was cold and left no room for disagreement. Heisenberg looked at his sister, his chest puffed and a ridiculously smug grin on his face. There was nothing more she wanted to do at that moment than wipe it off his face. With his hammer, perhaps.

He had always been an irksome man, yet became even more so after his transformation. Alcina was thankful for the fact that she did not have to deal with his presence on a daily basis. He was like an annoying smell you simply could not get rid of and having to deal with familial issues even after your death felt like a poor joke. He did not respect her. She would have to change that.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” he patronisingly said, bowing to his sister mockingly, “you will not be disappointed”. There was his wolffish grin again. Alcina tsked and moved to stand behind her seat once more. Losing Ethan Winters did not irritate her too much - she did not care for the man nor for his safety - the fact that she was losing him to her brother, of all people, however... Now, that was a different story. It seemed that, even in death, men attempted to reach for things that were not theirs to claim. She knew her brother. His irresponsible nature would end up getting the best of him and she would have to clean up his mess. That’s how it always went. She and her daughters would’ve killed the mortal so much quicker.

He turned to face the man in shackles then, opened his arms wide and began, loudly, “Lycans and gentlemen, we thank you for waiting! And, now, let the games beg—“

He would have finished his speech if he had not been rudely interrupted by the sound of the doors, leading to the old, dilapidated chapel, slamming against the walls, a woman standing on the threshold. She was wearing all black garments, which were softly swaying in the cold, winter breeze, her face fully shadowed and hidden both by her hood and some kind of plain, black material covering the lower half of her face. Not a single hint of skin in sight. Her ensamble was not poor or dirty in the slightest. It was perhaps a bit hard on the eyes, but one could tell it was carefully handpicked by its wearer. Clothes do make others perceive you differently, after all. Whatever it was that she was trying to achieve by dressing in such fashion, it seemed that she had succeeded.

Her posture was straight and one of her, gloved, hands was holding on to some kind of satchel. Everyone in the room was surprised by the sudden interruption, including the mortal, who was now making pathetic attempts to uncomfortably turn and face whatever new threat he would have to deal with later. Everyone looked as if the woman was trespassing. Everyone but the priestess.

“You have decided to join us after all, I see,” her tone was far from welcoming. It almost sounded as if she was reprimanding the woman, not just for interrupting their meeting, but for showing up at all, “Do you come bearing news?”, once again, her tone was flat, giving away the impression of utter disinterest and boredom.

Heisenberg was leaning against his hammer and pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand, probably wondering when he was going to be allowed to play with his food. Alcina, on the other hand, was watching this woman, who had not yet made a sound, carefully. It was almost like they had been interrupted by a ghost. A ghost they were not meant to see. She took the other woman in once more, noticing how she was, surprisingly, not as short as the others around her. Still not as tall as the Countess, but definitely much taller than her brother, for instance. How interesting.

“My suspicions were correct,” that voice.... where could she have heard it before? Lady Dimitrescu stood taller then, her eyes widening for a split second and her lips forming a thin line before she could keep her facial expressions under check. It could not be, could it? After all those years?

“You took your precious time,” Miranda critiqued, “what have you learned?”, the room was dead silent, save for a few lycans who were growling lowly at the new guest. All eyes were set on this newcomer, which, interestingly enough, seemed to upset her. Her hand had left her satchel and was now gripping her black cloak, as if she was trying to wrap it around herself even tighter. Only one other person in the room kept most of her body covered - Donna, the head of House Benenviento, but even she was a poor example. One woman was a... grieving daughter, the other was not.

“Our enemy, our true enemy, is one Chris Redfield. He plans to strike from the shadows once we are all too exhausted to retaliate.” Her voice was being somewhat muffled by the material covering her face, but it was clear enough that no one needed to listen closely to understand what she was saying. Even if she looked utterly uncomfortable, her posture did not give that away at all. She stood tall. Proud. She did not cower or shift closer to the shadows, no matter how badly she wanted to. In all honesty, it was not a poor effort, but there was one person who could see right through her.

“And you know this how, exactly?” Heisenberg drawled. Moving away from his hammer and sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose just to take a better look at the woman.

“He is here. In your village. Roaming around your property. Studying you. Something that is only happening because you were much too busy hunting down this stupid, useless man for sport,” the woman snapped, yet kept the volume of her voice relatively low and her tone neutral, clearly not entertained by the man’s behaviour. Her eyes gave out this orange glow with a red tint to it - they flashed whenever Heisenberg tried to address her. Some curses become a blessing though, because the man’s infuriating demeanour made the woman let go of her cloak, her posture straightening once more, but not out of discomfort this time.

“Careful, Angela,” the priestess warned, cutting their argument short, “know your place.” it was posed as a warning, not a threat, but, frankly, Angela had been roaming the Earth for far too long, now, and standing down was not something she was inclined to do. Ever.

“With all due respect, my Priestess, my place is something I am excruciating and painfully aware of.” Angela spat out, her tone making Alcina’s lips curl upwards in acknowledgement for a brief moment. That did sound like the woman she had met on that dreadful party all those years ago. Though she was, obviously, not the same as she once was... in more ways than one.

The room fell silent for the umpteenth time that day and remained that way for a few, uncomfortable seconds. Angela’s chest rose and fell steadily, her eyes never leaving the priestess’s. The awkward, tense moment was broken when the House Beneviento puppet, Angie, coughed once, followed by a small, meek “.... sorry...”. This was going to be a long day.

“I just want my daughter—“ general grumbles of annoyance and a loud ‘shut the fuck up’ came from the people around him. Well. Maybe that would have to come later.

“You cannot be suggesting we let this man go?” the word was practically spat out, which was definitely in character for Lady Dimitrescu, “For once, I agree with my sister,” was what Heisenberg said, earning him a disgusted look from the Countess.

“Maybe I have not made myself clear,” Angela turned to face Alcina for the first time in literal centuries, then. The taller woman wished she could see her face, her fingers twitched momentarily at the thought. Still, she refused to let any kind of emotion seep through her mask, opting to pretend to be completely unfazed by their conversation instead.

The other woman did not seem particularly glad to see her, which sent an uncomfortable feeling through the lady vampire’s chest. This kind of behaviour was not to be rewarded.

.... Surely she had not forgotten her?

“I suggest we move our efforts towards a more fruitful endeavour, such as doing away with the man who wants to eradicate us. It is entirely up to you, however,” her eyes scanned the taller woman’s face. Looking at her eyes, her hair, the laugh lines around her mouth and, then, settling on her lips before looking away entirely.

It was strange, seeing her like this. Her fiery personality was, of course, still there, but before the Countess stood a woman who was merely a shell of who she used to be. She had often thought about the woman who had boldly courted her for all to see. Wondered if she had lived a full life. Happy and free, as she was. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. She looked utterly miserable now, which was a clear indication of just how consensual the experiments that were inflicted upon her were. There they stood. What had once separated them centuries ago seemed to separate them now. One was still a caged animal, struggling to get free.

A pang of something hit Alcina’s chest. That was definitely not a feeling she welcomed with open arms. Some things are meant to be secured under lock and key. Never to be brought up, not once. This was one of those things.

The woman bowed her head slightly, a sign of respect towards the Countess. Having seen that, Heisenberg made a disgusted sound, immediately destroying whatever moment they were about to have.

“Fine. If this one goes, I want the other one,” he turned towards Miranda, “It is only fair,” the smug smile returning to his face.

The Houses argued amongst each other whilst Angela stood on the sidelines watching it all unfold. The dynamic between them seemed about what you’d expect from a bunch of dysfunctional monsters whose Mother was hellbent on calling them a family, though it was borderline comical most of the time. Angela pursed her lips and looked away from the scene with disinterest, her gaze landing on the mortal, instead. Funnily enough, he looked more confused than frightened, which almost made the woman’s lips curl up in amusement. His expression was understandable.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when Alcina threw a particularly petty insult at her brother, her eyes flashing dangerously and her booming voice carrying throughout the entire building. Even after centuries having passed, she remained the most strikingly powerful and beautiful woman Angela had ever seen. She took her time observing her then - the way the veins on her neck became more noticeable when she began raising her voice; the way her nose scrunched up in disgust whenever her brother tried to speak to her; the way she scoffed and waved her hand at him dismissively whenever he made another stupid comment. Even so, she remained positively regal throughout the entire verbal exchange. Angela wished for nothing more than to be a painter, at that exact moment, so she could immortalise the Countess as she saw her. Gazing upon her this freely almost felt like a privilege.

If only she could go back in time, she would have taken her away from that blasted party and her stupid husband and kept her all to herself, though she doubts the Countess would have let her.

Sighing in relief when Miranda put an end to their fighting for the second time that morning, Angela awaited her orders. She could spend the rest of her days admiring the taller woman, the screaming, on the other hand, was beginning to wear her down. That was when the priestess finally made her decision. Ethan Winters was no longer a priority, though he should not be allowed to leave the village as of yet. This earned her several shouts of protest from the man, who ended up being taken away by two of Miranda’s helpers.

“Do not stray from the village, Angela. I need you here,” Miranda commanded, “Alcina, take her with you. You are to await further instructions,” her wings fluttered as she spoke. Her demeanour calm, as always.

Heisenberg’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, Angela interjected, “Very well. I will find my own way to the Castle,” and with that, she abruptly turned and walked confidently towards the exit. She needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The amount of eyes on her were making her skin crawl.

“She’s going to walk there?”, Heisenberg scrutinised, glaring at the woman as she left. His sister didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he had said, seemingly lost in thought, which was definitely uncharacteristic of her.

“Heisenberg...,” the priestess warned. The conversation was over.

Having realised his mistake, he raised his hands up in defeat, though his eyebrows were still snapped together, either in confusion or irritation.

——-

Angela could technically use her powers to get to the Castle in the blink of an eye, yet saw fit to do the exact opposite of that. Call it stubbornness or whatever else you wish - she saw her powers as entirely unnatural. Animalistic, even. There was not one thing about her transformation that she had come to terms with over the decades. There was no encore, there was no sense of accomplishment. It didn’t make her feel more powerful. No, there was only blood, sweat and tears. That’s all there ever was. No need to romanticise it. You couldn’t, even if you tried.

She looked up, trying to take in the Castle in all its glory. She wondered what the Countess had done to her husband once she was turned, the thought making her purse her lips in amusement. She didn’t seem particularly fond of the man, so her best guess was that he died an excruciating death. Whether or not he deserved it was not up to her to decide. She got exactly what she wanted, in the end. She was officially the Head of the House, no man holding her back and keeping her from achieving her fullest potential. Good. She deserved it. She deserved all of it.

Yet... facing her now, after all that had transpired? Gods forgive her. She didn’t know if she could take it.

She walked steadily towards the main entrance, her fist hovering over the flat surface of the door before finally giving it three, strong knocks. The doors were opened by two, frail looking maids who immediately stepped to the side to let her in. Choosing not to give it much thought, Angela walked through the threshold and looked around. It all looked exactly the same. A pang of nostalgia and sadness hit the woman’s chest, but her reverie was broken when the sound of two loudly beating hearts overcame her senses. Her head turned slowly towards the two maids. Their chests were rising and falling rapidly, meaning they definitely saw her as a threat - she didn’t blame them, all they could see were her eyes, and they were not really welcoming, either. Her gaze traveled along the women’s faces yet settled on their necks as soon and she noticed how they had both been... branded. The bite marks were small, so they were not given to them by the Countess. How intriguing.

“Lady Drăculea,” Ugh, “so nice of you to finally join us,” he sauntered towards her, his hammer resting on his right shoulder, “how was your morning stroll? Not too many corpses on the way, I hope”, he grinned. There were... a lot of corpses, actually. It made her stomach turn, but she would never tell him this, regardless of whether or not he was right. His ego was already too big for his own good.

“Why do you pester me,” she asked, her tone flat and her mouth twitching downwards when she realised he planned on annoying her even further. Thank goodness her face was covered, that way he had absolutely no way of knowing if he was getting under her skin.

He gave out a mocking smile and pressed on even further, “You know, I have just been made aware of the most interesting piece of information,” he toyed with the handle of his hammer and eyed the woman up and down, sizing her up. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Angela clenched her jaw, her mouth set in a hard line. She moved to the side in an attempt to walk past him, but he would not let her - sidestepping in front of her whenever she tried to leave.

“This isn’t your first time in the Castle. You came here once long before you were turned into one of us,” he stated matter of factly. He turned to the side, then, and used his free hand to wave it around, never letting go of his hammer, “this must really take you back. Say,” he moved closer then, his voice barely a whisper, “on a scale of one to ten, how awful was my sister?” there was his stupid grin again. Angela didn’t have the faintest clue as to how he came to know of her past - Alcina certainly had not told him, so that leaves.... who, exactly?

