#well... id hold her back from one of them. she can have free reign of the other

[trappedinafantasy37]

"Minthara is so abusive to the player" *INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE*

Minthara would literally go to fucking hell for the opportunity to personally beat the absolute shit out of the person who actually did abuse you. She will throw hands with gods and devils just to avenge you.

And you will not be able to convince her not to.

[doubleleoenergy]

So Pretty

Slurp her like a smoothie, swallow don’t spit that. Ay, kitty kat, Ms. Pussycat. You been a bad kitty, I’ma spank that.

Pairing: nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, age gap kink (Reader is 18), spanking, oral (male & female receiving), daddy kink, rough sex, dirty talk

Words: 2082

Summary: You bootycall Steve when your parents are out of town and things get wild.

Notes: This is my submission for @sableseb​’s 1.5K Lyric Challenge Celebration. The lyric I chose was “You been a bad kitty, Imma spank that” - So Pretty by Reyanna Maria ft Tyga. Also I apologize for this, I am a whore for nomad!Steve and all his deepest darkest fantasies.

It was almost 1:30am and y/n couldn’t sleep, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram to pass the time. Her parents had left on an early flight that morning to Cancun for their special twentieth anniversary celebration, leaving y/n at home alone for the entire weekend. 

She didn’t mind being by herself in her family’s estate, she preferred it, but there was an itch she hadn’t quite been able to scratch all day. And by itch that meant her insatiable horniness. Ever since her sexual awakening earlier that year all she could think about was sex. And luckily, her virginity had been taken by none other than Captain fucking America himself. Well, he didn’t really go by that anymore, given the events that had unfolded with the Sokovia Accords. At this point he was just Steve, laying low to ensure that no one would find out his location.

They had met completely by accident at a dingy bar downtown. One of y/n’s best friends had heard from her older sister how the bartenders there were never able to tell the difference between real and fake IDs, and so that’s how y/n ended up at the bar that night. 

She had turned eighteen that summer and had just started her first year at college, the two wanting to celebrate with a few drinks. Y/N had just ordered her first mojito of the evening when she saw him. He was sitting a few seats down from her on the padded bar stool, nursing the beer in front of him. When he heard the girls approach, their smiles flashing brightly as they handed over their fakes to the clueless bartender, Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Y/N’s friend had gone to the bathroom, leaving y/n alone to wait for her drinks at the bar.

“You’re not that great an actress.” Steve commented, his stare trained on y/n.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, furrowing her brows at him, pretending as if he was talking in a language she didn’t quite understand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve slid his beer two seats down, moving so he was now sitting right beside her. He can smell the remnants of her spearmint gum on her lips. He leans into her ear, his voice lowering an octave.

“You’re not 21, you’re barely eighteen. I can practically smell your virgin pussy from here.”

And not long after that comment her dress was crumpled around her waist as she was getting railed in the bathroom sink of the men’s room. Her virginity was taken by a man she barely knew, and he took pleasure in every second of making her his personal fuck-toy.

Just the thought of their first encounter had her pussy throbbing, her finger clicking on the message app on her phone with a cheeky smile on her face.

Y/N: Come over, my parents are out of town 😘

Daddy 💋: What are you offering? 👀

Y/N: My kitty needs your attention 🐱

Daddy: Unlock the front door, be ready in 20

Y/N smiled at his text, her stomach flip flopping as she rushed downstairs to unlock the door, running quickly back up them and into her closet to find something more appropriate to wear. She had just been relaxing all day at home, donning a pair of black sweats and an old band tee. Running her fingers along the fabrics in her closet, she finally decided on her lacy black bodysuit that hugged her curves and pulled her tits in tight against her chest.

She knew exactly how he liked her when he came to visit: face down, ass up, and back arched, revealing her pretty kitty for him. Y/N got into position, hearing the click of the door opening and shutting five minutes later, his loud footsteps echoing up the stairs. Her pussy tightened as she heard his steps headed down the hallway towards her room, her heart racing in anticipation.

“There’s my pretty girl.” Steve’s eyes enveloped the sight of her ready for him, the lace accentuating her body perfectly. “And I see you remembered to listen to orders, that’s a good girl.”

He walked achingly slow towards the bed, crouching down behind her to examine her glistening folds. Steve swiped a finger against them, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “God you’re so fucking wet, have you been like this all day? Couldn’t wait another minute so you had to text me late at night? Wanted to be stuffed with my fat cock before you go to sleep?” The words turn her on even further, bucking her ass back towards him to receive some form of friction.

“Now, now, pretty girl. You know how this works, use your words.” Y/N mewled on the bed, her eyes fluttering as she wiggled her ass back and forth for him. “Please daddy, want you to play with my pussy.” Steve’s chest swells with pride at her words, his cock already hard as a rock in his jeans. He moves his two pointer fingers, one on each side of her folds, spreading them apart to inspect her tight heat even further.

“So pretty, baby. Your pussy is just begging to be played with. Gonna eat you out real nice before you get fucked on daddy’s cock.” He leans closer to her cunt, licking a strip from her clit to her asshole, groaning at how her pussy juices taste on his tongue. He holds her pussy open further, spitting directly into her hole before diving his tongue in to lick inside of her. Y/N is letting out pornographic moans as his tongue swirls inside of her, her head lulling to the side against the bed.

“You taste delicious, be a good girl for me and push back on my tongue, want you to ride my face before daddy abuses your cunt with his cock.” He barely gets a chance to breathe before he’s diving back in, his thick beard getting soaked with her juices as she pushes her pussy back into his face, sitting back on it and fucking herself onto his tongue. The hair of his beard is tickling her clit which each thrust back, the familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach.

“Fuck, daddy, feels so good, can I cum please?” Steve shakes his head against her, giving her a non-verbal okay as she spasms on his tongue, his big hands gripping her ass and holding her steady on his mouth, lapping up all the sweetness she had to offer. Y/N slowly comes back down from her high, panting as Steve pulls his head back from her, his beard coated in her slick.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He moves to stand behind her ass, throwing off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them and his boxers, his cock springing free against his chest. He strokes it languidly, his hand coming up and slapping against her bare ass-cheek, a soft cry leaving y/n’s lips from the sting.

“Turn around, be a good girl and get daddy’s cock nice and wet for your tight cunt.” Steve purrs, watching as y/n turns around to face him on her hands and knees, waiting at the edge of the bed and instinctively opening her mouth. Steve steps closer, rubbing his cock against her mouth, precum smearing on her bottom lip before he slowly pushes inside her mouth.

His hands move to grab onto her hair, holding his fistfuls up like the reigns on a horse, the perfect grips as he slides all the way inside, bottoming out at the back of her throat and watching as she gags trying to hold him there.

“C’mon, baby, I know you can take it.” Steve states, pulling his hips back so that his cock is on the edge of her bottom lip before slamming back in again, cutting off y/n’s air supply. He continues his movements back and forth, tears flowing from y/n’s eyes as she tries to relax her throat for him. One move forward has her choking hard, pulling off of him with a sputter, saliva running down her chin to her chest. She coughed a few times, Steve’s eyes growing dark as he tugs a fistful of her hair, making him look up at her.

“Did I say you could pull off my cock?” He asked, his erection bouncing in front of her face. Y/N shook her head, eyes wide and her mascara smeared from her tears. 

“N-No daddy.” Y/N stammered, her pussy clenching. “It was too deep daddy; I couldn’t take it.”

Steve’s face flashed fake sadness, his fingers trailing over the skin of her ass.

“You’ve been a bad kitty, I’ma spank that.” His hand moves off her and returns fiercely, popping her hard on her ass, y/n twitching from the contact. He spanks her one, two, three times before his hand rubs against her skin, watching the red indents from his fingers appearing on her skin.

“Now, do you think you can be a good girl for daddy again?” Y/N sniffles, wiping some of the tears that are streaming down her face, nodding her head eagerly.

“Yes daddy, just want to be your good girl.” She choked out, batting her long eyelashes at him. Steve walks over to the side of the bed, moving to rest his back against the headboard, sitting up with his cock in his hand. “Well then, come ride daddy’s cock and show me just how good you can be.”

Y/N turns around on the bed, crawling until she’s hovering over Steve’s thighs, lining up his cock with folds and swallowing down a lump in her throat. She slowly seats herself with his cock inside her, waiting as she adjusted to each inch before continuing to push down until she felt her thighs touch his chest. His big hands instinctively grab at her hips, holding her up as she starts to bounce on his cock.

His eyes stay glued to her chest as her tits bounce in the black lace, her nipples hardened against the fabric there. She’s moving up and down, her face completely fucked out in bliss, moans escaping with each push down onto his cock. 

“Daddy, please can I cum? Please!” She whines, her pussy leaking. His hands roughly pull her hips to him, a satisfied smile spreading on his face as she’s coming undone above him.

“Yes baby, cum on my cock, make a mess for daddy.” Y/N bounces down one more time before she stills, her walls milking his cock as she cums for a second time.

“God, you’re still so tight, you’d think that with all the abuse I give to your cunt that you wouldn’t be. You feel just like you did the day I took your virginity.” Her body lulls above him and Steve moves to push her back against the bed, pulling his cock out before slamming it back into her, holding her up by the back of her neck.

“You’re so fucked out, aren’t you? You came twice already; think you can give me a third?” Y/N mumbles something, her eyes blinking as stars form in her vision again, cumming for the third time with his cock deep inside of her. 

“That’s a good girl, look at you going all stupid on my cock. Haven’t let anyone else fuck this pussy since you met daddy, huh? I’m the one who owns your dumb holes.” Y/N whines below him, her body dragging back against the comforter with each of his thrusts.

“You like that idea, don’t you baby? Owning you and never letting another man touch you, ruining your holes forever.” He quickened his pace inside of her, his orgasm building. “Bet you’d let me stick my fat cock in your ass too, watch your dumb baby brain switch off when I fill your ass full of my cum.” Steve shakes her head gently for her to make eye contact with him, holding her stare as his breathing becomes ragged.

“Gonna fill up this pussy baby.” He announces, his hips stuttering to a halt as he paints her walls with his cum, letting his cum completely unload inside of her before pulling out slowly, watching as his cum and hers starts to leak out of her pussy onto the bed.

Steve leans over the bed and tosses his shirt at her, a devilish smile on his lips. “Clean up your mess, I’m not done with you tonight.”

 Tagging those who may be interested: @serendipityrogers, @fuckandfluff, @blackwiddows​, @my-divine-death​ @turtoix

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[027] — trust the victim!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i literally just bought christmas gifts for my entire family and my bank account said 📉📉📉

“no, i’m good, thanks.” satomi deadpans for the umpteenth time today.

sure, those bear costumes were adorable and the cafe just behind the pair of mascots looked like a good place to eat, but this was not the time. if she were to be late to work, she hasn’t have the slightest clue on what her boss, mr. kono would think. she just hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t be fired, but especially after that one time went out with iwaizumi, she wasn’t sure anymore. missing work as a healthcare worker was already a serious ordeal, but being part of a professional team’s sports medicine team was on another level of seriousness. hell, she got suspended for an entire week just for a night, she couldn’t spare another minute.

“are you sure?”  the shorter bear asked again, “your dessert will be on the house if you eat now!”

satomi had a lot of patience. considering she’s good friends with bokuto and the physical therapist for the black jackals, it’s almost essential to have such a trait. yet by now, her patience was wearing quick.

“we’ll even throw in a free drink!” the taller bear added. their voices sounded awfully familiar.

granted, everything seemed awfully familiar today—from the couple she tried to help back at the coffeeshop and that random girl that accidentally bumped into earlier, but it didn’t matter now. she could not sacrifice years of hard work in medical school while finessing her way up the ladder to even work for a division 1 volleyball team for a stupid mistake.

something within satomi snapped, “i said i’m fine.” she huffed, pushing through the bear’s stuck arms holding promotional flyers. she stomped away, relishing the slight inkling of relief course through her as she finally escaped the pair. however the relief didn’t reign supreme for long once her eyes checked her phone.

shit, satomi thinks. i’m fucking late.

it was then did she push her weight off her right leg, running towards the gymnasium just a few blocks away. she felt like she was about to throw up her heart at any minute thinking of the consequences she would have to face once she entered that damned building. man, did she regret a lot of things by now. she wished to ignore the rising sting of her thighs that grew fatigued by the second, yet she’d rather think about the pain than beat herself up over her regrets.

satomi was well aware that she wouldn’t even be in this predicament if she didn’t say yes to iwaizumi. and yet, there was no way in hell did she regret going out with him. besides, she has a good feeling that their relationship could actually happen. maybe getting him drunk that one time was the best idea she ever had.

why else did he ask her out if he didn’t like her back?

her breath heaved as she pulled herself into a stop. entering the stadium doors, she was greeted by the security guard. she greets him back with a faux smile melting across her face as she reached into her bag for her id. “where the hell?” she muttered, “where’s my wallet?”

“is there a problem?” fujiyoshi, the security guard asked.

an annoyed scoff emitted from the girl. great, she thinks, can this day get any worse?

“sorry, fujiyoshi-san.” satomi says with the timbre of her voice suddenly turning sweet and provoking, “i don’t i have my id on me right now.”

the guard’s usual hard expression didn’t soften in the slightest and it kind of took satomi aback. usually guys would fall her sweet words, but she honestly wasn’t surprised that someone that’s a beefy security guard with muscles bigger than her head wouldn’t fall for that.

“you know i can’t let you in without a form of identification that you work here.” he dictates.

“oh come on, fujiyoshi!” satomi exclaimed desperately, “you see me walk inside every, just let me through!”

