#those blue-grey things in the back Are the curtains. she Did tear them down. she likes to punch and hit the windows they get victimized

[mcdraggy]

i think she could be the eraserhead baby

[thewhitehairedwitchgirl]

WIP: The Fool and Her S-Rank Hunters

Guess who actually started writing this idea? TW for brief discussion of attempted suicide and ableism.

“What was that?!”

“I think someone jumped!”

“From the roof?!”

“Call an ambulance! She’s bleeding like hell!”

I couldn’t move. Red coloured the world, a hazy film of scarlet that made the sky look murky, like thick pond scum skimming across stagnant water. I blinked, and something wet dripped into the corner of my eye. It pooled at the edges of my vision, filling up the tear duct before slipping down the corner of my face to splash on the ground. Blood.

High above, the stone railing of the school roof jutted out against the stained clouds. Below it, several dozen faces peered down through the lower balconies, too distant for me to see the expressions twisting their round, childish faces. What were they all screaming about anyway? I was the one in the process of losing all my blood to the school’s cheap paving stones. It hurt, but I wasn’t yelling.

I’m in shock. I couldn’t yell even if I wanted to.

A shrieking horn tore through the noise, overpowering the cacophony of voices for only a second. The lighting shifted as new shadows fell upon me. Two people, a heavyset man and a woman, appeared in my periphery. They were both wearing bright blue uniforms, belted, and pinned with state badges that proclaimed them to be paramedics. As if the blaring siren wasn’t enough of a tell.

Their words passed over me like water, a series of jargon and code words mixing into a soupy mess that left me feeling heavy and sick. Large hands hefted me onto the stretcher with practiced efficiency, and as they rolled me towards the back of the ambulance, the blood dried enough for me to hear the words behind me.

“What a pity, but I get it. If I was an F-Rank I’d probably try to end it all too. Maybe now she’ll get over herself and keep her head down like she’s supposed to.”

The sound of my phone alarm echoed against the somber grey walls of my bedroom. The high-pitched whines blared once before I quickly rolled over and slammed my hand over the cartoon clock bouncing on the screen, cutting it off in a second and plunging the cramped space back into silence. Inhaling deeply, I bit my bottom lip hard and waited, praying fervently that none of my neighbours had heard the miniscule amount of noise. The apartment the landlord had leased to me put actual shoeboxes to shame, and was barely worth the rent he charged, but it was the only thing a teenage F-Rank could afford on my own and I was barely keeping up with the bills.

Additionally, I knew my neighbours didn’t like me. The lady to my left had two un-awakened kids, and the man on the right was the sort of crochety old codger who would probably yell at ‘those darn kids’ on his lawn if he had one. If any of them complained about me to the manager I would get evicted in a heartbeat.

The edge of the faded pink blanket caught against my worn fingernails as I stretched my arms high above my head. I opened my eyes fully, blinking quickly to let my pupils adjust to the light from the single light bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling. The jaundiced hue reflected off the peeling painted corners and exposed wood, casting the studio in shades of degraded sepia. There were no curtains, and the glass did little to insulate the room against the incoming winter air, especially this early in the morning.

The city glimmered on the other side, full of towering buildings that stuck out from the ground like mirror obelisks against the pearlescent-pink sky, illuminated by rainbow lights from the few buildings that hadn’t transitioned from nightlife to the dawn. A few cars glided over the roads, the low hum of their engines providing a steady backdrop to the repetitive warble of the birds that fluttered and nested in the branches of the golden hedge maples that lined the streets.

After a few more seconds of holding my breath – and hearing absolutely nothing in return – I finally gave myself a minute to exhale with relief and breathe in the cool air. I guess it’s my lucky day, and neither Mrs. Johnson nor Old Henderson are ready to give me shit this morning. Grateful for the reprieve, I sat up in preparation for the day.

First came stretches. The morning yoga exercises that my mother had drilled into my head took 15 minutes to complete, though I added an extra 3 minutes of deep breathing for a confidence boost. I was going to need it after all.

Next, a bath. With a light coating of sweat cooling on my brow, I picked up my bath towel and headed for the bathroom. The carpet beneath my feet was devoid of dust and dirt, courtesy of the tiny vacuum robot buzzing away in the corner. It was arguably the most expensive thing that I owned, though I hadn’t bought it per se. It had been a lucky find at one of the charity shops. When technology started utilizing mana crystals instead of batteries – courtesy of Dr. Vynland – a lot of companies had opted to abandon plain old purely electrical appliances in favour of magitech. Which meant new products, which meant upgrades, which meant a huge surplus of old tech flooding the secondhand shops as people tossed out their tried-and-true items in favour of a coffeemaker that could float iced drinks to you from across the room.

I bent down to tap my finger on the top of the little robot, stroking the vents as if it was a cat. The motor purred like one.

Poor thing, I thought. Discarded in a snap once something better came along. Doomed to crack and rot at the bottom of a bargain bin.

“Good job.” The words came out clumsy and gruff, my throat as unused to expelling sound as my tongue was to shaping the letters. Electric blue LEDs flashed away on the integrated touchpad, indicating that it was finished with its cleaning sub-routine and was now waiting for future orders or for an unwary speck of dust. I spared a few more seconds to pat it gently, brushing my fingers one more time against the snow-white chassis, before stepping into the shower stall.

The click of the electric kettle let me know that the water had finished boiling, and I carefully poured the steaming water into the bucket I used for her baths. After cooling it down to a more manageable temperature, I added a few drops of scented bath oil. The sultry scent of ylang-ylang and bergamot quickly filled the small space, infusing the air with a tropical scent. The magazines claimed that these scents boosted feminine energy and were once historically considered aphrodisiacs. Although I didn’t believe one iota of that, the drooping yellow flowers had been found to increase positive self-perception and reduce anxiety. Plus, they smelled good. Therefore, I made sure to wash every inch of myself thoroughly, even tacking on an extra 5 minutes to my strict morning schedule to massage the pads of her fingers deep into my scalp.

Once I was finished, I dried myself and stepped out of the bathroom, shivering from the sudden drop in temperature. My outfit hung on the wardrobe door, freshly washed and ironed for the practical exam. The written portion had been a week ago, and back then I could get away with showing up in her high school uniform. However, the practical portion was a whole different beast. Horizon Academy was the best Hunter school in the country for a reason, and part of the reason was the extremely strict requirements for prospective students. Last year there was the elemental obstacle course, the year before someone had been hospitalized after being launched 50ft off a cliff, and there’d even been a lot of criticism after the Great Monster Maze Debacle of 20XX.

What idiot in the management thought it’d be a good idea to sic a nest of Quartz-Winged Wyverns on a bunch of untrained teenagers? Those were A-Rank beasts! The only reason no one had died was because the professors had stepped in to clear the vault before anyone had been eaten. Whoever signed off on that, I hoped they’d been fired and blacklisted from academic life.

Nevertheless, past information showed that I needed to be ready for anything, and part of that meant being dressed right. The exam hall was an enclosed, silent space. This time, there would be far more eyes watching me.

Once she was fully dressed, I patted the front of my jeans free of imaginary dust, and then studied myself in the full-length mirror, turning left and right to make sure my attire was in line with the regulations laid out in the Conditional Acceptance letter.

A young woman stared back from within the glass. My chin-length black hair was too short to be tied back, so I kept the front pinned out of my face with plain white clips. The longer strands were tucked behind my ears, revealing practical silver studs. Blue-grey eyes scanned the picture that I made, certifying that everything was perfectly in place. 

Curls neat? Check.

Outfit clean? Check.

Make-up bag all packed? That was very important. I swiped a tube of strawberry-pink gloss over my mouth, smacked my lips together, and then tossed it back into the pouch. Check.

The apartment was as silent as a tomb, although that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. It would have been more surprising if someone else had been home with me at all. Moreover, of the few people who knew where she lived, there was no one I wanted walking around my personal space. My aunt and uncle especially could go to hell for all I cared.

In the kitchen – which was really a single corner counter with a sink and an electric stove with two working hobs – pulled open the cabinet door and selected two of the breakfast bars that I kept there. The upside of this brand was that they were cheap, filling, and stayed fresh for ages.

The thick taste of artificial lemon and strawberry burst on my tongue and glued itself to the back of my teeth, grainy and intensely sickly. Yuck. The downside was that they tasted fucking awful. Like tripping face-first into a vat of industrial floor soap.

Am I killing myself by eating this? I wondered, not for the first time, before taking several more bites with a shrug. At least I’ll die with a full stomach.

Stashing one of the bars in my bag for later, I chewed robotically while I checked my phone. My thumb hit the passcode and then navigated over to the news app. Headlines flew by as my eyes scanned the screen that was more crack than glass for important information. Almost every popular news report was about the same thing: the Horizon entrance exam.

Swiping to social media revealed the same thing, along with a thousand squealing emojis and kaomojis.

“OMG, how am I just discovering Adrian Vale??? Ya’ll were just gonna let me die without knowing how hot he was 🔥🔥🔥 #NewFavorite”

“I'm calling it now, his debut is gonna be HUGE! 🌟 Anyone else feeling the hype?”

“Say hello to my newest obsession! Can't wait to see what he does next! ✨ #Obsessed #DoesHeNeedAGF because I am available”

“Uhhhhhh respectfully? Ain’t no way the best S-Rank magician would ever settle for a bunch of nobodies like us. We are not worthy lmao #ButSeriouslyHMU my digits are 553-”

So, nothing important. Seems no one has any idea about today’s task. Sighing, I closed my phone and looked up at the clock.The time was now 7:00 a.m. The bus would arrive in less than 30 minutes, and it was a 10-minute walk to the stop. I took another bite of my breakfast and chewed determinedly.

Today was the first day of the rest of my time at Horizon Academy. Today was the day I, an F-Rank bottom-feeder, got past those gilded gates. I didn’t care what it took, who I had to tear down and take advantage of to pass whatever stupid trial those thick-faced snobs had set up. I was going to get accepted there, and I was going to become a Hunter no matter what.

Just as I was tying the laces of her boots, a sudden, persistent banging echoed through my apartment. My heart sank and I groaned internally. So, I hadn’t escaped my neighbour’s wrath. She’d just been biding her time, or maybe she couldn’t properly start her own day without making mine miserable. Here it comes, I grimaced and opened the door to find Mrs. Johnson on the other side. She was clad in a thick blue bathrobe and scowling on the welcome mat. Pink rollers kept thinning auburn hair out of a scowling face, highlighting the heavy furrows creasing her brow.

The expression on her face was wrinkled and cold, the snub nose scrunched up as though I was a particularly large cockroach that she couldn’t quite figure out how to squash. Bloodshot eyes glared down at me, and the muted stench of cheap wine assaulted my nostrils.

Ah. It was one of those days.

The old woman didn’t give me a moment to settle before she began her daily tirade. "Can't you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep!" Mrs. Johnson snapped; her disapproving gaze fixed on me.

At least try to pretend you can be civil, instead of the prejudiced old hag you are. I pressed my lips together and maintained my composure, knowing that this was another round of the usual morning harassment. It was too much to hope that Mrs. Johnson would let a single day go by without making it clear just how much she despised living near an F-Rank. Although science had disproved a lot of the superstitions surrounding those with low ranks, the older woman still treated me as though my power level was contagious.

My throat closed, and my tongue grew heavy like lead at the base of my jaw. I swiped to the app on my phone that I used to talk, and quickly tapped out a few sentences.

"Good morning, Mrs. Johnson. I'm sorry if I woke you," the robotic voice read out the useless attempt to diffuse the tension as civilly as I could.

She sneered at the phone, and I could almost see the slur inching through the gaps in her teeth. If the ranking system hadn’t become the dominant method of discrimination, I had no doubt she would be calling me both definitions of ‘dumb’. Luckily, she was one of those women who fancied herself a real Western belle. Oh, she’d raise up a storm, but never in public, and she wouldn’t be caught doing something as gauche as harassing another person over their speech issues.

Even though I could tell she really wanted to.

"Woke me? You woke up both my children! You're always making noise! It's unbearable!" Mrs. Johnson continued her diatribe, gesturing harshly toward my noiseless apartment as if it were the inside of an uptown nightclub.

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully as I typed them out. "I assure you; I'm just getting ready for the day. If there was any noise, it was unintentional, and I apologize for it."

Mrs. Johnson scoffed and folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Unintentional, my foot! You people are all the same, causing trouble for the rest of us! I have kids you know, and I don’t need them picking up bad habits from you people!"

Unlike your alcoholism, right? I bit back the nasty retort that rose to my own lips. "I understand, Mrs. Johnson. I'll try to be quieter.”

Mrs. Johnson scoffed, dismissing my attempt at reason. She was the sort of older woman who loved to hear herself speak and could never let an argument go unless she could browbeat her opponent into miserable, furious submission. I got the feeling that part of the reason she tolerated my text-to-speech app is so she could have a verbal sparring partner. Calm acquiescence wasn’t going to cut it.

"Nonsense!” She barked. “It's you, always you. I can't wait for the day you move out of here!"

I hummed and glanced down at the phone in my hand. 7:10 am. I don’t have time for this.

"Well, Mrs. Johnson, I'm not the one yelling and waking up the entire floor right now,” I turned up the app volume, allowing the increased decibels of the artificial voice to interrupt her lecture. I had downloaded a volume app for moments such as this, and the 200% increase in decibels briefly halted her in her verbal tracks. “Maybe we both need to be more mindful of those around us?"

Mrs. Johnson, taken aback by the sudden assertiveness, stammered in response. "I-I have a right to complain. You're just a useless F-Rank. People like you bring bad luck!"

Ha. If only you knew. Choosing not to engage in a futile argument, I just rolled my eyes and shut the door of my apartment. A step forward forced the older woman to step all the way back and off of the bristles of the welcome mat.

"If you can find a way to file and prove ‘bad luck’ on a complaint report, I’ll be sure to compensate you for any and all damages," I retorted. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going out.”

Turning on my heel, I marched over to the stairs. Once I reached the first floor, I took a moment to collect myself. Today was too important to be derailed by a cantankerous neighbour. I couldn’t let myself be rattled when there was so much to do. I had to keep a cool head, or I’d fail before I even hit the starting point.

[little-spoiled-brat]

reader is about to give birth but can’t do it naturally because the baby is upside down, resulting in needing a c-section. reader starts freaking out because she’s scared something is gonna happen but Levi is there to comfort her the best he can. he manages to get to her and they do the surgery. then boom, baby arrives and they lived happily ever after.

pairing: levi x reader

cw: first half is kinda chaotic because hange, mentions of anesthesia, y/n freaking out about giving birth, father levi, fluff

author's note: father levi brain rot go brrr

- baby ackerman -

deep down, giving birth has always scared you. the anxiety of something going wrong when it was time to deliver your baby into the world scared you. thus, you did all you can to stay healthy in those nine months of pregnancy to make sure that you deliver your daughter without any complications.

however, no matter how ready you were for something. things not always go as they were planned.

"what do you mean i'm not gonna be able to deliver her naturally?!" you exclaimed, unable to stay calm anymore as you were already in a lot of pain and worry.

"she's upside down, i need to do a c-section to get her out" hange urgently said, running around the room with moblit as the both of them prepared all the things they need.

you turned to levi, clutching his hand tightly as tears started to well up in your eyes. a surge of fear washed over you, this wasn't part of the plan. going into surgery to deliver the baby was not part of the plan.

"you're gonna be okay, brat. both of you are going to be okay" levi assured, kissing your forehead and squeezing your hand in attempt to keep you calm.

"i'm worried about the surgery but i'm more worried about hange holding scissors, anything can happen when hange's holding scissors!" you exclaimed, levi and moblit couldn't help but snicker as hange glared at you briefly from the small curtain draped across your middle.

"wow, y/n. you've seen me hold swords before but you don't trust me with a pair of scissors?" hange said, shaking her head jokingly as she tapped you on the arm and showed you the syringe containing the anesthesia.

"she has a point, four eyes" levi grumbled, recalling all the times she almost stabbed someone while holding scissors. moblit chuckled, nodding in agreement as hange scoffed.

"i'm gonna be extra careful. i know you're gonna kill me if anything happens to the levi baby inside" hange said and even though you trusted hange, the amount of anxiety you were in just didn't help assure you.

"i need you to help me turn her to the side" hange instructed as levi nodded. you held onto levi's hand the entire time as they turned you to your side and shot the anesthesia in your lower back.

"shh, shh. it's okay, brat. you're gonna fall asleep after this but i promise, the both of you will be okay when you wake up. okay? i won't let anything bad happen to the both of you" levi assured, rubbing circles on your hands as you nodded.

"keep your eyes on me, don't fight it if they start to close" levi instructed as you nodded once again and took a deep breath. you kept your eyes locked with his grey-blue ones, slowly feeling yourself get sleepy.

but your motherly instincts to make sure that your baby gets delivered safely kicked in and you suddenly tried to fight against the anesthesia, keeping your eyes open to stop yourself from falling asleep.

"don't fight it, brat. i'm gonna be here with her when you wake up" levi whispered, cupping your cheek as you took one more deep breath before letting yourself get consumed by darkness - putting all your trust into the procedure. if that's the only way to deliver your baby safely then so be it.

"she's asleep" levi announced once he felt your hand go limp in his, turning to hange as she nodded and immediately got started on the surgery.

levi held your hand the entire time, whispering sweet nothings in your ear to keep assuring you even though you were unconscious. after what felt like forever, a piercing cry finally filled the room.

"get her cleaned up, i'll take care of y/n" hange instructed, passing the small child to moblit. levi alternated his gaze from his baby and to you, his protective instincts kicking in and making sure that the both of you were safe.

"she's done. y/n should wake up in less than an hour" hange said, cleaning up until everything was spotless as she wiggled her eyebrows teasingly at levi and he rolled his eyes jokingly at her.

"thank you, hange" levi said, gratefulness lacing his tone as hange nodded. she patted him on the back just as moblit handed the cleaned and wrapped up baby in his arms.

"shorty is a father now, i need to tell erwin about this" hange excitedly said, silently squealing as she ushered moblit out of the room with her. levi shook his head at her before turning his attention to the small bundle sleeping in his arms.

a smile pulled at the corner of his lips, tears starting to prick his eyes as he gently caressed her small cheek with his thumb - admiring the way she looked like small version of the both of you.

"hi smaller brat, mommy's gonna be so happy to meet you" levi whispered, a happy tear managing to fall down his cheek as he carefully placed a kiss on her forehead.

he tucked her in his arms protectively, cradling her gently and rocking her back and forth to keep her asleep while he waited for you to wake up from your unconsciousness.

just like hange said, you stirred a few minutes later as you slowly regained consciousness. your eyes opened and you turned your head to the side to see your husband looking at a bundle in his arms, a smile plastered on his face.

"levi?" you called out, still a bit groggy from the anesthesia. levi turned to you, smiling widely as he tilted a bit to show you your daughter sleeping in his arms.

tears welled up in your eyes as you felt your entire world stop, everything faded in the background - just you and the small family that you had and nothing else.

"would you want to hold her? i'm pretty sure she's been looking for your warmth" levi chuckled lightly, carefully transferring her into your arms as you cradled her.

"she's beautiful" you breathed, in complete awe over the child in your arms. levi rounded the bed and sat on your other side as you scooted over to make some room for him.

levi wrapped his arm around you, supporting his daughter under you with his other arm. the smile on his face never leaving once as he took in the small family that he now had.

"did you name her yet?" you asked, keeping your gaze on your daughter as levi hummed in reply.

"not yet. i wanted to wait for you to wake up" levi said as you smiled and looked up at him. the one name that you always talked about being the only name in your mind.

"d/n" you said, turning to your daughter and caressing her cheek carefully with your finger. levi hummed in agreement, d/n being the only name in his mind as well.

you cuddled into levi, resting your head on his shoulder as the both of you silently admired little d/n in your arms. you reached over and tugged at his shirt before patting the space next to you.

levi laid down next to you as you cuddled into him even more, you kept d/n protectively tucked in your arms as levi kept his arms around the both of you. no words needed to be said as you slowly drifted back to sleep, feeling nothing but love for your small family.

levi pressed a kiss on the top of your head and caressed d/n cheek gently, also feeling nothing but pure love for the both of you.