She heard the distinct sound of heels clicking on marble in the distance before finally deciding to give the Countess’s brother a reply, “I remember being bothered by a pesky, little man that evening and I can certainly relate to that now,” she said, curtly, “this feeling brings me back more than the haunting halls of this Castle ever could”, that was when a flash of white entered her peripheral vision. There stood the Lady of the House, in all her glorious beauty, at the top of the stairs. Her left, gloved hand resting on the railing, she seemed to be accessing the situation, trying to decide whether or not she would step in and get her brother in line. The two, poor maids were still standing on the very same spot, not being allowed to leave until the guest moves away from the front entrance and into the Castle. It was, overall, an incredibly uncomfortable situation.

Heisenberg stared at her blankly at first, but then his face broke into an almost predatory smile. He stepped closer to Angela, who refused to step back, “I am going to tell you this once and only once. Do not test me any further. I am not as patient as the Priestess, dog,” she sneered, her voice dripping with venom. It looked as if she had grown ten inches taller. Maybe she had. It certainly felt like she had. Heisenberg’s grip on his hammer tightened at the final word the woman spat out, the air around them almost crackling from all the tension. Funny how she was several inches taller than him and yet the man was still brave, or bold... stupid enough to irk her. She half hoped he would keep going - she needed to release some pent up anger anyway. Heisenberg’s posture stiffened.

Having had enough of the display of ego measuring, the Countess decided to interrupt their special moment before they ruined her day even further, “That’s enough,” she said, her voice had an edge to it. She was obviously not pleased with their behaviour - they were both just guests in her Castle, after all. She continued then, her voice much more neutral this time around, “Your chambers are this way,” she was speaking to the woman, yet her eyes were trained on her brother. The Countess slowly extended a long arm towards one of the corridors to her right, her movements precise, and her left hand, still resting on the railing, gripped it tighter.

Angela took that as her queue to finally leave Heisenberg behind, glaring at him one last time before moving away from the door, which put the two maids out of their misery and allowed them to leave the spot they were stuck in moments ago, and going up the stairs. Alcina was still standing near the railing and still eyeing her brother, who now had turned to face the two women, craning his neck slightly to look up at them. Angela watched as the two siblings seemed to communicate telepathically. She didn’t fully understand it, but felt as if it was not something she wanted to insert herself into or interrupt.

Her brother grunted something under his breath before tipping his hat at his sister and finally walking out. She was asking — no, telling — him to stand down. He was on her turf, now. No one understands the implications of that better than a dog, Angela thought.

They were alone now and, for someone who was bold enough to flirt with a married Countess at a social gathering her husband hosted, Angela did not seem to be able to meet her gaze. The taller woman enjoyed seeing her squirm, apparently, because they remained silent for a few, long seconds before the brunette was forced to say something to break the ice, “I humbly thank you, my Countess, for your gracious hospitality. It has not gone unnoticed”. Maybe her boldness was not what it used to be, but her courteousness and charm were still very much intact, Alcina noted.

All that came from Alcina was a soft hum. She stood there, accessing the woman before her. It was almost as if she was expecting something from her - Angela, being the chivalrous person that she was, knew exactly what was missing, but chose to ignore it for the time being, “That way, yes?”, she looked down the corridor Alcina had previously extended her arm towards. She secretly hoped she could simply go looking for the room herself. Standing near the Countess was torture - in the best way possible, of course.

“Indeed,” came the sharp response. She was not pleased with Angela’s choices leading up to this moment. The Lady’s lips curled downwards, something the other woman missed, since she was not even looking at her to begin with. A mistake.

Not one more word was said before the raven haired woman turned and began taking long strides towards her guest’s assigned chambers. Angela followed. She always would.

Clenching her fists to keep herself from drifting her eyes downwards and along the Countess’s frame, arriving to her guest room came as a distraction and was therefore a god given gift. Someone please. Put her out of her misery.

She watched as Alcina opened the, now ridiculously small, door, bending over at the waist to enter the room. Angela had to do the same, only she did not bend as low as her host. The room was elegantly decorated, as was expected, and surprisingly clean. She wondered just how many maids Alcina actually had and how long it would take scrape the floors clean, let alone dust each and every room off. She was glad she was not in their shoes, to say the very least.

“I won’t be needing that,” Angela said, flatly.

She could sense the taller woman’s rising anger, but her statement left the Countess confused enough that she ended up allowing the brunette to keep her head, “A mirror,” Alcina deadpanned. It was posed as a question, but when Angela turned her head to look the woman in the eyes, all she saw was utter disinterest.

“Yes. I would rather not,” she clasped her hands at her front and looked around the room. She should really stop doing that. The way she refused to meet Alcina’s eyes when she spoke to her was beginning to anger her. She could tell.

“The tone you have been carrying thus far is extremely ill-advised. You are a guest in my Castle. Do not make me remind you again,” her voice was as cold as steel, yet the Lady of the House seemed to show leniency for the second time that morning. If Angela were someone else, her head would probably be on a spike in the Castle grounds. Still, abusing her luck any further would be unwise.

The shorter woman’s pulse quickened and she bit on the insides of her cheek to keep herself grounded. Turning to fully face the Lady once more, she began removing the garments that were covering her face. First her hood and then her black mask, letting it settle around her neck, instead.

Alcina’s eyes seemed to immediately absorb the newly exposed features, her gaze scanning her face shamelessly before falling squarely on her lips and on a scar on the left side of her upper lip, which was new to her. Her hair also looked different. Gone was the intricate hairstyle with braids - taking its place was a loose bun. Alcina’s eyes were, once again, the only thing that betrayed her emotions and cracked her mask, for everything else in the woman, from her face down to her posture, was absolutely still and unreadable. Angela was aware of the fact that she looked older. Pale. The agony she felt over the decades written all over her face.

She did not bother to decipher how Alcina saw her now, it was ultimately pointless and she doubted the Countess cared that much about whatever it was that she thought she saw in her. It had been years since the smaller woman had looked at herself in a mirror - she refused to do it ever since her transformation, in fact, which explained her aversion towards them now.

“Forgive me, offending you was not my intention. It never will be,” her eyes were tired, yet she did not break eye contact with the woman this time, “it was poor of me,” she was visibly choosing her words in the most careful way possible, “I simply need to cover it, is all,” she hoped that her choice of words did not anger her host this time around. She awaited her response

...

“Do as you must,” and with that, the Lady left.

Angela sighed to herself and began looking for spare sheets so she could cover the blasted thing and not have to look at it any longer. Thankfully, no one was there to see her as she struggled to place the sheets over the mirror - not wanting to look at herself as she did it made the affair ten times harder. It almost made her laugh, in fact. It was too ridiculous. A low chuckle resonated throughout the room all of the sudden. It... didn’t come from her. Turning slowly, she was met with a pair of bright, yellow eyes, lurking in the shadows.

“It would be easier if you turned them to the side and tucked them behind it,” the young woman said, nodding her head towards the sheets Angela was holding. The brunette stared at her for a few seconds before looking down and taking her advice, turning the sheets, placing them over the mirror - though she turned her face to not look at her reflection - and, after a couple of attempts, managing to tuck them behind the damned thing. Finally.

“Well, would you look at that,” Angela mused.

“That took you way longer than it should have,” the faceless woman deadpanned.

That seemed to catch Angela off guard and she snorted, against her better judgment, before clearing her throat and facing the pair of eyes once more, “I don’t think we’ve met. Angela D—“, she thought about extending a hand to greet the mysterious figure in the shadows, but was interrupted before she could even finish saying her name.

“I know who you are,” she teased, “Mother has told us all we need to know about you,” she continued. That made Angela’s posture straighten. Us? Mother?

“I seem to be at a disadvantage, then. The Countess has not told me your name,” Angela countered. She didn’t feel threatened by the girl, still, she seemed clever. And nothing good can come out of Alcina’s children, surely.

The mystery girl left the shadows then and, curiously enough, she did not seem to resemble Alcina at all, yet the way she carried herself did remind her of the Countess. Her calm, yet reserved demeanour almost too close to her mother’s.

“Bela,” she told the taller woman, her face blank.

“It is an honour to meet one of the Countess’s daughters,” she bowed her head slightly at the girl.

“Mother spoke of you often,” the girl told her, apparently seeming to be more inclined towards skipping the pleasantries, “though I must warn you, do not upset her,” monotoned the daughter, “my sisters and I are not kind to those who do.”

Angela didn’t take it as a threat, though she knew she probably should. Part of her was glad Alcina had such devoted daughters. The other half was amused at the child’s boldness.

“I understand,” she told her, wanting to reassure her. Upsetting the Lady of the House was definitely not on Angela’s list of things to do, yet she didn’t want her daughters to think that she, a guest, planned on harming their mother. Gods forbid.

“Good,” Bela finished. As soon as the word was out of her mouth she all but dissipated in front of Angela’s eyes, leaving in her wake a cloud of small insects who disappeared through the cracks in the walls and left the room. Were the cracks there to allow them to traverse the Castle faster...? Angela stood there for a second, trying to understand what had just happened before giving up and shaking her head slightly. Hopefully this day was done with throwing things at her and actually allowed her to finally rest before being summoned by Miranda.

She was out of luck, it seemed. The nights were always so much harder on her for no apparent reason. At least not one that she was aware of. Before she tried to go to bed and call it a day, she had to ask Alcina for.... a bigger nightdress. It was utterly embarrassing, but thankfully the Countess was kind enough to not make any comments. The maids then gave her a silk nightgown - it didn’t fit her particularly well since the Lady was still taller than her, but it was better than wearing nothing at all.

She was in bed and staring at the ceiling, her fingers intertwined and her hands resting on her chest. She was tired, but knew that having a good nights sleep was not something that would happen any time soon. Even if she did manage to rest her eyes for a couple of hours, the nightmares would certainly wake her up. She longed for the nights, before her transformation, when she simply had to shut her eyes to fall asleep for as long as she wished. Now she didn’t need to sleep as much, true, but the nightmares proved themselves to be much more than a nuisance. They plagued her almost every night. It frustrated the woman beyond words.

Choosing to do something else with her “free” time, she got up, put her, or Alcina’s, slippers on, which were also not the right size for her, and left her room. The Castle was not as cold as it appeared to be, for whatever reason, so discomfort was not something she had to deal with as she explored the halls of a Castle she had already been in... in another life. Something caught her eye, then, as she roamed around, taking everything in. A piano. An expensive looking one, at that. She drew nearer to take a closer look, running her hands over the keys without pressing too hard on them so as to not make any sound. It was clean. Not a speck of dust on it. Those poor maids.

She felt a pair of eyes on her again, but the way the energy in the room shifted dramatically told her this wasn’t one of the daughters.

“Do you play?” Angela asked softly, her fingers still running over the surface of the piano. She heard a low hum first - the actual reply came a few seconds later.

“Yes, though it’s been centuries since I last indulged in it,” said the Countess, her tone was almost matching the other woman’s. It wasn’t soft per se, but it was softer than usual.

“Ah,” Angela let out a bitter, halfhearted chuckle, “the mundane getting left behind once more, yes?”, she rested her hand on top of the piano and turned her head slightly, awaiting the other woman’s response but still not looking at her.

“You speak of the past most fondly,” Alcina’s tone indicated that she disapproved of such notion, though she was clearly trying to not flat out say it. The comment made Angela’s expression close up immediately and she moved to stand next to a big window, trying to distract herself from the unpleasant thoughts creeping up on her. Ah. The moon and her were well acquainted by now.

“If I could go back in time, I would.” she retorted. That was all she wanted to say on the matter, though she doubted the conversation would end there.

Alcina was still watching her from the shadows, her gaze trained on her. The scenario reminded Angela of a sinner confessing the unspeakable to a priest. Funny how the Countess was the priest in that situation. The thought had Angela biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. The amusement quickly dissipated from her mind, however, as it often did.

“I have.... regrets. Nothing has meaning now,” the woman confessed, she crossed her arms at her midriff then, her nails digging into her biceps.

“If you feel as if there may not be meaning, then find one and seize it,” the reply was not meant to sting, but it did nonetheless. Of course she would say that. Why wouldn’t she?

“It is easier said than done,” Angela said bitterly. The conversation was beginning to turn sour.

She heard the Lady tsk and then felt her getting closer, her steps almost soundless. She doesn’t hear the telltale clicking of her heels, so she must not be wearing them, “Excuses, excuses,” she was standing right next to her now, though she wasn’t facing the shorter woman. They were both looking out. Facing the moon. Angela found it preferable, that way. Stripping herself of all her walls in front of the Countess was easier if she did not have to stare into her eyes. The shadows served as her shield. The dark making her feel at home.

They stayed in comfortable silence for awhile before Angela broke it “I still feel it,” she had an almost pained expression, her voice no more than a whisper, “withering away, like a dying ember, and rotting inside me,”

That made Alcina turn her head to face her, waiting for her to continue. She watched as the woman’s arms dropped, only for her to begin pinching the area between her index finger and thumb with her other hand. It looked painful.

“My humanity,” Silence. Her jaw clenched and her bottom lip trembled for a brief second, not out of sadness but anger, “she took everything from me” she sneered.