“no can do, ms. yahagi. we’ve been having security issues lately and this is just a necessary precaution.” 

satomi rolls her eyes, just put me out of my misery. “but you can't just—” she suddenly pauses as the black jackals and the rest of their sports medicine team make their way into the gymnasium. “bokuto! iwaizumi!” she shouts their names. the volleyball player and the athletic trainer look their way towards the girl a few meters away, held back by a security guard and the safety railing. “can you please tell this guy to let me in?”

by now the entire team was looking at her like a museum exhibit as all of them knew of all the fucked up things that she did. but honestly, if it wasn’t for sakusa and tomas holding back hinata and atsumu, who knew what those two would’ve done—maybe yell at her or just spoil all the fun of her suffering.

there was a level of confusion of satomi’s face when they all just stood there doing nothing. she gets that it’s strange seeing their physical therapist not be let in cause she forgot her id card, but things felt... different and she didn’t know what. did she have something on her face?

iwaizumi looks away, forcing himself not to look at the girl who used him for her own accord. he opted to think about you instead. meanwhile, bokuto continued to stare daggers at her, holding back a smirk as the sound of clicking shoes echoed from one of the hallways.

“hello?” satomi calls out again, “are you going to tell him to let me in?”

“that won’t be necessary,” a deep, guttural voice says, followed by none other than her boss, mr. kono, all suit-clad and his hair gelled back. “let her in,” he tells fujiyoshi.

“thank you!” she rolls her eyes before pushing through to the other side. she approaches the group of volleyball players and her medicine team, but is immediately stopped.

“come with me to my office.”

“what?” satomi asked, brows furrowing together as she walks to her boss instead. “did something happen?”

“i think you know,” mr. kono flickers a look towards iwaizumi before he disappeared into the gym. in an instant, satomi felt her breath hitch at the realization. she opened her mouth to speak. she tried so hard to force the words to come out between her lips but no excuse was good enough for her to get herself out of this one. maybe this day did get worse and she was absolutely speechless. “from personal experience, i always trust the victim.”

fun facts! —

when bo said that “it was time” it meant that they were going to report satomi, which wasn’t the plan at first since iwaizumi didn’t want anyone else to know

hinata, sakusa, atsumu, and tomas only knew of what satomi did, but they didn’t know that she did it to iwaizumi so they were extra mad

the entire msby team and their sports medicine team found out then so now she’s: ✨f-i-r-e-d✨

meanwhile, y/n, yuko, suga, kaori, and semi ended up eating at the bear cafe (they felt bad for akaashi so they order him takeout)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

[fific7]

Cold Day in Hell - Part 1

Logan Delos x Reader

A/N: This does not completely follow canon, it’s mainly lemon zest 🍋 because the world needs more Logan Delos.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in future chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Logan Delos was bored. Mind-numbingly, screamingly, terminally bored. He was rapping out an irritated drum solo on the arm of his chair with his long fingers. He was shifting in his seat, constantly crossing and un-crossing his long legs. He was moving the papers on the conference table in front of him from side to side, then backwards and forwards.

The businessman who was talking through the main presentation had a voice that was flatter than roadkill and had only one tone... monotone.

Logan leant forward and propped his elbows on the conference table in front of him, using his fingers to physically hold open his eyelids as they kept closing of their own accord. He felt a yawn coming on and fought to stop his mouth opening to accommodate it... but failed.

He was aware of the door to the conference room opening behind him but didn’t even have the energy to turn and see who it was. This asshole is draining the fucking will to live out of me, he thought. He vaguely heard said asshole saying something about his colleague talking through the next section of the presentation.

Logan sat right up in his seat as he spotted a beautiful - no, stunning - woman making her way to the front of the room. She was dressed in ‘business smart’ but even those sensible items couldn’t hide her curves. Her hair was pinned up, and he had already started fantasising about loosening it and running his hands through it. He wished he’d paid attention when Asshole had said her name. Or had he said her name? Logan had no idea.

He heard her starting to speak, a melodic voice... he had to know her name! Logan tutted and picked up the meeting agenda, riffling back and forth through the pages to get to the correct one, but wasn’t even sure what page he should be on. Suddenly the folder tumbled from his hands and clattered onto the floor. The talking stopped and he became aware of everyone’s eyes on him, including hers. In fact, she was kind of glaring at him.

He gave an apologetic wave to the room in general as he retrieved the folder from the floor. She began speaking again, and he resumed his page-riffling. Finally he found the current one, and there was her name in black and white. A melodic name to match her voice, he thought.

He started paying attention to what she was actually saying.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d just started your part of the presentation when some asshole dropped his agenda folder, the sharp noise bringing you to a screeching halt. When you saw a hand waving around in the air, your eye followed the arm down to its owner and noted that he was in fact a very good-looking asshole. But he was still an asshole.

You cleared your throat, trying to collect your thoughts and then launched back into your presentation. The asshole was now staring at you relentlessly; every single time your eyes swept the room, his dark eyes were on you. Like... always on you. Not like the others, who were at least glancing down at the handouts occasionally.

The section you were presenting drew to a close, and you now took an empty seat at the table. It was diagonally opposite the handsome asshole. Who was still staring at you.

Now that you were much closer, you could see that his eyes were a dark chocolate brown, with a wicked gleam in them. They matched his shining dark hair, which was immaculately swept back from his forehead. You boldly met his stare for a while, before breaking eye contact to listen to your colleague Craig deliver the final part.

At the end of the presentation there were a few questions which were duly answered, and then everyone was gathering up their paperwork and milling around prior to leaving the conference room. As you tucked your folders away in your document bag, in your peripheral vision you became aware of a pair of long legs making their way to you. You knew who it was bound to be so you didn’t bother looking up. A throat cleared next to you but you continued packing away your items, and then you heard your first name being spoken in a low, husky voice. This time you did look up - it would be rude not to - and yup, it was Handsome Asshole. A hand was proffered to you and by reflex you took it, your hand being crushed in a strong grip. “Logan Delos,” said that suave voice, “...it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” you scoffed, “...how original!” while thinking, oh... so this is the infamous Logan Delos, whose name you’d heard all the time in connection with the projects but never actually met before. He had a reputation of being a bit of a diva. You heard him give a deep chuckle. “Yeah, that’s me - an original. Unique, in fact I’d say.” “Well, you’re super confident, that’s for sure!” You picked up your document bag and headed for the door, saying “Nice to meet you, Mr Delos,” as you started to leave. His tall frame scooted round in front of you before you could reach it, “Oh, not so fast.... I can’t let you leave before you agree to have dinner with me.” You tried to sidestep him but he blocked your way, and then a little ‘step to the right, step to the left’ dance ensued. Finally, exasperated, you stood still and put your hands on your hips. “Mister Delos! Will you please let me past!” He copied your stance, “Not until you say you’ll have dinner with me. Or lunch. Or.... breakfast, if you prefer?!” wiggling his eyebrows at you. You huffed, “I don’t date business partners!” He still stood in front of you, seemingly immovable, “We’re not business partners - technically speaking. Boring Asshole is my business partner, not you.” Your mouth dropped open but before you could stop it, laughter bubbled out.

You hastily silenced it, saying, “I admit, Craig may not be the most inspiring public speaker, but he really knows his stuff,” trying to cover your somewhat indiscreet reaction and save your colleague’s honour at the same time. “But that’s beside the point, Mr Delos, because we are business partners despite what you’re trying to say.” Logan had moved slightly aside while you were speaking and you took this opportunity to brush past him, calling out, “Goodbye, Mr Delos,” with the emphasis on the goodbye as you went.

If you’d bothered to look back, you would’ve seen Logan Delos watching you go, a very determined expression on his face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Juliet looked up from her laptop as Logan breezed into her lounge, tossing his car keys onto the coffee table and throwing himself onto the sofa, long legs spreading out in front of him as he did so.

“Good meeting?” she asked, seeing that his head had gone back onto the cushions and he was staring up at the ceiling. He hummed, “Good and bad. The presentation was the single most boring thing I’ve ever heard in my life, but on the other hand one of their staffers.... wow! It was like an angel came down from heaven and found her way into that conference room.” She sighed, “Logan... by all that’s holy... do not try to screw one of our business partners for god’s sake! Dad will go ballistic if you mess up our working relationship with them.” Logan looked offended, “Who says I’d mess it up?” Jules gave a big sigh and shrugged, “Me, for one. Dear brother, I love you with all my heart but you’re fucking awful at relationships. You’d just fuck her and drop her like a hot potato. Who is it that caught your roving eye this time anyway?” Logan said her name in a dreamy tone and Jules rolled her eyes heavenwards, “Oh, no, no, no!... no way, Logan. I know her, she’s a lovely person and also does a fantastic job - she’s one of their top software engineers, specialising in middleware.”

Logan smirked, “She can engineer my middleware anytime she likes.” “Oh, shut up and get your mind out of your pants, Logan. Stay away, okay?!!” He huffed, “Hey! You can’t tell me who to pursue or otherwise, Jules!” “But that’s it, right there - you’ll chase her, catch her, bang her and drop her! I really like her as well as respecting her work, so you better just be damn careful!”

Logan sighed. He loved his sister but god, she was a king-size pain in the ass sometimes.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A week or so later, and you’d almost forgotten about that handsome asshole at the presentation. You couldn’t deny that he’d popped in and out of your thoughts since, but you’d googled him the day after you’d met him and had also made some discreet enquiries amongst those colleagues who’d worked with him before on projects. What you’d discovered had not endeared him to you.

He was a world-class player, that was obvious - and not fussy about which gender he played around with either. Not that that put you off, it was just the sheer volume of men and women he was pictured out on the town with. And alcohol and substance abuse had been there in the mix too, with some stays in rehab mentioned although the last one had been over a year ago. So no... you’d decided you wouldn’t be entertaining any further thoughts of the undeniably attractive Mr Delos.

You turned your thoughts back to the current middleware solution you were constructing, in fact it was for Delos Corporation, involving various scenarios for their Westworld hosts. You were immersed in code and structure when your phone rang, and you saw your boss’s extension number on the caller ID. Hmmm... what could she want? She usually gave you free reign when you working on a project, catching up with you every couple of days at team meetings. Answering it, you heard her assertive voice asking you to pop along to her office and so you set off on the short walk there. You knocked on her door and heard her say ‘come in’, so in you sailed and then came to an abrupt halt. Logan Delos was sitting opposite your boss; he was half-turned towards you with a somewhat triumphant smirk on his face. Your boss indicated the chair next to Logan and you quickly sat down, wondering what this was about and why Logan looked so smug.

Your boss launched into a mini-summary of what you were currently working on, and all you could do was nod. Eventually she finished up with, “So all your current projects are for Delos.” It was a statement not a question, so you just nodded. “Mr Delos here...” she levelled a hand towards Logan, “....has come up with a suggestion, and I happen to think it’s a good one.” She smiled at Logan, before looking back at you and continuing, “He thought it would be beneficial to have the person working on most of his projects - that’s you, just to clarify - to be based at Delos Destinations for the next three months, to facilitate progress.” You knew you were looking completely dumbfounded as she hurried on, “Obviously I’d like your input on this, but I’m sure you can see that it’d be very helpful for you to be on-site with our partners while you’re working through the projects?” Meanwhile you were desperately trying to come up with reasons to remain in your own office, but truthfully you couldn’t. It would be helpful to have instant access to their engineers when you needed an answer on something, you couldn’t deny that. Reluctantly you nodded, “Yes...I can appreciate that. But couldn’t we just have me spend maybe one or two days a week over there rather than be actually based in their offices?”

Logan spoke for the first time, his expression business-like now, “That wouldn’t really fulfill the brief though, would it? Because we’d be back to having a slight delay in receiving and giving responses for the time you weren’t at our offices. And I’d ... we’d... make you very welcome. There’s an office waiting for you... right next to mine.” He couldn’t stop that smirk reappearing as he finished speaking. You forced a smile, “Well, I can’t really refuse an offer like that, can I Mr Delos?” You looked back to your boss, “I guess that’s agreed then. When does this take effect?” Your boss beamed at you, “Excellent! I don’t see any reason for it not to commence immediately, do you? How about as of tomorrow?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Logan walked onto his office the next morning, whistling a happy little tune. He’d had a small glass of wine the night before at Juliet’s place when he’d dropped in on his way home, knowing he had to break the news to her that evening about the cunning plan he’d come up with. He was happy for two reasons; firstly, visiting Jules and his niece Emily and not having to see William’s stupid damn face any longer would never get old, and secondly, his little scheme to get closer to that gorgeous woman was coming together. As Jules worked partly from home and partly at the office, he had to let her know that a new face would be around for at least the next three months. It would give him a much better chance to persuade her to go out with him - she wouldn’t really be able to escape him given that she’d be right next door to him every day. Predictably, Juliet had issued a stern warning about what would happen to certain parts of his anatomy should he overstep, but had reluctantly accepted that it was a fait accompli. (Privately, she was looking forward to working more closely with her and also warning her about the usual antics of her beloved brother, that’s if she wasn’t already well aware of them).

He’d been racking his brains for ideas on how best to pursue her ever since she’d turned him down flat at that conference. Logan wasn’t used to being turned down. He’d had a brainwave a couple of days later and had checked into who was handling the Delos projects at her company - after all, surely she wouldn’t be at the conference in the first place if she wasn’t involved somehow? He’d been overjoyed to find out that she was handling just about all of the current open projects (so why on earth had they allowed Boring Asshole to give the majority of the presentation?! he’d thought incredulously) and had then begun to put together a plan to somehow get her into his close orbit. He was really quite proud of what he’d come up with.

His secretary knocked on his doorframe and announced that his visitor had arrived. A big smile appeared on Logan’s face.

Here I go! he thought, the thrill of the chase coursing through his veins.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The secretary smiled at you over her shoulder as she leaned against Logan’s office doorframe, “Please, go right in,” before stepping aside so you could enter.