"i love you both so much"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

First steps!

—————

It was more than what she had bargained. But she was lucky. Really lucky!

'Looks like lady luck finally gave me a good amount of luck!'

— previous chapter... —

Boxes. Boxes were everywhere!

Marinette admits that she'll miss her room. Her very pink room, her roof balcony, her loft bed, everything! But she chose this. She wanted to be far from Dupont from now. She didn't want to be reminded every day about what she has gone through in that school.

She was heavily guarding her 'sewing equipment' which was the disguise for the new shape of the Chinese Miracle Box, and a backpack that has Grimoire and tablet.

After her application for a scholarship was accepted, they got to move, her parents rented a moving van for all the heavy stuff. They decided to get her settled in during the weekend. The only thing she isn't bringing to the dorm was her vanity, desk and loft bed. It was a miracle that her chaise was approved to be moved into the dorm.

"Ready to go?" Tom asked.

He was emotional since his daughter grew up in front of him, but after hearing what she had to suffer from those people, he was supportive of her moving away temporarily. 

Marinette nodded. They both went down, where Sabine was waiting. Before Marinette entered the van, she glanced at her old school and smiled bitterly. All the memories she had created with the people she thought she trusted were being tarnished. All because of a lying vixen who has nothing else to do in her life and can't keep her mouth shut.

She missed the people she knew before. But that was before, this was now.

She entered the van, placed the pink carry-on and backpack. While Tom drives the van she was humming while thinking of the past.

Alya Césaire, the person Marinette thought that will always stay by her side. Her ex-best friend. Sure the girl has her faults, but Marinette treated her like a sister. They shared every secret (except her secret identity). When the liar came to Dupont, it felt like there was a spell casted in the school, Alya forgot the most basic rule in journalism. Fact-checking. It was a pity how the Ladyblog was now being slandered on how it became a tabloid. No one trusted it anymore. She felt a bit of guilt that when Alya finally finds out that the girl she claims as her 'new bff' is a liar, her credibility is already in the sewers.

Nino Lahiffe, Lê Chiến Kim, Max Kanté, Ivan Bruel, Mylène Haprèle, Alix Kubdel, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine and Nathaniel Kurtzberg, her classmates that knew her for years. The people she helped all the time. They knew her, but they also turned their backs against her. Marinette always went out of her way to help them, even when Ivan was the first Akuma victim she felt bad, so she wanted to help— and it got her to become the superheroine of Paris, France; Ladybug.

Lastly, Adrien Agreste, the person who said that was on her side, the only other person who knew about the liar but chose to be silent. Looking back, she was ashamed that she put the boy on a pedestal, but what irked her is his slight manipulation without even knowing. When they celebrated about Chloé leaving for New York, he unknowingly made Marinette guilty, even though he knew about Chloé's tormenting. And after finding out that he was Chat Noir, it angered her that the boy she trusted while in and out of the suit was the same boy who left her in the wolf's den.

"—ette? Marinette?"

That made Marinette snap out of her thoughts. She looked around then outside of the window and noticed that they were in a parking lot. Her father was nowhere to be found and her mother was calling her.

"Your father just went to get a luggage trolley for your boxes. Are you ready to meet your dormmates?"

Ah, yes. Apparently, she had dormmates, but she will still be getting a separate room inside the dorm. Marinette can only hope that the people here are not easily blinded by pretty words.

"Yes, Maman. I'm ready..."

This was part of her first step to a new beginning.

—————

The principal of Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie was a lovely woman.

She guided Marinette and her family towards the dorm building. She informed Marinette about her dormmates. There were a total of four other students in her dorm, she said they were friendly and hopes that they'll get along.

On the third floor of the second dorm building, she walked towards a door that has 'B315' on it, she knocked and we waited.

When the door opened, a tanned girl with blonde hair that was braided and had blue eyes opened it, she had a shocked look on her face when she saw the Principal, but when she looked around her mouth went 'oh'.

"Hi! Please come in, the other two went outside for a while, Fé is in his room reading." She said.

"This is Allegra Croix, the room representative. Here's a room card, keep it safe, but in case you lose it, file a report in the front desk."

The principal said before letting the other guy who had joined them at the school steps earlier help Tom to move her belongings, before leaving.

"Hi, I-I'm Marinette." She introduced herself while smiling, the girl smiled at her then waved.

"Come, I'll direct you to your bedroom."

They entered a room and Marinette felt herself freeze. It was almost identical to her bedroom at home. Keyword: almost.

The room had soft baby pink painted walls with gold designs, a twin loft bed (with a higher railing on one side), a huge L-shaped desk underneath, near it is a tall bookshelf, a vanity, a sliding door on the right with curtains, a bathroom on the left that is also connected to a small walk-in-closet.

Tom and a guy slowly moved Marinette's boxes and her chaise. While her mother was busy talking with Allegra, she made her way towards the sliding door and opened it, to see a small balcony. She was still carrying the disguised miracle box and wore the backpack on her back.

Tikki peaked out of the purse and was awed by the view. When she looked at her holder, she can see a small smile on her face.

"Guess this is it. A new beginning for Marinette Dupain-Cheng..." The girl said while looking at the scenery before looking at her kwami.

—————

After all the boxes, her parents bid a tearful goodbye for the temporary separation between them. Allegra also informed her about dorm curfews and toured her around the dorm. She also mentioned the soundproof feature inside the bedroom and the whole dorm, which shocked Marinette.

It was convenient for her. A balcony inside her room for sneaking in and out and soundproofed for the kwamis, was the best she could get.

She spent her time inside her room and organized everything, she already mentioned to Allegra that she might be stuck inside her bedroom for a while to get settled in. Closing the door and locking it, before turning the soundproofing feature on then letting the kwamis out of the box.

They helped her move stuff and get organized.

"Soundproof? What is that?" Kaalki asked.

"It's a feature that makes all noises inside this room stay here and will not be heard outside."

She looked around and smiled. Her computer has been set up, her sewing machine and other miscellaneous stuff were on top of the L-shaped desk underneath the loft bed.

The chaise was placed near the bookshelf and placed at an angle.

It felt home-y for her. As if she was back in her own room.

Meanwhile, outside Marinette's room, two boys entered the room.

"Hey, Al! Did the new student arrived yet?"

"Yeah, she did! She's been cooped up in her room, and getting settled in. Let's have dinner all together!"

The guy named Allan nodded and carried the grocery bags that were filled with both meal ingredients and snacks towards the kitchen.

When Marinette was done showering and changing to a comfortable but decent outfit, she heard a knock on her door. She opened it and saw Allegra.

"Hey, mind joining us for dinner?" Allegra asked to which Marinette nodded.

They went towards a small dining table next to the kitchen, where she saw three other guys. One was busy reading a book, while the other two were bantering. The girls sat down and that attracted the boys' attention.

"Hi...?"

"Hello! Nice to meet you! I'm Claude D'lleardo, at your service fair maiden!" The guy wearing a white and blue striped shirt said then playfully winking at Marinette, which made her giggle.

"I'm Allan Montgometry, Claude's functioning brain cell." A guy with dark skin and was wearing a green sweater, in Marinette's eyes, the guy reminded her of Nino Lahiffe.

"Félix Culpa, evening." The guy who was reading a book said that he had familiar blonde-coloured hair with blue-grey eyes.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Marinette, hope we can all get along!" She said with a smile.

While eating she looked around the table and smiled.

Sure it was painful for her that the people she knew as 'friends' had abandoned her, she was also glad that there was an opportunity given to her to start a new page in her life.

She was leaning on the balcony railings feeling the cold night winds, not noticing a certain someone who went out on their own balcony.

Marinette smiled bitterly when she remembered the times when she and Alya spent the entire night on her home's balcony chatting through the night. All the slumber parties, either with the girls or only a few, she missed it.

It was an emotional day for her, moving away from her own home even when it was temporary still hurt her, to transfer out of Dupont due to incompetent educators, bullies and enablers, being abandoned and isolated by the people she used to trust.

She had her faults, especially when she became the Guardian, most of her schedule has been occupied but people in her class haven't been inviting her lately. Things will change, she didn't care anymore. She gave her all in the friendships she had built with that class only for it to be discarded like trash. If they don't want friendship with her anymore, then she doesn't need to give it to them.

She went inside for a brief moment only to come back with her diary in one hand, then a pen in the other. She sat down and started writing.

Dear Diary,

A lot has changed in a span of a week. Sorry if I haven't wrote in you lately, I... I've been quite busy lately, not only with that responsibility, but I recently transfered to a new school. Jeanne d'Arc l'Académie is a promising school! They prioritize the students talents and give them opportunities, I'm glad I had the chance to attend in this kind of school.

Part of my transfer, is me moving to a dorm. Since the school is quite far from the bakery, Maman and Papa asked me if I wanted to move into a dorm inside the school campus. They said it will be convenient for me and I'll be far from that class for a while. At first, I was hesitant, but now, looking back, I'm glad I did accept. My bedroom here in the dorm is amazing! Sure it's not an attic like the one I had back home, but it resembles my room, as if I never moved.

I also met new people today!

Allegra Croix, she was so kind! Allegra was the one who let me know all about the dorm, she toured me and mentioned the cool feature in this dorm and every bedroom, which is: soundproofing! Can you believe it, Diary?!

Claude D'lleardo, was a funny guy, he kind of reminds me of the old Chat Noir, who made me laugh. Then there was Allan Montgometry, he was also fun to be with! When he introduced himself, I giggled when he said he was Claude's brain cell! but he also reminds me of a certain someone from my old school...

And then there's Félix Culpa. At first, I thought I was hallucinating since he resembles him quite a lot, but when I looked at his eyes, I knew there that he wasn't him. He likes reading (I think? Since he kept reading during dinner).

I hope We all get along! Moving to a new environment is breathtaking for me. I can finally relax, without being on edge. I'm far away from that vixen.

You know, Diary... I kinda thank her... is that weird?

She may have threathend me about stealing my friends and ruining me, but she also showed me how people in that school see me. A tool. The vixen showed me how my old class used me to get free pastries from the bakery, I didn't even know that they were getting some and making excuses to my parents. They kept asking me to make things for them, without even paying me, even though they say "can I commision you?". And then all the babysitting duties from those two! I couldn't even say a word, next thing I know she was already running away! The vixen also showed me his pacified attitude in dealing bullies. I think he may be in a delusional state, that all things will resolve itself and it will all be back to normal.

They were all worst than Chloé!

I hope that me moving past that school will give me a new beginning, Diary! I promise to myself, I'll take care of myself this time, no more bending backwards just to appease people. I want to be accepted for who I am, not because of what I can give.

Oops! It's gotten so late, I didn't even notice!

Goodbye for now, Diary!

Marinette closed her diary and sighed, but she had a smile on her face.

She stood up and went inside her room, then locked the balcony. She looked around and saw Tikki eating a cookie on her desk. Marinette put her diary back in its box and claimed the loft.

"Goodnight, Tikki." Marinette said, her eyes beginning to get tired and get droopy.

Tikki stopped eating and zipped towards her chosen, then put a paw on her chosen's cheek.

"Goodnight, Marinette!"

—————

Félix Culpa was more of an introvert in the group. He liked to be alone most of the time. When Allegra, Claude and Allan, leeched onto him, he found it annoying especially with Claude, but soon he got used to it.

And now that they had a new dormmate, he observed her. She was reserved. It was as if she was holding herself back.

Standing outside on the balcony during the night was a leisure time for him. He enjoyed the quiet dark sky and the cold wind of the night. When he went out that night, he saw his new dormmate— Marinette was also outside. When he looked at her, she was staring blankly at the view. She then entered her room then went back out a few minutes after, with a pen and a notebook.

She sat down on the balcony floor since the railings are glass, he can see her writing down on her notebook. 

Marinette was pretty, her black silky hair that had blue reflections, she had those attractive bluebell coloured eyes, he also noticed a few freckles on both sides and bridge of her nose during dinner and her rose coloured lipstick with gloss.

He didn't know how long he was staring at her, the next he knew was she was already going back inside her room. So he did the same. He went on his computer and tried to find any social media accounts of his new dormmate, only to find a lot of articles about her.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a young and budding designer that had made commisions for various celebrities, including Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, XY, and etc."

"Fashion critique, Audrey Bourgeois, has been impressed by a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

"Adrien Agreste modeling a derby hat won by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a Gabriel competition."

"Kitty Section's debut outfits made by Marinette Dupain-Cheng awed the crowed!"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an aspring fashion designer is making waves in the world of fashion, can she overrule Paris' resident designer— Gabriel Agreste?"

 Those are only a few articles he had seen and read.

'So Marinette was an aspiring designer?'

He thought. Félix was impressed that at such a young age, she has already been featured and had worked with famous celebrities. Looks like he had underestimated the young teenager.

The last thought that ran in his mind before he drifted to sleep was, why did she transfer? Was she unsatisfied with her progress in her old school? Or maybe something happened?

'Who really are you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?'

Chapter 1 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 3

[mk-kaze]

I Trust You

The sound of the wagon wheels careening. The echo of multiple gunshots firing off. The enemies captured them.

Historia.

Eren.

Getting away.

Once Mikasa’s boots landed on the ground again, she quickly prepared to catch up to the kidnappers on her ODM gear. But just as she was about to fire off her grapple hooks, a strong arm firmly pressed against her front, halting her from any further action.

A flash coming from the shine of a steel blade. A curtain of dark hair, very much like her own. Steel blue eyes.

“Don’t do it. Fall Back!”

Of course.

It was none other than her captain: Levi.

She swore she saw red as she glared down at him, the man who prevented her from pursuing the kidnappers, from saving Eren and Historia. The very reason at this moment, that she was losing every precious second the wagon was getting farther and farther. The tumbling wheels that had rattled through her ears, now fading into the background.

Mikasa’s jaw clenched, gritting her teeth harder than she thought possible. Knuckles turning white from the vice grip she possessed on her blades. “Let go of me, they’re getting away!”

“Ackerman, I said don’t—“

Attempting to move and sidestep him again only proved fruitless as Levi swiftly turned to face her. In a blink of an eye, he held her back with a secure arm, pressing it against her sternum. Tensing her form, Mikasa tried to force her way out of his stronghold grip. If the soft grunts coming from him were any indication, it was that it was proven to be a challenge to hold her back—to contain her abnormal strength—but he still successfully managed to stop her in her tracks.

She was trapped in his cage of blades.

An inkling of bitterness formed in the pit of her stomach. He was holding her back; the only one who could hold her back.

“Do not pursue them. I told you twice already.” Levi spoke tersely, brow furrowed, his steel blue eyes sharpened on her. His words hardened, “Fall. Back. Ackerman.”

Mikasa honed her own cutting stare on his. “But we can’t let those people take Eren and Historia! I can’t let them take Eren away.” She bit out harshly, tearing her gaze to the path in front of her. Not again. I can’t protect Eren like this.

“Let me go after them, I can make it and catch up to the wagon on my gear. Please Captain, I—” her voice cracked, a desperate edge wavering in her tone. Blinking back the wet heat threatening to cloud behind her eyes. How could she make her Captain understand? I have to get him back. I can’t fail him again. No.. it can’t be like the last time this happened...

“Mikasa. Look at me.”

Instinct told her to obey her Captain’s request, or more say, the way he spoke—hard tone turned gentle—compelled her to listen. Her eyes found their way to his again.

Gunmetal grey on steel blue.

And, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he slowly leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers in the gentlest of touches.

Speechless, taken aback, did Mikasa finally falter in her attempts of escape and pleas. And then, she looked at him—really looked at him this time—and saw the sentiment his deep blue eyes held. A reserved display of exceptional tenderness. A rarity in his actions; especially when moments ago, his grappling hook found purchase in the abdomen of an enemy, slicing through the body as glistening droplets of blood painted the stone bricks.

Without a doubt, the person she called Captain was definitely a man with deadly potential; Mikasa and the others had literally bore witness to the extent of what he’s capable of. Taking down enemies left and right without a moments hesitation and with terrifying precision. But now.. as much as she knew his lethal hand, his capacity for violence when necessary... he also possessed a healing touch.

“Believe me, I know. I know what you’re feeling right now but try to calm down. Don’t go recklessly chasing and engaging them alone. For now, we’ll retreat and come up with another plan.” Levi whispered, reassuring her in a tone so achingly soft. Soft in a way she never imagined the signature timbre of his deep and cutting voice could be capable of. “And when we do, we will get Eren and Historia back.”

No edge in his voice at her attempted act of rebellion. No anger or disappointment directed at her persistance. Only an overflowing current of understanding and a determined resolve to make his proclamation true.

Closing his eyes, his firm stance relaxed, as did the guarded positioning of his weapons, lowering in severity. Mindful of his blades, his arms came down around her cloaked form to gently give her an embrace of sorts.

An enigma of warmth slowly curled and swelled within herself. A strange yet comforting sensation of being held by her Captain. By Levi.

“Come back and regroup with the others. With me. Just... trust me. Please, Mikasa.”

A raw authenticity and kindness in his words, his voice keeping her grounded and stable. Her body relaxed, the grip on her blades lessened. No persisting desire to give chase anymore but to retreat for now.

“Okay.” A single word. A soft whisper on her lips. Despite her spoken response, he made no move to withdraw himself as if.. needing her touch, just as much as she found herself needing the soothing solidity of his. To know they’re in this together.

“Okay?” He repeated calmly, his warm breath fanning her cheek, given their close proximity.

Mikasa sighed, exhaling a low breath, more composed than she was moments ago before Levi intervened. The bitter fury and frustration dissipating within her, only a flow of tranquility remained. And warmth. As curiously unusual as it was, she chose to welcome the feeling of this unknown warmth. Of him.

“Yes.” Closing her eyes, she rested her temple more fully against his. Surrendering to him.

“I trust you, Levi.”

[tempportal]

“You’ve got your decimal in the wrong spot.”

Five would love to say that he simply brushes off the voice coming from over his shoulder, to say that he coolly ignores her without even so much as a single second of doubt or hesitation—it’s pretty much a personal goal at this point to just never listen to Dolores about anything, ever, because she’s so annoying and insufferable about everything, and whenever she turns out to be right about something (which is so exceedingly rare that it’s absolutely not necessary to even discuss those particular instances at all, thank you very much!) she looks at him with that obnoxiously smug smirk playing at the corner of her soft pink mouth and a big I told you so plastered all over her face—but she’s just so unflinchingly blunt and unapologetically confident in her assessment that he has to double-check it anyway, just to be sure.

Maybe he should count himself lucky (that he survived a full four months in an apocalyptic wasteland all alone before he got here, that he has an actual shot at getting out of this hellhole, at going back home and saving his family before he even turns fifteen, that he found an entire camp of survivors, tiny and pathetic and ragtag as it is, and they didn’t turn him away the second they laid eyes on him, even with their scarce and dwindling supply of rations) that, by some complete and total miracle, he has encountered perhaps the only other person left on this scorched and dying earth who can even begin to comprehend the staggeringly convoluted calculus he has to contend with on a day-to-day basis—but whenever he looks at Dolores, he feels the exact opposite of lucky.

Why did the universe have to give him such a useful ally wrapped up in such an incredibly annoying package?

Five scans through that last string of numbers crudely and painstakingly scratched out in his own hand on the grim grey stone in front of him—and, because literally everything in the natural world hates him, it turns out that she’s right again, and the decimal is exactly one digit off from where it should be, glaringly obvious as a neon sign in the dark now that he knows where to look for it.

And it throws the whole entire equation off, which means now he has to redo that last line all over again or it’ll all be wrong, so that’s a full hour’s work down the drain, and he glowers silently at the decimal because he can’t glower at her or she’ll just hit him with that obnoxiously smug smirk and unspoken I told you so combo, and it will be. incredibly difficult. to tear his eyes off her mouth.

God, he just hates her so much.

“That one,” Dolores actually crouches down to point it out to him, like she thinks he’s too stupid to see it for himself, and her arm brushes lightly against his, and her long dark hair falls in front of her face like a curtain, and he has to literally remind himself to take a breath. “Right there. See? The decimal should be in front of the—”

“I know where the decimal should be,” he cuts her off, scratching out the mistake with a vicious slash of his black felt-tip permanent marker—she probably thinks he’s a total idiot who can barely count to ten, and he wants to snap at her that he is not an idiot and he’s the smartest out of all his siblings, and he’s got six of them, so he’s obviously smarter than her, too, but he doesn’t because that would require him to care about what she thinks of him.