“Mother Miranda only does what is best for us,” Angela wanted to interrupt her before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, but thought better of it. She pinched her hand harder. Alcina noticed.

“Do not say that. It might be what you tell yourself, but do not say it to me. Please.” Her face twisted in both anger and frustration. She was trying her damnedest not to snap at the Countess.

“The world could fit in your hands now. Seeing that as a curse and not a blessing is completely unfathomable,” Alcina coldly said. It was almost as if she was daring the shorter woman to test her patience once more.

“To you,”

“To me, and everyone else,”

Angela knew she could not make the other woman listen. Alcina had everything she had ever wanted - her transformation opened doors for her that would otherwise remain closed. Angela could understand that and was glad that the Lady of the House belonged to no one but herself. Still, that’s not how she saw it. Angela was taken, against her will, and experimented on by a woman whose only goal was to take what made Angela herself, turning her into one those.... things. And for what? What purpose did that serve her? They were all failed experiments. The rejects wrapped around her finger, some more than others. It was hell. How could Alcina not see that?

The point was, Alcina would never understand what she felt. Angela didn’t even fully understand it herself, to be quite honest. All she knew was she was not living. She wouldn’t wish what she was going through on her worst enemy.

Knowing that debating the Countess was a pointless resistance for her, she simply turned to walk away, wanting to put some distance between them. She was so incredibly tired...

... and she would have left, if the other woman hadn’t grabbed her wrist with inhuman speed. Being forced to turn her entire body and face the Countess, she tried to pull her wrist back, which she failed to do. Alcina was unsurprisingly strong and her grip unrelenting. The amount of force she used caused Angela to stumble forward a bit and into her - they were practically breathing the same air now, though the shorter woman had to crane her head upwards to actually lock eyes with the Countess. Her height allowed her to be at eye level with Alcina’s collarbone, but no more than that. It didn’t bother her too much.... no reason behind it.

“Do not turn your back on me,” the Countess warned, a scowl painting her face.

Even in this moment she looked absolutely magnificent, making Angela’s heart squeeze almost painfully in her chest for the first time in years. It dawned on her then, that the Countess was out of her normal attire - she wore a silken nightgown, much like her own, only hers actually fit her, and a sheer, black robe with a floral pattern; her hat was also missing. Closing her eyes to keep her gaze from wandering lower, all she could feel was the woman’s cold, yet impossibly soft, hand wrapped around her wrist.

She knew the tips of her ears would’ve turned pink by now, if they could. Thinking about it only made it worse. Her chest was heaving, her heart hammering in her chest, and their breaths mingled. Angela gulped slightly before opening her eyes again. She desperately wished to caress the other woman’s face, right about now - the light provided by the moon highlighted her features in the most beautiful of ways. She was utterly and completely under the Countess’s spell.

Alcina was still holding on to her wrist and using the same amount of force. Angela’s hand was trapped in between their bodies, if the Countess were to let go of her.... Well.

There was a scowl on her face no longer and she seemed to be struggling to keep her facial expressions under control. Her eyes dropped to Angela’s, now parted, lips, particularly on her scar, causing her own lips to twitch. The brunette noticed and was overtook by longing almost immediately. She needed to get away from the other woman, though she didn’t know how and every second that went by made it harder for her to tell Alcina to unhand her. Maybe she didn’t need to get away. Maybe what she needed was to draw even closer.

She could smell something floral - the other woman’s perfume? Maybe to honor the crest of House Dimitrescu? She could smell the Countess’s perfume, so, yes, they were that close.

Choosing to blame it on how intoxicating the woman’s scent was, Angela’s right hand, the one that was free, slowly moved upwards and towards the taller woman’s face, her fingers ghosting over it, not daring to touch just yet. She was silently asking for the Countess’s consent - she knew she should’ve verbalised it, but all her senses were malfunctioning. All she could see was her. All she knew was Her.

Alcina did not object, though her jaw clenched for a brief second. Angela suspected it was not due to anger, so she took it as her confirmation.

Initially, her touch resembled that of a feather - she feared that if she moved too quickly she would lose the woman just as fast. So far, so good. She ran the pads of her index and middle fingers over the Countess’s cheekbones, her eyes tracing the movement. Then, she ran the tips of her fingers over her nose, her brow; memorising every feature. Her pupils dilated when she traced them over the woman’s lips, which were now bare and without any lipstick. She wondered if she was taking more than she should, but her worries floated away when she heard the taller woman’s breath quicken before she was able to control it once more.

Feeling emboldened, Angela cupped the right side of her face. Alcina was no longer forcefully grabbing her wrist, but gently holding it. The brunette’s hand then fell to the right side of her neck, sliding down to settle on the top of her breast and near her heart.

And there they stayed for awhile. The moon their only witness. If this was a dream, Angela would kill whoever dared to wake her up. It didn’t seem like a dream, though, because what the other woman said next was vocalised much too clearly.

“You have haunted me for years,” she professed, her brow furrowed - she was clearly struggling to come to terms with whatever it was that she was currently feeling. Angela didn’t blame her.

“Good,” it was said absentmindedly, though there was honesty behind it.

Alcina’s chin turned upwards. She seemed... determined, maybe? Or was it something else? Angela was distracted.

Oh, it was definitely determination, for the Countess’s hand, the one that was holding Angela’s wrist, snaked around the shorter woman’s neck and pulled her towards her for their lips to meet.

Angela’s eyes all but bulged out of her head at first, but she quickly regained her senses. She was not a shy lover and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this specific moment several times throughout the years - she was not going to blow it now. Grabbing a fistful of Alcina’s robe and nightgown, she parted her lips, allowing the other woman to deepen the kiss further. They fit together perfectly - it was as if Angela had finally found the missing piece to her jigsaw puzzle. They had finally come full circle. This is what they should’ve done the first time they met. They both knew this. This was a second chance they were not going to miss.

Turns out the Countess was an excellent kisser, not that it was of any surprise. She did have centuries to practice, after all, but it still made Angela’s heart flutter in her chest, the feeling settling on the pit of her stomach. Damn, that woman. The shorter woman inhaled through her nose sharply when Alcina’s hand, the one that was previously resting on her neck, moved upwards to grab a fistful of her hair - angling her head just so. Angela was more than happy to comply.

Suddenly, Alcina broke their kiss, her lips now pink, causing Angela to lick her own in anticipation. She wanted nothing more than to hear her name leave those lips. Would the Countess even allow herself to do such a thing? Her thoughts were interrupted when the taller woman wordlessly began freeing her hair from the bun it was in. Her eyes burned with lust, but her movements were slow and gentle - they told a different story.

When her hair cascaded down, Alcina’s lips upturned, making Angela’s twist into a smile. They gazed into each other’s eyes then. Alcina’s, in particular, revealing too much. They both knew this. It was too soon.

The tender moment was broken when the black haired woman took notice of how Angela’s nightgown, which was hers - the thought sending a wave of possessiveness through her chest - was beginning to slip off her shoulders. Something dawned on her face then, and she used her left hand to pull one of the sleeves down, fully exposing Angela’s shoulder to the night air. She shivered, which did not go unnoticed by the other woman - her nipples were practically tearing holes through the soft fabric of the nightgown. The Countess locked eyes with her then, and what she saw only confirmed what was about to happen.

Angela’s eyes wordlessly told her ‘Consume me’. And so she did.

———

It seemed that it was possible for Angela to sleep without being plagued by nightmares, after all. Maybe it was due to how exhausted she was. She chose not to overthink it, now was not the time.

“What’s that,” Heisenberg said, flatly, looking to start another argument for the third time that morning. It seemed that not even during breakfast did the man mind his business. It didn’t help how he was sitting directly in front of her, either. Why had Alcina arranged the seats like that?

Angela’s expression seemed to speak for her, because the man felt like he had to explain what he had meant by his question, “That,” he pointed with his fork, “on your neck,”. Ah. Well.

She can’t talk about how the Head of House Dimitrescu picked her up effortlessly, placed her on top of her grand piano and... pushed her over the edge. Several times. She most definitely cannot talk about how, even after not allowing Angela to catch her breath, the Countess picked her up bridal style - the brunette’s legs shaking too much for her to walk - and took her to her chambers to make the shorter woman sing her name again. Over and over again. She certainly will not mention how the woman branded her with her mouth, though never actually biting into the soft flesh, as she allowed Angela to come down from the heights, her fingers still inside her as she did it. No. She couldn’t say any of that.

The woman looked down at her plate to keep her composure before meeting the man’s prying gaze again, “I woke up with it,” she paused to chew her food, not daring to look at anyone else. Alcina was on her left - she could tell she was watching her - and her girls were on her right - also watching her, “Maybe I have began decomposing faster than expected,”. She heard one of the daughters snicker before being forced to keep it down after being kicked under the table - by Bela, she was guessing.

The reply didn’t seem to satisfy Heisenberg, but he choose not to pry, for he sensed that the truth would probably end up disgusting him.

Angela gave Alcina a sidelong glance then, noticing the way she was hiding how the edge of her lips were turning upwards behind her glass.

......

In another life, indeed.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x oc #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x oc #(tagging it as x reader so it can reach a wider audience lmk if u want me to change it)#my writing #<3<3<3<3<3<3 #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

The Witch’s Companion

Imagine settling down in La Push and instantly hitting it off with a group of locals. You have an instant connection with Sam Uley and though you know exactly what the connection is, you find that you would rather have Sam tell you what it is. Only he has trouble finding a way and you find it rather amusing since you already know all about the supernatural realm. After all, you are a part of it.

Words: 6.3K Author’s Note: This is so bad, but I didn’t wanna trash it. I needed something to post. My apologies.

Since coming into your magic, you've always felt like something was missing. No matter how much you studied or how much progress you made in mastering your abilities, you always felt incomplete. You stayed home long enough to complete your high school education and then worked a few years to earn some cash before deciding to take a chance out in the real world on your own.

Fortunately for you, however, your family knew you'd be leaving the coven and they were more than prepared to send you on your way with funds they had saved up over the years themselves. It was a tearful goodbye, but as soon as you were on the road you felt it in every fiber of your being that you were making the right choice.

You drove for hours on end, not content enough to stop until the moon was high in the sky, and then found the least skeezy motel you could find to stay the night in. Then after paying for the night and putting a sigil of protection on your truck so no one could peek through the windows or break a window without setting off a blaring alarm, you showered and prepared for bed. But as you laid in bed, you tossed and turned as your brain wouldn't shut off. So instead of counting sheep, you got back up and dug out some of your supplies from the bag you kept close to you at all times.

As you sat on the floor with your legs crossed beneath you and a map spread out in front of you, you lit four white candles and placed one on each corner of the map. You took a white crystal on a chain and let it pool in your hand before closing your eyes, then holding the crystal against your chest. With nothing but good intentions and the hope of finding that missing part of you, you rubbed the crystal over your heart before grabbing the chain and letting the crystal hang over the map. And then with your eyes still closed, you twirled the crystal over the map before holding your hand still and letting spirits guide the crystal so you have an inkling of where to drive next.

Minutes passed and when you felt the chain still in your hand, you opened your eyes and found the tip of the crystal pointing towards the North-West portion of the map. So with somewhat of a destination in mind, you packed your belongings and was finally able to fall asleep.

Over the next few days you drove and drove, stopping for bathroom breaks, food and rest when necessary. When you hit the west coast and then started driving north, you were skeptical about where the crystal had really been pointing. But then you get to Forks, Washington and something just feels different. It doesn't feel right, but it's damn near close and you decide to drive around some more.

It isn't until you drive onto the reservation in La Push that it feels like you can properly breathe for the first time ever and you nearly cry tears of relief. But before you can start making plans of settling down, you know there are some things that must be addressed. Because growing up in a coven and learning of every supernatural creature you could, you know La Push is home to the legends of spirit warriors. And behind every legend is truth. So in order to be on good terms with the locals and the elders of the tribe, you know you must ask permission to stay on their lands.

The elders, surprisingly, needed no convincing. They were wary of a witch's presence at first, but after explaining everything to them they seemed to perk up with interest. More than a couple of the elders had twinkling eyes when you spoke of feeling as if a part of you was missing and that you only felt at complete ease once you crossed their borders. They even gave you a few suggestions on available houses in the area and you took your leave after asking them to keep your heritage a secret. You wanted to meet people on your own time and not have anyone seek you out because of what you could do. They completely understood and wished you well.

So a couple weeks later, here you are staring up at your very own two bedroom house. You had some cash put away for this exact occasion, but really it was the elders of La Push who were such a tremendous help in helping you purchase the place. The house itself was practically surrounded by trees and far enough away from any neighbors which granted you all the privacy you needed. So in other words, it was perfect.

You still need furniture and appliances to fill the house, so you've given yourself a time limit of about a week to get everything you need because that's as long as you're willing to stay in a small motel down in Forks. You've already ordered a basic refrigerator and stove, and they're to be delivered in a couple days time. You're still on the lookout for beds and couches, but nothing's caught your eye, so for now you've come to the house prepared with cleaning supplies.