The man himself was lounging back in his fancy office chair, which to you looked more like the type of padded seat you’d get on a private jet, waving you into the office before getting up and striding over to you. He held out his hand which you took but instead of shaking it as you expected, he pulled you towards him and kissed your cheek very softly. A waft of delicious and no doubt expensive cologne reached your nostrils before he stepped back, “Welcome on board!” he said, “...I’m so glad you’re joining us here at Delos Destinations.” You smiled, “Thank you, Mr Delos.” “Logan!” he said immediately, waving his hand and saying your first name. “Logan,” you said dutifully, “yes, thank you for the welcome ....of course I do still work for my own company.” He smiled at you, still holding onto your hand and beginning to lead you to the door, “Well, for now you do. I’ve a mind to steal you away for myself, you know. Or, sorry... for Delos Destinations, I should of course say.”

OK... seems like he’s still interested, even if that wouldn’t last longer than a heartbeat once you’d gone out (and especially if you slept) with him. You knew this secondment was going to be trouble, you thought. Three whole months of trying to resist Mr Player of the Decade. But you were convinced that you could do it.

As he lead you from his office to what was going to be yours, you were suddenly very aware of his tall figure beside you, your hand in his (he still hadn’t let go of it) and a hint of that beautiful cologne of his again. He looked across at you, dark eyes gazing into yours and gave you a mischievous grin. Annoyingly, your stomach did a little flip.

Yeah, really convinced.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Not my GIF - credit to owner)

[codename-adler]

Kevin Day and his Oblivious Literature Lover, pt.IV

In times of college finals, aftg is my coping mechanism of predilection. hope it helps some :)

>> Table of Contents,TW and other parts here!

i’ll let you guess what Kevin and Juliet chose for their project

oh, yes

the letters of Hamilton, Eliza and John + Hamilton: The Musical

i will fight you on this

at first, when Juliet suggests it, Kevin stares at her so hard bc really?? a musical??

but then she lends him the 50$ leatherbound official book of the musical (you know the navy blue and beige one? you know what i’m talking about, right?) and reads it all in one evening and wow

lin-manuel miranda? genius. ron chernow? Genius. alexander hamilton? Dumb Genius.

oh yeah and Juliet? Absolutely mind-blowing genius.

as Andrew & Neil grow closer and the match agaisnt the Ravens rounds the corner, Kevin finds himself looking more and more forward to the time spent at the library with Juliet

she is just so focused on their project and so oblivious as who he really is and doesn’t really care if sometimes he is more anxious, if freaks over everything to be perfect, if he babbles on&on&on&on about any bit of history he discovered

she’s just there, smirking, stiffling her laughs and asking for more

they’ve exhanged phone numbers and she installed snapchat on his, and although he never sends her anything, she always has a short video and a funny caption that pop up from time to time; they’re that little reminder that the world goes on outside of exy and that he exists outside of exy

she introduces him to funny videos and he didn’t know absolute dumb shit could make him snort??

his favorite is the peanut butter baby

at first the Foxes give him this judgemental look when he ugly-snorts in the locker room or at Eden’s, but eventually they just get that glint in their eyes as if they were in on the jokes

sometimes, Juliet’s so focused on writing down bullet points in her notebook, peeling the skin off her lips, so unaware of Kevin’s personal hell of a life, that he just wants to spill out everything

although he’s not sure if it’s because he wants her to know him and stay, or because he wants her to reject him and therefore spare himself the trouble of getting attached...

she takes the decision for him

on a Thursday afternoon, on their planned study session, she doesn’t show up

she doesn’t answer her phone either

he even tries out a completely blacked out snap with “r u alive?” in caption

no answer

he gives her space, sending her occasional cat videos he thoroughly researches

if she watches them, she doesn’t say anything

on Monday afternoon, she doesn’t come to class

that’s when the panic Kevin’s been reigning in just... bursts

what if it’s Riko?��

what if it’s the Master?

what if it’s Ichirou?

what if, somehow, it’s the Butcher’s people?

that afternoon’s practice is hell for the Foxes, Kevin is ruthless and an asshole and very agressive

Dan waits for him outside the boys’ locker room as all the other Foxes leave (not even Andrew and Neil want to wait for him)

“Spit out your goddamn problem before I tell Coach to bench you next game”

oh, how Kevin wants to cuss her out

and then he looks  at her face, ready to vomit words, when he sees her worrying her lips

just like Juliet

it shouldn’t be enough to make him tear up, but it does

he still manages to keep as much of the truth to himself as he possibly can

“My EAL partner isn’t responding to my messages or my calls and she didn’t even come to class today and it stresses me the fuck out and what if it’s like with Neil, Dan?” he says in one breath, trying to tear out the net of his racket

Dan recomposes her face and gets that very serious look, the one she usually gets when someone touches her family

“It’s not, Kevin. That’s over. We got Neil back, we got you back, you got Jean back. The team didn’t even know who that person was. The most info we’ve gathered is what you just told me now. Yeah there are some bets but it’s mostly for funsies, nothing even remotely serious. You wanna look for her?” she soothes him.

“I don’t even know...”

“She lives on campus?” she asks.

“I don’t- I don’t know, Dan. I spent months with her and I can’t even vaguely say where she lives! How fucked up is that?” Kevin yells.

“It’s not even remotely fucked up, Kevin. You should know that. Does she have instagram? twitter? Or like, facebook?” she questions some more.

“God, I don’t know. She only sends me stupid fucking videos and I never even respond like the goddamn asshole I am...”

“Shut up. We’re all assholes at the end of the road, ‘kay? You ain’t better or worse than others. Now she sends them to you in text or somewhere else?”

“Sometimes texts... Sometimes the yellow app, the chat one. Why.”

“Oh great, that’s great. We can locate her, with snapchat, if she forgot to turn off the sharing. And if you’re comfortable with that, too. I know you’re not a creep like that. You’re creepy sometimes, don’t get me wrong. But, not a creep.”

“Gee, thanks, Dan.”

“Hey, shush. You down or what?” she says, arching an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he answers, unable to make the fear go away without knowing for sure.

And so it turns out Juliet’s location is, in fact, knowable. Dan grabs one of Kevin’s shoulders as he leaves the court, squeezing her affection into her grip; he nods emotionally in her direction, as far as emotions can translate unto his face.

he doesn’t even know what he’ll do once he finds her, his brain is solely focused on the animated map that brings him closer and closer to Juliet

the more he progresses, the more he realizes he is far from Fox Tower, on a campus area he has never even seen

he stops before a decrepit building, old and moldy-looking

Jackie Kennedy Hall

student dorms? this shabby? she can’t possibly live-

except that she can, because there isn’t another building close and the map has brought him here, and he doesn’t really know her...

so Kevin straightens his shoulders, inhales deeply, and goes inside

he could go on and on and on about everything that is just wrong with the place, from the smell to the decoration, but he makes a beeline for the front desk (he’s lucky there’s even one)

he asks for a way to contact someone, flashes his press smile at the women behind the desk, gives up his ID in exchange for the room number

Juliet Grier, 418

stairs, stairs, stairs, stairs

heavy door, right, 412, 414, 416...

418

what, now?

Kevin hesitantly knocks once, twice

no answer

he knocks again and decides to speak up, in case she didn’t hear

“Juliet? It’s Kevin. Day. From EAL? Can I speak with you?”

still nothing

maybe she isn’t home... no, the map says she’s here. maybe she’s sleeping...

he decides to try one last time

“We really should finish that project, you know? I think we could both use the free time...” he says without his heart into it.

without surprise, no response still

he decides to take a loose paper from his sachel and writes down some words

Greetings Hi,

My friend Dan helped me look for you, but you don’t have to worry about your privacy; it’s because of the yellow app. You should turn that off if you don’t want other people to be nosy. 

You weren’t in class today. I’ll share my notes if you want them. But, you should come to class, it’s better. For learning. 

I’ll wait a few in case you’re asleep. 

Text me or call me or whatever when you’re ready.

- Kevin D. (your partner from EAL)

quick, efficient, to the point

Kevin slips the paper under the door, and waits

he refreshes the map too many times, to see if her location changed or if somehow there was a glitch

it stays put

he ends up sitting on the hallway floor, his back sliding down the wall

he catches up on a book for another class, checks exy stats and watches many, many videos of Jeremy Knox on the court and in interview

some students pass him with a nasty look, eyeing the lack of earphones on his phone

some other students walk by him and will themselves to keep going, because holy shit it’s Kevin Day in Jackie Hall

it’s at least an hour and a half before the doorknob slowly and quietly starts to click

Kevin was absorbed deep into whatever move Knox was making before scoring

the 418 door opens

Kevin gets up in one move, all things Jeremy Knox and exy forgotten

she’s loosely holding Kevin’s paper in one hand, the other clutching a large scarf that covers up the majority of her body

from what he can see, though, she’s wearing sweats from head to toe; her hair’s tied on the top of her head, but most of the curls escaped and it looks unwashed and her curls, dry

her skin’s turned pale, dark circles under her eyes, a haggard look in them, her cheeks stained with dry tears

Juliet looks terrible

“Hi...” Kevin attempts

she finally looks up from the paper and gives him a bored look that could rival Andrew’s

with a rough voice strained from cries and many days without speaking, she asks, “My EAL partner?”

“Well, yes. In case.”

“In case of what.”

“I-”

“I know who you are, Kevin.”

and isn’t that both his most ardent wish and his worse fear?

with that, she turns around and goes back to her dark room, leaving the door open behind her

is that... an invitation?

Kevin’s never been to another person’s place, apart from the Columbia house, Abby’s and Wymack’s

he reminds himself why he came in the first place and decides it would be a waste to leave now, right?

the small studio is a mess, much like its occupant

there are clothes everywhere, on the floor, on a chair, on the bed, on the desk

all the curtains are drawn, no light is on, the only source coming from Juliet’s laptop somewhere amongst her bedsheets

it’s like she made herself a nest and hasn’t moved from there for a long time

maybe even since last Monday, the last time he saw her

Kevin doesn’t understand the scene he has before his eyes

he’s never seen such apathy in someone that is not Andrew

and at this point, apathy is pretty much Andrew’s default state of being

not Juliet’s

Juliet is a soft glow, toothy grins, wild curls, countless jumpers, dumb jokes and references, color-coded notes, an organized mind, unwavering focus and determination, flowing words and warm, kind eyes...

so what is this?

then Kevin realizes he spoke aloud

and Juliet can only chuckle sadly, almost mockingly

“This? This is why I don’t have friends. This is why I don’t mix with people. This is why I’ll never amount to anything in life. This is my dirty laundry, both metaphorically and literally. This is it. That’s... That’s it. This is what I get,” she answers flatly

Kevin’s mind is spinning

he doesn’t understand

he needs to understand, though

“Explain it to me,” he says

Juliet looks at him like a brick just hit him on the head and made him speak Swedish

“Why.”

“Because, surely there’s a way to work with it.”

she laughs

it doesn’t reach her eyes, nor her lips or her cheeks

it’s just a desperate sound

it makes him think of Andrew again

and that gives him an idea, a gut feeling, if you will

“Can I try something out?” he asks

“Kevin... I can’t- I’m tired... It’s not a good idea... I’m tired, Kevin,” Juliet responds, pain noticeable in her voice and her movements slow

“I know, I- I know. Someone I know... He plays this game. It’s really not a game, it’s more like a communication thing. He calls it “A Truth for a Truth”.  In exchange for something I tell you, you tell me something. And in exchange for something you tell me, I’ll tell you something else. It’s made me... work through some things... before,” Kevin explains calmly

Juliet keeps on observing him from her bed, silent

“Look, can I just stay here to do homework? I have nowhere to go right now,” Kevin asks, almost blurting out “Please” before Andrew’s ghost caught it in his throat

she lies back down, burries herself in her covers, a silent “yes”

Kevin ends up falling asleep sitting on the floor, books open, head resting at the end of Juliet’s bed

he wakes up around 2 AM

he’s got multiple texts from Aaron and Nicky, one from Andrew, and one from Dan

“told everybody you spent the night at Coach’s. take care.”

he silently vows to thank her later

now he either really goes to Wymack’s to finish his night there, or... he stays exactly where he is

Juliet is still sleeping soundly

in a haze, he palms for a pillow or cushion, pulls his hoodie on and lies back down on the carpeted floor

he’s only awaken in the late morning when he brutally gets stepped on

“What the shit?? Kevin! How...???” Juliet yells

“Um, ow? No, no, don’t apologize so quickly. You just, you know, crushed my lungs and a couple of ribs, no worries, Jules!” Kevin groans

“Ju- you know what? I’m not sorry. Right now I gotta pee, so you better have a damn good explanation when I get back,” she replies and leaves her room to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall

instead of dread, Kevin feels calm about the upcoming conversation

he doesn’t prepare lies, doesn’t run away, doesn’t resort to assholery

he just stays put where he is on the floor, snuggles deeper into his hoodie, and waits for relief, for the truth

he waits for Juliet

[p---ink]

Stark Contrasts: Chapter Four

Author’s Note: For anyone following my series on Tony Stark, this is the 4th installment. Chapter 5, will be my last chapter, and it is coming soon. I hope you enjoy this. 

Summary: Tony makes it his mission to find you after you leave. 

Warnings: Angst, (I promise the next chapter will have smut!!!) 

Song: Where’s My Love by SYML

Word Count: 5.9k

Parts: one | two | three | four | five

Chapter Title: The Lengths He’ll Go To

Disclaimer: Gif is not mine.

Some offered looks of worry. Some clutched their guns. Some knew not what to do, as they watched the panic-stricken man search the station for anyone he thought could help him. He had just burst through the doors of the precinct, frantic state of mind attached to his demeanor. He blew past the front desk, despite the receptionists pleas. He could not care less about their waiting line, he could not care less about their protocol. Every minute wasted, was one where you could be getting further away. Every minute wasted was one where he was not with you. 

“Sir, excuse me? You can’t go back there! Sir!” The receptionist yelled, as she followed his movements passed the front gate.