And he doesn’t care about that. Absolutely not. Five has far more important things on his mind than the opinion of some silly teenage girl—even if it’s a teenage girl who actually knows what Planck’s Constant is, and who didn’t need him to explain superstring theory, and who’s written an entire thesis on Coulomb’s Law, and who debates with him on the legitimacy of Brane cosmology (which is obviously total bullshit, whatever she says to the contrary) and who has a really nice smile and soft pink lips and pretty dark hair and bright sky-blue eyes that light up like the sun when she’s excited—

—and she’s really annoying and stupid and infuriating and insufferable and impossible and he hates absolutely everything about her, from her nice smile and sky-blue eyes to her die-hard belief in Brane cosmology and breathtakingly brilliant mind that’s always running a hundred thousand miles ahead of everyone else, seeing things that no one else does and thinking about things in ways no one else will, and—

Look, he hates her, okay?!

“Yeah, you got it wrong up here, too,” Dolores frowns, tipping her head back to squint up at a portion of the calculation scrawled farther up on the wall—her hair spills down around her face in thick, curly waves, so black it’s almost blue in the silver-white glow of the stars overhead, and it’s very hard to look away from her shining eyes, lighting up at the math in front of her. “Where you got eight-point-seven, it should actually be eight-point-nine—so this is all way off-base. Here—let me—”

And then she just—she just reaches out and snatches the marker straight out of his hand (and her fingers brush lightly over his open palm when she does, and his skin is suddenly on fire) and she uncaps it with a soft click, presses the black tip firmly to the wall, and scribbles out her own equation right next to his.

Even the way she writes is pretty.

Five scrubs his palm on the ripped knee of his worn-out jeans to try and get his hand to stop the stupid tingling that’s all her stupid fault, and why can’t she just keep her stupid hands to herself?

(If she’d just stop touching him so much, maybe he could finally stop thinking about what it would be like to hold her hand.)

A frown twists the edges of Dolores’ mouth, her face scrunching up and her brows pulling together in a deep wrinkle, her teeth biting into her bottom lip—he can practically see all the different cogwheels spinning and clicking in her brain, hear her mind running a hundred thousand miles ahead of everyone else, seeing things that no one else does and thinking about things in ways no one else will, and his breath catches at the back of his throat.

She’s so pretty when she’s all caught up in her equations like this.

Objectively speaking, of course. It’s not like Five’s got any kind of opinion on the way she looks, or anything. It’s not like he’s ever really noticed the way she looks.

She leans in and jots down one final string of numbers before she pulls back again, blowing on the Sharpie tip like it’s a smoking gun. She caps it up and tosses him a smile that sucks all the air out of the room—and he’s staring at her, openly and obviously and like a complete idiot, all wide-eyed and stupid, and he has to force his face into a scowl and remind himself that she’s annoying and obnoxious and detestable and arrogant and absolutely intolerable, and that is not going to change just because she’s not a total dunce at math!

“Looks better, doesn’t it?” she says, all puffed-up and proud like she always is. Doesn’t she ever get sick of being so infuriating all the time? “Maybe you should try asking for a little help every now and then, boy genius.” And she has the—the sheer audacity to lean in and poke him in the forehead with the end of the marker, right on that narrow strip of skin between his brows that always crinkles up when he scowls (and it’s currently very crinkled right now, the way it always is whenever he has to deal with her).

Five sputters incoherently and swats blindly at the Sharpie, but he misses by about a mile—which is just fantastic, because now she thinks he’s a total idiot who can barely count to ten, and a complete moron with abominable hand-eye coordination who can barely string two words together ninety-nine percent of the time, and he does not care what she thinks about him even a little bit.

“I’m checking your work,” he tells her, and yanks the Sharpie back out of her hand.

“Knock yourself out,” she gets to her feet and dusts off the knees of her dark denim jeans before she heads back toward the maze of ragged, patchwork tents. “But it’d probably save you a ton of time if you just assumed I’m right.”

Five makes it about halfway through her calculation (which is—so brilliantly simple, and unbelievably elegant, taking all his loose ends and tying them all up so perfectly) and Dolores makes it about a hundred feet away before she spins around on her heel to holler at him—

“You’re welcome, by the way!”

Five flips her a one-finger salute—and she laughs out loud the whole way back to the camp, bright and bubbly, and he’s pretty sure he’s just swallowed a swarm of live butterflies because that’s the only possible explanation for what that sound is doing to his insides.

And it turns out her math is right—again.

Goddamn it.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 14

A/N:  FINAL TIME SKIP. Also we are reaching the point now where there are only maybe 3 chapters left in this series but res assured I will be doing asks and will be writing small side shots to this series. Because I did leave a bunch of detail to the imagination. Also PLEASE INTERACT IT GIVES ME LIFE. Like seriously hearing active feedback on chapters really helps motivate writers like me to write. 

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either.

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. 

WORDS : 3,113

SUMMARY: Months turn into years and now the twins are six years old. Unexpected visitors arrive and things take an unexpected turn. 

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

Sunlight danced through the crack in the sheer curtains in your shared bedroom and glinted off of the ring on your finger. 

Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, appreciating every detail of your face, the way your nose twitches occasionally, the sound of soft breathing coming from you, and the rise and fall of your chest as you simply existed in this moment. She thanked every star she could that you existed. You changed her life for the better and she dreads to think of what life would have been like without you and the two beautiful children you gave birth to six years ago. 

You kept her grounded, you and the kids made her feel loved like she hadn’t felt since Pietro was taken from her. 

Wanda would be damned if she let anything take her family away from her again. 

Wanda still had her nightmares, the scars left behind from Vision and from Pietro, her parents, and Agatha were still there. But thanks to you those scars became simply that, scars. Scars that were faded but would forever remain there. 

However, as her old fears started to fade, new fears came to light. 

Some nights she dreams that Agatha had been right, that Wanda only brought chaos and death. She dreams that you and the kids died horrifically like everyone else she had ever loved. 

Other nights she dreams that she is the one who killed you. On those nights you spend hours combing your fingers through her hair and rubbing those familiar comforting circles on her back. Bringing her back to where she was now, that you and the kids were still alive. 

Then there were those special nights when her dreams were sweet and full of love. Sometimes she’s reliving a happy memory with her family before the bombing, sometimes she dreams of Vision and sometimes it’s with two boys that she doesn’t recognize but she knows she loves. However, if she’s really lucky, she dreams of you. Wanda dreams of sitting on the porch with you, sipping steaming tea with honey, grey and white in your hair, but your eyes are as youthful and as full of love as ever. Wanda dreams that her hair is peppered in grey and white as well, wrinkles of time written on her face, and that in the end she had never been what Agatha claimed she was. the Scarlet Witch, the Harbinger of Chaos, the Destroyer of the World. She dreams that all of that was just myth and that in the end all Wanda was, was Wanda Maximoff. 

Your wife. 

Wanda feels the corners of her lips curl upward as she remembers proposing to you. She did it at home, she hid it in the popcorn and you nearly choked on the damn thing. After spitting the ring out Wanda had the worst case of butterflies she ever felt. Wanda knew that marriage was an off subject for you and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it and Wanda respected that greatly. However, she wanted to let you know that if you ever change your mind, Wanda would gladly marry you whenever you wanted, be it fifty years or an hour. So long as she got to be with you in the end. 

Wanda’s patience with you and the respect that she held for you and vice versa. You didn’t know you could fall even more in love with her. 

You and Wanda had been happily married for three years now and it was safe to say this was the happiest either of you had ever been. 

“Staring’s rude babe.” You muttered under your breath as your lashes fluttered before you fully opened your eyes. Taking in a brand new day in the same old world. 

“Stop being so beautiful in the morning then I’ll stop.” 

“Am I not beautiful any other time in the day?” You teased her. 

“No,” Wanda said before starting to litter your face in soft kisses. 

“You’re gorgeous in the afternoon,” Wanda whispered as she kissed your neck, nipping it slightly causing you to giggle. “You’re exquisite in the evening,” Wanda’s lips trails up your throat, her talented hands wandering as she did, “and you’re downright divine at midnight when the moonlight peaks through our curtains and bathes you in this silvery light.” Wanda’s lips are at the corner of your mouth now, your breathing now becoming hitched as Wanda’s lips are so far yet so close to your lips, “It’s at that time of day that I stare at you the longest.” Finally Wanda’s lips place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips. Her lips on yours never failed to make your heart flutter like it was the first time, fireworks and electricity running through you like wildfire. 

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss you heard the door to your shared room slam open, tearing your lips from Wanda’s to see two small figures rush and jump on your and Wanda’s bed. 

“Good Morning Mama and Mommy!” You heard the excited voices of your twins say. You and Wanda scooted aside to make room for the two already rambunctious twins in between you. 

Steve immediately went to cuddle by your side while Scarlet went to Wanda. Even when the twins were infants they had a preferred parent that they naturally drifted to. For Scarlet it had been Wanda and for Steve it was you. 

You looked at Wanda who looked at Scarlet like she was the world, in fairness she looked like that at Steve and you as well. And instead of scaring you, it felt nice. It warmed your heart to know that Wanda felt the same way, that the people in that room right there were your entire world.

Once the twins settled in between you, you and Wanda kissed the tops of their heads to which Steve giggled as you kissed raspberries on his cheeks.

“What’s on the agenda today little ones?” Wanda asked, Wanda often missed out on most of the day due to training with Strange. She’s gotten very proficient over the years at controlling her powers, Wanda’s learned more about herself and what she could do over the past six years and the more she learned the more frightened and amazed she was. 

“We’re going to go pick raspberries to make jam and pies!” Scarlet said excitedly. 

“Don’t forget,” You chimed in, booping your daughter's nose lightly with your index finger, causing her to giggle her bell like laughter, “that’s only after we finished our classwork today.” 

Steve let out a groan while Scarlet seemed to buzz with excitement. Scarlet loved learning, and Steve did too although not as much as his sister.

You had been homeschooling them, for fear of the worst. You knew that they were young and the likeliness of their powers showing themselves when they were really young were slim. However, you knew that their existence alone would cause a tsunami of reporters and agents ready to probe them. You knew there was a chance that their powers may never come, however until you were certain you and Wanda thought it best to homeschool them. 

It wasn’t bad, you took them to the park for them to play with kids their own age. After all, Nat did teach you the best way of hiding was in plain sight and acting naturally. 

---

You and the kids had just got done with school work for the day when you grabbed three baskets and headed to the raspberry bushes in the garden. Wanda had cast a spell on the bushes to make them grow raspberries anytime in the year. 

You laughed and watched lovingly as the kids ran around the yard playing tag. You counted your blessings that they got along with each other, maybe all the Sokovian whispers to your belly had done something after all. 

You gathered the three baskets of raspberries and brought them back inside. You washed the raspberries at the sink and occasionally checked outside the kitchen window to make sure that they were alright. 

After cleaning the raspberries you fixed them with a snack of apple slices and celery. You went on the porch to call them in when a vision of red, white and blue caught your eye. 

the Shield. 

It brings you back to Steve, his baby blues and his smiles and Tony’s funeral. 

You had heard what happened in New York with the Flagsmashers all those years ago and you would have gotten involved had you not been heavily pregnant at the time. 

You're brought back to the present when the Star Spangled Man with a Plan (now upgraded with wings) asks your twins where their mom was. 

“Sam...” You say, the tall man turned to you and it was then you see that he wasn’t alone. You don’t know how you could have missed the roaring of the motorcycle in the yard and the other tall man. “Bucky....”

The men walked toward you while the twins ran. 

“Mommy! Mommy! There are people here to see you.” They say at the same time, it wasn’t very often that you had company, much less unexpected company. 

“I see that,” You said evenly, keeping your face straight as the two men in front of you widened their eyes in realization. You tear your eyes away from them and to the two children in front of you and you knelt down to their height. “Why don’t you two go inside and play while Mommy talks to these gentlemen for a second.”

“Do you know who they are?” Lettie asked curiously, her eyes scanning the men. 

“Do we get to meet them?” Steve asked excitedly, looking amazed at Bucky’s metal arm. 

“I’ll let you know that in a second, but for right now go inside and play.” You said firmly, the twins waved goodbye to the men before heading inside. You waited until you heard the door close behind them to walk toward the men in front of you. 

“Boys,” You greeted motioning the porch chairs on the other side, “take a seat.”

Sam and Bucky listened and sat down. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, arms crossed. 

“Got anything strong?” Bucky asked. His eyes are not meeting yours. 

“It’s Scotland and I am a mom to twins,” You pointed out, “of course I do.” 

“I’ll take that then.” Bucky said, you looked at Sam who simply shook his head. You went in and grabbed the only bottle of Whiskey and a glass. 

By the time you gave Bucky the whiskey they seemed to have processed what they just saw. Sam looked at you with pity and concern, meanwhile Bucky looked off in the distance, anger radiated off of him in waves. 

“Are they Steve’s?” Sam asked. You simply nodded. 

“I only found out a month or so after the funeral,” You revealed, “I didn’t even know I was going to go through with the pregnancy until the events of Westview happened.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“The less people that know the safer they are,” You explained, “I wanted to tell you.”

“But you didn’t” Bucky chimed in, his voice was shaky and his grip on the glass tightened. 

“They’re the children of the former Captain America and Sargent Steel,” You said, “I have to keep the people who know about them tight and few.”

“Who all knows?” Sam asked. 

“Director Fury, Director Rambaue, Pepper, Strange, Wong-”

“Does your husband know?” Bucky interrupted. Sam looked confused before he noticed the subtle wedding ring on your left hand. 

“Holy shit you got married.” Sam said, astonished. 

“Yes I am,” You confirmed feeling slightly awkward since it only took you this long to realize that you never officially came out to them. 

“My wife knows.” You said vaguely, you see both of the men's eyes widen in shock. Sam recovered faster than Bucky who took another drink from his whiskey. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Sam asked.

“That would be me.” 

You all turn your heads to your wife, still clad in her Scarlet Witch form. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had company you know your lips would be all over her by now. 

She winks your way and you flush. Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know exactly what you were thinking. 

“Hold up,” Sam said, “You married her?!” 

“Yup.” You confirmed as her form sat down next to you and grasped your hand. 

“How long has this been a thing?” Bucky spoke for the first time in a while. 

“Why do you need to know?” Wanda asked, her hand firmly holding yours. Bucky held his hands up in surrender before taking one last swig from his glass. 

“The bottom line is, only Wanda and the rest know, and I guess now you two do as well.” You said. There was a long pause of silence, before Sam spoke. 

“I won’t say anything.” Sam said finally, before nudging Bucky out of his staring spell. 

“Boys,” You call out as you see that they’re about to leave. 

“I truly am sorry you had to find out this way, but I was only doing what I thought would keep them safe, and now that you know you’re free to visit them anytime.... It would be good for them to finally meet their fathers old friends.” You said. You see Sam and Bucky nod, you reach out for a handshake only to be pulled into a firm hug by Sam. 

“I understand Sarg, you only did what you thought was best.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you returned the hug. Bucky still couldn’t look at you. 

You knew that you had broken his trust and you would work on getting it back. You just hoped that whatever grudges he had against you wouldn’t stop him from forming a bond with the kids. 

After Sam lets you go Bucky surprises you with a hug as well, his beefy arms encasing you firmly. 

“We’ll be visiting again soon.” Bucky promises as he lets you go and shakes goes to shake Wanda’s hand. 

“Wait,” You say as Bucky already is making his way to his motorcycle and Sam prepares for flight. 

“Yeah?” Sam replies. 

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” you said, “what brought you guys here?”

Sam paused for a second before replying. 

“I was just flying overhead, Bucky and I got word that there might’ve been an abandoned HYDRA base here but, turned out to be a faulty tip.” Sam said before saying his final goodbyes as he lifts off into the air and Bucky peels out of the driveway. 

“He was lying.” Wanda says, her eyes giving off a faint red glow. 

“I know.” You say, Sam’s pulse jumped when he spoke about the abandoned HYDRA base. You softly grab her hand and bring it to your lips, planting a small peck to the back of it. 

Wordlessly you walked hand in hand with Wanda through the front doors and continued with the regular evening schedule. 

You and Wanda made dinner as the kids helped set the table and talked about the day. The kids asked questions about who the men were and you and Wanda answered as best as you could without giving them the full truth. Which was surprisingly more difficult. Eventually dinner ended and while Wanda got the kids ready for bed it was your turn for dishes. After dishes were washed and rinsed you let them air dry in the rack and went to tuck in the twins with Wanda. 

Wanda and you kissed their heads goodnight and then proceeded to the couch.

Just as you made your way to the couch you noticed Wanda standing still. 

“Wands, what's wrong?” You asked, reaching out to her. 

“Nothing it’s just,” Wanda started as she played with her hands, “I have a bad feeling, like something is about to happen.”

“Come sit on the couch and talk me through it.” You say as you lead her to the well loved couch. You and Wanda sit and immediately fall into the position you always do, her leaning into you and your arm swung around her shoulders. Wanda had long since transformed out of her Scarlet Witch form but she still looked magical to you. Her fiery locks cascading down her dainty shoulders and just a hint of sparkle on her cheeks remained. You felt Wanda give a deep sigh before speaking. 

“I don’t know what it is, it’s not anything deadly but it fills me with dread just the same.” Wanda said with her green hues giving off a faraway look, “something is about to happen and I don’t know what it is.” 

“Whatever happens,” you say, maneuvering her so that way she faces you, “we’ll face it like we’ve done most things. Together.” You press your forehead to hers and let your eyelids flutter shut and Wanda follows suit. 

“Together.” Wanda whispers back as she finally closes the gap between you in a promise like kiss. 

---

---

---

“Buck don’t do this,” Sam tried to stop the centurion. Over the course of six years the two men had grown close and eventually Sam had earned the privilege of calling the taller man Buck. 

“He has the right to know.” Bucky responded, icy eyes focused solely on the communicator that their mutual friend gave them for ‘universe level threat emergencies only’ 

“We promised her we wouldn’t tell anyone Buck.” 

“No,” the Brooklyn man gruffed, “you promised her you wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t promise shit. So don’t worry your pretty little head about breaking your promises.” 

“First off thank you for finally admitting that I’m pretty,” Sam said before attempting to snatch the communicator and failing. “Second off, we should’ve told her the truth from the start. Instead of leaving puzzle pieces to put together.” 

“She had plenty of puzzle pieces. It's not our fault she didn’t put them together.” Bucky said not looking the man in the eye, “He left her a message on the phone and a message in the personal notebook. It’s not ou-” 

“If you’re going to say not our fault again I’m going to slap you.” Sam interrupted. “You know damn well that (Y/n) was as strong as steel, but Nat and Tony’s deaths wore her down, but HE was the breaking point. HE fucked up man, HE has to live with that and THAT’S NOT our job to help him make up for that.” 

Just when Bucky starts to reconsider, the communicator beeped. 

MESSAGE SENT - - - MESSAGE RECEIVED  - - - MESSAGE INBOX (1) 

- ON MY WAY_CSGR

[selfignitingimagines]

Stiles- Meant to Be (Obsessed Part 3)

A/N: Here is part 3 of Obsessed! It’s a big long so I’ve decided to split it into two parts based on your feedback. Thank you to anyone who responded to that post! 

TRIGGER WARNING: Stalking, kidnapping, brief descriptions of attempted sexual assault

Here are the links to part 1 and part 2!!

You woke to the feeling of nausea blooming in your stomach. With a groan, you rolled onto your side, only to realize that your hands were bound. When you opened your eyes, you found that you were lying in a dark room on an unfamiliar bed. 

Confusion washed over you, and when you tried to remember the events of the previous night, there was nothing but a blank spot in your mind. The last thing you knew, you were walking into Lydia’s birthday party with Stiles trailing in front of you. You remembered his crooked smile as he glanced over his shoulder, and then there was nothing. 

You could see sunlight filtering through a pair of gray curtains, so you knew you must have slept through all of last night. You struggled against the duct tape for a few more minutes, but you eventually realized you couldn’t break out of it.