The inside of the house is in pretty great condition, the only thing you really have to do is give it a good dusting, wipe down, and mopping. So after opening up all the windows, you walked around the house with a duster on an extendable arm made sure to dust every corner, nook and cranny of the room. You Windex every glass surface you can before sweeping the floors and then fill up a mop bucket to get started on the floors.

Afterwards, as the floors finish drying, you sit on the porch with a sandwich and Gatorade you had packed into a small ice chest. When you're a little more halfway through, two trucks rumble down the path to your house and you set aside your food in order to stand up and greet them.

Tribal Elder Harry Clearwater is easily recognizable, as is his beautiful wife Sue who is sitting in the passenger seat across from him. The two boys in the truck behind them, however, are new.

Stepping off the porch and meeting your guests halfway, you greet them all with a smile. Sue is the only one to receive a hug whereas Harry offers a handshake. "Hello, Harry. What brings you down here?"

The older man chuckles. "Just wanted to see how you were settling in and introduce you to a few of the young ones."

You finally meet the gazes of the boys behind Harry, taking note of the tribal tattoos on their upper biceps that they're showing off thanks to their sleeveless shirts. Both are wearing cargo shirts and have bare feet which you hardly bat an eye at. "Hello." You wave at them, smiling softly.

"Hey," the slightly shorter of the two smirks, leaning forward and offering his hand, "I'm Paul."

As you grasp his hand, his warmth sends shivers down your spine. "Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Paul shakes your hand a little longer than normal and you find yourself fighting back a laugh. "Paul, would you let her go? She's clearly not interested." His friend clamps a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back briefly before thrusting his own hand forward. "I'm Jared."

"Hi."

After greeting the two boys, you give a very amused Harry and Sue your attention once more. "So thanks for checking in. I'm just cleaning out the house right now. Getting it ready for deliveries."

"Oh?" Sue perks up. "What did you find?"

"Just a refrigerator and stove for now," you say with a small shrug and sheepish laugh. "I rather have the cabinets and refrigerator stocked with food rather than worry about comfortable bedding. If push comes to shove, I'll happily camp out on an air mattress while I find a decent bed."

Harry chuckles. "I figured you'd be having trouble finding some decent furniture, so I went ahead and went through our storage. Come on," he gestures for you to follow. "Come take a look."

"What?" You stare, wide-eyed, and Sue chuckles before nudging you to follow. You do, with the boys chuckling at your surprise, and you find a wooden bed frame laying in the bed of Harry's truck.

"It's a bit old," Harry then admits, "but it's still very sturdy. It was wasting away in our storage, so I figured it could go to a good home."

"Are- are you sure?"

"Of course," Sue assures you. "We also have a couch and a recliner if you're interested. They're still in really good condition."

"Well yeah! If you say it's in good condition and are willing to get rid of them, I'll happily take them off your hands."

"Excellent. Boys!" Harry catches Jared and Paul's attention. "Go back to my house and have Leah show you to the storage. She'll know what couch and recliner we want to get rid of."

"You got it, Harry."

Jared nods at Harry to let him know he's on it and Paul spares you one last lingering leer which prompts you to laugh and shake your head at him. Then turning to Sue, you ask, "So what do I owe you?"

But Sue is quick to wave you off. "Don't worry about it. Consider this as our house warming present. And," she's quick to cut you off when you open your mouth to retort, "if you feel like you owe us something, then all I ask is that you stop by the health clinic once you're truly settled in. You have a very healing nature about you and I'm sure you'd be a great help to our little community."

Catching her drift, you can't help but chuckle. "Sure thing, Sue."

With nothing else to be said, Harry and Sue help you unload the bed frame and carry it into your house and into the appropriate room. Fortunately Harry has a bag of tools in his truck and instructs you what screws go where since you were more capable of getting down on the floor than he was. Paul and Jared get back right before you finish putting together the frame, so Sue walks out to go instruct them to bring the furniture in.

Afterwards, as you and Harry join everyone in the living room, you smile kindly around at the occupants. "Boys, thanks for bringing the heavy stuff in."

"Don't even worry about it," Jared says. "If Sue and Harry are already this attached, I have a feeling you're good people."

Before Paul can comment, there's a bone chilling howl ripping through the air. It's not too close to the house, but it doesn't stop the boys from awkwardly chuckling afterwards and assuring you the wolves around the reservation are completely harmless. You keep a faint smile in place, nodding along, and force down your amusement at their hasty retreat.

Turning to Sue and Harry, you laugh. "They don't have a subtle bone in their body."

"No they do not," she muses.

A comfortable silence follows the three of you out onto the porch, watching as Paul and Jared drive away in a hurry. Seconds pass before Harry makes it clear they should get going too.

As you follow them to their truck, you say, "Thanks again for the furniture. If I head out now I can probably find a box spring and mattress, and actually sleep in my own house tonight."

Sue smiles. "I'm glad we could be of some help. If you need anything," she then reaches into her pocket, pulling out a small white card, "here's my number. Don't hesitate to call."

You take the card and glance at the number before pocketing it. "I won't. Thank you."

The married couple climb into the truck and as soon as they're settled and the engine rumbles to life, Harry leans out his window. "Don't take too long to let the boys in on your secret. I have a feeling you'll be seeing them more often than not now that two of them know where you live."

"How many are there?"

"Three as of right now," Harry says, "but we're keeping an eye on a few others."

"This pack keeps growing and the vampires will be too scared to step anywhere near La Push."

Harry chuckles. "That's fine by me."

With nothing else to be said and the Clearwater's wanting you to get everything you need before the stores shut down, they bid you farewell and take their leave. Then after making sure you shut all the windows to your house and lock up, you hop in your truck and drive to the city in hopes of getting a box spring and mattress to fit your new bed.

Over the next few days, you get settled in and you've never felt more at peace. Even your magic seems to meshing better than ever within you and your coven back home couldn't have been more happier for you.

You've kept your promise to Sue, mixing concoctions that were easily added into lotions for aching joints and grinding powered mixtures that could be added to water that acted as a mild pain reliever. The reservation's clinic was mostly used by the elderly and you were glad you could offer them relief for their aching bones.

You've also run into Paul and Jared a handful of times, mostly at the grocery store and once when you had gone to the beach for the day. They had been leaving when you were just getting there and Paul had introduced you to his new girlfriend, but the way he couldn't take his eyes off her let you know it was something so much more. Jared kept trying to introduce you to his other friend, but apparently you and this so-called Sam just kept missing each other.

And it isn't until one drizzly day that you finally meet him.

You sleep in a little later than usual, the overcast sky and drizzling rain keeping you in a sleepy state. Then when you feel like you've laid in long enough, you get up and take the warmest shower you can before dressing cozy and curling up on your couch. Nothing on TV seems to catch your attention, so you turn it off and head into your kitchen. You're not particularly hungry, but you find yourself wanting to make something. So opening up your pantry, you find that you have all the ingredients you need to bake to your heart's content.

With your hair twisted up into a bun and the sleeves of your sweater pushed up to your elbows, you're mixing together the second batch of muffins as the first batch cools next to a peach cobbler. You've been in the baking zone, listening to the distant rumbling thunder, that when there's knocking on your front door it startles you into letting loose a yelp.

There's a bark of laughter before you hear the door creaking open and Paul and Jared walk in, both shirtless and in cut-off jean shorts. A third walks in behind them, this one unfamiliar, but you keep your attention on the two you do know.

Huffing, you set aside the bowl and pick up a washcloth to clean off your hands as you walk around the kitchen counter. "If you catch a cold, I am not helping you. Only idiots would run around barefoot in this type of weather we're having right now."

"Oooh, those muffins free game?" Jared asks, completely ignoring your words and walking around you. "I'm starving."

"Do I smell peach cobbler?" Paul then wonders, doing the same as his friend.

"Hey!" The third individual barks, Paul and Jared freezing at his tone. "Manners."

You smirk as the boys shift nervously and then look towards the still unknown man. "Thank you. You, my well mannered friend, are more than welcome to the snacks. I'm Y/N, by the way."

As he meets your gaze, his small smile falters. His eyes seem to subtly widen, his expression goes lax, and there's an instant connection with this man- a sense of warmth and comfort rushing through you. He feels like.. like home.

You blink and then.. oh. You know exactly what this is and while a little part of you is nervous because you hadn't planned to tell anyone other than the tribal elders what you were, you're also kind of excited.

"Sam?" Paul wonders, he and Jared snickering.

The second you break eye contact with him, he seems to come back to himself. Clearing his throat, he nods at you. "Sam. I'm Sam Uley." He then glares at the boys before sheepishly glancing at you once more.

You flash him a small smile. "Nice to finally meet you Sam Uley. Jared doesn't shut up about you."

"Hey!" The muffled response causes you to look at the boy in question and you roll your eyes fondly when you see his cheeks puffed out with the remains of a muffin he'd eaten when you weren't paying attention.

"So what brings you boys over here?" You ask as you walk back into the kitchen, whipping Jared with a small towel and shooing him towards the table.

"Just wanted to see how you were dealing with our weather," Paul says. "Now can I please have some of this cobbler? It smells really good."

"Have you eaten lunch yet? All that sweet is going to ruin your appetite."

Jared snorts as he takes a seat at the table. "Nothing can ruin our appetites. Trust me."

Paul is still eyeing the cobbler so you sigh and wave him on. "Go ahead. I'm sure you can find the plates and utensils." Then looking towards Sam, you smile. "Would you like to take a seat? There are brown sugar muffins, chocolate chip muffins and peach cobbler if you're interested."

"I, uh, yeah." He grins at you. "I'd like that."

Sam, Paul and Jared take over your kitchen table and instead of being annoyed you can't help but feel a bit of fondness for them. You're well aware of what the connection you had with Sam was and you wonder how long it'll take him to come clean to you since it's obvious all three at your table are shifters- Sam obviously being the alpha.

But putting that off for now, you walk into your kitchen and place some muffins in a bowl to take to the table. Jared is all too happy to immediately start digging in and Paul looks absolutely blissed out as he shovels bite after bite of peach cobbler into his mouth. Sam shakes his head at the two of them, but you find it all rather amusing.

Taking a muffin for himself and eating at a leisurely pace, Sam asks, "So how do you know the boys?"

"Sue and Harry introduced us when they brought over my bed," you tell him. Grabbing a few bottled waters from the refrigerator, you walk them over to the table and take a seat yourself. "Between you and me, I think the only reason Harry introduced us was because I'm a female living by myself. He wants me to have people in my corner should something ever happen."

Sam glances between you and the boys, and seeing as you're not offended he allows himself to chuckle. "Yeah. That sounds like Harry. He's good people."

"Oh for sure," you muse. "I kind of have this sense about people. I can tell who's a good and who's a bad one."

"Oh really?" Paul looks up long enough to spot the waters and take one for himself. "What do you sense about us?"

Jared freezes, Sam tenses and Paul smirks as he takes a gulp of his water. You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, and smirk. "Honestly? I get a sense you and Jared are going to be giant pains in my ass."

Jared laughs, but Paul continues to smugly hold your gaze. "And what about Sam?"

Your gaze slides over to Sam who looks equal parts ready to strangle Paul and wondering what your answer is going to be. Eyes twinkling, you say, "That's to be determined."

Now that you'd officially met Sam and he imprinted on you- though you weren't supposed to know that- it seemed like he was everywhere. You run into him at the grocery store, at the local health clinic, and at the beach. And then sometimes all three of them would show up on your porch to check up on you, but mostly to raid your kitchen.

Usually when you run into them you run into all three, so as you're sitting on the beach and just soaking in the peace, you're surprised to see Sam approaching all on his lonesome.

"This seat taken?" He asks, gesturing to the empty half of the blanket you're sitting on.

You grin up at him. "Do my eyes deceive me or are you actually wearing long sleeves and jeans?"

"Ha ha," he deadpans. Toeing off his boots, Sam steps onto your blanket and sits next to you. He grins at you before looking out to the restless ocean. "So what brings you out here on this cool afternoon?"

You shrug. "Nothing really. Just felt like listening to the waves. You?"

"Same. Had some free time so I figured I'd come out here to decompress. Spotting you was just a bonus."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Uley."

Sam chuckles as he softly nudges you with his shoulder. You smile back at him, only to then look back out at the ocean. There's a moment where you and Sam just bask in the stillness of conversation before he's nudging you once more. "So tell me something, Y/N. What brought you out here to La Push?"

"I don't know if I want to tell you," you jokingly admit. "You'll think it's lame."

"No I won't. Come on, tell me."

Glancing at Sam you know you're in trouble at the sight of his small smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. You keep his gaze, sigh with a fond roll of your eyes, and he chuckles knowing full well you've caved. "Have you ever felt like you didn't belong? That something was missing from your life and, even though you had a pretty good life, you knew there was something out in the world you were destined to find?"

"Not until recently," he replies quietly.