He plopped himself down in the first open chair with a face behind the desk. The woman on the other side of it looked from him to the receptionist before dismissing her. “It’s okay Rebecca, I’ll handle this.” She sat her cup of coffee down before starting. “How can I help you Mr. Stark?” He was no longer surprised when people who he had never met called him by name.

“I would like to report a missing person.” Were the first words Tony had uttered since his being there. 

The detective reached for a free piece of paper and pen among the clutter on her desk. “What is the name of this person?” He told her your first and last name. “And when did you last see her?”

“A few hours ago.” He stated. The detective stopped her scribbling and glanced up at him for a moment. 

“So it’s only been a few hours? What leads you to believe she’s missing?”

“Everything she owns is still at home.” He simply said, believing that alone made sense. 

“Well if anything sir, that should prove she’s not gone.”

“No you don’t understand. She left everything at home. Her car is still there. Her apple watch. Even her phone was still on our entryway table.” He placed the sleek black device on top of the desk to prove he wasn’t lying. You were going to take your phone, but Pepper thought it was best to leave it. “Don’t underestimate the lengths Tony Stark would go to, when it comes to what he wants.” She said. 

“I see.” The detective started, picking up her pen again to scribble his comments down. “Well how old is she?”

“Look I already know where you’re going with this one. Yes, she’s an adult. But she wouldn’t just up and leave like this. Her family doesn’t know where she is, nor her friends. I contacted her professors, and no one at her university has seen her other than yesterday.”

“It seems to me like you haven’t given them enough time to. You said it’s only been a few hours.” The detective— or Danielle Shaw according to her badge, laughed. 

Tony examined her, taking offense to her amusement. “If she’s not missing, why were her things left at home?” His tone was now slightly aggressive, whereas before he could contain his frustration.

“Maybe she doesn’t want you to trace her. You seem a bit controlling.” Shaw stated casually.

“Excuse me?” He was already agitated, but she was just pissing him off now. She had but long abandoned her pen to invalidate him. It was as if she had already given up on searching for you. 

“Listen sir, I am going to say this in the nicest way possible. Often in domestic violence cases the victim will—”

“My girlfriend could be at the bottom of a lake right now, and you’re accusing me of abuse?” He sneered, sitting up in his seat to grip the handles on the chair. He knew you weren’t at the bottom of a lake. He knew you hadn’t been kidnapped. You were gone, and you didn’t want to be found, so all that the detective was suggesting reigned partially true. But he had come with hopes that they could trace your location some how. He knew now, that those hopes were in vain. 

“We just have to cover all of the bases is all, Mr. Stark.” She leaned back in her chair, offering him a tight-lipped smile that failed to reach her eyes. She had even placed the paper she took her notes on in a drawer beside her seat.

“Look are you going to look for her or not?.”

“We’ll do our best to find her.” She assured him, reaching across the desk to grab the phone. 

He placed his hand over hers to halt her actions. He didn’t believe a word she said. “You need her phone to do this? What if she calls it looking for me?”

“Then we’ll call you immediately.” She said snatching her hand away from his, sliding the phone into her desk. “Can I take down all of the ways to get in contact with you?” 

Now feeling defeated, Tony gave her everything she needed from him. “Thank you. We’ll be seeing you soon Mr. Stark.” She affirmed, smiling as she reached a hand out for him to shake. Her attempts at cordiality went ignored. 

Fuck the police. Tony thought as he raised from his seat to exit the building. 

…..

He spent months searching for you since his police visit. It became his routine to call your closest family members. He had even coaxed some of the distant one’s information out. The bastard was crazy enough to visit your loved ones for the first time just to make sure you hadn’t been staying there. 

He spent weeks calling up your friends, making sure they hadn’t heard from you. Making sure they hadn’t posted any pictures of you on their social media pages. They all blocked him, growing annoyed in his desperate attempts to find you. 

He had toured your University twice. Stopping by your old classes to see if your professors had heard anything, leaving his number so they could text him if they had. Of course they knew nothing of your whereabouts, but that was confidential information that they could not share even if they did. Tony knew this, but he offered them a large sum of cash if they found out about anything from your peers.  

Samuel, the maître-d at your favorite restaurant, had seen or heard from him at least every other day. Tony was now one of his most frequent callers. As much as Sammie loved him, the man had become frustrated with his day-to-day nonsense, and banned him from the premises until further notice. 

Everyone was growing tired of him. He couldn’t see why though. Five months wasn’t long to any other person, but to Tony it felt like eternity. 

Five months. That’s how long you had been gone. That’s how long he hadn’t touched you, or seen you smile. Five months is how long you hadn’t talked to him. That’s how long it had been since he had gotten to wake up next to you, or smelled your skin. He hadn’t heard you laugh in five months. He hadn’t heard you nag, in five months. At this point he just wanted to hear you breathe, after five long months, but he knew that was too much to ask.  

There were no more movies. They had all made him depressed. He no longer played his favorite songs. They reminded him too much of you. He would often travel the long way home. This was to avoid driving by your favorite places. When he did decide to eat, he couldn’t even cook for himself; takeout and beer became his only source of food. Most of the time he’d be in the gym, pounding out all of his frustrations into a boxing bag, wishing instead to hold you, before passing out to your memory. 

He tried visiting bars in search of women who resembled you. He never found anyone who could capture your aura, but the one time he got close, he called her by your name. Not like he wanted it to go anywhere anyway. They could never compare to you.  

She’s forgotten about me now. He thought. She’s moved on to someone else. She hates me because of that night. How could I be so stupid to fall asleep. His thoughts often consumed him. They often got the best of him. He was tired of denying them, so he just let himself think the worst. 

His phone began to vibrate for the first time today. He rushed to it, hoping it was you or news of you. Disappointed, he sat it back down when the caller ID revealed Pepper’s name. 

Perhaps the only person who he had not called since your departure was Pepper. Despite knowing for a fact that she was the only one who knew where you were, he knew that she would never tell him. He felt more disdain for Pepper than he had ever felt. They had once been best friends but now all he felt for her was resentment.

She had called him every day. Trying to check in on him, seeing if he was okay. Seeing if he would stop by Stark Industries. Seeing if had forgotten about you. Pepper, despite Tony’s doubts, genuinely thought she was helping him. She genuinely thought she was helping you. Had she known her attempts to diffuse the situation would have left him this miserable she would of thought twice. Overall she didn’t regret what she thought was right.

He was currently sitting on the floor, texting your old number, informing you of how much he missed you. Despite not hearing anything from you, he continued paying your phone bill. He knew you wouldn’t reply. Your phone was still at the Police department sitting in Detective Shaw’s desk. Still, he loved the idea that you might text him back. 

Knock! Knock! Knock! The front door sounded, distracting him from his previous tasks. He thought it was Pepper again, coming to reprimand him for ignoring her calls. He remained on the floor, ignoring the door. 

“Mr. Stark open up! It’s Detective Shaw from the police department!” Shaw shouted, banging on the door once more. Tony ran to fling it open, in hopes that the detective had some updates. 

“Hi Mr. Stark, you haven’t responded to my calls.” Shaw accused, tilting her head to survey him. He looked very different from the last time she had seen him. More rugged. Tired even. 

“That’s because you haven’t called me. I haven’t heard anything from you in months.” She thought that because he was such a busy man, she could get away with lying about contacting him. Had she only known he spent his months consumed in you. 

She quickly recovered from her lie. “Yes Mr. Stark, and I’m sorry for that, but its because we haven’t found anything regarding your missing person’s report. I am just here to return the phone you submitted into evidence. We are calling off the case, so we thought you should have it back.” 

Tony snatched the ziplock bag from her hand, before grumbling a ‘thanks for nothing’, shutting the door in her face. She looked as if she had more to say, but he stopped listening after she said they hadn’t found anything 

He returned back to his seated position on the floor against the couch. Now instead of texting your phone with his, he could use yours to reply back. He turned it on and unlocked the device, surprised he could still remember the passcode.

“I’m going crazy.” He sighed, shutting his eyes and dragging a hand down his face. He had said this upon opening your phone to reveal over 500 notifications. About 70% of them being from him. It took a minute for them all to load. When they did, he went into your messages app, scrolling through the endless gray. Scrolling. Scrolling. Scrolling until he came to a stop at the last messages between the two of you. 

You: Hey, what would you like for dinner?

Tony: I could go for your favorite tonight

You: Okay well, I’ll have it done by the time you’re back. 

Tony: Noooooo, I wanna help! I always help. 

You: Fine! Love you, I’ll see ya soon.

‘Love you’ He read. He remembered that night. It was a few nights after you two had been caught. That night was a calming before the storm, because it was the day before you left him. 

It was one of the most normal times he had experienced with you. It felt like the two of you were an official couple. Your favorite song echoed throughout the kitchen as he helped you prepare dinner. While dancing circles around you, he belted the lyrics out in a dramatic voice in dire need of taking your mind off of Edward. In dire need of hearing your laugh again. Come time to wash the dishes he heard it once he used the kitchen sink’s hose to drench your entire body in water. At first you were pissed, but then you burst into a fit of laughter as you took your revenge out on him.   

‘Love you’ Why didn’t I say it back. I didn’t get to tell her before she left. I didn’t tell her enough. He thought rereading your texts over and over again. He read it so much he tried to imagine your voice saying it. He couldn’t forget your face. So many pictures of you flooded his and your phone. But he had long forgotten your voice. He cursed himself everyday for it too. When he was done dwelling on ‘Love you’, he moved on to ‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

‘I’ll see you soon.’ He read. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ ‘I’ll see you soon.’ What did she mean by that? Does she want me to come and find her? He thought. 

“Ugh!” He groaned out-loud. “I really need some fucking help.” He left the texts between the two of you, about to re-lock your phone, but something bothered him. None of your family and friends had texted you. His texts were the last you had received. Out of the 536 notifications, not one had been a text from your loved ones. 

Twitter. Instagram. Tumblr. Facebook. Pinterest. Even fucking Youtube had sent you more notifications than your friends. What the fuck? He questioned. What puzzled him more however, was the name just below his. Nao? He had never met them. 

He opened the messages between you and the girl, studying every word. You had asked her if you could stay with her until you departed the states. She told you yes and sent her address in return. 

Tony rushed to get up from his spot on the floor. He fled to put on something decent before sprinting out of the house to find Nao. 

…..

Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Thuack! Those were the sounds his slaps made against the door. He barely left a second between each thud, forcing the resident to answer his calls. He hadn’t messaged her ahead of time to make sure she was home. He didn’t even know the girl, who offered you a home away from him. All he knew, was that the person on the other side of that wall was the last to see you. Perhaps even someone who could give him answers regarding you. He continued his desperate knocks, silently begging for God to answer his prayers. 

Nao swung the door open, eyeing the slate of wood as if he had put a hole through it. Her glare turned into a look of bewilderment upon turning to examine her door’s assailant. He had on a pair of tented shades as if to hide his identity, but she knew who he was.“Tony Stark?” 

“Yes. May I come in?” He asked, after pushing past her to invite himself into her apartment. He didn’t even give himself enough time to properly analyze her. 

“Um…no.” Nao answered to herself, dumbfounded that this man just barged his way into her apartment.  She followed him through the tiny living room, watching him inspect the furniture and knick-knacks that were spread throughout the place. She thought he was judging her choice of decorations, but he was really trying to determine what kind of person she was. 

“Can I help you?” She rudely asked, snatching back the journal he picked up from her coffee table. 

An unfazed Tony replied, “Actually you just might be able to. Nay-yoh?” He annunciated “Am I pronouncing that right?”

She was curious as to how he knew her name, as well as how he found her “Yes, how did you—”

“You let a girl by the name of Y/N stay here about 5 months ago?” She was hesitant when she answered yes, very aware of where his questions were going. “Do you have any idea where she is?”

“I can tell you that she doesn’t want to be found.” Nao confessed, informing him of what he already knew. 

“I asked if you know where she is.” He stopped his journey around her apartment, to focus in on her. How he didn’t notice her baby-blue hair before, was a mystery. She had on sea-foam green silk pajamas, and looked like she had just rolled out of bed, despite it being around 1:00 in the afternoon.

“Dude, Ms. Potts told me not to speak to you about this, and so did Y/N.”

At this point, he took his shades off, and trudged closer to her squaring his shoulders to appear taller. It was his attempt to intimidate her. Nao looked more unbothered than ever though; pale arms crossed against her chest. She was close in his height, still a few inches shorter, but in this moment they were equals. She quirked her eyebrows in a ‘try-me’ manner, before speaking again. “If my answer wasn’t clear before, I am not telling you shit.”

His hard demeanor dissipated, and he soon turned into a pitiful mess. “Please. Is it money you want?”

“No.”

“Protection?”

“No.”

“Weed?” He suggested that because it was the first thing he smelled upon entering her apartment.

“Nah. I’ve had my fill.” She laughed

“Then what is it? Just name it and I’ll do it!” She knew he was serious, but her loyalties laid with you. 

“Nothing. I can’t tell you anything.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Tony questioned.

“It’s all in the same isn’t it?” Nao casually countered. 

He was beginning to lose hope again. “Please? I am begging you. Surely you must know that the circumstances surrounding her leave, are bullshit.”

“She did it for you Tony.” Nao looked at him as if he was ungrateful. She was now greatly concerned by your choice in men. 

“I know. I know.” Tony started, deeply admired by your love for him.  “And I love her for it, it’s just…I didn’t ask her to. I didn’t need her to. Could you just please tell me where she is.” 

Pain shined through his ego. She saw this grown man on the verge of breaking. A man who had everything in the world , yet he still could not be satisfied without you. She could only offer her pity. “I can’t man. Maybe you should just leave things the way they are. It’s for the best.”

“I am sick of people telling me what is for the best. I have been on this planet for over forty years now, and I am perfectly capable of deciding what is best for me.” Tony spat 

“Well so is Y/N.” Nao asserted, batting for you since you weren’t there. Growing irritated she walked over to him to begin pushing him towards the exit. 