A whimper escaped your lips, but it was muffled by the tape pressed over your mouth. That was when you heard footsteps outside the bedroom door. You closed your eyes quickly, trying to quell your panic. 

You heard the door swing open. The footsteps paused. That was when the sound of a camera shutter cut through the silence. It happened a few more times, and then the bed dipped with the weight of someone else. Warm fingers were suddenly running down your face, stroking your cheek. 

Then the tape over your mouth was pulled off, causing you to flinch in pain. You opened your eyes, knowing you would be unable to hide the fact that you were awake now.

Matt was staring down at you, smiling in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There was something eerie about the look in his blue eyes. 

“I’m sorry I had to trick you,” he murmured. “After we talked, I knew you would never just come with me. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

He had a water bottle in his hand, dripping with condensation. He held it out to you. “You should drink some water. You’re probably dehydrated.”

You glared at him. How stupid did he think you were?

“I didn’t put anything in it this time,” he promised. 

So he had drugged you. You were suspicious, given your lack of memory of the previous night, but you weren’t sure until now. 

“Look,” he said, unscrewing the cap. He took several big gulps and offered the bottle to you once more. 

Finally, you sat up and took the water. It was a little difficult with your hands still taped together, but you drained it in seconds. He was probably right about you being dehydrated. 

He took the empty bottle and tossed it into a black, plastic trash can on the side of the bed. It was then that you really had the chance to look around the room. 

The decor was sleek and modern. There were some art pieces decorating the walls, all of them pictures or paintings of sports cars. There were a couple of lamps, a nightstand, and a desk in the room. The comforter and pillow cases were all a dark grey color. It was then that you realized where you were.

“You brought me to Jackson’s house?” 

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been here before?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Stiles,” he snapped. 

Clearly he didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.

“I had to come here when Jackson and I got partnered up for a project in graphic design class,” you explained. “I remembered cause he’s the only guy who has fifteen pictures of his own car up on the wall.”

Matt smiled. “I like to think I’m humbling him.”

You swallowed. “Yeah, by using him to kill people? Where are his parents anyway? Where is he?”

Matt sighed, and reached out. You flinched back, but he simply placed his hand over yours. He ran his thumb across your skin in a gesture you assumed was meant to be comforting. It wasn’t.

“They’re out of town until next week. He’s downstairs, but it doesn’t really matter, considering he does whatever I want right now.”

Your face contorted his disgust. Matt frowned.

“You don’t understand right now, but all of those people deserved it.” 

He leaned in close, as if the two of you were sharing a secret. “You’re telling me you’ve never wanted anyone dead?”

“I think there’s a big difference between wanting someone dead and actually killing them,” you protested.

Matt tilted his head. “I don’t think so. You’re telling me that you wouldn’t kill that guy who attacked you on the lacrosse field if you had the chance?”

He had to be talking about Peter Hale. It was no secret that you and Lydia almost died at the winter formal, but you wondered if Matt knew the exact details now that he had discovered the supernatural. 

“He’s already dead,” you told him quietly. 

“That’s a shame, because if I could, I’d kill him for you. I’d rip him apart for doing what he did to you.”

He reached up, stroking his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sure what he did left scars.”

You looked down. You didn’t like to think about that night. Peter had almost killed you when you tried to stop him from attacking Lydia. Even so, you felt lucky. You hadn’t made it out with any of the strange behaviors or hallucinations that she seemed to be plagued by. If you had your way, you would pretend it never happened. 

 “You know, I don’t know what you see in Stiles. He was the one who left you there, bleeding.”

You glanced up in shock. There was only one way he could possibly know that. “You were watching.”. 

“I was,” he told you. “I was taking photos for the winter formal. That night was the first time I ever saw you. I wanted to ask you to dance, but you seemed distracted. You were looking for Lydia, but I didn’t know that, so I followed you.”

Your stomach churned at the thought of Matt watching from the shadows. He would have witnessed every bite, every slash of Peter’s claws. He would have been watching as you dug your fingers into the grass while you attempted to get away, breaking your nails in the process.

“So you saw everything?” you whispered. 

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t make it out of the gym in time to see where you walked off to. By the time I found you, you were lying next to Lydia on the lacrosse field. You weren’t moving, and I couldn’t really see the guy who attacked you. His back was turned, but I could see Stiles was with him. And then he just left you there.”

“He had to,” you insisted. “Peter threatened to kill us if he didn’t leave with him.”

 Matt let out a short laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself? You think Stiles is this big hero, but I was the one who saved you that night.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you told him.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked incredulously. “I was the one who called 911. I thought you were dead when I ran over, but you weren’t. I held your hand. I waited with you while the ambulance came, and you opened your eyes and looked at me before you passed out again. That’s when I knew that we were meant to be together.”

You swallowed. The thought of Matt being there as you bled out on the field, and then deciding to stalk you for months because of it sent another wave of nausea through you. Had he really been watching you for that long?

“Y/n?” Matt asked. “Are you-”

Before he could finish, you leaned over and vomited into the trashcan next to Jackson’s bed. Matt reached forward and swept your hair back and out of your face, but the feel of his hands on your neck just made your skin crawl. 

It reminded you of the time you and Stiles had gotten drunk with Scott in the woods after Allison had broken up with him. You had thrown up in the bushes as Stiles held your hair back. You remembered the comfort of his hand on your back and how he told you that you didn’t have to be embarrassed, that everyone got sick from drinking at least once. 

Matt’s hands were the opposite of comforting. All they did was remind you that you were stuck with him. 

When you finished throwing up, Matt guided you into the bathroom. He pulled out a pocket knife and cut off the tape around your wrists. He leaned against the door frame, probably intending to watch you, but you looked back at him. “Can I just have a second alone? Please?”

Matt seemed a little hurt, but he nodded and shut the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, you let the tears spill from your eyes. You washed your mouth out in the sink and then took a swig of Jackson’s mouth wash. 

When you were finished, you kept the sink running, hoping it would be able to cover up the sound of you crying. You wiped your face, over and over, but you couldn’t help it. The tears just kept flowing and the more you thought about it, the more scared you became. 

You wondered where Scott and Stiles were. You had no doubt they knew you were missing by now and were trying to find you. You just weren’t sure if they would be able to.

------

“So this kid’s the real killer...and you think he took Y/n?”

Stiles looked back at Scott before answering his dad. The three of them were in Stiles’ bedroom, examining one of the old Beacon Hills Highschool yearbooks he had resting on his desk. A picture of Matt was on one of the pages below, circled several times in red sharpie. 

“Yeah.”

Sheriff Stilinski stared down at it for a few moments. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“Yes!” Stiles insisted. 

“No.”

“Dad, come on!” Stiles protested, jumping out of his desk chair. “Everyone knows the police look for ways to connect victims in a murder, okay? So, like, all they have to do is look through their transcripts and figure out which class they all had in common.”

“Yeah, except for the fact that the rave promoter, Cara, wasn’t in Harris’ class.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Alright, okay, you’re right, sorry. So I guess they just drop the charges against him?”

His father glared at him. “No, you know what? They’re not dropping the charges, but that doesn’t prove anything. And no one saw Y/n being taken. I mean, no one even saw her and Matt together last night.”

Stiles opened his mouth to continue, but the Sheriff cut him off. “Scott, do you believe this?”

Scott nodded. “It’s really hard to explain how we know this, but you just gotta trust us. We know it’s Matt.”

“Yeah, he took Harris’ car,” Stiles insisted. “He knew that if a cop found tire tracks at one of the murders and that if enough of the victims were in Harris’ class, they’d arrest him!”

“Alright, fine. I’ll allow the remote possibility, but give me a motive for the murders. I mean, why would this kid want most of the 2006 swim team and its coach dead?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Stiles asked. “Our swim team sucks! They haven’t won in like six years...okay, we don’t have a motive yet. I mean come on, does Harris? Plus, the guy’s a total creep. He has to have Y/n. He was stalking her. And if they can arrest him, they can find her.”

The Sheriff nodded solemnly. “What do you want me to do?”

“We need to look at the evidence,” Scott told him. 

“Yeah, that would be in the station...where I no longer work.”

“Trust me. They’ll let you in,” Stiles said. 

“Trust you?” his dad repeated. 

Stiles pursed his lips. “Trust...trust Scott?”

His dad looked back and forth between them. 

“Scott I trust.”

------

You sat on Jackson’s bed, hugging your knees as the credits from another old movie ran across the screen. This one was Jaws.

While Matt was holding you hostage in Jackson’s room, he insisted that the two of you have a classic movie marathon, since Jackson’s parents had quite the collection. You had already made it through Casablanca, The Exorcist, and It’s a Wonderful Life.

It was dark outside by now, and Matt got up to pick another movie from the stack sitting on the nightstand. 

“Now this is one of the best,” he told you, holding the DVD case up for you to see. 

It had an old, creepy looking house on the front of it. The title read Psycho in bold white letters.

Fitting, you thought to yourself.

You honestly weren’t sure if you could stand another second cooped up in the room with Matt. He had been sitting next to you for hours, pointing out all the little nuances in each movie. If you were in a different situation, you might have been happy to learn why these movies were considered classics. Being forced to watch them while you were held hostage seemed to take all the excitement out of it. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to take a bite out of the pizza Matt ordered, though you hadn’t had anything to eat since last night. 

You had actually considered screaming for help when the pizza guy arrived, but Matt had already thought of that. He made Jackson wait with you upstairs while he went to the door, and he kept a clawed hand at your throat, squeezing just hard enough that you couldn’t make a sound. 

“Can we go outside?” you asked Matt suddenly. 

“You haven’t even touched your pizza,” he complained. 

He gestured to the paper plate sitting on the comforter. It had been sitting there long enough that grease was beginning to soak into it.

“I’m not hungry. I think I need some air. Can we please go outside?”

Matt thought for a moment. At first, you thought he might agree. Your hopes were dashed when he got up from the bed. “I’ll just open a window for you.”

“Fine,” you muttered. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back against the pillows. You were exhausted, but you were too afraid to go to sleep. Your head was pounding, and you were weak from the lack of food in your stomach. 

Matt smiled as you reached for the paper plate and finally started to eat. You ignored him as best you could. Halfway through Psycho, Matt’s eyes started to droop.

You felt a flutter of hope as you realized he was falling asleep. You closed your own eyes, hoping he would let his guard down. When you felt his body slump back against the pillows, you opened your eyes again. He began to snore softly.

You waited a few more minutes until you were sure he was sleeping soundly. That was when you rose from the bed and moved toward the open window. Thankfully, Jackson had no screens over the windows. His house was two stories high, but you were willing to risk breaking something if it meant getting away from Matt. If you rolled off the roof and tucked in your limbs, you might make it out unscathed. 

You were just starting to pull yourself through the window when you heard the bed creak behind you. You froze. 

“Y/n, no!”

You threw yourself through the window and out onto the sloping roof, but Matt’s hand locked around your ankle. You screamed as he started to drag you back inside, grasping desperately at the window pane. One of his hands came around to cover your mouth, muffling your cries.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Matt snarled. He grabbed a handful of your hair and yanked you back through the window. 

You whimpered as he tossed you onto the carpet. You scrambled back on your hands and knees, but he grabbed you by the throat and dragged you up to your feet. He walked you backward, slamming you against the wall. 

The back of your head hit the plaster, causing you to see white for a moment. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he screamed in your face. “What were you gonna do?! Jump off the roof?! You could have broken your leg, or-or your neck! You want to leave me that bad?!”

When he said that last part, his voice seemed to change. It dropped what seemed like ten octaves, and he almost sounded like he wasn’t human for a second.

His face was bright red as he screamed at you. His fingers were digging into your neck so forcefully that you knew there was going to be a bruise.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tears were streaming down your face, and you were shaking. You weren’t sure what Matt was going to do to you, but then his face softened. 

“Hey. Hey, don’t cry, Y/n. I’m sorry.”

His fingers left your throat, and you collapsed onto the ground, still sobbing. He lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, but you couldn’t stop shaking. You wouldn’t look at him. You were too afraid of what you would see in his icy blue eyes. 

“Y/n, please look at me,” he begged. 

You closed your eyes. 

“Look at me!” he ordered.

Finally you did. To your surprise, he was crying too. He reached up, cupping your cheek with his palm. “I’m sorry. I don’t ever want to hurt you like that again. You just scared me.”

You were silent, terrified that if you said the wrong thing it might set him off again. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Y/n,” he murmured. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

He traced your jaw with his thumb. Your face was still flushed from crying, and there were still undried tears dripping down your cheeks. Matt tenderly wiped them away, but you still flinched at his touch. 

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he whispered. 

Says the psycho who kidnapped me, you wanted to shout, but all you could do was sit there. 

“Tell me you’re not afraid of me,” he begged. “Tell me that you love me too.”

“I...I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you.” 

Your voice was so soft that he barely heard you. 

“You do?”

“I do,” you lied. 

He smiled, and cupped your face in his hands as he leaned in to kiss you. You felt your stomach sinking when he pressed his lips against yours. You had played into his fantasy, but you weren’t sure you had any choice. 

He placed one hand against your lower back, pressing you closer. You felt like you could barely get a breath in, and you were growing dizzy. 

Then he moved forward, laying you down on the carpet. You pushed back, but he reached down to pin your wrists onto the ground. 

“Matt, wait-”

“It’s okay,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Matt, stop. Plea-”

His mouth was back on yours, cutting you off. He ran one hand down your hip, and his fingers grasped the hem of your dress. He was pushing it up your thighs. 

You panicked, glancing around to see if there was any possible way you could break out of his hold.

That was when you noticed the bottom of his t-shirt riding up. His stomach was exposed, but there was something wrong with it. Instead of smooth, pale skin, it was a dark, brownish green. It looked textured.

“What’s wrong with your stomach?” you gasped. 

“What?”

Matt drew back and lifted up his shirt. When he looked down at his side, he found that it was partially covered in dark green scales, exactly like the Kanima’s. 

“W-what is that?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” you admitted. You took the opportunity to sit up and readjust your dress with trembling fingers.

“Who would know?” he demanded. “Scott? Stiles?”

“I’m not sure,” you told him. “The Argents, maybe. They’ve got this book, it’s like a history of mythical creatures or something. It’s called a bestiary. Scott knows more about it than I do.”

“A bestiary?” he repeated.

You nodded. Your shoulders sagged in relief as you realized Matt was too preoccupied with himself to try and touch you again. You weren’t sure what was happening to him, but whatever it was had bought you some time. 

“I need to get that book,” he muttered to himself. “We need to find your brother.”

[smoll-ratt]

Dr.Junkenstein X Maid!Reader

Part Five:

——————————————————————————

While laying in your sleep you began to stir. A headache began to fall upon you and you softly opened your eyes before they rolled back into their sockets. Taking a deep breath you turned onto your back and sighed, gently stretching your legs as an attempt to find comfort. You swam inside the cloths that kept you warm as a chill crept it's way up your torso. It was an uncomfortable and unwelcoming sensation, as if  the very hands of death were holding onto you, caressing your body.

There was a light tug at your leg and you stirred with a murmur. Then followed another tug, more aggressive than the first. In a daze you stretched your arm to cover your leg, but came to find that the soft touch of your blanket was nowhere to be found. Your tried again, annoyed and on your back, searching both sides of your frame with your eyes still shut. The dark shadows of strain and decay travelled further up your leg and pulled once again with such forces that you were physically dragged down to the end of your bed. You gasped in the dark, shooting straight up with your struggling eyes, but with nothing to see, and a headache most painful, you fell back asleep.

There was a fog during the night, traveling through any crevasse it could slither through, stalking the halls for prey and dancing in the gardens before the sun began to rise. As much as you have slept in discomfort, the king did so as well. Almost knowingly aware of the stressor who had snuck their way through the castle walls.

The morning that followed was grey and crisp with cold air. Giant clouds of melancholy rolled over the sun and casted a harsh white light as they dominated the sky. A gloom was presently beginning to set before a dreadful winter would take its place with a slow shift of seasons where the leaves took their time to show it. Long before baring their place of home they blessed a sight of reds and yellows against the harsh monotones of the day. It was the sound of mourning doves which began to wake the people of the land and a stray ray of sunlight that woke you. In the middle of the room, closer to the door, the other maids dressed and chatted amongst themselves as you sat up in bed. Briefly one of the maids looked at you as you searched for the blanket which had gone missing through the night. Amongst the other beds in the room all other blankets remained tucked in nicely, but on top of the sick frame of the maid you've been caring for, laid your warm blanket cruelly resting there. That morning and for the proceeding three days.

"Don't be bothered, the ma'm is sick." One of the maids called out. "No one else wanted to give up their blanket."

"I can see that." You responded.

"Can you now? Don't get smart here, just ready up already for the day."

The maid shared a look with another and continued to brush her hair as you sat your old white gown.

You listened to the orders given out that morning by a maid with chestnut hair in braids wrapping around the bottom of her head and in place for her white cap. Her voice was low and modulated as she spoke to her gathering. You thought back on the sick woman resting behind everyone at the opposite side of the room. Barely motionless with no change in comparison to when she began taking the medicine you've given her. A steady, slow recovery, and fading fever.

"Anything not assigned means you'll continue yesterday's work as perusal. Lena, Amelie, and myself will be assisting rounds in the castle alongside the laundry maids."

You fiddled with the sleeves of your uniform, adjusting it so the sleeves fit nicely on top of the under layer added to combat the weather.

"Eventually we'll need travels to the fair and work in the gardens. Y/N instead of caring for the women return back anon and join those in the gardens nearby."

You gave a silent nod as a reply without turning your attention away from your sleeve.

Many gardens were hidden within the castle walls, unique to its custom design. The main court yard was what you could see out of the castle from the servants area opposite to the hall you were walking upon. Beyond that; stairs, much like the one you hated, stretched up into a hall - officially part of the castle on the left side of the garden.

Once venturing through the castle, down the decorative halls aligned with glorious overpowering windows sided with thick solid curtains, pass the familiar throne room, and ball room dorned in glistening objects, would one arrive to a series of doors. Libraries, studies, and most importantly guest rooms guarded by rich cherry wood.

Then there is a return to those stairs which mainly separated the two sections of the castle. The main castle and the servant living quarters.

As the main castle had one large garden outside of the ballroom with a small division of another -separated by a flowered arch- the extension of the castle and servant area had several less intricate gardens. They held their beauty satisfying yourself and the other maids who enjoyed the gardens' minimal beauty but they didn't amount to the glory outside of the ballroom.

You yawned passing the kitchen hearing a brief commotion as they began breakfast for the king and a tiny squeak as a little thing darted passed your feet. Down the hall, the torch by the scientist's door was out and remained dark.

To your left you entered the garden space. A large rectangular plot of land where the grey light in the sky blinded you momentarily. A few maids were already working on some rose bushes as others trickled in from behind you. Instead of cleaning up some sticks blown over from the wind last night or trimming some hedges by the benches seated at both ends of the garden, you sat in the middle of garden where smaller flowers were being planted and weeded.

"These aren't going to survive long" you pointed out to the gardening maid. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"The rose bushes is where you should help." She waved her gloved hand at you.

"Very well, but it's getting colder and-" she cut you off with another wave.

The roses stared at you with sad dry petals, begging for forgiveness. The greens of their leaves curled and the only thing barley standing was the sharp thorns out against you as weeds peered out from the roses' base. You sighed.

You lifted one of the weeds for a better look and it pricked you with tiny thorns of its own. In continuing your work you discovered how deep the root of the weeds went, entangling themselves with the roots of the roses.

You dug your hands in the hearts of the weeds as a crow above head screeched.

All other maids in the garden looked up at the passing bird as you continued your work. The thorns, sharp and cold as both plants, dotted your hands. Scrapping your nails loaded with the uncomfortable sensation of dirt under them, the dirt rejected you, numbing the movement of your fingers. There was a strange feeling of nostalgia that came from the numbing pain in your hands. Picking at the ground while unknowingly listening to the older women who cared for you, shaming you in secret for not being capable to help around the castle. It was a memory or memoric sense after the events at the stairs where the unnerving presence of that women followed you through the twisted stair case. After you were pushed and shoved around in the hall as well. Sitting in the garden like now, you were planting small white flowers you didn't know the name to. The soil was also just as unwelcoming as it was now. You're throat dried at the memory.