Sam's gaze darts all over your face before darting down to your lips and your heart skips a beat. "I, uh," you pause and awkwardly clear your throat, leaning sideways away from Sam for a moment to clear your head. "I didn't feel complete for a long time," you say. "So after finishing high school and working a few years to save up some cash, I packed all the things I couldn't live without and hopped into my truck. I drove in whatever direction felt right to me and it wasn't until I crossed into La Push territory that it felt like I could breathe properly. It was weird." Well not really now that you know why you were drawn to La Push, but you couldn't exactly tell him that. Not yet.

"That's not lame at all. That's- well I can kind of relate," he says. When you glance at Sam, his faint grin morphs into a smirk. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for here in La Push, Y/N. It seems everyone here has taken a shine to you."

"What can I say," you muse, batting your eyelashes at him, "I'm a very likable person." Sam's phone dings before he can retort and he offers you a sheepish smile as he pulls it out of his pocket. He reads whatever's on his screen and sighs, looking at you with an apology in his eyes. "Go. It's fine. We can always catch up another time. You do, after all, know where I live."

Sam nods and pulls his boots to himself, slipping them on his feet and lacing up. "Do you, uh, maybe want to grab something to eat sometime?"

His stammering and avoidance of your gaze makes you smile. You hum, drawing out your answer before saying, "Like one on one or a group thing?"

He shrugs. "More like a date thing."

"Sam Uley," you chuckle. "Asking me on a date and breaking hearts all across the Rez. Who would've guessed.." When he's finally brave enough to meet your gaze, you smile. "It's a date, Sam. Just let me know when and where."

A date with Sam consisted of dinner at an Italian restaurant in Port Angeles. You had figured it'd be as awkward as first dates normally were, but from the moment he picked you up to the moment he dropped you off at your front porch and warmly pressed a kiss to your cheek, it was as if you and Sam had been doing this for ages. The conversation had flowed easily with quiet laughter here and there, and then you went for a walk around Port Angeles before deciding to call it a night.

The boys, when they took notice of you greeting Sam with a kiss to the cheek, took great pleasure in teasing the two of you. You could tell Sam was wary about it upsetting you, but you merely withheld food from the boys and they were quick to cut it out.

Sam slowly started to show up more often on his own, the casual touches turning into lingering touches, and it wasn't long until those on the Rez realized Sam was no longer on the market. Which was something Sue Clearwater was clearly ecstatic for, but it also led her to constantly nag you into telling Sam your secret since he was clearly struggling with admitting his own.

You've just gotten home from the grocery store, unloading the groceries when Sam pulls up.

Pausing in hauling the bags inside, you wait for Sam. He hops out of his own truck, grinning when he catches sight of you. "Hey, handsome. What are you doing?"

"Missed you." He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth and you pout when he pulls away. He chuckles and takes the bags from your arms, grabbing another three from the backseat. "You have a good day?"

"It was decent." You shut the door to your truck, walking side by side with Sam up to your front door. Unlocking it, you push it open and let Sam walk in first. "I visited with Sue for a bit at the clinic and took the patients some goodies. What about you?"

"Decent. Got started on a table and chairs this couple want for their kitchen. Made good progress on it without Jared bugging me and Paul."

You laugh at the slight annoyance in Sam's features when he talks about Jared bugging him, but you know deep down that Sam would do anything for both Jared and Paul. He was just lucky right now since Jared was in his last year of high school and he had school five days out of the week which left Sam and Paul enough time to work without being pestered.

With Sam helping you, all the groceries are put away within a couple of minutes. You sigh with exhaustion, but a smile stays on your face because of the company you have. Sam walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you in against his chest. You sigh again, this time in contentment, and wrap your arms around his waist.

"Wanna take a nap?"

"Oh god," you groan. "Yes please."

Sam chuckles as you drag him to the living room, the sofa big enough to comfortably nap on. You both kick your shoes off and you impatiently wait for Sam to lay down and get comfortable before you lay down in front of him. With your back against his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist so you don't fall off, you close your eyes and listen to Sam's breathing to lull you to sleep.

Minutes pass and then, "Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I, uh, I need to tell you something."

Your eyes fly open. Is this it? Is this when he tells me he's a shifter? "Okay.."

"But I can't tell you until after the bonfire which I'm hoping you'll attend with me tonight."

Oh. "A bonfire sounds nice," you admit. "But whatever you have to tell me isn't bad, is it? Because now I'm going to be worried about it for the rest of the day."

Sam's laughter rumbles from behind you. "Nah. You have nothing to worry about. Get some rest, sweetheart. We deserve it."

- - - - - - - - - -

You and Sam fall asleep longer than you had anticipated, and it takes Paul barging into your house and startling you awake to realize how much time has passed. You remain grumpy and half asleep the entire time Sam tells you about the appropriate clothing for the beach bonfire, which Paul finds absolutely hilarious, and he only shut ups about it when you threaten to make him walk back to the beach since he had apparently walked to your house.

When you get to the beach, Sam takes your hand in his and you smile at him before he leads you to where there's already a roaring fire dancing under the night sky. There's a small group gathered around, but the ones who stick out to you the most are the tribal elders who appear as if they're holding court. Sam sits you on a log close to the fire before asking if you want anything and at your furrowed brow he gestures to the table of food that's dwindling down by the minute.

As you tell Sam you only want a hot drink, he leaves you be and you watch as everyone mingles. From across the fire Harry gives you a nod in greeting and you nod back. Your eyes are drawn to Paul who is wrapped around his girlfriend and you can't help but smile at how smitten he is with her. Jared is tossing chips at some young boy, the two of them running around as another unknown female watches them with fond exasperation.

All too soon Sam is taking a seat next to you, thigh to thigh, as his left arm goes around your shoulders after handing you a steaming cup of hot chocolate. You smile at him before snuggling into his warmth and blowing on your drink. Then when everyone settles down and Harry starts talking, you realize he's telling the legends about the Quileute Spirit Warriors.

You've heard the legends about the spirit warriors and cold ones, but never in such great detail and you're absolutely enthralled.

Afterwards, after being introduced to several more people and Sam dropping you back off at home, he walks you up to the porch. His hands are tucked deep into his pockets and he sighs, and you can just tell something is on his mind.

Grinning, you grab him by his belt loops and pull him closer to you. "What's wrong? I could hear you thinking on the drive here."

"Nothing." He automatically shakes his head. You raise an eyebrow at him and he exhales quietly. "I just- I'm curious as to what you thought about the bonfire. Only certain people have the special privilege of attending and I-"

"I loved it." You're quick to assure him. 'And I'm honored I was able to sit in."

"You didn't think it was odd? People turning into giant wolves and cold ones draining people."

You shake your head, smiling fondly. "Sam, I love learning about other cultures and their legends. Honestly, I had an amazing time." His shoulders sag in relief and you chuckle. "So do you want to tell me what else is on your mind?"

He shakes his head. "Maybe another time." His hands reach up to cradle your face and he brings you in to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

As the weeks pass, your happiness with Sam starts to dwindle under the pressure of his secret. For some reason, coming out and telling you all that you heard at the bonfire was true was harder than he had imagined. Of course you could have told him your secret to ease him into telling you his, but you were holding back as well.

Sue and Harry have had enough, however, after Sam snaps at Paul and Jared and starts straining the bond between the three of them. So sitting outside of your house, you wait for Sam to show up. If he won't tell you he's alpha of the Quileute pack, then you'll tell him your own secret and see what happens then.

Sam shows up on time and as he exits his truck, you stand up and walk towards the edge of the porch. He smiles in greeting, but you can see the strain behind it and you sigh. Immediately you wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his chest.

"Come inside with me. I need to show you something."

"Uh oh. Should I be worried?" He says.

"Not at all." You pull back from him, pecking his lips. "But I am worried about how you're going to take it."

Sam's small smile falters, but you don't have any reassuring words for him. Now that it's out in the open about you having a secret too, you can see why Sam held back. It's scary. But it's out there now and there's no way in hell you're going to back out. So grabbing hold of one of Sam's hands, you turn around to lead him inside.

You lead Sam into your bedroom and gesture for him to take a seat on one side of your bed while you sit across from him. With one leg hanging off the side of the bed and your other curled inward, you grab one of your pillows and strip the cover off of it. "Can you rip it open?"

Sam huffs. "What? You want me to rip apart your pillow?"

"Yeah. I just- the feathers," you mutter. "Trust me." He stares at you a moment longer before grabbing your pillow and ripping the top sheet layer of it. You grin and reach in, scooping out a handful of the white and gray feathers. "So, um, please don't hate me."

"Hate you? I can never hate you, Y/N."

"You say that now, but-" Heart pounding, you lay the feathers down down on the bed right in front of your leg. Your hands tremble, but you're quick to shake it out and take a breath. Your smile wobbles as you briefly meet Sam's gaze and then you hold your hands just above the feathers. Concentrating deeply on them, you slowly lift your hands and the feathers slowly follow. You hear Sam sharply inhale as the feathers levitate and then start to twirl in a circular motion. "So, um, I'm a witch," you admit. "And to make things easier for you, I already know the secret you've been struggling to tell me."

"H-How?"

Your hands drop and you finally meet Sam's astonished gaze. "My coven's grimoire. It's filled with all sorts of knowledge of every supernatural creature out there and, though the passage on the spirit warriors of the Quileute tribe wasn't as detailed as what Harry said around the bonfire, it was enough to clue me in on what you, Paul, and Jared were the second I laid eyes on you. Well that and the fact the tribal elders told me when I asked their permission to live on the Rez."

Sam huffs and then does the unexpected. He reaches across your gutted pillow and tugs on your arm until you're crawling over and onto his lap. He holds you tight, chuckling quietly, and shoves his face into the side of your neck. You hesitantly wrap your arms back around him, sighing in relief. "You really should have told me sooner. It's been killing me not telling you about us."

"Yeah, well it's going to get a whole lot easier." He pulls back then, staring at you warily. "I know about the imprint thing too."

Sam's eyes widen. "You do?"

"Yep. Witches don't necessarily have mates, but we do have a sense of things. Since I came into my magic, there had always been a part of me that was searching for something."

"Yeah. Yeah I remember you mentioning that," Sam says.

"Well that something was you." The confession makes you nervously shift in his lap. "Whatever it was, it led me here to La Push. And then I saw you and.. I don't know. You felt like comfort. And home. And I knew-"

Sam cuts you off, grasping your chin between his fingers and facing you towards him. His lips press against yours and it takes a moment for your mind to be brought up to speed as to what's going on. When it does, you gasp and Sam smiles against your lips.

"Don't laugh at me," you mumble. "You caught me off guard."

Sam chuckles, his smile wide and eyes crinkling at the corners. It's one of his more genuine smiles and it feels like this huge weight has been lifted off your chest. "So the alpha and his witch," he muses. "The boys are going to be in for a shock."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the witch and her companion, but the alpha and the witch works too." You lean in and press your lips to his, once, twice, and then one more time. "And can we hold off on telling the boys? I kind of want to shock them with the reveal."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. We'll go at your pace."

"My pace, huh? I like the sound of that."

#sam uley x reader #twilight imagine #sam uley imagine #sam uley #twilight

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Title: Take Flight [Yandere Nikolai Gogol x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re a fantastic actress when you’re on the stage. But your captor isn’t fooled when there’s no stage magic to hide your real feelings.

For request: request for anything with BSD!Gogol please!

Word Count: 1772

notes: Yandere, kidnapped, noncon implications, implied torture/physical abuse

You look so beautiful when you’re immobile. Especially when you don’t know what you’ve done to deserve it, when your eyes are widened in fear, your mouth whimpering behind the tight cloth gag; your mind no doubt racing, searching for what you’ve done and why this is happening.

You look especially beautiful when he opens his coat and pulls out a few tools. He deliberately lays the hammer on the far end of the table, next to your feet. Now that makes you beautiful, as you cry out as much as possible behind the gag, some drool making its way past the increasingly soaked cloth your chin. Your muffled “no” is music.

He hates to clip your wings like this. But it’s only temporary. And, really, you’ve brought it upon yourself. Not by acting up--oh, no, definitely not that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about what a good birdie you’ve been lately. How obedient. How submissive. How sweet.

It took a lot of effort. A lot of punishment. A lot of pain. But on the surface, you’ve transformed into the sweet swan that he’s dreamed about keeping in a gilded cage. Literally and otherwise. Of course, he’s not that easily fooled--he knows you still hate him, fear him, on the inside. No matter how much you embrace him or let him have his way with you, no matter how much you try to please him with words and kisses, you’re still fighting him in your heart. Beating against your cage with your wings when his back is turned, as it were.

And you know something? It’s just not good enough. His life is already a game of duality. And he wants only a singularity with you, a single reality where you are broken and his for however long he wants to keep you. What would be the point of throwing you away when you’re still fighting him?

And thus, it’s only fitting that you’re currently bound to the table where you’ve received your other punishments. He’s not much of a cleaner, and there’s still the odd blood stain lodged in the wood grains. A handy table with straps on each end that keep your wrists and ankle immobile. He’s even given you a pillow, because why not, why not?