Surprised by this lanky girl’s strength, Tony kicked up his pleading due to his lack of time.“Please. Please? My life is miserable without her.” 

Though she believed him, she still felt the need to be loyal to you. But If he found you on his own, she could still do that. She stopped to open the door, now speaking again. “I can’t tell you where she is.”

“Oh come on—“

“—But I can tell you to check her twitter.” And with that, she pushed him through the door, shutting it quickly before he could protest. 

…..

Twitter. What in the hell did she mean by that? He thought. Of course he had checked your twitter, it was the first thing he had done when he left the police station.  He followed every one of your social media accounts, and you had been inactive on all of them. There weren’t even any signs of you liking others posts. Pepper practically had you on lock-down. 

He was out of ideas, before, he decided to check your account through your phone. Perhaps something different would show up. 

Still nothing.

He became bored browsing through the app. Then curious as to how it worked. Despite being a genius, twitter seemed like a foreign concept to him. Being the attention-seeking, flamboyant man he was, you would of thought he’d be drawn to it. But he was usually far too busy to keep up with the ever-changing app. Far too busy to even care what anyone had to say about him. Now, however, he had all the time in the world. 

He searched through your profile, wondering if he could find anything in your bio about where you could or would be. You were way too smart for that. So still nothing. 

While searching through your navigation tab, that’s when he finally found something worth searching for. Right across from your profile picture, was another glowing blue icon. 

Tapping on it, he was able to switch to your not-so-secret account, Tonysbitch99.

“Well, what do we have here?” He cheered, as he scrolled through your most recent tweets. Some dated back to as early as yesterday. The entire account was dedicated to defending him.

You had tweets that called out TMZ for spreading fake news. TMZ tweeted comments that speculated Tony being dead, because no one had seen the titan of industry in public for a while. 

Tonysbitch99: @ TMZ, shut the fuck up. You speak of things you know nothing about. Tony’s just chillin. Dealing with invasive idiots like you, sick people, can be stressful. 

There were tweets about Tony being a cradle-robber for dating a woman who was half his age. 

Jer0d_the_g0at: When are we gonna talk about Tony Stark? This man is dating a literal child. She’s only like 10. 

Tonysbitch99: @ Jerod_the_goat, please invite yourself to mind your fucking business. They are both consenting adults, and if she didn’t wanna be with him she wouldn’t be. BTW she’s 24. 

Jer0d_the_g0at: @ Tonysbitch99, you talk like you know her. Did she tell you that? Anyway it doesn’t matter, because Tony either pressured her, or she’s in it for the money. 

Tonysbitch99: @ Jerod_the_goat, look at you doing the same thing you accuse me of. Did she tell you she was pressured? Did she tell you she just wanted his money? People need to stay out of other’s relationships. She’s a grown ass woman. 

Tonysbitch99:  @ zuko-marry-me, I heard her ex was an arrogant p.o.s who always cheated and never gave her the time of day. That was your response to a comment calling the both of you out for betraying Edward. 

zuko-marry-me: @ tonysbitch99, Please tell me how that’s relevant? That’s still his son, nothing Edward’s does will ever make what they did okay.

kayleesinterlude: @ zuko-marry-me, I don’t know about that one, love. I’ve met the guy, he was flirting and practically eye-fucking me in front of his girl. I’d fuck Tony after that too. 

Endless tweets flooded your profile. Whether it was malicious attacks, or harmless thoughts, it was about him. He knew it was you, because they only tweeted things that you could know. Your latest tweet was one that had him in shambles. 

Tonysbitch99: I hope Tony is taking care of himself. I wanna hear from him, but his health is more important right now. Remember to smile today @ therealtonystark. I love you. Hope to see you soon.

His vision became blurry with tears, and his throat emitted a sound that he had never heard through all his years of living. She does want me to find her. He thought. Mentally pulling himself together he kept looking. He scrolled until he finally found a tweet that tagged your location. “What is she doing there?” He asked himself.

“Tony why are you dodging my calls?” Pepper sounded from in front of him, the sudden surprise caused him to drop your device. They were currently in his bedroom, so he hadn’t heard her come in from downstairs.  

“Fucking hell Pepper. How many keys do you have? You’re only supposed to use that for emergencies.” He said gesturing to the the key between her fingers. She stood in the doorway with her usual business attire on: navy blue pencil skirt, white blouse, and blazer. 

“Tony this is an emergency. I need you to come back to the company asap.” 

“Pepper whatever it is, you or Edward can handle it.” Tony assured, before rolling out of bed to get ready. 

“This is about Edward. He’s stepping down.”

“What? Why?” He questioned, shutting his dresser closed before turning to eye her. 

“I can’t tell you why.” She murmured.

“Pepper I have had it with you not telling me shit! If you don’t tell me why right now, so help me God!”

“Fine. I finally talked some sense into him.” She lied. “This is your company, and what he has done to you is unacceptable.”

Not understanding why she didn’t just tell him that, he left it alone before saying “Thanks Pepper, but that was unnecessary. You can tell Edward to come back now.”

“It’s not that simple.” Pepper stated, looking down at her feet. 

“It never is.” He sighed. He didn’t have time for this, he was far too focused on finding you. “Why isn’t it that simple Pepper?” 

“I told him the truth, and now he feels guilty” She whispered. 

“The truth about what?” Growing impatient with her beating around the bush, he raised his voice when he spoke again. “Spit it out, please?”

She was still hesitant, but she rushed her words when she told him, “He isn’t your son.”

“Yes he is my son.” Tony sighed.

“No he isn’t Tony. I cheated on you.” She exhaled, forcing herself to speak faster before she chickened out. “This entire thing is my fault. I feel guilty about this all. Now you’re miserable because of it. You would have never gone through this if it wasn’t for me.”

“Stop.” Tony commanded softly, but Pepper continued her rambles.  

“Y/N would still be here if it wasn’t for me.” She cried.

“I would have never met her, if it wasn’t for you.” Tony’s reassurement went ignored as Pepper continued.

“You should have never had to deal with Edward’s shit. Tony I am so sorry, please don’t hate me, Tony. Please forgive me.” She sobbed, now a whimpering mess. Seeing the usually well-kept woman in disarray, left Tony in shock. This was not his Pepper.   

“Pepper! Calm down” Tony shouted, grabbing the frenzied woman’s shoulders finally breaking through her fit of self-guilt. “I chose to deal with Edward’s shit.”

“You didn’t know he wasn’t yours though Tony.”She cried.  Her eyes were glazed over, and she was pink in the face. 

“He is mine.” 

Now sniveling, she feared he didn’t understand her because of the blubbering. “No you don’t understand. He’s not your biological son.”

“Pepper I do understand.” He confessed, smoothing out her sleeves. 

She shook her head. Her bangs bounced all over the place as she wore her confusion. “What?”

“I hadn’t touched you in months, the night that he was conceived. I know I drank a lot, but did you really think I was that stupid?”

Directing her gaze away from his, she thought about it. “I guess I didn’t think about that. But then why didn’t you say anything?” She asked, meeting his eyes again. 

He took in a sharp breath before he spoke. “Because I wasn’t the best husband to you. I was unfaithful. I was mean. And I was never there. I gave you every reason to cheat. In return, you gave me a beautiful boy. As much as we have our differences, I love Edward and I love you. I failed the two of you, and it’s you I should be asking for forgiveness from. Please forgive me.” He begged her, speaking in soft tones. 

She was speechless. All these years she thought she was hiding a life-altering secret, when in reality Tony had known about it the entire time. He had even went far enough to claim a boy who hated him all his life as his own. Pepper knew Edward hated his father. She trained him to. She felt that if the two weren’t close to each other, her secret could become more bearable. Now she just hated herself for it. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Then don’t.” He said smiling, pulling her in for a hug. “Well don’t say anything after you tell me where Edward is.” Tony had one stop to make. 

…..  

He pulled up to the building, the sun’s beams bouncing off of the spotless glass. Suddenly his nerves were compromised. Much like his relationship with you, it had been five months since he had last spoken with his son.

Every step he took towards the elevator felt like overcoming mountains. The higher the lift took him, the harder it became for him to breathe. When the doors opened, it felt like the ground would give out from beneath him; would it send him flying back down to become paint on the building’s marble floors?

This was hard. If their relationship wasn’t strained before, it was now. Tony slept with his son’s girlfriend. While you didn’t mean much to Edward, it was the fact that his father could stoop to such low lengths, that hurt him. Tony hadn’t even offered so much as an apology. He didn’t feel he needed to. Edward didn’t really care about you. No. Of course he didn’t. But he still felt disrespected. Foolish. Betrayed. 

Tony took in a sharp inhale. Then a deep exhale. He grasped the the handle to his old office door, pulling open it open to peak his head inside. Because it was the end of the day, relatively everyone was gone. It was just him and Edward. He had to make sure, just in case there was another brawl. 

He saw him, packing his items into a cardboard box with intentions of leaving. “What? You can’t handle the pressures of becoming the CEO.” Tony joked. 

“If you’re here to gloat, I don’t wanna hear it.” Edward didn’t spare his dad a glance, because he knew he was coming. Pepper had called and warned him to be nice. 

“I’m not here to gloat.” Tony paused to fully step into view. “I’m here to ask you to stay.”

“I don’t want your fucking pity, Tony. I know you’re only doing this because you feel like it will make us even.” He bit. “Just so you know, it wont.”

“Do you really think I’d let you run a multi-billion dollar company, because I pity you?” Edward just kept packing, refusing to look up and acknowledge his father’s question. “I did it because you’re my son, and I raised you right. I can trust that Stark Industries will do fine in your hands.”

“So I guess, mom hasn’t told you the news huh? I am not your son. So don’t call me that.”

“You might not be my blood Edward. But you are my son. I am the one that raised you. And I love you–“

“You have a funny way of showing someone you love them.” He snapped, stopping his previous tasks to eye his father

“Edward. What are you really mad at? Who are you really mad at? You didn’t love her. And me and you are also not the closest.”

It was as if he could explode in anger. “I’m mad that you lied to my face! I’m mad that I confided in you, and you told me I had nothing to worry about! I’m mad that you have been doing this out in the open for over a year now. I’m mad that when I confronted you two, you didn’t apologize, in fact you smiled in my fucking face.” He had to calm himself. He took a seat, to stop his chest from rising and falling. His fit of rage had consumed him for a moment, but then sadness washed over his person. “I mean I knew you hated me dad. I just didn’t know to what extent, or even for what reason. Now I do.”

Guilt began to eat at Tony. “Edward. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“Well you didn’t ask.” He pouted.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” He sighed. “I really messed up badly this time.” He crossed the threshold, walking to sit on the desk, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned on its edge.  It was a moment before he spoke again. “For the record I don’t hate you. Edward, you are my world. I failed to show you that, but please believe me when I say it's the truth.”

He placed a hand on the man’s back, rubbing circular motions for a round on his middle. “I knew there was a chance that I could hurt you by doing what I did. Yet still, I listened to my feelings and let go of my better judgement. From the bottom of my heart Edward, I am deeply sorry. Do you see us ever putting this all behind us?”

Edward glanced up at Tony, hurt still plastered on his face, but hope glimmering through his eyes. “Sure.” He responded softly, looked down at nothing for a moment, before meeting Tony’s line of sight again. “Dad.”

“Hmm?” Tony hummed, a small smile now playing on his features. 

“If you ever get back with Y/N, don’t marry her. I can’t have slept with my mom.”

Ignoring his joke, Tony asked, “So you don’t care if I continue to pursue her?”

“No. I’m just happy you apologized” He barely gave Edward a second before he belted out a response.

“Good! I am so happy to hear that!” He said as he patted his back and leaped up. “Because I have a flight to catch. Don’t screw things up too much while I’m gone.”

He was practically out of the door before his son yelled for his attention.“Dad before you go, I just have one more question to ask.”

“Yes dear?” Tony questioned, placing a hand on the doorway to leave, turning his head slightly to focus on Edward.

Edward took his time asking, because he was unsure of himself. “If I loved her, would you have still pursued her?”

He only took a second to think about his next words. “Son if you loved her, we would have never been in this situation.” He responded. Edward pursed his lips in response, subtly nodding his head to show his content with the man’s answer. 

And with that, Tony turned to leave. It was time to find his girl. 

  A/N Tell me what you think! Also please do not claim my work as your own. I love you all! @swaggysposts @retroxvailles I hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know if you see any errors.

[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x06

Book 1 :: 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 This is the shortest chapter of this I’ve written to date. Meira just... didn’t have much to do, this episode, I guess. (It’s about... a quarter of the length of my longest chapter so far, so, there’s that. I may end up splitting that one in two, depending...) (This part is dedicated to @spideypoolalways; you’re awesome.)

Ankeny, Iowa – Tuesday 14th March 2006

The spot under the bridge where the kid died isn’t very informative. At least, Meira thinks, combing over the area for the third time and finding no tracks, they can probably rule out something corporeal. The only thing that’s even a little bit odd is the vandalised sign at the top of the turn off, which doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the attack.

Giving up, Meira ambles back up to the main road and drops down to sit on the kerb. She texts Dean to let him know the site is a bust, and then entertains herself texting Charlie about the validity of the more modern urban legends versus the reliability of ancient lore until the Impala pulls up. Meira feels kind of proud of herself for not resenting, too much, that she needs to be picked up at all. “So, where to next?” She asks as she throws herself into the back seat.

“We’re going to church.” Dean declares with a heavy sense of irony.

Meira makes a reluctant noise and slides down in her seat, staying there right up until they arrive. “Do I have to?” She whines.

Sam looks over the back of his seat, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline. Dean snorts and gives her an amused look in the rear view mirror. “No, you can always stay here and sulk like a whiny bitch if you really want.” He says magnanimously.