There was crows above head calling that day, much like today. The maids ignored it then with a few muttered comments you couldn't quiet make out.

What was it they said?

It had been disapproving. A curse to someone.

Now all the women glared at the black bird as it landed behind you. The bird kept crying.

You swiped a tear from your face with your sleeve. You fought to remember that day. As you plucked the weeds your hands held themselves to close to the roses and a thorn etched itself into your skin. You raised your hand in the air, shaking it as a response to the sting but kept attending to the weeds. As if the deep cut signaled an acceptance to the scratched pain you continued aggressively, ignoring the thorns that kept digging into your skin. After creating a large hole you found the base of the plant. Tugging at it, you remembered when you were younger and had reached what you wanted to plant those white flowers.

When you had placed the small flowers and could feel something else aside from yourself move in the earth.

You patted the soil on top, closing the hole at the bottom of the roses and could still feel the rumbling and small vibration of something definitely moving through. For a closer look you leaned in to see the soil break, revealing a set of fingers. A hand reached out and grabbed your own hand which resided by the flowers. You screamed out, falling back at the horror with your heart racing in your ears.

You tore the weed from the soil and tossed it to the side, panting. You reached back but instead of your skin catching itself in its thorns the fabric of your sleeve held you back. You tugged and pulled at the roses until the same hand grabbed your wrist, it's flesh as cold as ice. Frantically you shook your arm but the hand pulled you in. Through the thorns, deep into the bush you were forced to see a face emerge out. Her eyes opened and you screamed again, freeing yourself and falling back onto someone else.

"Y/N!"

You stared at the face melting back into the rose bush as the murder's wings above head sounded almost directly beside you. In a distance, your name was called out again but the piercing dazed eyes of the bush stared back. Holding an opaque blue, you could see a slow movement of smoke dancing within them. The face sank in slowly and the thorns dragged on its skin drawing the deepest blood you have seen.

"Y/N" the maid called out again, grabbing at you arm and pulling you up. "Y/N you damn wench pay attention to me! Can't you hear me?" She dragged you to your feet and slapped your arm repeatedly, but as you were still in shock you paid no attention until she slapped you across your face.

The world fell silent once the slap of her hand grazed across your face with an echo. You could feel the gaze of the other maids working in the garden. From where the maid had hit you a stinging sensation arose. She held onto both of your arms but what she proceeded yelling at you was unclear. Your ears rang and the maid began to shake you. Before she could say anymore and react to your silent response you pushed her back. As she walked back to you with another raised hand you pushed her again with a following punch.

Now your knuckles stung and the world began to make a sound again. The ringing in your ears was slowly replaced with the yells of the other workers. The maid who stood with the one you had hit rushed up to you before you could continue to fight the one on the ground. She looked up at you with a snarl and pulled herself up. The maid intervening stood in front of you with her hands raised in protest. 

"Y/N" she called out as you tried to catch your breath. "Y/N, we needed you with the king!" As the other maids helped the one on the ground, with you, they stopped at the mention. "We need more help within the castle and need to have a conversation before an announcement was made. You weren't responding, you never  answer to Amelie. What is wrong with you?"

"She hit me."

"Because you were dreaming off again and scaring everyone. I understand you're strange, all the maids do, but Amelie is bleeding, look at your hand!" The maid grabbed the wrist of your aching hand before tossing it to the side. You looked around you and the entire garden had their eyes locked. You began to protest shakingliy with the staggered murmurs of "but " as you tried to recollect yourself.

Looking at your hands again in a confused daze you gained an odd sense of familiarity, not of the situation, but of the sight of blood on your hands.

They've hit you before, you acknowledge now. A forgotten history of some ill treatment.

You wiped your hands on your gown, hiding the stains of blood in its brown color.

"What does the king want?" You asked.

Amelie stood in front of you, annoyed and in pain. The other maids tended back to their business,  lending one ear out in case of anymore drama.

"There's plans for a celebration for the upcoming harvest. All the maids are to be involved but for the time being just a few. You, are needed to give updates about the madam."  She began leading the way down the wall of your work space to the second set of stairs in the area, parallel to the scientist's end of the hall way.

"I spoke out about how I've shared some of the care for our beloved madam but they still wish for you to be present."

Amelie groaned as the second maid assisted her up the stairs.

"I've mention that I've assisted myself, but there's more to it."

As you entered down a small hall that still held an outlook to the garden you were previously in, the three of you entered the castle officially once passing three smaller steps and the entrance of a gated door. The harshness of the grey light lit up the acoustic halls, emphasized by the echoing steps, as the grey light poured in similarly to the way rays of sun do without the golden colour. Inside this little bit of the castle the cold air trailed along behind you from the gated door. Now out sight or ear range from the others the second maid turned back at you for a quick look.

"We need a report from the doctor."

"And as you've been so kind to relieve the burden of stepping in his deranged space you can understand why we're turning to you-"

"As you fancy him and all," Amelie slapped the girl's shoulder with a laugh of her own. "Don't be so cruel," she insisted as you responded with an uncertain chuckle of your own while recollecting the encounters in your head.

You remembered the first instance you've seen him and how you felt. There was soft curiosity dwindling in the background until you had heard the miss matched steps of his missing leg. Your heart beat began pounding against your chest with an intensity that only rose when hearing the rejection from others. How carelessly they dismissed him as a character in a story told to scare one another. He presented an opportunity to really push the kingdom forward with time and the anger he possessed infested yourself. A passionate anger which correlated with appropriately attractive sharp features.

The curious thought of whether or not what the maids had said was right followed you throughout the castle as they continued to explain other preparation details until eventually they conversed amongst themselves only. With yourself outside of the conversation you  pondered on the idea until it was interrupted by the thundering bellied laugh of the king. You had known you had returned to the throne room where you had first seen the scientist when you heard the king and felt a busied energy that breathed life then what actually stood.  As you wouldn't converse with the king directly, you and the two other maids walked along the scene's edge to a man in dark brown clothing standing in the corner with a scrolled book at hand.

"Wynston, Y/N as requested."

"Ah yes, thank you," he read through his book again. You scanned the man again taking in his appearance, dark hair and beard, tidy brown fabrics, and polished shoes. He was of thicker stature, built surprisingly of muscle and fat that may be better fitted or common with the knights. Especially those of tired experience. Never once had you been this close to the man or address directly with importance, but due to your age it had been a matter of time for you to be brought up more. Still this, you betted, would be the minim of involvement.

"How is Mina progressing with her illness?" You eye the two maids. Amelie scowled.

"Slowly."  You responded.

"I assumed Jamison is not needed if you have control over it and the housemai-"

"Jamison?"

"Yes, Jamison."

The man continued his dialogue about the elder maid and a usual routine expected to take place to care for her until a dire instant calls to grab the scientist who now had a name.

'Jamison ' you thought, awe founded.

"For the harvest there'll be guests from a far staying in the company of his majesty so a division among the maids will be needed as well as isolation from Mina and those caring for her. I originally placed you three with Aria in care for Mina, but I can switch the positions between Aria and Amelie around," he turned to her, ripping a page from his book. "I'll have you in charge with Aria in creating some of the division amongst the appropriate classes. For now here is what I have arranged, tweak as fit."

"Y/N remains with Mina." Amelie spoke aloud as if to offend you secretly by keeping you at a distant from the party.

"Yes that's what I have written." Wynston reassured while distracted by another in need of his attention. "Y/N before its forgotten, what are the details with Mina?"

"Fever remains but she regained some colour. Can't actually tell if she's better at first glance,"

"Good. I'll need a report,"

"The girls informed me." You spoke out now with an internal desperation to see the scientist again.

"Then I'll leave you to your duties then and have you continue with the plans."

Wynston left the three of you and you followed the maids around as they discussed the given sheet of paper. You had half expected to remain with the sick maid and distant from the event as Amelie knew of your one incident with the stairs and mysterious guest. She had poked fun of you multiple times before after finding you pale and shaking. Then you thought back about the scientist's remark about the maids.

"Y/N, I don't believe Mina has received her turn of medicine. I was left to track that as Aria went to town. She said to mix the medicine with a soup as a trick remedy to lessen the taste."

You nodded and parted ways, relief to be alone and process what you had learned. You felt a strange disconnection almost always throughout your life in a comforting sense. A feeling of displacement but passing peace where moments like this, knowing his name as if it was a dark secret, grounded you. This state of mind drove you back into the throne room where the king still laughed with his order of chivalry; made out of a woman quiet liked by the kingdom, her father (the shortest person you may have ever seen) charged with constructing knights armour and weapons, and a male, age shown by his greying hair.

Heading through Wynston's exit you found yourself by the extended hall of rooms, armoury, and library just before the stairs of terror to the kitchen. You paused for a moment, peaking your head in to an empty labyrinth of books.

'Jamison' you thought.

You knew the library held a record of names to every soul that made up the kingdom. An archive of dates and ends, and locations of homes too. Maneuvering you're way through, you reached some wooden tables centred in the middle of the numerous shelves that exceeded your height. Three of them stood as two sectioned off to the side for privacy with crafted chairs waiting to seat you. On the third table, furthest from you and leading to the back of library, laid a book already open for your viewing and a chair pushed to the side. Unknown to yourself the scientist you were searching for had scurried moments prior before you could've caught sight of him. Though you hadn't known then that he was, there a suspicion which arose as you sat down and sworn to hear some movement behind the shelves away from you.

Turning the pages of the book you began reading the listed names. You expected all names were truly of belonging of those outside the walls as the only ones you could recognize were of those you encounter regularly, both personally and through others. Passing through the pages the order of chivalry caught your eyes:

'Brigitte, Torbjorn, Jack...'

Then the listed names of the maids:

‘Mina, Aria, Amelie, Lena, Hana ..."

Strangely as you reached the end of the list of recorded maids you noticed that you're  name wasn't listed.

You continued to turned the next page, eyebrow raised. The kitchen staff were listed, gardeners, outside help, all but yourself. As you examined the book closer you noted 'Jamison Junkenstein' wasn't listed amongst the villagers either. Turning the final pages, past a space saved for new birth, you came across you're own name imprinted on a thinner page separated from the rest by the remains of a ripped page.

Your first name was written in a different style of cursive , alone, with a start date and frighteningly an end date.

'Y/N……….1204-1209’

Stepping away in bewildered confusion, you heard the sound of a book falling on the carpeted ground. Turning behind you saw that there was nothing there and returned to the book. About two other thin pages proceeded the one with your name but they were left blank with no other name to read.

1204-1209

Another thump in the library caused you to snap back behind you to see the source of the sound. The aisle behind you again laid empty. Another sound and you froze, waiting to hear what would come next. Slowly, you made your way to the back and aisle beside your left and there laid a book fallen on the ground.

Picking it up, it read of some farm land on the outskirts of the village outside of the castle. You placed the book back in it's vacant spot on the shelf and walked to the next aisle where another book laid. As you stretched back up from retrieving the book you saw a glimpse of white and finally heard the muffle sounds of miss matched steps. With eyes wide of realization you ran in the same direction it fled. Each end you've reached you seen the same white turn the corner and raced to catch up.

"Jamison?" You called out. Your heart began to run down each aisle of books as they grew longer. "Jamison?" You called out again and the muffled steps stopped. You found yourself lost in a labyrinth of books. Not once did you come across the table again and as you looked around you realized you have lost your complete sense of direction. Walking down one more aisle the sound of steps and fabric rubbing against itself picked up and this time you caught the glimpse of the scientist's purple glove as he ran off. Out in a sprint you fought to catch up, calling out his name repeatedly. With one last push you turned one final corner and could hear the man's breathing, even a giggle of sorts. But as you sped around the corner you met the ends of two shelves and a blank wall. Dr. Junkenstien was gone.

The library untwisted itself and you found yourself not far from where you started. The book still laid open but away from your name and at the end of the chivalry's list, now short due to a newly ripped page. You grabbed the book and proceeded to place it back into a vacant spot on the shelf where another one, above the shelf you had placed your book, stood. Wether or not Junkenstien had taken it was a mystery to you as you would've heard his steps behind you from the table if he had.

——————————————————————————

                You thought about the library while gazing into the bowl of soup back in the maid chambers as your patient laid fast asleep, a bit of her spit still sliding it's way down your cheek.

How was it possible to have been lost so suddenly and out of breathe despite moving a few feet away from the book?

You were sure you had seen the scientist too.

This curious thought continued as you tried to sleep. Turned to your side you brain ache to solve the mess you had found. Your name was missing as part of the maids. If it had been scribed it should've been with a last name you've never heard of or the name attached to your estranged mother. Similar to Aria, a daughter also taken instead of birthed. Her's was written with the same ends of Mina.

Still, your name remained alone. There was something about each letter on the page that resonated with you.

It is your name.

You turned to your other side, facing away from the other maids. While staring at the wall you tried to remember your childhood within the castle walls and with time your eyes began to grow heavy. You could hear and feel the beat of your own heart, and the deep breathes of the other women in the room. You could hear the candle left by the empty soup bowl and the wind just outside. With enough effort you could even hear footsteps approaching the room,  and on que, through the darkness and with your squinted eyes, you could see some movement at the bottom of the wall.

Little bits of stone fell out of place to reveal a small tuff of white fur. A rat squeaked it's way out and smelt the air, scurrying off in the dark and leaving you with a smile. You pondered at the newly made hole and returned to the question from before, coming to a conclusion that maybe you do fancy the scientist after all.

——————————————————————————-

[moon-light-jukebox]

Our boy - [Reid x Reader]

Summary: Spencer Reid is anything but calm when his wife, reader, goes into labor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Wholesome AF

Word Count: 2.3k

Category: Pure fluff. Maybe some angst if you squint, just because childbirth is angsty.

Content Warning: None that I can think of.

A/n: This is just a quick little idea that popped into my head earlier. I wrote it all in one go. We don’t get enough Dad!Spencer. 😊 Reader’s labor was inspired by true events. 

y/n = your name. italicized block of text is a flash back.

-- Our boy -- 

“Babe, you have got to calm down.” I didn’t even bother opening my eyes to look at my husband; I was too tired.

His voice was as close to a squawk as I have ever heard. “I am calm, y/n!” That had me cracking one eye open to stare at him, which caused him to huff out a short laugh. “Okay, maybe I’m not calm. But how can I be calm?” His beautiful brown eyes were swimming with worry. “This has taken such a long time, and you’re so tired. The doctor said things haven’t been progressing.”

“Oh, come on, doctor,” I said teasingly. “I’m sure that big brain of yours knows that it’s not uncommon for first time mothers to labor for a long time.”

“But it’s been thirty hours,” he protested.

“I’m aware. Talk to your son.” I pointed to my very large stomach. “This is his show.”

That caused him to smile, the first real smile I had seen on his face since he arrived here, about an hour after I did. We knew this was coming, I was overdue, our son choosing to stay inside my body for 41 weeks and 6 days. The doctors had said if I hit 42 weeks that we needed to discuss inducing labor. Because of that conversation, Spencer wasn’t with the rest of the team, they were on some case in god knows where, instead he was helping at headquarters with Penelope. The same woman I had called when my water broke. I wanted to call Spencer, I really did…but my husband is prone to overact, especially in situations like this.

Turns out calling Penelope wasn’t any better.

--

“Hello, Mrs. Dr. Reid!” she had chirped.

“Hi Penelope. Is my husband around?”

“He is with the second love of his life.”

Which meant he had made a coffee run. I laughed, despite the pain rippling across my stomach. “Okay, well, I need you to pull him away for the first love of his life. My water just broke.”

There was a beat of silence before the screaming started. “YOUR WHAT JUST WHAT?!”

Just at that moment I heard him in the background. “Garcia,” my husband said. “Who’s what did what?”

“Penelope, be-“

It was no use; she had already started screaming at him. “YOUR WIFE! YOUR SON IS TRYING TO EXIT HER LADY BUSINESS! WE HAVE TO GO!!”

They then promptly hung up, only to call back a few minutes later and ask which hospital I was at.

--

There was a knock on the door, drawing me out of my memories. “Mrs. Reid?” the doctor called before walking into the room. She was a short woman with curly grey hair; Spencer and I had never met her before, she was just the doctor on call, but something about her demeanor put me at ease.

I gave her a wan smile. “Hey Doc.”

She marched into the room them, no nonsense to be found; which was unfortunate, I was a very big fan of nonsense as perfectly highlighted by the man I chose to marry. “Mrs. Reid, I need to check to see where you’re at,” she said, already snapping on her gloves.

“Knock yourself out.” At a certain point during labor modesty just vanishes. I don’t even want to think about how many people have seen my vagina today.

I felt some pressure for a few seconds before she pulled back. “You’re still at 5 centimeters.”

This comment got a groan from my husband. “But she has to get to 10!”

“I’m aware, Dr. Reid.”

“She’s been in labor for 30 hours and 23 minutes and 16 seconds!”

“I am also aware of that, Dr. Reid,” she said, suppressing a smile. “Which is why we need to have a little chat.” She turned to me. “Mrs. Reid, I’m concerned about the baby.”

That caused mine and Spencer’s spines to stiffen. “What,” I asked. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“Not yet,” the doctor said hurriedly. “We have been monitoring your contractions and vitals…but we also monitor the baby’s heartrate. It’s nothing to be too alarmed about now, but his heartrate has slowed a bit.”

“But what does that mean? Is he in destress?” My husband asked; he sounded so afraid that I instinctively reached out to grasp his hand.

“It means he’s tired, Dr. Reid.” She offered us a small smile. “Mrs. Reid isn’t the only one going through this. The baby is too. Like I said, it’s not low enough to be an issue now, but if it drops much lower, we need to discuss other options.”

“…he’s tired?” my voice cracked on the last word, tears already pricking in the corners of my eyes.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered, leaning over to place a kiss on my temple. “It’s alright.”

I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s not alright. He’s my baby, Spencer. He’s our baby,” I all but bawled at him. “Our baby is tired.” I’m sure one day I’ll look back at this moment and feel silly for how upset I had become…but I was so tired, and while the epidural numbed the pain, I still felt it. All of that I could endure, but I couldn’t endure this.

“I know,” he soothed. “But he’s fine. He’s okay.”

“I want to discuss other options,” I said, meeting the doctor’s gaze. “What are they?”

The doctor nodded, “Well, we could start a Pitocin IV. That’s a medicine we use to-“

“Cause the uterus to contract and speed up or induce labor,” Spencer interrupted, causing me to laugh, despite my tears. Even in times like this he was still…Spencer.

The doctor did not share in my amusement. “Yes,” she huffed. “That is one option. It runs the same risks, if his heartrate drops, we’ll need to move you to the O.R.” I gulped and Spencer squeezed my hand. “The other option is to take you back to the O.R. now.”

I looked over at Spencer, his eyes were wide and frightened, his always messy, curly hair was in a worse state than usual, his clothes were wrinkled. “I want our boy, Spence.”

He just nodded, bringing our joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to my knuckles. “It’s up to you, y/n. You know I’ll support whatever you want.”

Spencer gave me the courage to turn to face the doctor. “Let’s do it.”

--

Things progressed very quickly and very slowly at the same time. The room started bustling with different people doing different things to get me ready. Spencer called Penelope, who called the rest of his team, who were now all in the waiting room. How much Spencer’s co-workers at the FBI cared about him made me smile; they were his family, and by extension my family. Our little boy was going to be the most well looked after child in history.

Before I knew it, I was laying on my back in the operating room, a blue sheet put up just below my boobies. Apparently, most people didn’t want to watch themselves have a c-section. I couldn’t but laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

“What is it, my love?”

I turned my head to look at Spencer. His clothes were covered by some sort of yellow outfit, his hair was stuffed in one of those blue hat’s hospitals make you wear, I’m sure he could tell me the proper name, even his shoes were covered. One of his hands was gripping mine, the other slowly stroking the top of my head.

“I was just thinking about everything. Remember when we met?”

I realized how silly it was to ask a man with an eidetic memory if he remembered something right after I said it, something with which he agreed, given the look on his face. “Yes, y/n, I remember.” His hand squeezed mine tightly. “It was a Tuesday morning, at 7:34 a.m. You had on black pants and a light blue top, you didn’t notice me, but I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”

That caused a tear to slide down from the corner of my eye, only to be wiped away by my husband. “I didn’t notice you because you were in line behind me,” I teased.