It’s easier when you’re tied up to see the real you underneath, the desperate, terrified person that only wants to stay alive. That only wants to avoid pain. The remnants of blood stains underneath you are a testament to that.

You do put on a good show, otherwise. But not quite up to par, he admits, hence his critical review. If he was a theater critic, he might call your efforts “valiant, but not worthy of the highest acclaim.” Or perhaps “They clearly need a little more time to develop, but it’s a good effort.”

You can kiss him. You can perform for him. You can let him touch you and hurt you, when he wants, without complaint. But you can’t hide all of the little things that give you real state of mind away. The way your jaw trembles ever so slightly when you stand up on your toes (so precious) to give him a kiss. The quarter-second that your eyes drift away before you tell him you love him, you adore him, you never want to leave him. The slight hint of revulsion, always covered with a smile in an instant, when he enters your cage at night.

Did you think you’re fooling him? He hopes you did. He loves the idea of snatching the rug from underneath your feet, nimble as they may be. You’re good at acting on the stage--he could wax poetry about how ethereal, how in-the-moment you look when you’re dancing; when you’re practically flying across the stage, your tulle skirts swishing and the thin soles of your shoes slapping against the hard floor.

But when you’re off the stage? The magic is lessened. There are no stage lights to cover up your occasional tired expression, no swelling music to add emphasis to your movements if they become too strained. No stage tricks to hide your face from the audience for a moment of reprieve. It is no good, after all, for Odile to seduce the prince with her arms, her legs, the fierceness of her fouettes--if her face gives away that she finds him repellent.

Without the trickery of the stage, you give yourself away. Which is one reason why he’s decided to be oh-so-cruel to you today. The other? He’ll never tell you. Maybe you’ll guess it someday, if you happen to glimpse the expression he holds as you pirouette across the stage, no limits, no boundaries, only the music and the motion and the buzz of the audience to lift you up high.

But, he muses, picking up the hammer--the noises you’re making, oh, how fun!--it’s time to get back to the task at hand.

“Or at foot,” he says, giggling. But you don’t get the joke. He approaches the head of the table and your muffled pleas grow louder. They’re so soft, so confused. What did you do? What did you do? Please, please, please. He’s heard it all before, but it’s still enjoyable to take in. Like a comforting book.

He trails a gloved finger along your cheek, spreading your tears around like a child tracing lines on a foggy car window.

“I know you want to fly away from me.” He keeps his tone light and teasing. You immediately shake your head in denial, and Christ in heaven is that fantastic, the way you want him to believe you no longer desire escape, no longer desire true freedom.

He tuts at you, wagging the tip of his gloved finger in front of your face before leaning in closer. “If I let you fly away, would you still be my pet? If you fly away on your own, would you be free?” It’s rhetorical, and your expression betrays your lack of understanding behind his words.

He does want to hear your voice behind the gag, so he swiftly undoes the tight knot and tosses the soaked fabric aside.

“Please, I love you,” you say immediately, voice weak and pleading. “Nik--Nikolai, I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?” You hesitate for a moment, but then you continue. “I’m so sorry, whatever it is. I must have… disappointed you.” You lower your eyes and the downcast expression, the defeat in your gaze, makes him wish he had a camera on hand.

You’re so submissive. It really is beautiful. But you’re submissive because you want to avoid being hurt. You’re submissive because he’s got a hammer resting next to your precious feet and you don’t want him to lift up that hammer and bash your bones until they break.

Where’s the fun in that?

He hums to himself as he begins a deliberately slow walk back to the end of the table. He trails his fingers down your body and enjoys the sight of little goosebumps rising on your flesh, enjoys the way you squirm, just a bit, when he pokes at your sensitive side.

When he picks up the hammer, you begin to babble. The words aren’t important--he’s listening to the tone, the way your voice is thick with sadness and fear. Please, no, don’t, I’ll do anything; all words that run from your mouth like water through a stream. He ignores them and instead holds one of your feet still with his hand. There’s a power in your feet, thanks to the years of dancing and even more years of training. He thinks about taking that power away. About what that would mean. About what it would do to you.

When he rubs the end of the hammer against the top of your foot, you groan, a guttural sound of pure horror. The sound of someone whose entire reason for living, whose heartbeat, rests on the ability to dance.

Your breath is sharp and scratchy when he suddenly lifts the hammer up and brings it crashing down on your ankle--where it immediately compresses and squeaks, high and childish.

It’s rubber. It’s a rubber toy. Nothing more.

Your breath comes out in short, harsh puffs. He takes in your expression, which is at once horrified and confused and relieved and even a bit angry.

“What--”

His sharp, pleased laughter interrupts you. And when he laughs, you laugh, just a little. He’s surprised that he can’t tell if it’s a genuine laugh of pure relief, an attempt to mimic him to stay in his good graces, or a sign that you’re losing your mind. Maybe it’s a mixture of all three.

He wastes no time in undoing your straps, and he pulls you into a sitting position. Your entire body is trembling, an adrenaline crash turning your legs to rubber as he helps you to your feet and loops your arm around his shoulders for added support.

You don’t even have time to process the fact that he didn’t hurt you before he starts leading you out of the room and back to your pretty little cage and your pretty little bed. He drops you on the bed with a flourish, and you bounce slightly on the mattress--face still in shock, still processing.

“That was fun, right?” he says, voice once again teasing. “Now let’s play a little more.” He begins undoing his belt buckle, and what would have been the normal flash of revulsion on your face is replaced by something new: relief. Relief that you can dance? Relief that you didn’t earn any new scars, any new injuries, any new pain? He’s not sure that the exact reason matters. It’s something new, and it’s a step closer.

He grins and begins making quick work of his clothes. You’re already on your knees in front of him.

Relief, after all, comes in many forms.

#yandere #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere bungou stray dogs #nikolai gogol x reader #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years ago

Text

checkmate

summary: where y/n and spencer live in a world of soulmates; but how magical can it really be when the last words of your lover are the only indication of their existence.

word count: 7,054 reading time aprox: 26 mins

warnings: character death, angst

a/n: this is my comeback fic, I hope you like it. I made sure to make it extra angsty to compensate for my disappearance :) also this fic can be read by anyone!

masterlist

Chess is a meticulous endeavor, not only in its cold and calculated nature, but also in the player’s ability to detect insecurity flash across their opponents' eyes, the unconscious idiosyncrasies that foretell future moves, and the slow descent into hopelessness that disintegrates the former’s conviction. Most will point out the cruelty of the game, how callous it must be knowing your end eight moves before it happens. However, others will oppose this notion as it is the game; one must lose to win.

It’s all a matter of who plays their pieces right.

Before that pivotal moment, players can only maneuver through a black and white arena. Fingertips would drum in anticipation while the other would hover over their pieces, striding across the board with purpose. Regardless of the disparity between the players’ experience or skill, there is always one factor, unmoved by player attributes, that is not a disadvantage nor luxury for either party: time.

Even in the checkered plane, nothing will matter. The players will cease to move, forced to end the game by the lack of time. This mechanism in nature acts as a failsafe if either individual is unable to conclude the game. In other words, there are only two outcomes: winning the game by will or letting time take that will away from you.

However, what is not noticed is the growing ache in the winner’s chest, disappointment beginning to fester inside of them because of their loss in deciding. In that split realization, the winner is placed on an equal plane as the loser, wondering if they ever really won at all.

This middle plane is beautiful and tragic simultaneously—maybe the beauty is in the tragedy. But as my palm leaves a bloodied handprint pressed against Spencer’s chest, all I can see is the world around me turning red.

Please be okay, please be okay for me

My mouth would silently mutter in tandem with his desperate and reaching touches, a mantra I convinced myself could surpass time, all while knowing my will was seized from me the moment Spencer uttered the words imprinted at my hip.

October 27th

2 days before

Water vapor collected around the coffee mug pressed to my lips. Although it’s ironic to call it a ‘coffee’ mug considering it was filled to the brim with scalding tea. The tips of my fingers and the skin of my palms tingled at the heat given off. My thoughts drifted to the explanation of the first law of thermodynamics that Spencer had kindly explained during the walk home from the night before.

An unconscious smile brushed over my lips briefly, reminiscing the blissful moments of the team gathered around a bar table after finishing up a briefing about a local case. A warm cloud of content passed through my chest while a lightness traveled from the bottoms of my feet to the summit of my forehead. The herbal tea traveling down my esophagus countered the cold nipping of the autumn air, bringing a welcome equilibrium to my wellbeing.

I shrugged the knitted blanket over my shoulders further, staring into the calming view that the apartment window provided. Across from the building was a small, abandoned park. Most of the neighbors had steered clear of the area as it didn’t meet anyone’s aesthetic standards—well, except for mine.

Half of the trees have lost their leaves, counting down the days to winter. The park benches were covered with tangled vines, even some lacking required wood boards. In summary, the place was an overgrown jungle that no one was willing to inhabit. In result, the once communal area was condemned by the normal folk for being ‘too dead.’ However, I would oppose those who claim the lack of life in the park considering life is not only just living, but it is to invite death.

In my observation of the park, a soft reflection suddenly appeared beside the yellow oak trees. In my peripheral, I can see my roommate creeping up behind me with his limbs moving catlike. I bit my bottom lip to conceal the amused huff threatening to escape me, instead settling to blowing over the steam rising from my cup.

Just before I saw his head bobble over my shoulder, arms stretched out above me, I whipped around his lanky figure and ducked under his arm. “You know for an agent; I expected a better performance.” An inaudible yelp interrupted the fit of giggles I was in as some of the tea spilled onto my blanket. “Now look what you’ve done! Do you know how hard it is to get dark liquids off cotton?”

“Just some hydrogen peroxide will do the trick,” Spencer shrugged, insisting to pull off the semi-damp blanket off my shoulders. “Plus, you messed up my bit!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was living with a five-year-old,” I teased, nudging him.

Spencer craned his neck to the side, letting the sore tendons and muscles stretch out from just waking up. All without forgetting to let out an obnoxious yawn in addition to his exaggeratedly extended arms. “I’ll have you know that this five-year-old has three PhDs and three bachelors,” he boasted.

“...and daddy issues.”

Before I can find a way to defend myself, the same blanket that brought me solace previously was transformed into an unmerciful whip. Spencer chased me around the couch until I slipped and toppled over the cushions, landing on the throw pillows. I buried my head into the leather arm, shutting my eyes, while I replicated the nature of Spencer’s antics by emitting ridiculous snores.

“You can’t touch me while I’m sleeping,” I murmured, feigning my slow lull to slumber. “It’s socially unacceptable.” During my spiel, Spencer had playfully grabbed my ankles and dragged me to a sitting position.

“SPENCER!” I gasped, clutching one of the pillows in hand and smacking him over the head with it. “You do not handle people like that! No wonder why you also have momm-”

Spencer’s palm gently nudged me back onto the couch mid-sentence, leaving my frame to hit the cushions with a loud thud. A boom of laughter filled the empty space of my chest, my breath thinning as dopamine jumped from my brain’s synapses. An enchanted smile caressed the corners of my mouth mirroring the one Spencer was sporting.

In these insignificant interactions, I would think back to the times where our comfortability was limited and reveled on how much our friendship grew over the years. There was a sense of solace that overwhelmed me knowing that introducing—and working on his—humor brought an auspicious light to the darkness that often clouded his mind.

My lungs deflated with a hefty exhale, my arm slinging across my eyes in relaxation. Clamored feet and the rug shifting against the wood floor caught my attention. Freeing my line of vision, I was met with a raggedy-haired genius with barely a foot between us. I reached out to comb through his locks, the webbing of my hands catching the tangled curls. “You need to shower greasehead.”

“Actually, the buildup of sebum and laloin in the gland of the hair follicles—coined as the sebaceous gland—offers moisture and protection, given that it is regulated upon its natural equilibrium.” Spencer leaned into the soft touch of my fingers, like how a kitten purrs against their owner’s affection.

“Well, I don’t know about you almost-birthday-boy, but I don’t think you want to go into the next chapter of your life smelling like you just changed out of your first diaper.” I pushed myself up the couch, gesturing Spencer to the hallway bathroom. “This is the big 31!”

“Y/N, we had a party for my 30th. I think I’m good to last for the decade,” he huffed, walking towards his bedroom to grab a change of clothes.

“That’s not the spirit, Dr. Reid!” I yelled across the room. “I swear Spence, you’re the only person who’d turn down a party... And, you even turned down Rossi’s invitation to go all out in his backyard.”

“Another year to celebrate the ever-closing gap between my time on earth and my imminent demise—oh, and how can I forget celebrating it in an open space full of ticks and pollen,” Spencer sarcastically jested, his voice bouncing off the thin white walls.

“At least you’d know your soulmate, right? Then I wouldn’t be the only one to deal with your ‘Debby Downer’ ass,” I added on, rolling my eyes at his usual pessimistic rulings.