Meira grins despite herself, because that’s classic Dad. He means it, too, she thinks, which has always been the best part about her dad’s response to that sort of thing. He’d be quite happy to leave her in the car, if she’d rather, but they both know she wouldn’t rather, because she’d be bored out of her mind in the first five minutes. And it’s just nice, to see the shades of her dad in this younger version, instead of seeing all the places where he’s not, yet, what he will be.

“That sounds boring. Church it is.” Meira replies, and gets out of the car.

“You don’t like churches?” Sam asks, unfolding himself from the passenger seat and looking bewildered by the notion. Meira gives him a quizzical look, because when has she ever suggested that she does? “I thought you were religious.” Sam explains. “You quote the bible when you’re pissed, and you know exorcisms in a holy language.”

Meira tips her head to give him that one. “I have faith, I’m not really religious.” She corrects thoughtfully, considering the church. It’s not giving her any bad vibes, but then, it wouldn’t. She can’t feel when what is supposed to be a holy space has been violated anymore, so the church is just a building to her senses. A pretty building, admittedly, but still just a building, without either the glow of sanctity or the cloying of corruption.

“What’s the difference?” Sam asks as Dean joins them and they head for the door.

“Faith is in here,” Meira begins, tapping on her chest, “not out there,” she finishes, hushed, gesturing pointedly around at the building as they step into the church. Sam pulls a thoughtful, accepting face, and then winces when the forgotten door bangs shut behind them. They pick seats near the back, and Meira slumps down in hers out of habit, and just barely reigns in the urge to stick her boots up on the back of the pew in front. She knows Granddad wouldn’t care, but people can get pissy about it, and this is a job, so she can’t really afford to make people hostile for no good reason.

Meira can’t help but roll her eyes at the invitation to pray. God already gave humanity the power to protect their children, and peace is something they have to make for themselves. Sam tries to glare her into doing it anyway, but Meira just stares back, a little incredulous, and after a couple of seconds, he gives up with a roll of his own eyes.

After the service, they manage to talk to the only witness and her father, and given Sam and Dean’s proposed ruse of being students, Meira decides to flirt a little while asking Lori about what it’s like to live in a sorority, after Sam’s done subtly interrogating her. It makes Dean, who caught the tail end of the conversation, laugh all the way to the library, much to Sam’s irritation.

They find a suspect in the dusty arrest records, and a possible connection in the location that Dean wants to check out. “There’s nothing out there, though.” Meira points out. “I checked.”

“Maybe he only comes out a night.” Dean retorts.

“But he’d still need something to anchor himself.” Meira counters.

“He could be anchored to the place itself.” Sam suggests.

Meira stops to consider that. “If he were, that would make him more of a poltergeist than a spirit, with nothing to identify him as more than a mass of violent energy. We’d need a purification ritual. Which won’t do anything except free him from that location if there’s anything still holding him here, like his bones.” Meira muses. “So we should burn those first, and then purify the place.”

Dean makes a disgruntled noise, running a hand over his face. “We still don’t actually know that this guy is the ghost. We don’t even know if it is a ghost. Can we maybe go see if we can get an ID on this fucker before we go to all the effort of grave robbing, huh?” He asks impatiently.

Meira echoes his groan with one of her own. “You two have fun with that, then. I’ve spent enough time under that damned bridge, so I’ll dig into Karns, instead, see if there’s any other compelling connections.” She pulls a face at the thought of more proof. “Man, this is why I hate preachers. Like making a career out of bringing people pleasure is a greater sin than self-righteous murder.”

Sam snorts. “They’re not all like that.” He points out reasonably.

“Not all politicians are fucking liars, either, but no one complains when someone says ‘I hate politicians’.” Meira retorts grumpily. Then she sighs. “Maybe I’ll look into death records, too. See if there have been any other hook-man-like deaths. Maybe a pattern will help.”

“Alright.” Dean snorts. “We’ll pick you up once we’re done.”

Since the library is closing, Meira takes Sam’s laptop to an all-night café and goes through what records the town has online, and the ones the library let her borrow, which isn’t as much as she’d like, but it’s still enough to get lost in for hours.

Ankeny, Iowa – Wednesday 15th March 2006

By the time Meira looks up from her frustrating research, it’s after midnight, and Sam and Dean still haven’t shown up or called or anything. Ignoring the little trickle of anxiety that bleeds into her gut at the thought, she pulls out her phone and rings Dean, only to find out they’ve been arrested. Not for long, Dean somehow managed to talk them down to just keeping them overnight, but it’s a hassle. Meira resigns herself to a long walk, and goes to fetch the Impala.

“Did you hotwire my baby?” is the first thing out of Dean’s mouth when he sees Meira leaning against the Impala’s hood.

“No, I teleported.” Meira replies, giving him a look. “Yes, I hotwired her, what did you expect me to do without the keys?”

Dean is in the middle of ostentatiously checking the car over for so much as a scratch when a couple of police cars screech out of the station, sirens wailing. They all three of them share a look, and then get into the car and follow. “Guess that’s a no on being bound to the location?” Meira says as they drive past the sorority house.

“Yeah.” Dean agrees. “We should check out the crime scene.”

“I should check out the crime scene.” Meira corrects. “You two just got un-arrested, let’s not test your good luck, huh?” She challenges with a laugh. Dean makes a disgruntled face, but nods, so Meira hops out of the car and waltzes in through the front door when no one’s paying too much attention. The scent of ozone is detectable even out in the hall, where Meira spots a scratch dug deep into the wall and on into the door jamb that reminds her of the mutilated signs out on Nine Mile Road. And then there’s the message, and the symbol that she spent half the night staring at, on and off, through her research.

She heads back out to update Sam and Dean. “Well, that seems like enough of an ID to me.” Sam says, looking to Dean, who nods.

“Alright, well, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn his bones, and put him down.”

Meira sighs. “Jacob Karns was buried in an unmarked grave.” She tells them wearily. “I was going to go see if I could find it last night, but then you got arrested.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Sam asks, resigned.

“In a couple days, probably.” Meira capitulates with a grin. Sam gives her the bitch-face. “I also found, last night, a couple of other instances of ‘invisible killings’. 1932 and 1967. First one was a one-off, second one was a mass murder. Both were blamed on self-righteous religious douchebags who claimed that the murders had actually been committed by some invisible force.”

“So maybe the spirit isn’t haunting the place of its murders, but people who resonate with it somehow?” Sam suggests. “Poltergeists have been known to latch onto people instead of places.”

Meira whines. “Purification rituals on people are annoying.”

“It might still be a ghost.” Dean reassures her, and Meira clings to hope. “My guess is it’s haunting Lori this time around.” He adds.

Sam frowns at him. “Lori doesn’t exactly seem like the type to resonate with this guy.” He challenges, and then his expression turns thoughtful. “Her dad, though… He’s a Reverend, and he’s been preaching against immorality.” He glances over at Meira in amusement. “Is that enough to count as a ‘self-righteous religious douchebag’?” He wonders mockingly.

“Yes.” Meira confirms, crossing her arms defensively.

Sam snorts. “So maybe Reverend Sorenson wants to protect his daughter, and that’s why the ghost is going after the people around her.”

“In that case, you should keep an eye on her, in case this guy shows up again.” Dean instructs, and Sam nods.

“What about you two?” Sam asks, looking between them.

Dean tips his head back with a groan of reluctance. “We’re going to have to go and see if we can figure out which unmarked grave is Karns’s.” He explains unhappily. Meira thinks, ruefully, that this would be so much easier if she could use her grace to do the searching, but no, they’re going to have to go off guesswork.

“Worst comes to worst, we can just dig up the lot and torch them all?” Meira offers.

Dean looks at her in horror. “That’d take us all week! Grave digging ain’t easy!” Oh, yeah. Can’t use grace for that either. Meira slumps. “Christ, come on.” Dean sighs, and they all get back in the car. They drop Sam off a street away from Lori’s house, and then drive to the cemetery, pack a bag with everything they’ll need, and start searching.

“You know,” Dean begins suddenly, his tone nonchalant enough that it sets a warning bell ringing in Meira’s head, “it occurred to me that you haven’t really been brought up to speed on the whole ‘looking for our dad’ thing, even though you offered to help.” Meira blinks in surprise, which Dean catches, because he raises an eyebrow at her. “You haven’t even been asking questions.”

Because she already knows this story, but she can’t say that, so instead, she offers him a wry smile and says; “I was returning the favour.”

Dean snorts. “You return the favour on the background check, too?” He asks dryly.

Meira figures that’s as good an excuse as any for knowing the bare basics. “I read about what happened to your mom. I’m sorry.” She says quietly. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have a parent die on you, but she’s starting to become familiar with loss, and it sucks.

Dean nods, but otherwise ignores her sympathy. “Dad’s been hunting the thing that did it ever since.” He explains, using the excuse of looking for the grave to avoid looking at her. “He dropped off the grid a couple weeks before we ran into you. Right before the same thing that killed our mom up and killed Sam’s girlfriend the same damn way.”

Meira winces. “Ouch.” She thinks back, to when Sam lost his temper with the demon for taunting him about Jessica. “It was a demon that did it, wasn’t it?” She asks, as if she doesn’t already know exactly which demon it was. At Dean’s surprised look, she raises her eyebrows. “The plane crash demon said it knew what happened to her. Demons don’t really mess about talking to ‘lesser evils’, as far as I know, so…” She shrugs.

“Yeah, probably.” Dean grits out. “Anyway. I figured you should know what we’re doing.”

Meira nods, and they walk on in silence for a while. She thinks about just letting it lie, but she kind of feels bad that Dean is offering her this explanation she doesn’t actually need, because they’re really not the sketchy ones that just popped into her life and attached themselves to her for no real explanation. No, that’s her, and she doesn’t want to have to be secretive and evasive with them. “I don’t actually know what happened to my family.” She says finally.

Dean startles, and then raises his eyebrows at her. Meira looks away, shoulders hunched, and focuses on the graves. “My family pissed off loads of people.” She begins.

“Took on the devil, huh?” Dean asks.

Meira glances at him sharply, and then smiles bitterly at the sceptical look on his face. “Yeah. Dunno if you could say they won, exactly, but… they survived, which is pretty kick-ass all on its own if you ask me.” She points out, and Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “Well, I got… accosted on my way home. Didn’t see what it was, but something made me crash, and…” Meira hesitates, trying to work out how to phrase it to make it sound plausible without adding in time-travel. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill me, but I figured I wasn’t safe, so I tried to get home.” She swallows hard.

“What’d you find?” Dean asks solemnly.

“No one was there. They were just… gone. Then-” Well, time to make some shit up wholesale to explain her inexplicable knowledge. “Then Pabbi called. Told me to run, to get away. That something had got to them all, and that he was going to hide and I should do the same, and-” Meira stops talking for a moment, and breathes, not even wanting to imagine a world where what she’s implying were true. “You have no idea how much the idea of something that could take on my dads and win scares the shit out of me. So I ran.” She explains, and then shrugs. “And that’s when you found me.”

“Huh.” Dean grunts, nodding slowly. Then he side-eyes her. “You don’t want to find the son of a bitch that did it? Get revenge?”

“Want to? Sure.” Meira laughs bitterly. “I want to find the little shit-stain and rip its spine out of its ass. Think I can?” She snorts derisively. “Not a chance in hell.” Not as she is now, anyway. She swallows again. “Pabbi wanted me to survive, so that’s what I’m going to do. This bitch wants my whole family dead? Well, good fucking luck to it, because I’m going to live forever just to spite it.”

That makes Dean grin a little, like maybe he’s proud of her for that sentiment, and it makes Meira’s eyes sting with tears for no good god damned reason. “Well, that’s a sentiment I can get behind.” He agrees, and then lets the subject drop. “You ever do the college thing?” He wonders instead.

Meira smiles. “Yeah. Got a Bachelors in Anthropology.” Dean looks reluctantly impressed, and a little bitter. Meira remembers what the shapeshifter had said about some of the things he’s been thinking. She knows it was putting a negative twist on things, but the things it had said about the inside of her head had been true, too. “Also got in a fistfight with one of my professors, once.” She adds, which has the desired effect of making Dean laugh out loud.

“What about?” He asks, delighted. Meira cheerfully recounts the story for him, and then Dean tells her a story of his own from his high school days, but stops mid-word as his focus shifts to something one row of headstones over. “There we go.” He says, and deviates from their methodical search pattern. Meira follows him, and sees the gravestone with the symbol from Karns’s hook on it.

“Helpful.” Meira says blandly, and Dean snorts. He drops the bag off his shoulder and pulls out two shovels. With a sigh, Meira takes one, and they get to work in the gathering dusk. By the time they reach the coffin, Meira’s back is sore, and her hands are stiff and aching. She’s used her grace to ease the worst of it, but she doesn’t want to look like it’s not affecting her at all, so she suffers through some of it.

“Next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house.” Dean complains, taking a moment to lean against the side of the hole and stretch his aching arms.

“I’ll fight you for it.” Meira agrees wistfully.

Dean snorts. “No way. You had your turn.” Meira blinks. “You got to go on a dinner date while me and Sam dug up a ghost’s bike and nearly drowned.” Dean reminds her, and Meira nods because, yeah, okay, she definitely got off easy on that one.

“Fair enough.” She agrees, and then they go back to breaking open the coffin. They pour in the salt and the gasoline, then Dean drops the match. It’s remarkably satisfying to watch the bones burn after that much hard work to get to them.

Ankeny, Iowa – Thursday 16th March 2006

They meet up with Sam at the hospital the next morning. They’d been on their way to pick him up when he’d rung to tell them not to bother, because he was going to the hospital with Lori. Once he’d been assured that Sam was okay, Dean drove them back to the frat house where he and Sam had mooched beds. It had been kind of awkward, knowing what all the frat boys had been assuming she was there for, but it did at least get the ‘room mate’ out of the room, and let Meira get some sleep in an actual bed, instead of in the Impala’s back seat like last night.