“That’s no excuse,” he insisted. “I would notice you anywhere.”

That made my heart squeeze in my chest. “I must be pretty special,” I surmised. “I pulled your attention away from coffee.”

His voice was breathy, his eyes shimmering. “You’re the most special thing in the entire world, y/n. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I don’t know how I got the courage to speak to you when you walked by me, but I’ll be grateful that I did it for the rest of my life.”

It was my turn to reach up and wipe a tear from his face. “I’m glad you stopped me,” I whispered. “Our little guy probably is too.”

Spencer didn’t laugh like I expected him to; instead he bit his lip, his eyes bouncing from my face to the blue curtain that separated us from the doctors.

“What is it, baby?”

He swallowed, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m scared, y/n,” he whispered. “I’m afraid that I won’t be any good at this. I never had a dad…What if I’m not everything he needs me to be?”

I felt my heart crack in half. “Spencer, that’s not possible,” I insisted, ignoring the way he started to shake his head. “You could never let anyone down, especially not your family. Especially not your son. You are going to be the most amazing father. You’re going to love our son so much; you already do love him that much, Spence.”

He was crying in earnest now. “But, y/n,”

Spencer never got to finish that sentence. The doctor suddenly interrupted our hushed conversation. “Okay, dad,” she called. “Here he comes!”

My husband placed a kiss on my forehead before he stood up, looking over the curtain. He had insisted beforehand that he wasn’t going to look; he said he didn’t want to see me like that, but I knew he’d end up looking. My husband was far too curious to do anything else.  

A shrill cry cut through the air, causing my heart to stop. That was him. I had never heard him cry before, but I knew that sound as sure as I knew my own name; that was my son.

Spencer and I were crying when the doctor brought him around the curtain so I could see him. He was wrinkly, red, and looked positively furious. I had never loved anything more.

They took him to the examination room to make sure he was breathing okay. Spencer had told me after c-section births this was normal. “They don’t get squeezed when they’re born,” he had said. “So, the nurse checks them over, weighs them, all that.”

He looked down at me, tears streaming down his face, then back towards our son.

“Go,” I urged him. “Go get our boy, Spence. I’m fine.”

--

Spencer’s head poked through the door of my room. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“REID. If you don’t get the fuck out of my way and let me see my godson I swear to GOD.”

“Oh,” I groaned, giggling slightly, despite the pain. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

I don’t know if Spencer moved willingly or if Penelope had just had enough, but soon the door was thrown open and a parade of people poured inside.

“Oh, my god, Mrs. Dr. Reid,” Penelope gushed, her hands hovering over my son, then back up towards my face. “You look like an angel. How did you just have major surgery? How did you just give birth, because a c-section is giving birth-“

“Penelope,” I cut her off. “Do you want to see him?”

“Gimme.”

I pulled the blankets down around his body, staring at his little face before I handed him over.

“Oh, my mother effin god,” she whispered, looking around at everyone else in the room. “He is the most beautiful child I have ever seen. He even looks like a genius. I don’t know if you can look like a genius, but I think he does.”

“You don’t have to whisper, Garcia,” my husband said, coming to stand beside me, leaning over to kiss my forehead again. “She is right though, Mrs. Dr. Reid. You’re beautiful.”

“Quit hogging the baby,” JJ said, reaching for him. “I’m the co-god mother. Hand him over.”

Emily leaned over JJ’s shoulder, staring at him with a look of wonder. “What did you guys decide to name him?”

“Arthur,” I said quietly. “His name is Arthur Spencer Reid.”

--

The room was dark when I opened my eyes, my head turning towards the tiny cry that woke me up.

“I know, I know,” my husband whispered to the tiny bundle in his arms. “I miss your mom too; she’s the best person in the world and I wish she could be awake all the time too.” I bit my lip, trying to suppress my laugh. “But you have to let her sleep some, little man.” My son gave another cry. “I know, believe me.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“Talking to Arthur,” he said simply. “You know, speaking to a child whenever they reach the babbling stage of their cognitive development is actually very important. It encourages them to learn the language they’re hearing. You know, children are actually experts at learning languages. Studies have shown that children that become fluent in a language before the age of 13 are often able to fool native speakers into thinking they’re native speakers themselves.”

“Huh,” I said, smiling like a dope. That was my Spencer. “Did you hear that, Arthur? It sounds like your dad wants to teach you some languages.”

“Only a couple,” he whispered to our boy. Then he looked up at me, his eyes bright, despite the dark circles under them.

“You’re tired, babe,” I said, moving to sit up. “Give him here, you can get some rest.”

He just shook his head. “No, I’m alright. You rest.” Spencer looked down at his son again, who was already back to sleep. “No dream I have could be better than this.”

As usual, Dr. Spencer Reid was absolutely right.

-- 

Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace 

[cyraclove]

“I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” with modern BotW Zelink would be amazing :') (you can choose who gets hit and who visits! it works very well both ways)

Link stared into the windows of the flower display, his eyes traversing the plethora of multicolored blooms for the hundredth time. He’d been standing there for a solid ten or fifteen minutes, the tinny muzak of the hospital’s gift shop threatening to drive him out of his mind. The furled petals of a bouquet of yellow roses shook softly as the refrigerated case’s motor kicked on, looking almost as though they were laughing at him.

He decided against those.

Swallowing hard, he absentmindedly rubbed his palms together as he took stock of his ribbon-bound options yet again.

Sweaty. Why was he so sweaty?

Just pick some, you idiot, barked a voice in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a foreign female voice that startled him from his thoughts, “Do you need some help?”

He turned to see an older, brunette woman with the roundest eyeglasses he had ever seen smiling pleasantly at him, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘Alma’, her nametag read.

He shook his head, scrambling for words. “Oh, uh…no, ma’am,” he stammered, attempting a sorry excuse for a smile, “I’m just…browsing.”

“Are you looking for something specific?” She asked, peering into the cooler. “We have flowers for just about any occasion. Flowers can say a lot just on their own, you know.”

How about some that say, ‘Sorry that I hit you with my car, complete stranger,’ he thought to himself. Link chuckled uncomfortably, knowing that he was definitely going to have to lie to this woman. “I’m here to visit my, er, friend. She was…in a car accident.”

Read on AO3

Alma nodded solemnly, clucking her tongue. “Oh, how terrible. I’m very sorry to hear that. People really can be such careless drivers these days, can’t they?”

“Yes,” he said through his teeth, “they certainly can be.” His eyes were drawn to a bunch of sickeningly pink ‘It’s A Girl!’ balloons, a nearby oscillating fan causing them to bob violently every minute or so. The screech of the colliding mylar made his stomach churn, and he silently wished for death.

“Well,” Alma began, a cool burst of air escaping the display when she opened the door, “I’m sure that we can pick something perfectly lovely that’ll have your friend feeling better in no time.”

The woman pursed her lips as she surveyed the case, humming thoughtfully. She eventually gathered up a bouquet of light blue lilies, their pointed petals tipped with white.

“What do you think of these?” she asked, “We just got them in from Necluda. This variety is called the ‘Silent Princess’, I believe.”

Before he could answer, Link’s phone began to ring, the shrill tone making him jump a bit. He grinned sheepishly at Alma as he fished it from his pocket, groaning inwardly as soon as he glimpsed the screen. Tapping his thumb on the red ‘ignore’ button, he tucked it away.

“Those are great,” he replied, “I’ll take them.”  

Alma smiled brightly, motioning for him to follow her the checkout counter. “Excellent,” she chimed, “Can I put them in a vase for you?”

His phone rang again. Link felt his eye twitch.

“Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please.”

“Would you like to add anything else? We have these precious sand seal plushies that would be just ador—”

“Just the flowers will be fine, thank you,” he said, more hurriedly than he’d intended. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he turned away from the counter and held the cell to his ear.

“What do you want?” He hissed.

A jovial cackle came from the other end of the line.

“Well, if it isn’t CHU’s resident asshole.”  

Link pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he inhaled deeply. This was, decidedly, the last thing he needed right now.

“You called me, Revali,” he snapped, “Do you actually need something, or did you just want to be a dick?”

“You wound me, Link,” the other young man drawled, “Oh, no—wait. I’m not the one who’s wounded, am I?”

Link clenched his jaw, the snip of Alma’s scissors on the flowers’ stems suddenly and inordinately loud. He glanced up at the woman only to have her swiftly look away, feigning focus on her task.

“You’re quite the hot topic on campus,” he heard Revali sigh, “I’m almost envious, what with the way everyone’s got your name in their mouths.”

“Who’s talking about it?”

“Who isn’t talking about it? Link, you hit a woman with your car. In the quad, for the love of Hylia. How’d you even manage that, anyway?”

“Okay, look,” he nearly seethed, “It was not in the quad, it was the intersection next to the quad. And it was an accident! I had the right of way, I didn’t see her, and the—the walk sign wasn’t even on!”

“Was she on the crosswalk?”

Link balked as he conjured up the memory from the other day. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was putting on his turn signal, and the next a young blonde woman was sprawled out on the road in front of his car. “I mean…well, yeah, she was on the crosswalk.”

“Then she had the right of way. Pedestrians always have the right of way, genius.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he muttered, disconnecting the call to the sound of Revali’s raucous laughter in the background. His near equal on the university archery team, Revali and Link were self-proclaimed rivals; well-known ‘frenemies’ to the rest of their teammates. While Link undeniably respected him for his skill, he could also be a real pain in the ass.

Releasing a weighty sigh, he faced the counter again, only to be met with a piercing glare of disapproval from the woman standing behind it. His blood ran cold as he and Alma locked eyes, hers narrowed in wordless acknowledgment of his sin. Approaching the register, Link flipped his wallet open and removed his credit card before sliding it toward her across the grey acrylic.

“Ring up the seal.”

-

The ride up the elevator was gruelingly slow, the jarring ding! of the door opening on what seemed like every damned floor made Link’s head throb. The air inside the garishly carpeted box was stuffy and stagnant, the scent of antiseptic stinging his lungs with each inhale. He looked down at the overpriced stuffed animal in his arms and frowned, its judgmental button eyes boring into him. The sluggish chug of the ancient machinery as it whined to a stop was nauseating, jostling him just enough to make him dizzy.

He finally stepped off and onto the tenth floor, referring to the clumsy, smeared numbers written on his palm in red pen. Link wandered down a white linoleum hallway, the idle hum of incandescent lights buzzing overhead as he peered at room numbers; the water in the vase sloshed softly as he went. With the plush tucked under one arm and the flowers cradled in the other, he raised his fist to knock tentatively on a door marked 1003.  

“Come in,” responded a quiet voice from the other side. Link instinctively held his breath as he pressed down on the door handle, inching it open.

The room was cold and clinical, painted and furnished in subtle greens and dull blues. Aside from several dim wall sconces, a large westward-facing window adorned with heavy curtains was the only source of light. Pushed up against the center of the back wall was a slim hospital bed, and in it sat a woman that Link had seen only once before—unconscious on the asphalt in front of his sedan. Her eyes flickered up toward him as he entered, darkening with realization mere seconds afterward.

“What are you doing here?”

Link froze, his thoughts scrambling as both his legs and tongue refused to move. All he could do was stare at her, eyes trained on the clunky, neon-green cast that enveloped her left arm. A purply-green bruise around the size of golf ball sat just below one of her eyes, swallowing the tiny freckles that peppered her cheeks. Her bottom lip puffed out, an angry cut splitting it vertically down the middle.

She looked awful.

And she had somehow managed to be strikingly beautiful at the exact same time.

“Well, I came to, uh,” he started, his words leaving his mouth before he had time to appropriately process them, “I came to see…how you were feeling.”

The young woman scoffed, turning her head towards the window. It was then that Link noticed the sutures running along the underside of her collarbone. Guilt roiled in his stomach for the millionth time that day as she began to speak.

“Let’s see; I’ve got bruised ribs, a couple of chipped teeth, and a concussion. Oh—and my arm is broken,” she replied in a biting tone, “So, I’m not great. Thanks.”

After a moment, he took a few tentative steps nearer to her bedside. He watched her gaze gradually slide in his direction, meticulously studying his movement. Link sighed, looking down at his feet with a shake of his head. His chest felt suffocatingly tight, as though someone had his lungs trapped in an ever-tightening vise.

“Look, I know that nothing I say right now is going to make any of this less shitty,” he told her, “and I’m sure that I’m the last person that you wanted to see today. That being said, it would’ve been even shittier of me to not at least try and come apologize to you. Because I messed up, big time, and I’m really, really sorry.”

The young woman said nothing in response, absentmindedly picking at her fingernails as she considered his repentant declaration. Her brows knitted above her sea-like eyes, consternation marring her delicate features. Link’s resolve just about shattered when he saw the impending tears brimming at her waterline.

“And I brought you this seal,” he blurted out, placing the patchwork creature on the bed near her legs, “You just seemed like, uh…a seal person.”

To Link’s relieved surprise, the corner of her mouth quirked up as she looked at the stuffed animal. Picking it up and setting on her lap, a watery giggle burbled from her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. The chuckle soon morphed into a full-on laugh, a bright, contagious sound that filled the room. Unable to help himself, Link smiled, and was soon laughing with her despite not entirely knowing why.

“It’s cute,” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s really cute. Thank you.”

They smiled through the remnants of their laughter as it faded out, leaving the two in silence again. The setting sun bathed the room in rosy amber and cast fractured, pinkish shadows on the walls. Unsure of what else to do, Link set the bouquet on her curiously empty bedside table. It was then that he paused to take stock of the rest of the room, realizing that it did not resemble what he imagined the hospital room of someone who’d just been hit by a car to look like.

It was devoid of any other flowers save the ones that he had brought, and missing were cards and balloons from well-wishing friends. He furrowed his brow, and his heart sank when the most likely reason for the lack of gifts dawned on him. She must be in Central for school, he thought, and all of her friends and family were wherever home was. Or, even worse—they were around, but couldn’t be bothered to come and pay her a visit. Turning back to face her, he gestured to her plaster-clad arm.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he noted.

She gave him a queer look. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, that’s the thing to do isn’t it? Have your friends write their names on your cast? And put, uh, I don’t know…stickers on it.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never broken an arm before,” she replied, shooting him a sly look. “I haven’t got many friends, either, I guess,” she added under her breath, face falling.

“Do you have a Sharpie?”

“Oh, um, I think I have a few in my backpack. It’s just over there, on that chair. Should be in the little side pocket.”

Link made his way over to a grey pleather armchair and unzipped the pocket in question, reaching inside to pull out several permanent markers. Returning to the bedside, he held them out to the blonde, presenting her with her choice of color; black, red, or blue. She looked up at him from beneath delicate lashes, grinning as she selected the blue one. She extended her arm, and he sat on the edge on the bed as he gingerly braced it with his free hand. After popping the cap off with his teeth, he scrawled his name on the lime-colored cast as gently as possible.

“Link,” she murmured when he’d finished, “I just realized that I didn’t even know your name until now.”

It was true. He knew her name, simply because he’d had to ask for it at the front desk, but they had never been properly introduced. Not surprising, considering the circumstances under which they came to know one another in the first place. He’d never seen her around campus before the other day, leading him to assume that they must not run in the same circles. That had to be the case, because hers was not a face that he would’ve forgotten.

“My name is Zelda,” she said, “Even though you probably know that already.”

“I do,” he admitted, “but it’s nice to officially meet you. Zelda.”

Her eyes crinkled at their corners when he reached out to lightly shake her fingers that poked out of the cast. He stood up from the bed, shooting her a quick smile before crossing the room to return the markers to her bag.

“Thank you for the flowers,” he heard her say from behind him, “Oh, and for my seal.”

“It’s the least I could do, I think,” he responded, “I mean, considering.”

“Still,” Zelda went on, “It was kind of you to come. I just…I appreciate the company. It was getting a bit lonely here.”

Link stilled at that. So, she really was alone. He almost didn’t want to believe that not even her own parents had bothered to stop by, that not a single friend had sent a card. It had to be a mistake; there was no way that such an enchanting person had no one to call on.

“The, uh, food here must not be very good, huh?” He tried.

She cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“Hospital food. It’s notoriously bad,” he clarified, attempting to mentally signal to her that he was, in fact, going somewhere with this. “If you want, I could bring you something. Later, I mean, for dinner. I think I probably owe you that, don’t you?”

It could have been the sunset, but Link swore that a blush darkened her cheeks ever so slightly when she smiled at him, nodding. “That sounds great, actually.”

“Alright, it’s a date, then,” he announced without thinking, wincing immediately afterward, “I mean, uh, sounds like a plan.”

“Here, let me put my number in your phone,” she offered, holding out her good hand. He fished it from his pocket and handed it to her, watching as she tapped in her contact info with her only her index finger. After a short discussion about what kind of food she’d like to have, they said their goodbyes with the promise of seeing one another later that evening. Link closed to door carefully behind him, glancing back into the narrow window to see Zelda admiring her flowers.

He shuffled into the elevator, wedging himself in between a group of nurses and weary-looking man with a fussy toddler on his hip. It was humid and it was loud, and anyone else might have wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed. Link stared at Zelda’s name in his phone as the elevator made its agonizingly long descent back down to the lobby, already counting the minutes until he’d get to ride back up again.

-

-

-

I adored this prompt so much, I made it its own thing on AO3. Thank you for the ask! This was so much fun!

[ill-skillsgard]

Faust x Faith - No Looking Back

Warning: 18+ smut, public sex, violence, blood, arson, implied death, mentions of non-consensual touching (nothing explicit and no r-words used,) mentions of stalking, unconsciousness, anti-religious themes, strong language.

Note: Hey, hey. I’ve wanted to write this for a while, but haven’t had much time. This isn’t based on any requests—just something I feel needs to happen to move the universe along. After this, I’ll be basing future FxF stuff off drabble requests instead of going story-heavy for a bit. Likes, comments and reblogs are suuuper ‘ppreciated!

Summary: - Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration - 3.6K words -

Faust makes good on his word to protect Faith, taking drastic measures to assure her assailant never bothers her again.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

Thin raindrops pattered the man's leather jacket as he walked through the streets with his hood drawn up and his eyes low. For two days, the drizzle persisted and melted the black snowbanks into slush. Though the dismal atmosphere kept most inside, Sven had good reason to travel across town on foot. The promise of a girl's company waited at the end of his route, and he put off his regular nightly routine of masturbating to fetish porn for—what he hoped was—the real thing.

He glanced at his cracked phone screen every few minutes to check in with her, making sure she hadn't changed her mind, that she was serious. From the earnestness of her messages and the speed at which she replied to his questions, he determined she meant what she said about wanting to meet. Finally, his luck was turning. He’d show that miserable bastard Faust who was the better man.

- What abt ur bf? Lol

- What about him? Not here, is he?

- Thought u were a good girl.

- Haha, not really. Are you close?

- Ya. Y r we meeting at this random place?

- I need you to promise you won't tell a soul. If you can prove that to me, maybe we can keep meeting up.

- Lol ok. I PROMISE I won't say a word😉

- Thank you. Hurry, please. It's cold out!

- Be there in 5. I'll let u wear my jacket altho idk might not need it😉

- Hehe omgosh. You're making me blush.

- I'll make u do way more then blush baby. Just wait.

Sven lengthened his strides and turned the corner onto a hill leading toward the industrial area of town. Down the slope, he walked past several warehouses and legions of trucks parked inside barbed-wire fencing. It was a peculiar site to meet up, but his rendezvous insisted on a place nobody would think to look.

Betting his night would take an erotic turn, Sven popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed away the cigarette taste. He was seconds away from the spot she chose to meet, and his chest constricted with excitement. His boots crunched over gravel and garbage as he walked down a narrow alley between two faceless buildings. There was an open lot at the end of the lane, where he assumed she was waiting. As he made his way through the dimly lit alley, he whistled to make his presence known. The shrill tune reverberated off an overflowing dumpster to his left, and as he stepped to clear the reeking trash receptacle, something hard and blunt swung out at eye-level and flattened him to the ground.

Dazed and blinded from the sudden strike, he tried moving his mouth, but only a bubble of blood popped from his lips. A piercing stream of sound filled his ears as the edges of his vision turned dark. A large black figure came into view above, haloed by the soggy grey sky in the deepening veil. The featureless shadow chuckled deeply before a heavy boot's tread put out his lights.