“I would prefer nihilistic, but if that vernacular serves you then to each their own.”

“Hey, maybe after you die, I and your soulmate can mourn over you—bond and all that—and then I can steal them away,” I teased.

I looked to the lightning bolts etched into the crevices of my thighs, my fingertips tracing each design until it fell onto the carved words at my hip. In a way, the stretch marks made beautiful vines attached to the faded letters, covering the obvious red scratch marks that had resurfaced from my bad habits.

I kissed my fingertips before planting them back onto the markings, chuckling to myself of the intimate gesture. Unconsciously, I began to rub at the tattooed words once again, hating how their protrusion made my skin crawl.

“I mean I’m dead, what can I really do?” Spencer called out, stopping in his tracks when he reached the bathroom door. He faced me as he spoke, going on about his birthday celebration tomorrow—half of his speech unheard to me—until he requested my immediate attention. “You have to stop picking at the words, Y/N. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed, letting my dominant hand fall to my side. A pout fell on my lips at the loss of the small satisfaction scratching granted me. “But the words are just so uncomfortable sometimes. I mean you got lucky with the whole soulmate placement.”

Spencer brought his free hand to his chest, thumb tracing over the small words typed on the skin. “Yeah, I guess I did get lucky huh.” A soft smile grazed over his lips while his eyes were still trained on the unknowing figure resting against the couch.

“What does your marking read aga-”

“Spence, what’s it say on your che-”

I groaned in playful disbelief at the coincidental timing. “You know at this point I’m starting to think we’re telepathic, Spencer.”

“That’s actually what my tattoo is,” he laughed. “It’s my name.”

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, remembering the first time we brought it up in the early days of meeting one another. “Must’ve saved a lot of name tags in elementary school” I teased.

Spencer shook his head, shuffling into the bathroom with a lightness in his steps. With the closing of the door, my gaze fell onto the marking once again.

Regardless of the mechanics of soulmates, I was never worried about the possibility of not meeting them. I was already at my happiest knowing shared moments like these were good enough. However, unbeknownst to my ideal wishes, an irking desire still lingered in the back of my head while fingers hovered over the imperfect skin.

October 28th

1 day before

“Kid, you can’t sit there and tell me that finding your soulmate can be ‘scientifically extrapolated.’ That’s not the point,” Morgan amusingly shook his head at Spencer, ruffling the top of his head as he brushed past him.

“Okay,” Spencer tutted, “tell me. What ‘is’ the point then?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that finding your soulmate—if you have one—is supposed to come supernaturally.”

“Morgan, did you just try to win over boy genius here by talking about the supernatural?” With a tilted smirk, I nursed the half-filled flute between my fingertips. My gaze flickered over to a pleased brainiac sharing the same mischievous glint found in my eyes. I let my head fall back against the couch cushions, my eyes fluttering close to the sound of grown children bickering.

“Alright,” Morgan raised his hands up in defense. “All I was pointing out was that things like these can’t be solved by numbers and science.”

“The same can be said about Newtonian physics, but look where we a-”

Morgan flung a ball of crinkled wrapping paper Spencer’s way, aiming for his head. Spencer attempted to dodge the projectile—emphasis on attempted—only to have it hit him square in the face.

“So much for those Newtonian physics, huh?” I teased while getting up to open another bottle of champagne. Spencer slouched in his chair, the paper cone hat on his head shifting to the side. A grimace replaced the smirk he initially wore, muttering about how he was going to get Morgan back.

“Y/N! Bring that bottle over here when you’re done.” Morgan called out as I walked into the kitchen, pausing the ongoing discussion of the case we planned to tackle. “Also, bring another juice box for Reid here!”

A chorus of laughter followed my ears which each step, a grin finding the corners of my lips. I rose to the tips of my toes to reach for the unopened bottle in the alcohol cabinet. I made my way to the freezer, taking out the bucket of ice I stored away hours ago. When closing the appliance door, my eyes landed on a picture magnetized to the surface.

It was a physical reminder of the time that Spencer convinced me to dress up as Amy Pond, the eleventh doctor’s sidekick, for comic con. He too was dressed up in the doctor’s attire: a brown corduroy suit, a bowtie, and a sonic screwdriver. We both had silly grins planted on our faces, it seemed like nothing could tear down the joyous bubble we were in. Upon reflecting on the memory, the kitchen door swung open revealing a merry Spencer.

“Hey, I was supposed to be getting you that juice box,” I joked.

Spencer shook his head, pushing past me to get to the cupboard. “Very funny,” he droned, sarcasm dripping off his words. I leaned against the counter, setting the bucket of ice to the side. I analyzed his movements, noticing how often he fidgeted with his fingers or how his legs would clumsily turn inward at times.

“You know,” he paused, turning around to face me, “In some countries ruled by military dictatorship, staring could be deemed as a call for execution.”

I crossed my arms, challenging him. “Well last time I checked; we aren’t in any of those countries. Is that right, Dr. Reid?”

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Did you need anything?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well, by the way you were checking me out, I would think you needed something.” He sauntered over to the opposite counter across the kitchen, hoisting himself up on the granite. I watched as the casual smirk fell off his face after failing his initial attempt to sit. The second attempt proved to be better, although that didn’t stop me from rolling my eyes at his impotence.

“You know,” I repeated his words, grabbing the champagne and ice bucket as I began to stroll out of the room. “I’m really starting to think you have a better chance at ‘extrapolating’ your soulmate rather than finding them.”

“Wait!”

I whipped around to face him with furrowed eyebrows. I nodded for him to continue, watching as a sly expression reappeared on his face. “You forgot my juice.”

I sighed, setting the items back down on the counter before reaching for the fridge. “You are a grown man, Spence,” I gesticulated at the boy. I grabbed Spencer’s favorite sparkling water and left it aside. “You couldn’t get your own?” I raised my eyebrows at him, ducking out of the refrigerator door.

He crossed his legs, still propped up on the counter. “Well, you did call me a five-year-old and it is my birthday,” he argued, shrugging his shoulders tauntingly.

“I said that the other day, and considering it’s your birthday, that would mean you’d be old enough to conduct yourself,” I countered.

“Actually, it’s grammatically inappropriate to say, ‘the other day’ when the event in question occurred yesterday,” he began to ramble. With an unimpressed nod, I began to slowly back away from the scene until I was abruptly stopped once again.

“Wait!”

“What!”

“You forgot to put it in a cup,” he meekly suggested, his face evident of mischief.

“You’re clearly enjoying this aren’t you?” I groaned, shuffling towards where he was. “I’ll give you something to enjoy...” I whispered to myself.

With a plan set in motion, I sauntered over to where Spencer sat. Once I was in front of him, I made sure to give no indication that I was moving beside him. Instead, I leaned forward, letting our chests press together as I reached up for a mug. I would be lying if I denied the faint blush warming up the apples of my cheeks or the tightness of my throat from this proximity. In a nervous hash, I could’ve sworn hearing Spencer’s breath hitch as my chin brushed against his neck.

Feigning a confident disposition, I dropped back to the heels of my feet, finding myself to be inches away from the enamored and naive genius. “You need this?” I murmured, trying to maintain a collected tone of voice. However, Spencer did make it difficult with the intensity of his penetrating gaze or the way his breath fanned over my sensitive skin.

For a lasting moment, I began to dissect the small specks of hazel hues in his eyes and how a dark pool of brown surrounded his irises. The tip of his nose was flushed in crimson and his mouth hung in what seemed like anticipation and hesitation battling it out. “Uh, yeah... thank you.” His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, linking his fingers with mine to take the mug.

Without breaking eye contact, he set the mug aside and away from view. I opened my mouth to say something, but I soon discovered a dessert residing in the back of my throat. Slowly my composure unraveled, leaving me and Spencer in a purgatory of uncertainty and elation. I heard my heart thump against the walls of my ribcage as my eyes traveled to the parting of his lips, his tongue ever so often swiping against the skin.

I shook my head out of the trance we were in, popping the hypnotic bubble forming around us. With a trepidatious smile, I gestured to the living room, suggesting going back out there. “Do you want to...” I tied my hands behind my back, stepping away from him slowly. He nodded in response; his mouth tightly pressed into an awkward line.

With less than obvious movements, we both tiptoed our way back to the liveliness of the other room, soon forgetting about the juice and cup all together.

“Bye guys, thank you for coming! See you tomorrow.” I politely bid everyone a farewell, sending them safe wishes home as they excited through the front door. “Pen, are you coming with us tomorrow?” I received a tipsy nod and a few stumbling feet, but nonetheless confirmation for the case. Spencer was to the left of me doing the same, enduring some last-minute birthday teasing from Morgan before he made his exit.

With the slow creaking of the door, I leaned against the wood, letting my legs slowly slip down the floor until I was sitting. I tilted my head up, staring at an exhausted Spencer before making grabby hands at him. He snorted at the childlike request, aggressively pulling at my wrists until I landed into his chest.

“Alright birthday boy, just because you’re older doesn't mean you can get all strong on me,” I warned, nuzzling my heavy head onto his shoulder. A pleasant silence surrounded us, our bodies maintaining an equal balance as we leaned onto each other. On another note, it reminded me of Newton’s principle of force that Spencer explained to me a few months back. How Newton’s cradle, a simple office trinket, exemplified conservation of momentum and energy. In this fragment of space, it felt like that with Spencer—it always felt like that: a comfortable momentum.

“Hey Spence?”

The quiet continued to spread throughout the atmosphere.

“Spencer?” I pressed my chin against his chest, feeling his arms find their way to my lower back. He hummed in response, his eyelids resting at a closed position. “I’m sorry about that thing in the kitchen... I was just messing around.”

He took a while to react before sighing and pressing a tired kiss to the side of my head; with that, I knew things were okay. “Oh! I didn’t give you your present yet.”

I melted away from his arms, scurrying off to the couch. In an exaggerated reveal, I pulled a small parcel from beneath the cushions, glee filling my eyes as I watched the bow on top spring out. I extended my arms towards Spencer, eager to have him open it.

He walked tentatively towards me, taking purposefully leisurely strides. At one point he began to act like he was in a slow-motion sequence, causing me to threaten the integrity of his present. With raised hands, he sat next to me on the couch and gently pried the gift from my hands. “What did you get me this time? Let me guess. From the size and shape of his package here,” he turned the box around in his hands, shaking it up, “and the sound to force ratio-”

“Just open the damn thing, Spence.”

He smiled at my usual impatience, letting his fingers glide against the edge of the parcel. Finally, with gentle hands, he picked apart the wrapping paper, careful not to rip the heart sticker that held the presentation together. He gathered the bow in his palm, and gently pressed the sticky side of the accessory to my cheek.

I cringed at the feeling, but that soon dissipated hearing the mollified chuckle escape Spencer’s mouth. With a determined huff, Spencer pulled the last pieces of wrapping paper from the box and was left with a frayed book in his palm.

“The Parliment of Foweles...” he whispered; an unreadable expression crossed his features.

I curled into my own body, anticipating some form of reaction. “I... I remember you told me the first time we really sat down and got to know each other that your mom used to read that to you when you were younger.” I picked at the stitches on the couch, a lump forming in my esophagus as my tongue swelled. “It’s first edition...” I smiled, insecurity beginning to conquer my excitement from before.

“Sorry, if you don’t like it... I was just-”

A pair of arms pulled me into a secure embrace while a tender hand came around to cup the back of my head. An inaudible expression of gratitude was lost in between babbles of endearment and soft caresses. Spencer pulled away with pools of adoration, he clutched the book in hand as he pulled me under his arm. He ran his thumb along the deckles that adorned the sides of the pages, his palm tenderly feeling the roughness of the old woven spine.

To open the book, he singled out a random page and lightly flicked a few pages to the side before I halted his movements completely. “Wait!” I requested. “I want you to read it after the case so we can do it together,” I sheepishly tucked a hair behind his ear, hiding the careful blush on my cheeks. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah...that’s fine with me,” he breathed, his eyes locked onto the soft curves of my face. I pulled my hand away, tugging my sleeve further down my arm. “Oh! That reminds me.” Spencer places the book behind him and headed over the coat rack next to the front door. Sliding his hands through various pockets, he finally pulled a small box from one of the compartments.

He tentatively approached me, turning the object in hand. “I know it’s my birthday, but... I wanted to do something because you’ve made everything better in these past years,” he confessed, fidgeting as he came closer. “Being with my mother always felt like home, and I just... you became that for me, so thank you.”

My fingers reached over to his open palm, approaching the velvet box as if it was fragile. I glazed over its general shape, turning it a few times between my hands. “Spencer...I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you can start by opening it,” he smiled.

I shook my head, gently prying the box open. Inside laid a beautiful heart-shaped necklace with words etched into the metal. Once I read the words, a heavy breath escaped my lungs, and my shoulders lost all tension. “Spencer...”

“I thought that it would be easier to have the words of your soulmate above your heart rather than you tracing over your hip,” he professed. “I also know that even if you deny not having any connection to this soulmate thing, it often brings you comfort when needed.”