Meira waits in the car while Dean heads in to fetch Sam, and she’s surprised to see the grim looks on their faces when they come out. “What’s wrong?” She asks as they climb into the car. This time, Sam’s in the back seat, since Meira’s already occupying the passenger seat.

“Hook Man’s not gone.” Dean summarises. “Cause he’s using the hook as an anchor.”

“Great.” Meira sighs.

“And Dean was right. It’s latched onto Lori, not the Reverend.” Sam adds with a grimace.

He explains his reasoning again, and Meira pulls a face. “This is why I hate religion. Fucking semantics.” She grouses. Sam makes a confused noise. “People heard ‘your choices will have consequences’ as ‘if you do something wrong, you get punished’, when it’s not. If you drop a glass and it shatters, you don’t say you’re being punished for dropping it. It’s just cause and effect.”

Sam huffs. “What about Hell, then?”

“Metaphysical cause and effect.” Meira replies. “God doesn’t send people to Hell for being bad, we send ourselves there.” When she glances over her shoulder, she sees Sam looking thoughtful. She bites back the rest of the explanation, because she’s not sure she could give it in a way that makes it sound like it’s just what she believes rather than what she knows to be true.

They pull up outside the library, and get back to work researching what the hell happened to Jacob Karns’s hook. It takes them half the damned day to find out that the blasted thing was donated to the church and then melted down, no record of what. They go grab an early dinner and wait until it’s dark to go raid, purify, and burn the church’s entire collection of silver. Meira’s practically bouncing in her seat on the drive over.

“Dibs on the church!” She crows as they pull to a stop behind the church.

Sam snorts. “I’ll take the house, then.” He says, and looks over at Dean. “You go with her, make sure she doesn’t vandalise anything else.” Dean laughs his agreement, and they split up. They raid the church, make a fire in the furnace in the basement, toss a load of salt on it, and Meira adds a blessing over the flames as well, just in case. After all, being melted down hadn’t worked the first time around.

Sam brings the stuff from the house, and then they’re interrupted by footsteps above their heads. It turns out they belong to Lori, and after a beat, Sam goes to talk to her. “Not going to steal her out from under him?” Dean asks Meira as they head back downstairs to mind the fire.

Meira makes an exaggeratedly mournful face. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight. Possibly also mildly homophobic. She was giving me that sort of look when I flirted with her before. Religion.” She spits, and Dean just laughs at her.

It’s barely been a couple of minutes before they hear yelling and banging upstairs. They share a look, and then they bolt back up the stairs, following a trail of destruction through the church to find Sam and Lori being accosted by Karns. Meira takes the necklace when Sam tosses it to her, and leaves Dean to stand guard over his brother while she burns the necklace. Once it’s melted, she jogs back upstairs yet again, and checks in with the others. “Did that finally get him?” She asks.

“Yeah, definitely.” Dean confirms, and Meira slumps against the wall in relief.

Ankeny, Iowa – Friday 17th March 2006

Meira goes to find Lori after the police are done with them and have moved on to interrogating Dean and Sam. She sits down beside her on the edge of the grass, and ignores the faintly nervous looks Lori keeps shooting her. “I hope you know this wasn’t your fault.” Meira tells her without looking at her.

Lori sucks in a sharp breath. “How did you…?”

Meira glances over with a wry smile. “You had the ghost’s anchor. The only reason it would have gone after you was if you felt you deserved to be punished for some reason.” She explains gently.

Lori frowns at her. “Then it is my fault.” She says, and at Meira’s prompting look, explains. “It was my feelings that made that thing kill Rich and Taylor. That made it go after my dad. If I hadn’t- hadn’t judged them like that-”

“Like you’re judging yourself?” Meira asks, and Lori looks away sharply and nods once. “Lori… Did you kill them?” She asks pointedly. Lori frowns and opens her mouth, but doesn’t quite manage words. “Did you pick up a weapon and decide to kill them?”

“…No.” Lori says slowly. “But-”

“Did you, with full awareness and malice aforethought, ask or instruct the ghost of Jacob Karns to kill them?” Meira asks.

Lori sighs. “No.” She confirms.

“Then this isn’t your burden to bear.” Meira insists. “No one can control how they feel, Lori, and no one should be judged for the things they think. It’s what you choose to do with those things that matter.” Lori bites her lip, looking like she’s a second away from crying. “Personally, I think it’s fair of you to judge the hell out of a guy who won’t take no for an answer, or a girl who tries to peer-pressure you into things you’re not sure you want to do, or someone who has an affair with a married person. Do I think they deserved to die for those sins? No, probably not. But then, neither did you. That’s on Jacob Karns.”

Lori takes a deep breath, and nods her acceptance. “So… so it really was a ghost?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. That charm you wore was part of his prosthetic in life, so his spirit clung to it after he died. Whether that was because of unfinished business, or because he was just afraid to move on? Who knows.” Meira shrugs fatalistically.

“Ghosts are real.” Lori says, as though saying it out loud might help her accept it.

“Of course they are.” Meira says, amused. “If you believe in souls, you kind of have to believe in ghosts.” Lori nods slowly, still lost in thought or possibly dazed by the revelation. “So, hey. Can I have your number?” Meira asks into the silence. Lori startles, and then gives her a wary, side-ways look. Meira snorts. “That wasn’t a come on, I promise.” She says, before Lori can try to find a polite way of saying ‘ew, no’. “It’s just for emergencies, I promise. In case you run into anything like this again, you can call for help.”

“Oh.” Lori says. “Okay.” She gets out her phone, and they exchange numbers. “I’m sorry.” Lori blurts out suddenly, looking pained. “I just learned this lesson about judging people.” She huffs, frustrated with herself.

Meira laughs. “It’s not an easy mindset to get out of.” She acknowledges. “For the record, unlike the rest of your judgement, I don’t actually think it’s fair to judge consenting adults for what they do with their own bodies, or for who they love.” Lori cringes a little, grimacing in acknowledgement. Meira’s heart goes out to her, struggling so hard to be good and not knowing how. “But I forgive you.” She adds, serious, but with a touch of humour. The humour fades as she adds. “And God does, too.”

Lori smiles wryly. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” Meira retorts, which earns her a grin.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Importance  -  Five

Bucky Barnes X WOC!Teacher!Reader AU

Pairing: Bucky X WOC!Teacher!Reader

Summary: A student’s father catches your eye and his daughter steals your heart. However falling for him might be the most dangerous decision of your life, for his job leaves virtually no room for anyone who could possibly be a liability.

Chapter Summary: An incident with Violet and three men lead you to James’ mysterious place of work, where you’ll figure out just what you’re getting yourself into. 

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Fluff, lil bit of creepy stuff, language,

Word Count: 2K

A/N: I will be without my laptop for a week so I’m trying to get stuff up and posted. Oops.idk bro

SOME TAGS AREN’T WORKING!!

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

~*~

“The Christmas concert is next week! Oh, I’m so excited! I can hardly wait!” Violet exclaims as you comb her hair.

“Yeah, I’m excited too.” Are you mainly just excited to have dinner with her and her father after? Maybe.

Since that day, you and he have shared more than a few steamy make-out sessions, one ending with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants.

Is it wrong? Probably.

Will you stop? Probably not.

“Are you ready to go to the bakery?” You ask, smiling as she nods excitedly.

You help her into her shoes, then walk out the door with her, making sure to lock it behind you.

Your walk is nice. Kind of quiet for a little while but Violet easily fixes that.

When you’re about a block away from the bakery, you get the strange sense of being followed.

“Violet, we’re gonna take a little detour, okay?” You ask, squeezing her hand reassuringly. You take a few left turns, glancing over your shoulder a tad more than necessary, but you’re glad you do.

Three men are following you and Violet, each wearing leather jackets with a strange symbol on the left arm.

You dig your hand through your purse until you find your phone and carefully punch in the emergency number Bucky gave you.

“This is Agent Barnes speaking.” You furrow your brows but decide to save the questions for later.

“It’s (Y/n). Three men are following Violet and I. We were on our way to the bakery and I don’t know how long they’ve been following us for. I don’t want to walk back to my house and walking to your house will take too long. I-I don’t know what to do.” You make sure to keep your voice low, not wanting to scare Violet.

“Alright, stay calm and don’t run. Walk, don’t run. If you can, make your way back to the bakery and stay there. If you can’t then find a populated area with plenty of exits. Keep note of your surroundings and if you see any of their faces memorize what you can. I’m sending an agent to pick the two of you up. He’ll pick the two of you up and bring you out of the city then back in the where I am. His name is Sam Wilson. Have him show you three forms of ID. He’s a medium height man with dark skin and buzzed hair. He’s got brown eyes and a gap between his front teeth. If anyone else claims to be him, call the police then call me.” You take a few deep breaths then nod, mostly to yourself.

“Alright. When should I expect Sam?” You can hear him talking to someone as you bring Violet towards the bakery.

“Five minutes tops. Buy violet a few treats, I’ll pay you back for them, and get yourself some stuff too. The food here isn’t the best and I’m not sure how long it’ll be ‘till you two get home.” You take a few deep breaths as the bakery comes into view. “Okay, we’re almost there. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Alright. See you soon.” You hang up the phone and push the door open, ushering Violet in before you. When the door closes you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding then walk up to the counter with Violet in tow.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The cheerful woman asks, smiling at the two of you.

“Could we please get three of your double fudge brownies, two croissants, a bottle of apple juice, one of those ham sandwiches, and a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso?” She rings it all up and nods. “Sounds perfect. That’ll be nineteen dollars flat.” You hand her three tens, insisting that she keep the change.

She starts packaging your order and hands it all over with a smile.

You and Violet thank the woman then sit down at one of the cute little tables by the windows.

“We’re not gonna be walking home, Okay Violet? We’re gonna go visit your daddy, instead.” She smiles excitedly while sipping her apple juice.

A dark-skinned man pushes the door open and looks to you and Violet, smiling a gap-toothed smile at you.

“I’m Sam Wilson.” You nod then remember what Bucky told you.

“Can I see three forms of ID please?” He nods and shows you his drivers licence, and two different federal ID’s with badges on them.

“Alright. Come on, Violet. It’s time to go.” She takes your hand and walks with you and Sam to the sleek black car waiting outside.

You strap her in the back, biting your bottom lip nervously as you notice the lack of a car seat.

“Please be careful. Sh-she doesn’t have her car seat,” you whisper while sliding into the front seat beside Sam. He nods, buckling up. his seatbelt while you do the same.

He pulls goes to drive when you grab his arm.

“Those three right there, those are the guys,” you whisper while motioning with your chin to the men coming around the corner, their heads turned to the windows of the bakery, no doubt looking for you and Violet.

“Got them on the dash cam. Let’s get out of here now,” He murmurs, eyes hardening as he drives away.

The ride is long and quiet, you internally freaking out while sipping your coffee while Violet drinks her apple juice in the back.

“It’s okay. They’re not following and we’re almost there.” You look over at Sam, smiling a pained smile at him then turning back to the front and taking a few deep breaths.

When he parks in front of a large modern building and gets out of the car you climb out as well, helping Violet out and following Sam into the building.

He scans his ID at the door and types in a long passkey, winking at you as the door opens.

You follow him inside and into the elevator.

“Barnes’ office is on the tenth floor. Well, the whole floor is basically his,” Sam informs, watching you closely as you fidget.

The doors open and you walk out with Violet, relief flooding you as you see Bucky.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” He asks, hurrying over to the two of you. Violet hugs him tightly and smiles. “Hi, daddy! I missed you.” He smiles and picks her up, walking over to you and taking your hand.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)?” You nod, although your shaking hands tell a different story.

“Hey, Violet, why don’t you go over to the couch and colour. I’ve got some colouring books and crayons under the table. I need to talk to Miss (Y/l/n) for a minute.” He glances over your shoulder and Sam steps forwards. “Could you watch Violet for a few minutes.” He nods and heads over to the five-year-old, smiling as she hands him a colouring book.

Bucky takes your hand and pulls you down a hallway and through a door.

Inside the room, is a large bed and a dresser.

He sits you on the bed and you take a few deep breaths.

“W-why were they following us? What do they want?” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hands in his, holding your gaze.

“I’m not sure who they are or what they wanted, but I’ll check out the dash cam footage and see what we come up with. Until then, I don’t want you going anywhere alone.” Tears well up in your eyes and you sniffle, pulling one of your trembling hands away from him to wipe your cheeks.

“I don’t know why I’m freaking out. I just… I felt so helpless. There was no way for me to protect Violet and if something happened to her…” you trail off and try to take deep breaths, failing epically.

“Hey, hey! You’re okay. Violet’s okay and you’re both safe here. I promise.” He pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses the top of your head.

“You did the right thing. You called me and I told you what to do and everything worked out. Everyone is safe.” You sniffle and nod, looking up at him.

“I… I was scared. I didn’t… but now I’m with you and everything’s okay,” you breathe the words and look up into his eyes, smiling slightly as he cups your cheeks.

“And that’s how it’ll stay when you’re with me.”  With that, he leans up and kisses your lips gently.

It’s an innocent and comforting kiss, nothing too frantic or desperate, and it makes you relax.

When he pulls away, you smile.

“Alright. Now you have free reign of this floor. I’ve got a few things to do for work still and then we’ll figure out what’s going on, okay? Feel free to sleep here or on the couch if you get tired, and I’ve got a fridge full of snacks and a few kinds of cereal somewhere in that tiny kitchen.”

He leads you out of the bedroom and to the main open space. “My office is just through that door over there if you need anything. The tv is hooked up to Netflix and I should have a few movies here too if you or Violet want to watch anything.” You nod and smile at Violet as she comes running to the two of you.

“Miss (Y/l/n) can we watch some TV?” She asks desperately, the most adorable smile on her face.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

~*~

“Goodnight honey. If you need anything, Me and Miss (Y/l/n) will be in the bedroom. Okay?” Violet nods and cuddles up under the blankets, a smile on her face as Mickey Mouse plays on the TV.