~*~

Several hours passed before Sven's eyelids shuddered. By then, his assailant had had plenty of time to tie him to a wooden chair and organize his instruments of punishment. A headache blistered through the man's skull, throbbing in his eye sockets until he gained enough consciousness to open them. When he saw the person who had knocked him out, his throat closed and the gasp ripping through came out high-pitched.

"Faust... Please... Don't—" Sven hiccoughed. "Don't do this. I'm sorry. I'm SORRY!"

Faust, who had been facing the doorway at the end of a long red runner, turned toward Sven, holding a hammer's handle in one hand while cradling the head in the other. A malicious smirk peeked out from a curtain of black hair. He took a step forward, the clomp of his leather boots echoing through the church. Each step made a menacing sound that bit down on Sven's nerves and rattled his sensitive skull.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I know you hate me, but please, don't hurt me. I swear I'll never talk to her again!"

Faust approached, flashing the obsidian hammerhead. He tossed the tool in his grip and stuck his hand into his pocket, producing several five-inch nails.

"No! God, no, please! Faust! Don't do this!"

The black-haired giant stopped to admire the curve of the hammer’s prongs. Sven looked around the empty church and saw a jerrycan taking up space in a nearby pew. He immediately started struggling against the jute rope binding his wrists and ankles to the chair as Faust drew nearer, smile uncoiling.

"I already gave you the chance to never talk to her again. Remember?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry means fuck all to me. You should know that. The only reason you left the campsite with your dick intact is because of the witnesses," Faust said, then spun around with his arms out, showcasing their solitude. "Now, it's just you and me."

"Please don't," Sven muttered through swollen lips. "Fuck, I'll do anything!"

"There's nothing you can do. Nothing a sorry sack of human waste can provide this world to make me change my mind."

"SHE LIED!"

Faust jingled the nails in his jacket, reminding Sven who held the weapon.

"Whatever she told you... It's not true! I was at the party, but I didn't do anything to her!" Sven's voice cracked.

"Oh... So you didn't follow her into my bedroom?"

"No! I talked to her for a minute, and that's all. That's all, I swear, Faust. Don't kill me."

The stomp of boots neared the altar where Sven struggled in the chair. He twisted to loosen the rope and slipped one hand out. Faust grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the arm of the chair, readying a nail between his lips as he gripped the hammer. Sven let out a scream, stifled instantly by the hammerhead. Faust wedged the metal between his teeth and hissed.

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll use this to smash your teeth out like a goddamn window. Understand me?"

Sven nodded and quaked as Faust placed the tip of the nail against the soft, flat part of his forearm.

"Stay still. If I fuck up and hit the Radial or Ulnar artery... You could bleed out before I'm done. Gotta get it right between the bones." Faust slapped the pale skin to reveal blue veins. He pressed the nail’s tip in place and rose the hammer above his head, bringing it down and stopping short of the head as Sven shrieked.

Faust cackled. "Jesus Christ, dude. Did you really think I was gonna nail you to a chair?"

Sven groaned, relieved and moist with cold sweat. "Faust, I'm serious. Please, man. You gotta believe me."

His dark laughter continued, bouncing off the high ceilings, the wooden pews and polished floors. As Sven let out his own nervous chuckle, Faust brought the hammer down in one swift pull, then slapped his hand over Sven's gaping mouth to stifle the screams. Howling, Sven rattled his head back and forth as a searing bolt of pain tore through his right arm, crackling in his shoulder where it burned and burned.

Faust tore his phone out of his back pocket and brought up a video, slamming the screen into Sven's face. The video of him grabbing Faith in his room while he was states away watching the live feed from the camera he'd set up on the desk.

"I knew these little cameras would come in handy. See? I know what you did, you stupid fuck. And you know what else? I would have just beat the shit out of you had I not stopped by your place before our little meeting."

Sven whined, tears pouring from his eyes in steady streams.

"Oh, yeah. That's right. I went into your room... Saw some interesting things on your computer. At first, I thought it was just standard fucking creep shit. Snuff porn, torture... Teen girls. None of that surprised me... Until I dug around and found your little stalker file buried in your folders. You didn't even encrypt it. How fucking stupid are you?"

"I'm sorry," Sven shook.

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"I'm sorry for touching her. I should have left her alone."

"What'd you think was gonna happen? That she wouldn't tell me? Or that I wouldn't believe her? And now I know you've been following Faith around, taking pictures of her, you fucking predator. And what about those other women, huh? You sorry about them, too?"

"Yes! I'm sorry. I know I have problems! I'm trying to get help. Please, Faust. If you let me go, I promise I'll do it. I'll get better. I haven’t hurt anyone!"

Faust shook his head slowly, grunting in refusal. "No. I meant what I said when I told you I'd crucify you if you went near Faith again. I'm doing the world a favour."

Sven hung his head and bled from the grievous wound pinning him to the chair, shuddering weakly from his injuries. Faust would never relent. He'd witnessed the drummer's cold disdain, the malignant hatred living inside that made him turn to the dark with open arms. Faust wasn't an actor. He pledged himself to the darkness with unyielding conviction, never one to take such things lightly. This realization depleted Sven's will to reason with the man.

Faust gripped another thick nail and drove it through Sven's left arm, smiling as blood dripped from the wood onto the church altar. The violent yelps filled Faust with morbid delight as he pressed the bloodied hammer under his victim's chin and raised his face.

"You're gonna die tonight, Sven."

"What makes you better than me? You'll be a murderer," Sven stuttered. "You hurt people, too."

"You and I are not the same. Don't ever compare yourself to me. You're a coward, and I warned you. Tread on what's mine, and I'll destroy you. That's what I said."

"All this over a girl? Are you fucking crazy!?"

Faust stooped to one knee, looking up at Sven as though the insult had cut him. Faust's brows arched, bottom lip jutting outward as he studied Sven, who closed his eyes. Then, Faust rose to his feet, leather stretching from the motion. Faust tapped his chin, smiled, and leaned over to whisper, "yes... Totally fucking crazy."

With a powerful kick to the chest, Faust sent the chair and Sven toppling backward. He then unzipped his pants, pulled out his manhood and giggled as he emptied his bladder on the weeping man. While Sven cried and moaned, Faust closed his zipper, whistling merrily. He left Sven on his back and snatched the jerrycan from the pew, taking slow, calculated steps while twisting off the cap and dousing the altar in gasoline.

As the gas trickled, Sven's desperation mounted. He could not flail, so he screamed. Faust gently reminded him what he'd do to Sven's teeth if he carried on shouting. The pinned man blubbered and begged, but Faust ignored his pleas. Inside his head, all Faust heard was the sound of flames rushing into a circle around Sven, crackling over the carpet and up the old church's wooden beams. By the time the roof caught fire, Faust had planned on being long gone.

"Please, Faust... You'll regret this! I know you're a serious person, but this is too far. You won't be able to live with yourself!"

"Wrong. I couldn't live with myself knowing I let a vulture like you walk this planet freely." Faust poured a trail down the floor runner, far away from the altar. He tossed the can aside and looked up at the Catholic saints' stained-glass portrayals and Jesus at the center of it all, staring down with sad eyes. Faust took a book of matches from his pocket and ripped one from the bunch, running its tip across the ignitor strip until a small flame burst to life. Faust flicked the match to the ground without a second thought, and the flame ate up the gasoline trail swiftly. The church was illuminated, and the colourful glass windows came to life. Faust raised his eyes to the forlorn Jesus and leered while the fire spread.

He did not stay to admire his work or revel in the cries of a man burning alive. Faust fled before the fire consumed the church, not once looking back or wondering if his victim had somehow escaped. He trudged through puddles of slush, hair swinging in the wind, white shadows of breath leaving his mouth.

It was time to get back to finish the tour. But he had one more stop to make.

~*~

Faith left the mall after helping close the book store. She received small smiles and nods from the mall staff as they locked doors and unfolded security gates. Some of the people she had spoken to before, and some she had only seen in passing. Though she returned their pleasantries, inside Faith was fretting. She tried not to worry about her boyfriend or ask where he was under strict orders to go about her day as usual.

She stepped into the evening air as the sun sank, taking the blue from the sky along for the descent. Wisps of white cloud stretched across the pink and violet above. Faith took in a deep breath and walked to the bus stop situated between a movie theatre and a dollar store. She popped her earbuds in and turned on a song that reminded her of Faust; one he wouldn’t like. His music taste had no room for the upbeat indie rock she enjoyed. Still, she smiled when the lyrics reminded her of him.

The scent of cigarette smoke caught her attention, and she looked around, finding no culprit. She wondered where the smell came from if nobody was around but soon forgot when the city bus appeared in the distance. It had to make a long trek around the parking lot before it pulled up at the movie theatre. Faith readied her bus card to scan as another cloud of smoke enveloped her senses.

Faith whirled around, and there he was, all black and leather, white teeth clutching the filter of a cigarette. Faust smiled, his words bolting from his mouth as she clamped her arms around him and crushed her face into his chest. The leather and musk brought tears to her eyes. She ripped out her earbuds and tried not to weep.

He hushed her, lifted her off the ground and retreated into the shadowed alley between the theatre and the store. By the time the bus pulled up, Faust had pressed her against the brick wall behind the building.

"Faust. Oh my gosh, where have you been? I was so worried," Faith gasped.

"Sh, don't ask questions, baby." Faust smothered her mouth, holding her thighs around his waist.

"Mm—I love you. Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re here! I love you so freaking much."

"I know you do," Faust breathed against her lips. "I love you, too, babe."

"Tell me where you've been!"

Faust shook his head and kissed her neck instead. She raked her fingers through his hair, knocking his hood down so she could see him unobstructed.

"Told you... Don't ask... Mmkay?... Stop asking... Just let me... Mm—fuck!"

Faith pulled his pelvis inward with her thighs, rubbing against his crotch and the heavy bullet belt wrapped around his hips. In their cloud of lust, Faust pushed his black jeans down just enough to free his erection.

"Fuck, I love your little skirts. Makes it so easy," Faust murmured.

The thought of Faust showing up disquieted her, but his lips on her skin and his desire thwarted these anxieties for a while. She set aside her questions, happy to have him in her arms again and overcome by arousal. When he stretched her panties aside and pushed into her, they both froze in expressions of excruciating ecstasy. Faust tilted his head back and closed his eyes, and Faith clutched his shoulders, already writhing from the intense fulfillment between her legs.

Just as she thought Faust might drop her, he bent his knees and hoisted her higher up on the wall. In his arms, she weighed close to nothing. She missed feeling tiny against him.

"Miss my cock?" He growled in her ear.

"Yes, baby. Oh my gosh, of course, I missed it. I missed my big man."

"Yeah? Fuck, I miss my little pussy," Faust breathed. "Mm, show me those gorgeous tits."

Faith unbuttoned her work polo and stretched the collar down around her breasts for Faust to bury his face. Though there wasn't an abundance of flesh to lose himself in, Faust shivered from the first taste of her nipples. With muted groans of pleasure, he rammed into her until Faith could no longer contain her cries, unaccustomed to his girth. Faust absorbed her whimpers with his mouth, coaxing her tongue until she only hummed.

He felt ferocious from the last twenty-four hours. If he could make Faith scream without drawing attention, Faust would have slammed her into the wall and fucked her until she shredded her vocal cords. He had to keep a low profile. Even visiting Faith was a considerable risk, but one he relished taking as she clamped her thighs and rutted against him.

He supported her ass in both hands and shifted off the wall to fuck her standing up. While he took her this way, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered, whispering, "yes, fuck my pussy hard, big boy. Oh, I love that big cock inside me."

Faust unhooked and held her out so he could watch her breasts jiggle with every bounce. "You still taking your birth control? I'm gonna fucking bust so hard inside you, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, baby, do it. Fill my pussy, please. I want your cum."

Her dirty talk and sweet sobs for his cock pushed him over the edge. He cradled her head as he pushed her against the wall and throbbed between her legs until empty. Faust pulled out and immediately turned her around and bent her over to watch globs of fresh cum dripping from her wet slit. He used one finger to push some of it back inside and had her suck off the rest. Afterward, he pulled up his pants and compressed her against the wall, one hand over her mouth while the other worked her clit in gentle circles. Faust didn't stop until she squealed and shuddered against him, muffled in his jacket and writhing from the manual orgasm.

When Faith calmed down, he released her and stepped away, pulling a cigarette from the squished pack in his jacket pocket. The lighter's flame created an orange halo around his face and promptly died. He smoked like nothing had happened while she fixed her skirt, buttoned her polo and zipped up her coat.

Faith smiled up at her lover, the night blotting out most of his features.

"I'm so glad you're home," she said.

"Not for long," Faust exhaled.

Her heart quivered. "Wait, what?"

"I gotta go back."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"What? No! But... You just got back," said Faith.

Faust shrugged, his leather jacket speaking for him. The evening matured, consuming the details of her hurt expression until the streetlamps along the road came to life.

"Why did you come here?"

Faust took one last long haul off his cigarette and flicked it down the alleyway. "Listen to me, Faith... You need to quit asking questions. I'm serious. The more questions you ask, the worse it'll be. And you and I did not see each other tonight. As far as you know, I'm on tour. Understand?"

"Yes," Faith said to appease him.

"I want to stay, trust me. But I can't. You know why. All the answers you want, you already have. Don't keep bugging, don't mention it ever again."

"I want to go with you," she whispered.

"No. You stay. Go to your classes, go to work, go visit your parents. Everything normal. And I don't want you moping around either. You put on that pretty smile, and you pretend for me. I'll call you in a couple of weeks before the last show and arrange a way for you to get there."

"What do you mean you’ll call in couple of weeks?" Faith whined. “What about goodnights?”

"I don't have a phone anymore."

"Why—? Oh, um... Okay. I understand."

Faust gathered the girl up in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Good girl. I love you, and I miss you."

"I love you, too."

He tipped her face up and sensed tears forming in her eyes. Faust shook his head. "No crying. We'll see each other very soon. Just a couple more weeks."

"I know," she sighed.

"I love you more than anything, Faith. Now, go catch your bus. Should be here in a few minutes."

"But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm on tour. I'm not even here," he explained.

Faust kissed her again, smoothed his hands over her shoulders and turned her to face the bus stop. He urged her along. "No looking back. Hop on the bus and go do your schoolwork."

"Okay," she said, determined to make him proud. Faith walked out of the shadows and into the lamplight hovering over the depot. Across the lot, the city bus pulled in, and though she longed to turn around to see Faust watching over her, she kept her eyes forward and waited. When the bus pulled up, and the doors drew back, she stepped onto the platform and smiled at the driver as she scanned her pass. Faith took a seat in the back and put in her earbuds. She searched through a list of bands and selected the only one whose logo was illegible. As she pressed play, she listened to the immediate assault of the drums, their constant and violent beat. Faith smiled—warm in her chest and between her legs.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

[rizlowwritessortof]

Meant To Be - Chapter 1

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start. (Tags will be on the fic masterlist post so y’all don’t get bombarded with each chapter.)

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 3583

Warnings: Abusive relationship and related violence, nothing graphic. 

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The sudden stop sent the car skidding a little in the gravel, the dust cloud swirling to dissipate in the breeze as Jordan jumped out, slamming the door hard behind her as she yelled into her phone. “Kiss my ass, Darrel! No, you did this, don’t lay it on me! What?! Like hell I’m coming home! Just go back to your new little drinking buddy-slash-fucktoy and leave me alone. You can’t have it both ways. No, fuck you. Fuck you sideways, buddy. I’m done. Have a nice life.”

She let out a frustrated scream, slamming a fist down on the hood of the car, so pissed off that she was shaking. She whirled around, startled, as a deep masculine voice called out. “Poor car. Sounds like Darrel’s the one you should be punching.”

“Excuse me? That was a private conversation!” she spluttered, glaring at the source. He was standing in front of a beautiful black beast of a car, the hood up, wiping his hands on a shop rag. She could feel the heat in her face, and his appearance slowly filtering through her rage into her brain didn’t help. He was gorgeous.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, sweetheart, but the way you were yelling, there wasn’t much private about it.” He dropped his chin a little, his eyes narrowing as he spoke again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in. Are you okay?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned to the car, jerking the back door open to grab her bag. “It’s okay, sorry I was such a bitch. And I’m not okay, but I will be. I’m gonna be fucking awesome.” She stuffed her phone in her back pocket and fished the key card out of her bag, fumbling with the door. “Thanks for asking, anyway.”

She glanced back at him before going in, watching his little nod of acknowledgment and rueful smile. She closed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, dropping her bag. “Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all. Screaming like a crazy woman in the middle of a parking lot, in front of the most fucking attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. Awesome start to your new life, Jordan.” She  moved to the window, peeking out the side of the curtains at him as he continued working under the hood of his car. He was tall, solid, in beat-up blue jeans and a well-worn grey t-shirt that was smeared with grease and dark in spots from perspiration. She watched the muscles in his biceps strain as he worked with some kind of tool, stopping for a moment to grab the rag from his back pocket and wipe his face. He was ridiculously good-looking, even with smudges of grease on his arms and face. Actually, somehow that made him even more attractive, a man’s man, a man who wasn’t afraid of hard work and getting dirty. He glanced her direction, and she backed away quickly, swearing under her breath.

She sighed, letting her eyes roam around her room. It was almost like a little bungalow, with a kitchenette and a couch against one wall, and she wandered over to take a look out the back door. Now wasn’t that convenient! Right across the street behind the motel was a little liquor store, and she began to smile to herself. “No guts, no glory, girl. Get over there and buy that fine man a cold beer to apologize for being a hag.”

A few minutes later, she was stepping back out the front door with two icy-cold long necks in her hands. He watched her approach, wiping his hands, a slow smile lighting up his handsome face. “Here. To say I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Well, no apology necessary, but I’ll be damned if I say no to that! Fuckin’ hot out here,” he rumbled, taking the beer gratefully and taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Fuckin’ hot anywhere you are,” Jordan thought to herself, joining him after a little salute with the bottle in his direction. “Nothing better than an ice-cold beer on a hot day,” she said out loud. “So – what’s wrong with your car?”

“Oh, nothin’, really. Just tuning her up a little. Killing time, actually. I’ve been here one night already, looks like it’s gonna be another couple. Just waiting for my brother to get back.”

“Ahhh, so you just like to tinker.”

“Oh, I just like to make her purr.” Jordan almost choked on the swallow of beer she had just taken. “She’s just like a woman, you treat her right, she’ll treat you right.”

She smiled at him, getting one back in return. “Well, I’m glad there’s a man in this world who knows that. I’m Jordan, by the way.”

“Dean. Nice to meet you, Jordan.” His voice was on her frequency, apparently, because every time he spoke she felt her breath catch. His eyes were green with hints of gold, framed by thick lashes that any woman would die for, and she looked down at her beer, peeling at the label, unable to withstand his candid gaze any longer. They chatted a little longer about how good the beer tasted, how hot it was, how comfy the rooms were. He finished his beer, setting the bottle down and reaching up to lower the hood and close it. The muscles of his back under that damp, clingy t-shirt raised Jordan’s temperature another notch, and she had to mentally prompt herself to close her mouth. She cleared her throat, taking a long, cool drink, surprised it didn’t just come out of her ears in billows of steam.

“Well, Jordan, thanks for the beer. I’d better hit the shower. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She smiled back at him, and then watched him walk back to his room, two doors down from hers. Those jeans hugged his body just right, and her eyes followed his bow-legged amble all the way to his door, finally forcing herself to focus on the ground before he could turn and see her staring again. Holy. Shit. She headed back to the room and opened another beer, scolding herself. Not really the best time to be lusting after some stranger, not with all the shit she’d been through the last few weeks. She plopped down on the sofa with a sigh, roaming through the channels on the TV while she finished her beer, then headed for the shower.

Dean dropped the empty beer bottle into the trash and sat on the edge of the bed to untie his boots. He smiled to himself, Jordan’s dramatic entrance into the parking lot replaying in his head. “Little firecracker, that one,” he muttered. She was a little bit of nothing, but what was there was nicely arranged, he had to admit. Big brown eyes, hair short and sexy just like her, kissable lips…

He laughed quietly to himself as he imagined Donna’s teasing voice in his head saying, “Don’t even think about it, partner. Ain’t you had enough?” As soon as he was cleaned up, he needed to call and check on her, see how she was doing. He headed towards the bathroom as he stripped his t-shirt off, pushing the door with one foot to swing it closed.