My attention went to him the second he uttered those words. “How did you know,” I mumbled with an enamored chuckle.

“Well, whenever we’re in the field, I could tell the times you get nervous or need reassurance by the way you subtly touch your hip.”

“I thought staring was punishable by death,” I joked, referring to his argument earlier today.

He brushed it off with a wide smile, combing his hands through his hair. “I know we have a hefty case tomorrow based on what Penelope showed us last briefing, so I hoped that this would make you feel better,” he confessed, shrugging his shoulders and leaning back into the arm of the couch.

“Thank you, Spencer...really,” I wrapped my arms above my head, trying to attach the unlocked chain around my neck. “Can you...?”

With gracious hands, he lifted the chain from my fingertips and wrapped it around my neck. The skin of his fingers would occasionally brush the back of my neck, sending euphoric chills down my spine. I felt myself squirm under his touch slightly, although it wasn’t enough to be obvious. Lifting my hair to the side with his wrist, he clasped the necklace together, letting the cold metal kiss the skin.

I turned around, appreciating the trinket in my hands. I shook my head in disbelief, watching as some of the moonlight that seeped through the window reflected off the metal. “Thank you, again, Spencer.” I nodded, bringing him into a meaningful embrace. My head rested in the crook of his neck, an aroma of pine, vanilla, and old books surrounding us. “This really is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever possessed.”

He scoffed, gently wrapping his hands around the small of my back. “Everything pales in comparison to you.”

October 29th

...

I twirled the metal heart in between my fingers as Hotch’s words failed to reach my ears. I would look up occasionally to see the pictures, but we’ve been dealing with an unsub who showed no mercy to anything morally reprehensible. I sighed, swinging my feet under me as I pretended to be enveloped by the case file in my other hand.

“Since we’re dealing with a L.D.S.K-”

“A long-distance serial killer,” Emily intercepted, nodding towards the team.

“We’ll have SWAT patrol the surrounding rooftops. Emily and I will stay with the defense team here.” Hotch pointed to the house of the unsub’s target. “Morgan, Y/N, and Reid will go through the floors of the apartment building with the strike team—witnesses stated that he was located on the 5th floor, but we have to be ready for anything.”

I looked over to Morgan with a determined expression. His face hardened at the words and his lips was pressed into a tight line. In my peripheral, I could see the way his veins would constrict against the skin as he clenched his fists.

This case hit him particularly hard considering we couldn’t save the unsub’s last victim. It was a 4-year-old little girl, and we were misinformed about her possible location. By the time we got to her, she was faced down into a park well with a single bullet hole above her heart. I watched the slow diffusion of her blood, and how the water turned to a murky black. I couldn’t imagine Morgan’s guilt considering he was so sure of himself when reaching a breakthrough with the unsub’s whereabouts. The parents of the child would soon blame Morgan for his ignorance, spewing derogatory slurs in their distress.

“We’ll get him Hotch,” Morgan assured, “This time, we’ll get him.”

Spencer noticed the certitude in his voice, sharing a look with me to give extra attention to Morgan out in the field. I smiled at him, warmed at the concern that the genius had over his friend.

“I’ll be working with local PD to hold a press conference to keep the public on the lookout,” JJ expressed, crossing her arms.

“Since...last time, we figured that unsub finds enjoyment in toying with us or singling us out. So, keep each other in check and make sure to report back in your earpieces every five minutes.” Hotch himself seemed perturbed by the unsub’s earlier actions considering he had his own toddler to deal with. “Penelope has sent the coordinates to everyone. Remember the profile, and don’t leave yourselves vulnerable. We’re dealing with an elusive unsub that won’t stop at nothing to satisfy himself,” Hotch spoke with a quiver in his voice.

I bit the inside of my cheek and breathed heavily through my mouth. My hands began to drift to my hip but momentarily stopped as I remembered the chain around my neck. I slumped into the chair as Hotch dismissed the team, sending them out for their respective assignments.

“You, okay?” I whipped around to the sound of JJ’s voice. She leaned against the doorframe with an expression full of concern. Looking behind her, she noticed Spencer noticeably pacing through the bullpen waiting for a specific someone. He attempted to disguise his eagerness by counting tiles on the floor or squares on the ceiling, but to JJ he was easily discernable.

I let a dry laugh, shaking my head. “After what happened, I’m a bit worried—not about me—but Morgan and Spence.” I swiveled around in the office chair a few times until I landed in front of JJ.

“You know you fidget the same way as Spence,” she pointed out, grinning at the similarity. I shook off the oncoming warmth that flooded the skin and looked elsewhere. “You’re right to worry about both of them though. But you know how stubborn and determined they are.” As she began to walk out, she left a lingering message that soothed my nerves. “Plus, Spencer may have that IQ of his, but we all know runs things between you all.”

She wasn’t wrong. I’ve always kept a watchful eye over the both of them—maybe Spencer a little more—but nonetheless, I deeply cared about both of them. It was relieving to know that Spencer’s circle of trust exponentially grew from Morgan to JJ to me. It symbolized the growth that Spencer was mostly oblivious to, but it meant more to me than I can explain, seeing how he opened himself up to happier possibilities.

A sharp exhale left my lungs while my lips formed into a sly smirk. Without another minute to wait, I left the round table behind JJ, leaving Spencer to stop dawdling. “You ready genius?” I walked out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the figure trailing behind me.

“With you? Always.”

“Nothing here,” a voice confirmed in my earpiece. My gun hung low in my hands while I tiptoed through the floor of the apartment building. “You know Y/N, if I knew that the unsub was going to the pick a building in the area we resided in, maybe I would’ve considered having the party at Rossi’s instead,” Spencer joked.

I bit the smile growing on my lips, focusing on the assignment on hand.

“Maybe after the case, instead of reading that book in our apartment we can go over to that small library/cafe we’ve been meaning to go to,” he continued to drone, forgetting about the connection of everyone’s channels.

“Reid, if all you’re gonna do is flirt with Y/N, leave the damn channel,” Morgan warned. Hearing the worry in his tone, Spencer straightened up, coughing to cover up his soft apology. Being separated didn’t help the irrational thoughts that built up in the back of my conscience; I can’t even comprehend what’s probably going through Morgan’s head.

“You good?” I mumbled into the com; my eyes straightforward while I advanced towards the hall. Morgan didn’t respond, an inaudible huff coming through the speakers.

“I’m moving up to the top floor. Y/N and Reid, go back down to the basement and see if we missed anything,” Morgan broke the awkward silence with an austerity in his words. The silent hum that came afterwards was worse than earlier. I turned off my earpiece, sensing a conversation about to ensue between the two gentlemen.

The thickness in the atmosphere was similar to the air that surrounded me and Spencer when competing in recreational chess. Whenever I attempted to put his king in check, he would block the move by maneuvering another piece in front of it. This would lead to a game of cat and mouse until I would figure out that the entire time, Spencer had been deluding me into false security while checking my king piece. Ultimately, I would lose to Spencer. However, there were games where I’d outmaneuver him or win by dumb luck.

I’d like to think that I developed some sort of intuition for his behavior from playing against him, but he’s deemed unpredictable every game. He was always sharp, eight steps ahead and aware of all possibilities. I guess that’s what make him an effective profiler, always thinking in the future.

I ran down the stairs, still armed, when Penelope’s voice ran through the earpiece. “Updates! Updates people.” The joy in her voice always relived me of the gloom that usually surrounded me in the field; hopefully she has the same effect on Morgan.

“Hey, Pen.” An invisible grin was evident in my words, knowing she’d pick up on it.

“Hello, my love, seems like at least one person is happy to see me,” she verbally jabbed at the lack of response from Spence and Morgan.

Still no response.

“Sorry, they’re working out their marriage at the moment,” I teased, hoping for the usual distasteful comment I usually get from Morgan.

Still nothing.

An unnerving feeling crept up the back of my neck. “Penelope, can you check if their coms are still workin—shit.” Before I could finish, a long buzz of static came through the speakers. The only comprehensible words that were picked up was the beginning of my name before cutting off.

I bit my lip, pulling out the small piece of technology and tapping it a few times. “Come on... dammit.” After playing around with the earpiece, I grew frustrated with it and stuffed it into my pocket.

I paced in the small landing between the stairs, thinking of a new gameplan. I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair, feeling the split ends prick at the skin. I felt a mountain growing in at the bottom of my stomach, leaving my esophagus constricted without air. “What would Spencer do,” I mumbled to myself, gripping onto my necklace.

“Spencer...Spencer...”

Before I could finish the mantra, a shot rang out from above me, and the crashing off glass followed. In the split moment, my legs grew a mind of its own and sprinted to higher ground. Suddenly, the sweat perspiring off me turned cold, and my heartbeat slammed itself into my spinal cord as I ran. My feet forgot its exhaustion while my mind devoured every irrational thought, and combined it with adrenaline.

The single thing that drove me over my limits was knowing that the person who fabricated and would shoo away these thoughts was somewhere I didn’t know I could get to in time.

Spencer’s POV

I tiptoed into a vacant suite of the building, still antsy about the scolding I received from Morgan. The conversation after didn’t help considering it was all a reminder to be aware and focused on the task at hand. I knew Morgan was filled with the need for redemption despite the team forgiving him of his ignorance. So, I shook off the creeping feeling and abided by his instructions.

Deciding to update Y/N and Morgan about my whereabouts, I spoke into the coms only to have static come out of it. I tried once again but failed to reach anyone. The room around me shrank as a sharp exhale left my lungs. I swallowed the buildup of saliva in the back of my throat, feeling uneasy about not knowing what’s to come.

Seeing at the area was clear, I looked out of one of the windows. Initially I cringed at the accumulated dirt and grime in the glass panes, but that all dissipated when I spotted the quaint park that Y/N loved. No one else had any interest in the community lot, seeing as people would coin it—or what Y/N would tell me—the park of death. But to her, she saw the opposite as she always does.

The light feeling of reminiscing my interactions with Y/N soothed the disconcerting atmosphere, keeping me grounded. Although the sentiment ended as soon as it started when I spotted one of the apartment walls was spray-painted with black letters.

Zugzwang

A blaring shot rang out and glass shattered into the room. I ducked into the floor, shutting my eyes. My head spun as the boom impaired my hearing. The window was forcibly open, the shards resting beside me. Left disoriented, I groaned, only feeling the after wave of vibrations on the ground. However, I soon found out that the quake of the floor wasn’t from the initial shot, but the rapid clobbering of feet inching closer to the suite and a shadowy figure preceding it.

Y/N emerged from the doorframe, panting. Eyes were laced in fear while they bore into my own. My stomach twisted into knots from previous events while I contemplated what had occurred. The presence of Y/N wasn’t even strong enough to relinquish the egging feeling crawling in my skin. I anticipated Morgan to appear, considering he was closer to the scene.

Where was he?

Another thing I didn’t anticipate, a second shot.

“Spencer?”

January 3rd

Three months after

My thoughts antagonized one another while I stared out into the world from the eerily quiet apartment. The living room was cold and empty despite the array of furniture scattered about and the broken picture frames lining the walls. The vapor rising from the cup of tea drifted into the air, vanishing into nonexistence. It’s funny how that could happen in a matter of milliseconds.

The pain the lived inside the chambers of my heart was no match for the burning of skin I felt when holding onto the steaming cup. The only worthy adversary would be the rush of self-resentment that coursed through me when picking up the book. I deserved it though. I deserved the spikes through my stomach while my fingers trailed the deckled pages, reminding me of the first time I held the book, its previous owner present with me.

I would remember our time together.

I would remember the promise shared between us.

I would remember the bloodied handprint pressed against my chest.

Now all I had was the physical manifestation of what’s left: the necklace. As cruel as it was for me, I kept it in the book, using it as a bookmark while I lost myself into poems. After a while, the inked words lost their meaning to me, becoming an empty cacophony that encased the jewelry.

Every time I grasped the chain in my clutches, a numbed ache would make itself known at the pit of my stomach. It clawed at my intestines and made the entirety of my body system obsolete. With that, I was abandoned with the sinister hauntings of my own mind—a part of me that I was once praised for.

A genius. A prodigy. Hidden behind the real mess of a guilty man.

I ignored the smashed chess board and pieces that laid still at my feet, concentrating on the snowflakes that littered the park across from the building. The grounds looked beautiful, covered in layers of pure white. I sipped at the tea once more letting my mind deteriorate with a sophisticated nonchalance.

What a tragedy it was to know my soulmate, especially right under the tip of my nose. What a cruel joke life had played.

I wished I had more time.

It was easier to let the guilt consume me rather than pondering on what I lost—who I lost. Had I lost myself too? Maybe, it didn’t matter. In some masochistic way, I enjoyed the guilt because it was a way to remember that at one point someone made for me existed. I used it to relive the moments I could never get back.

All that remained was an empty shell of a man, staring out into a dull world, wondering how time took everything away from him.

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