The bar and grill down the block looked like a good enough place to find some food, and Jordan walked that way, running her fingers through her tousled, short hair. The screen door squealed as she opened it, pushing hard to shove the heavy inner door open and walking into the bar, the air conditioning sending a refreshing chill over her arms. A waitress walking by gave her a pleasant smile and hello, telling her to sit wherever she pleased and she’d be right with her.

There was no one in the place at the moment but a table full of elderly men at the far back corner, playing cards and drinking coffee. She settled herself in a comfy booth by the wall, grabbing a menu.

“Can I get you somethin’ to drink, hon?” the waitress asked, and she smiled up at her.

“Yeah, a glass of whatever you’ve got on tap, please.”

“You got it, be right back to take your order. I’m Molly, by the way, if you need something.” It was a lovely place, simple, homey and welcoming. Small town friendly, which was always pleasant - as long as you weren’t from that small town so they didn’t know all your business. Sometimes being an anonymous stranger was really nice.

Molly came back with a frosted mug brim-full of beer, and she smiled. You don’t get those everywhere. “Awesome, thanks!”

“You ready to order?” the woman asked, brushing a graying lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her face.

“Yeah, I think I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger and fries,” she said, and her stomach grumbled as she spoke. Things had been in such an uproar lately, she had barely been eating.

“Now, there’s a woman with good taste!” Jordan felt her heartbeat stop for a second, and she looked up into Dean’s smiling face, those stunning green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Molly, can I get the same, and a beer?” he asked, giving the older woman his full attention.

“You got it, Dean,” the waitress answered with a smile, and headed back towards the kitchen. He nodded his head towards the seat opposite Jordan’s and grinned.

“Mind if I sit? I mean, if you’re not expecting somebody...”

“No, I’m not, please sit,” she smiled back at him. “It’ll be nice to have somebody to talk to besides myself.”

He took a seat, an amused smirk on his face. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your conversation.”

“It’s okay. Mostly waxing poetic about the frosted mug of beer,” she grinned back.

“Right? Gotta love that.” He looked up at the waitress as his beer appeared in front of him. “Molly, you’re a doll.”

“Oh, stop. Keep tellin’ you, I’m married,” she teased, turning to go. “And I’m too old for you.”

“Love a woman with experience,” he fired back, and she flapped a hand at him, blushing.

“You are a dangerous man. You watch out for that one, honey,” Molly aimed her parting remarks at Jordan and headed back to the kitchen.

“How long have you known her?” Jordan asked, raising her mug to her lips.

“Just met her yesterday. Why?”

Jordan stared back at him in surprise. “Really? Wow, you’ve got a way with people.”

“A friend of mine told me once that I just like to flirt. She might be right.”

Jordan laughed. “She might be.” His phone went off just then, and he grabbed it off the table.

“My brother. Be right back,” he smiled, swiping the screen as he rose to his feet and headed for the door. “Hey, Sammy,” she heard him say as he went outside.

She ordered them each another beer when Molly came over to check, and she had just taken a drink, focused on reading a message on her phone, when a rough hand landed on her shoulder. “Okay, Jordan. Time to come home.”

She froze, refusing to look up at him. “Darrel. How did you find me?”

“Wasn’t hard. I knew which way you were headed. Now, you’re gonna get up from that seat and come home with me, we have a lot to talk about.”

“We don’t have anything left to talk about, but I’m not making a scene in here. So let’s just go outside and get this over with,” she ground out quietly between clenched teeth. She stood up and winced a little at the brutal grip on her arm, biding her time until they left the bar.

“Miss? You okay?” Molly asked with a frown as they headed for the door, and Jordan nodded.

“I’m fine, Molly. Don’t worry.”

“Just keep movin’,”Darrel whispered behind her. They shoved their way through the door, and took several steps away from the building before Jordan began to struggle. She cried out as he shifted his hold, twisting her arm behind her back viciously. “None of your shit, now. Just move.”

“Hey, Darrel!” Dean’s voice rang out loud and clear behind them, and Jordan tensed at the sound.

Darrel gave her arm another tug as he turned them both around to face Dean. “Fucker!” she spat, her teeth clenched.

“You okay, Jordan?” Dean asked, and she looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure I will be shortly.” Dean nodded, a wicked little smirk curving his lips.  

“Who the hell are you?” Darrel demanded. “Who is this clown?” he growled into Jordan’s ear, and she jerked her head away.

“So, Darrel, tell me – is this usually the way you get women to go with you? Because I’m pretty sure she’s gonna cut off your balls first chance she gets.” He frowned a little, then continued. “Wait, that would assume you have balls, which is pretty unlikely, I’d guess.”

Darrel drew in a breath to respond, distracted for the moment, and Jordan jammed her free arm back, driving her elbow into his ribs, then stomped down hard on his instep. Darrel loosened his grip on her, groaning in pain, and she jerked herself free from his grasp, running towards Dean.

“Good girl,” he said, sweeping his arm out to place her behind him. “Well, Darrel. Looks like we have a situation here.”

Darrel pulled a knife from his back pocket, flipping it open. “Yeah. Bad one for you, asshole. You’re not armed.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a point there. So, whatcha waitin’ for, Darrel?” He said the man’s name with utter contempt, muttering, “Go inside” to Jordan as he headed towards the coward. “Bring it on.”

Jordan couldn’t force her feet to follow his command, staring in horror and shouting Dean’s name as he approached Darrel. There was a flurry of movement, punches thrown and Darrel’s swing with the blade blocked, his arm twisted violently until the weapon hit the ground with a thud, followed a few seconds later by Darrel, bruised and bleeding. Dean bent to pick up the knife, flipping it in his hand and standing over the fallen man with a snarl on his lips.  

“I suggest you get the fuck outta here before I finish kicking your ass. And you forget about her. Forget her name. Forget you ever knew her. You hear me?”

Darrel scooted away, scrambling to his feet at a safer distance. “Jordan, this ain’t over!” he yelled defiantly.

“What did I just say to you?!” Dean bellowed, moving quickly in his direction, and Darrel’s eyes widened as he turned to run. “That’s right, you fucking coward, get your ass away from here.” Dean watched the man run until he was out of sight, then turned quickly, striding back to Jordan’s side. “Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”

She nodded, her face pale, weaving a little as her knees gave way. Dean put an arm around her waist, leading her to the bench beside the door and sitting her down. Molly stuck her head out the door, concern on her face. “Is she all right?”

“Yeah, just a little shaky. Hey, Molly – can we get those burgers to go?”

“Of course, give me just a sec, hon. Just wait right there.”

Dean hunkered down in front of Jordan, taking hold of her cold hand. “Hey, Jordan? Look at me, sweetheart.” She finally raised her eyes, and he gave her a proud little smile. “You did great. Just exactly what I was hoping you’d do.” Molly came out the door just then, handing their food to Dean, and reaching over to put her hand on Jordan’s.

“Glad you’re okay. Both of you.” With a pat to her hand and a little squeeze to Dean’s shoulder, she turned and went back inside.

“Okay, think you can make it back to your room? Come on, I gotcha,” Dean encouraged, an arm around her waist, the food and Darrel’s knife in the other hand. “Man, can’t wait to dig in. Molly makes a mean bacon cheeseburger.” He kept talking, all the way back to the motel, taking Jordan’s key card and letting them both in before leading her to a chair. “I’m going to my room to grab something, I’ll be right back. Okay?” She nodded vacantly, staring down at her hands.

She looked up, eyes wide as she heard someone at the door a couple of moments later, but Dean called out. “It’s just me, Jordan, comin’ back in, okay?” He came in, closed and dead-bolted the door behind him, and set a bottle of whiskey on the table as he walked by. Soon he was back, two coffee mugs from the little kitchenette in his hand. He poured a generous splash of the amber liquid into the cup and scooted it over towards Jordan. “Drink that, it’ll help.” She nodded, taking the cup in hand and tipping it steadily back, letting the liquor burn its way down her throat. She shuddered a little, then held it out for more.

“One more, maybe,” she said, and he tipped the bottle again. She downed the second shot, then blew out a shaky breath.

“Better?”

She looked at him, the color beginning to come back into her cheeks. “Yeah. I think so. Dean, I don’t know what to say...”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just eat. You can talk later.” He grinned, shoving her food at her, and she dug in gratefully.

She moaned, her eyes closing. “This is amazing!” Dean smiled, watching her wolf that bite down and go after another. She stopped, suddenly looking alarmed. “Wait, I didn’t even pay!”

“Taken care of, don’t worry about it.”

“So it’s not enough that you chase off my asshole ex, now you’re buying me dinner? Where have you been all my life?” she teased, taking another bite, and then blushing at her own words. “Wow - maybe the whiskey’s kicking in.”

Dean laughed softly as he continued eating. “Good. Maybe you can relax a little.” He turned on the TV, surfing until he found an old sitcom, and they watched as they finished their meal. When the credits rolled, Dean stood up, gathering the trash and tossing it before turning back to smile at her. “So – I should get out of here, let you get some rest.”

“Do you have to leave?” She swallowed hard, blushing. He stared back at her, not sure how to respond, and she dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry, you’ve done too much for me already, I don’t blame you for wanting to get the hell away, like you need...”

“Hey.” He spoke softly to stop her rambling, and she looked up at him, biting nervously at her lip. “I just thought after what you’d been through you should get some rest.” She nodded silently, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her, and he spoke again, concern in his eyes. “Are you afraid he’ll come back, Jordan?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” She swallowed hard, fighting not to cry in front of him.

“Listen, I’ve got two beds in my room, you’re welcome to come down there and stay if you want.”

“No, no… I’m just being crazy. I’m sure he’s gone. You probably scared him all the way back home.” She tried to sound like she was laughing it off, but her performance wasn’t convincing even her. “Really, Dean, thank you. I appreciate it. But I don’t want to be any more of a pain than I already have been.” She picked up her phone, avoiding eye contact, and looked up in surprise when he took hold of it, pulling it gently from her grasp.

He typed something into it, then handed it back. “There, I put my number in. If you get scared, or if you need anything, call me. No matter what time it is. Okay?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. How about I pick you up for breakfast in the morning?”

She nodded, looking steadily at the table top as he gave her shoulder a squeeze and headed out the door. As soon as the latch clicked shut, she buried her head in her arms and burst into tears.

She climbed into bed a little later, feeling somewhat better. Dean was right, she did need to sleep. The last few weeks had been harder than she’d realized, and then with Darrel showing up… yeah, the tough girl mask she tried to present to the world had slipped a little.

She fell asleep almost as soon as she settled in, the first deep sleep she’d had in days. A loud crash from the parking lot outside her door woke her, and she sat up, groggy and disoriented, trying to get her bearings before climbing out of bed to see what had caused the noise.

Her eyes widened as she peered out the window. Her car was engulfed in flames, and she stumbled back from the window in shock, running back to the bed to grab her phone from the night stand. Her hands shaking, she dialed Dean’s number, surprised when he answered immediately, not even letting her speak.

“Jordan, stay in your room. Don’t come out unless I come and get you, understand?”

Chapter 2

[transgenderknothead]

I know I've been gone for like ever, but I was working on something super cool, so without further adieu... I Want the Truth a creepy pasta fanfiction just under 2k words!

Truth is undefinable, yes it has a definition, not lying, but how do you determine what’s a lie and what isn’t? It’s difficult, especially when you get different answers from the same person. My mother always tells me I have no memory due to various different accidents. First she said car crash, then she said nearly drowned, then it was kidnapped, her current story is that I had been in a coma for most of my life due to a birth defect. When I ask why her story keeps changing she says she isn’t quite sure what is causing my memory loss, as all of those things happened. My friends and I were hanging out at the old children’s mental hospital, it had burned down about four years ago and ever since my friends and I would go and try to figure out why and how it had burned. So far we had found nothing, nothing that was in one piece anyway, we had found three shattered skull fragments and a lot of broken wood. We’d searched all over the building, except for one room, which we could never open. It was a metal door, that when we tried using axes, hatchets, and even random pieces of wood nearby, they fell apart before even reaching it. We have no idea what’s on the other side, but it feels important, and because my friends are stubborn, we will never stop trying to open it or get inside. “Again!” Toby, my boyfriend, yelled when the head of his metal axe fell off when it made contact with the door. “At least this time we hit it,” I rubbed his shoulder as he slumped, “and it looks like you even dented it.” “If his noodle arms dented it, imagine what I could’ve done,” his athletic twin brother, Evan, flexed. “I don’t know, why don’t ya punch it, see what happens,” Toby argued. “Would you two knock it off,” their 14 year old little sister Jessy rolled her eyes, “what did Mom and Dad say about you arguing all the time?” Toby rolled his eyes, a tiny smile appearing when we made eye contact. “We should head back,” I piped up a little. Back at the house Toby and I went into his room, separated from his twin by a curtain, the tall boy flopping onto his bed. “Are you okay?” I rubbed his back. “Something about that room just,” he rolled over, pulling me with him, “I don’t know, it makes no sense.” “What is it?” “It gives me a weird gut feeling,” he scratched my back lightly, “like something bad is behind it.” I had woken up in the middle of the night, bolting up in bed next to Toby. It was always the same nightmare. I’m sitting in a pitch black room, a fuzzy figure of a purple, pink, blue, and yellow jester with a hammer sitting in front of me. It seemed like it was trying to communicate with me, but I couldn’t hear, or even see, much of it. The next morning we all headed over to the mental hospital again. Toby, having hurt his hand playing guitar last night, was going to let me try opening the door with his brand new axe. So here we stood, axe held over my head, everyone else standing back. When I swung the door flew open and the axe hit the floor instead. “Um, to whichever deity is out there, please help,” Jessy whimpered. I walked in, it looked as though this room had the worst of it. An entire wall caved in, shattered glass everywhere, all of the furniture destroyed. The walls that were left standing had what was very obviously scratch marks from whatever child was in here. “Holy,” I whispered, spinning around to look at the room. I kept looking around until I saw the bed in the corner, it was rusted and broken to no end, but that isn’t what caught my attention. It was the seemingly untouched blue bunny stuffed animal holding a very broken, but unburned, Jack-in-the-Box. I reached for it instinctively, but Toby grabbed my wrist. “Don’t,” he whispered. “I just want to know,” I grabbed the toys, inspecting them, before dropping them and gasping. I slowly picked them back up, and cradled the bunny, who was now missing an eye. “What is it?” Evan stood in the doorway, very obviously too scared to enter the room fully. “My name,” I whispered, just loud enough

to hear, “it’s on both of these.” I twisted the toys to show the red stitched name on the bunny and the carved name on the box. “Oh god,” Jessy whispered. I clutched the toys to my chest and started running back. “WAIT!” Toby called. “I have to know, I need to know the truth about my memory, and the truth about these!” I yelled when he caught up to me, he let go and let me run. “Whoa, slow down kid, where’s the fire,” my mom jokes. “What’s this,” I held up the toys and her face went pale, “don’t even think about lying, I want the truth this time.” “They were a couple of toys your childhood friend’s gave you before they left,” she replied. “Okay, new question,” I stood up straighter, “why were they in the mental hospital?” She gasped and dropped her tea cup. She smiled, looking at me, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Mom, why can’t I remember anything? Don’t give me a story like you do every time.” “You still believed in imaginary friends,” she cried, “you were twelve, that’s not normal for a 12 year old kid! I had to do something to make you realize they were fake!” “So putting me in a hospital and drugging me into forgetting was your grand solution?” I yelled. “You don’t understand,” she started. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but what I do understand is that I’m not the type of person to believe something I haven’t seen, or hasn’t been proved to me,” I crossed my arms, knowing what I had to do. “Don’t do anything stupid,” my boyfriend spoke when they finally caught up. “I have to know,” I spoke before turning around, taking the toys with me, and running into the woods. I ran for a long time, a couple of memories coming back to me. Playing with a tall stuffed clown, a tall red headed man with long hair and wearing a feathery jacket handing me the blue bunny, setting the fire in the hospital. Eventually, I ran up to a familiar metal gate that led to a run down carnival. I opened the gate and it creaked. My heart was pounding in my chest as I clutched the bunny tighter to my chest, the Jack-in-the-Box in my hoodie pocket. I heard a twig snap by the merry go round, causing me to run into the hall of mirrors. I fell against a wall trying to stop myself from crying. “Oh Gumdrop,” a singsong voice came from the entrance. I hid farther into the dark corner, “you don’t need to hide, we’re friends!” I watched the black and white clown look around the room, his hands on his hips. His eyes meet mine, he smiles wider and gets closer. “Jack!” A voice laughed from behind him, the jester from my dreams stepped forward. “It’s her!” Jack pointed, and the jester looked my way. “I’ve been tryna reach ya,” he pulled me out of the dark, “but ya never heard me!” “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, his grip wasn’t tight, but I could tell neither of them were human. “Don’t be sorry! It aint your fault!” The jester giggled, pulling me out of the hall of mirrors and into the big tent, where three more inhuman entities were talking and working. One was a shorter man with black hair, a sketch pad, blue jacket, and a white mask with a red smile sitting next to him. Next to him was a more average height man with dark grey skiing, all black clothes, golden eyes, and what looked like a puppet hanging from golden strands of light coming from his fingers. Across from him was a very tall white haired man dressed like a magician and holding a wand. “There you are,” the man with the sketch book said. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back,” the grey man next to him continued. “She doesn’t remember us,” the magician looked at me. “I’m sorry,” I murmured. “Don’t apologize!” The jester rolled his eyes, “we’ll just reintroduce you!” “I’m Laughing Jack!” Jack spoke, “you used to call me L.J. for short!” “This is Puppeteer, who you called Pup,” the man with the sketchbook pointed at the man with the puppet. “This is Helen,” Puppeteer smiled, pointing at the one with the sketchbook. “I’m Papa El De Grande,”

the magician spoke, “you always called me Mr. Magic.” “I’m Candy Pop!” the jester tickled my sides, “you called me Pop.” “Where’s Jason?” L.J. looked around. “His workshop, fixing Mr. Bun Bun,” Puppeteer said, “it’d be best if she went alone.” Puppeteer took me over to a red and white tent near the big one. He told me to just go in, and that he’s never been mad when I was around because he never wanted to scare me away. “Jason?” I poked my head in, and was greeted by a big stuffed purple worm covered in patches. “Glutton!” A voice yelled from farther into the tent, “get over here!” I followed as the worm snaked towards a redhead man with golden eyes, putting an eye on the rabbit that I had come here with. “Jason?” He looked up at the calling of his name, smiling gently when he saw it was me. “It’s been a long time, Dolly,” he handed me the bunny, standing up he towered over me, “come on, let’s go for a walk.” During the walk he answered all of my questions that my mother refused to answer. He caught me up on all of the missing details of the past. And eventually led me back to the front gate. “It’s nearly time for you to get home,” pat my head. “Remember to just wind up the jack in the box when you want to see me!” Jack waved. “I’ll visit ya in your dreams again tonight, maybe now you’ll be able to hear me!” Candy Pop laughed. “Come back tomorrow,” Helen waved from his seat on the stairs of the merry-go-round. “Oh my god,” a voice came from behind me, my mother had her hand over her mouth as she glanced over the people I had spent my childhood with. “I was right, Mom,” I whispered. “Jason?” She whispered the name of the man who was trying to get away. “Yes?” He turned around slowly to look at my mother. “Oh my god,” she whispered, “Jason Meyers.” I looked at my mother at the use of our last name. Jason lowered his head. “Mom?” “You have been spending time with the spirit of your father, and I took that away,” her hand went over her heart, “oh, I am so sorry dear.” “Wait, Mom I didn’t even know,” I stuttered. “I needed to protect you from the things you weren’t ready to know,” he ushered us out, “now come back tomorrow, it’s getting late.” “We have to take your boyfriend to meet them tomorrow,” my mother spoke, causing Jason to look up, his eyes suddenly glowing green and his hair slowly turning white. “Okay,” Jack clapped his hands, his smile gone, “I think it’s time for bed.”