Bucky closes the bedroom door and sighs, looking at you almost sheepishly.

“I uh... I guess I have some explaining to do, huh?” He asks while scratching the nape of his neck.

“Well, considering the fact that you picked up the phone and called yourself Detective and I had men following me and your daughter, yeah.” He sits on the foot of the bed beside you and nods, avoiding your eyes. 

“I uh... I’m Agent James Barnes with the FBI. We’ve been working a case for months, trying to crack down on a large scale crime organization. But we haven’t exactly been successful. We think they’re onto us and that makes it dangerous for anyone involved in our lives. You and Violet included.” 

You ponder this for a moment, keeping your eyes on your hands.

“So... they know who I am?” He sighs heavily and nods. “It’s... very very likely that they have an idea of your connection to me. And I understand if you want to leave. I haven’t had many partners because of my job, and I know Violet’s really attached to you but I’m sure I can figure something out.”

You take his hand and smile, “I’m not gonna just leave you because of this. I care about you and I care about Violet. So... I’m ready to take proper precautions to keep Violet and myself safe.” He looks up at you in shock. “Y-you mean that?” You giggle and nod. 

“Of course I mean that. You and Violet are the two most important people in my life. I’m not gonna run away with my tail between my legs because somebody is upset.” He grabs your cheeks and kisses you fiercely, obviously relieved by your reaction.

When he pulls away there are tears glistening in his eyes. “Thank you.” You kiss his lips gingerly then climb up the bed, laying down under the covers. 

“I can... sleep on the floor if you’d like.” You shake your head and pat the spot next to you, inviting him to join you.

“If you’re sure.” You nod and close your eyes for a moment. “I’m more than sure. Goodnight, James.” He kisses your cheek while climbing under the covers with you. “Goodnight, (Y/n).”

~*~

TAGS:

FOREVER:

@smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67 @unlikelygalaxygiver @agentlokidottir @viarogers @dumblani @mypassionsarenysins @mapreza1 @courtmr @paradisiacalsparks

MARVEL:

@look-to-the-stars-and-wish @maladaptive-ninja-returns @april-14-blog @momc95 @shakzer00 @inkedaztec @cal-ifornication @heartislubbingdubbing @my-suga-kookies @imaginewhoever @soryuwifeyxx

BUCKY:

@chuuulip @nerd-without-a-cause @natashasnight @dragonrosegardens @saharzek @fandom-princess-forevermore 

IMPORTANCE:

@beansparker @slender--spirit @teenage-fever10 @marbleowl @valynsia @sillydecoy @ficdupshorty @buckysthot @kaaeila @jetaimeamore @juniebpetty

[andymull]

WWE Wrestlemania 36 - Preview & Predictions

Heeeeeyyyyy heeeeeeeyyyyyy its Wrestlemania....fighting to survive....

............. Coronavirus, social distancing, injuries, sickness, poor booking, late booking changes, trying to get people to pay $60 on PPV instead of free on the Network, etc etc etc

Brock Lesnar (c) vs Drew McIntyre: WWE Championship Match

I really really feel for Drew here, probably the most out of anyone on the show with the lack of an audience as well as the lack of crowds being able to watch in Scotland in bars at the Hooked On Wrestling events, as they would have been SUPERB for both atmosphere and something they would show constantly on tv after the win.

But no, sadly instead of holding this off till later in the year we still have to proceed and deal with it, gutted.

I feel this match could go 25 minutes long and be one of Brock’s longest matches for awhile, in them asking Brock to make Drew look THE STAR in beating him and beating him well. Plus, they cant have both this AND the Goldberg match go less than 5 minutes.....can they?

Wish they would have gone OTT with this and had it filmed at Lesnar’s ranch and be falls count anywhere, Drew turns up saying nothing will stop him from winning the title so he’s there to claim his prize on Brock’s turf. Then gone made fighting around the farm, oh well there’s other matches on this show that will seemingly be booked to shit.

Drew wins, they need to make sure he then moves into feuds with big names and wins clean each time to really invest it all into Drew and see what happens - MCINTYRE

Goldberg (c) vs Braun Strowman: WWE Universal Championship Match

What is there to be said here, Roman had to drop out because they stupidly had him around sick people with his health past, they decide to replace him with Braun who last month lost his title to Sami Zayn, not to mention they didnt even announce it till Smackdown last night without even mentioning Reigns by name after having HHH announce earlier in the week it would be done in an interesting way.............

This should go short with ideally Braun going over, have Bill take the lead hitting all his offense, big spear then as he goes to lift him for the Jackhammer he cant lift him and Strowman bursts out of it hits his finish and pins him clean while in monster mode.

Braun starts the big push from nowhere while at the same time this leaves it open for Goldberg to potentially come back for a rematch, as he didnt have anytime to prepare for Strowman and his game-plan for the bout. Not that I want Bill always around the title scene when he turns up but if they can get Braun going over him clean twice it really helps out a current full time guy under contract WHAT A CLEVER IDEA THAT WOULD BE!!! lol - STROWMAN

The Undertaker vs AJ Styles

I really have no desire to see Taker in a big singles match at Wrestlemania or any other big show ever again, let alone it being in a match with AJ who could have an awesome match with most others on the card. This match should really have turned into the OC vs Taker/Aleister Black if they HAD to go with these guys together, the rub that would have given Black would have been MASSIVE!! Imagine the innovative entrance they could have come up with for both guys together, truly letting Taker pass his aura across to someone new....just goosebumps thinking of how they would look....but nope.

Instead we end up with a feud built around shoot promos about Takers wife doing AJ’s Styles Clash finisher.....

The worst part is that I see Taker going over, not sure if it was confirmed but it was mentioned he’d have 2 others with him who most likely will turn the tide of the match, dont get your hopes up for Black here instead, im guessing its Kane and Big Show....seriously....please be wrong - UNDERTAKER

John Cena vs The Fiend Bray Wyatt

I really wish if they are going to bring back guys who haven't been on the road full time then PLEASE bring them back with a solid storyline that makes sense and that’s been built up for awhile to make sense.....not this. Truthfully they need to build these matches with the sole purpose of having the other guys who could/should have been the spot to be able to turn around and say, ‘you know what, this makes alot of sense and will be great so I cant hold it against them and moan’. Honestly that’s all it needs.

And secondly they really are lucky there wont be a live audience there for the match, the cheers the Fiend would have received over Cena would have drove them wild in editing after trying to build Bray as the crazy heel.

After dropping the title Bray NEEDS the big win here to keep his aura something they can use well, the more they have him lose the quicker that appeal will drop, and for me with Wyatt that doesn't mean he can take loses as long as he isnt pinned like others can ANY loss hurts someone who can teleport (?!?!) - WYATT

Edge vs Randy Orton: Last Man Standing

Edge is the guy in second place behind Drew for me feeling gutted there wont be an audience around for this, imagine coming back after years away and the thought you could never wrestle again through fear of dying then finding you CAN wrestle again.........only to be risking it all in an empty building.....FUCKS SAKE!

This should be great and given the time to have the emotional side of it pour out strong, we should be getting Edge taking a beating to the point that Beth will come out to support him then have her feelings develop to the point she will want him to stay down and stop the pain. Yeah this will be great - EDGE

Becky Lynch (c) vs Shayna Baszler: Raw Women’s Championship Match

I dont think the result should be in question here, Shayna HAS to win and go on a dominant run with the belt, ideally booking Becky to come back in contention for SummerSlam to rematch.......sadly everything's in the air with the world.

For me, and remember those words, Becky’s reign has been abit of a meh fest in-ring, apart from the Sasha bouts, and the extra focus on her has highlighted her ring work which really isnt the strongest part of her game (Not saying she’s terrible at all, but could she please drop the awkward leg drop from the ropes lol). At the same time alot of that is down to how she’s booked as management seem to go on a few months run of wanting the women to be the main focus, then quickly changing their mind and dropping it back massively. Also, the lack of depth with the women’s division's is a problem with them being split over the shows, same with the men to a degree and is the reason we see feuds get dragged and dragged for months, with less women it means we hardly get anything that feels fresh which needs to be key - BASZLER

Lacey Evans vs Sasha Banks vs Bayley (c) vs Tamina vs Naomi - Smackdown Women’s Championship Fatal 5 Way Match

What a mess this is, I have no desire to see Banks/Bayley again for at least another 5 years...........but id much prefer that to having Tamina suddenly dragged on tv and put into the title picture. I get that the roster like her and she’s probably a really nice person to be around and supports the other women massively when needed, but for a viewer she brings NOTHING and hasn't for YEARS, all she’s doing is taking up a roster spot that someone way more deserving could be in from NXT for example. And yes, ive seen the random accounts on Twitter hoping she wins the title............jeez

Wouldn't have a problem with any of the other women taking the win here, sucks that Dana had to pull out as she has really shown improvements the past few months and deserved her place here easily - BANKS 

Rhea Ripley (c) vs Charlotte: NXT Women’s Championship Match

So we definitely are back to saying ‘women’s’ champion again are we? They dropped it the other month but seem to have quickly gone back to it.

Big match for NXT here getting a Mania slot, I really hope that Charlotte doesn't get the win and belt but her winning opens up more fresh options for the future on the women’s division on the show. As long as Charlotte doesn't keep doing her thing of wearing massive heels in-ring to show how much bigger she is to everyone else, for some random reason it annoys me and doesn't need to even be done.

I feel if Charlotte does win the title they will very quickly move another NXT star over to Raw/Smackdown to replace her or hype a new debut upto the draft which MAY be soon - CHARLOTTE

Kevin Owens vs Seth Rollins

The problem with having so many matches at Wrestlemania is that one like this goes so far under the radar its criminal, both guys are great and can pull out something special for the big show....not sure they get the time they will want even with a two night show. This feud will most likely continue so dont worry about who goes over - ROLLINS

Sami Zayn (c) vs Daniel Bryan: Intercontinental Championship Match

Exactly the same as the match before and even more so, a quality match that probably wont get the most time but will be a really fun ride to be on - ZAYN

Jimmy Uso vs John Morrison vs Kofi Kingston: Smackdown Tag Team Title Ladder Match

Yeah dont ask, they had to remove the Miz as he had Coronavirus symptoms but still wanted to do the ladder stipulation...

Honestly the tag division has to be up there for the most stale division in the company, similar to what I said about the women having the Uso’s and The New Day in a match in any combination is just soooooo over done.

Last month I predicted Morrison and Miz to retain and drop the titles tonight but now I hope they keep them, then drop them to Heavy Machinery as soon as they can - MORRISON

The Street Profits (c) vs Austin Theory & Angel Garza: Raw Tag Team Championship Match

Love the SP’s but this really isnt needed in the slightest, I guess the next few matches will be exactly the same. - STREET PROFITS 

Elias vs The Baron King

Exactly - Elias

Aleister Black vs Bobby Lashley

Please have Black go over quick - BLACK

Otis vs Dolph Ziggler

At last a match that deserves its spot on the card, a long term story that’s been developed well and is building to more with the stakes changed down the road. Easily an Otis win with Mandy ending up in his arms for the big smooch - OTIS

The Kabuki Warriors (c) vs Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross: WWE Women’s Tag Team Championship Match

Lets throw the titles we’ve forgotten about on the show too!! Feel for all the women that have been around the title scene here since the belts came into existence, so much promise over multiple brands that went NOWHERE! - CROSS/BLISS

Kick Off Matches

Drew Gulak vs Cesaro

I think Gulak sneaks the win out with his TECHNIQUE!!! - GULAK

Natalya vs Liv Morgan

I hope Liv picks up the win and they give her more tv time and focus, Nattie winning doesnt really do much for anyone apart from her - MORGAN 

2 nights, lots of matches, lots of things not needed get ready to be mildly hyped!!!

Enjoy

Bye for now

Andy

[realm-of-dragons]

Staff App - Yagi Toshinori

Played by Mod Gray

OOC:

Name: Gray

Age: 26

Preferred pronouns: She/her or they/them

Timezone: PST

Discord: bizarrebird#1697

Any topics you want added to the content warning list?: animal abuse

Second choice character?: Eijiro Kirishima

IC:

Name: Toshinori Yagi

Age: 105 (physically, closer to 60)

Gender ID / pronouns: Cismale, he/him

OTPs, BroTPs, or NoTPS?: 

OTP - I primarily ship him with Aizawa

BroTP - With Midoriya of course, I would love them to have a familial relationship. That goes for most of the younger characters too, he’s very prone to adopting anyone who needs a decent parent. 

NoTP - I would rather not ship him with any of the characters who are his students in canon and I’m a little hesitant to see him get involved with villain characters romantically. 

Toshinori is gay and though he’s rather private about his personal life, he doesn’t make a secret of that. There is an endgame ship in mind for him with Shouta Aizawa, so he won’t be actively pursuing romance outside of that.

Race: Human 

Appearance: Toshinori always resembles his skeletal, shrunken form as he does in canon. In his youth, he resembled his more well known All Might form, but after several injuries and magical procedures, he has been reduced to his smaller appearance at all times. His most notable features, apart from his overall nearly bone thing appearance, are his shadowed piercing blue eyes and his wild mane of blond hair. 

Role: Toshinori is the ruler of the human kingdom. His reign has lasted nearly fifty years and he is loyal to his people to a fault. In his younger years, he was a great unifier of the scattered humans, bringing them together and was unanimously selected to lead them. 

Skills:

Toshinori’s greatest skill is his ability to uplift and inspire those around him. He’s always been an excellent public speaker who could bring hope to those who needed it most.

In his younger years, he was a skilled warrior, never losing a fight once he put his mind to it. These skills have fallen away with his weakening from, but, if necessary, he can still hold his own. 

He’s an excellent teacher and has trained many of the greatest heroes of the last several decades, who have gone on to do great things themselves.

Even with his weakened form, Toshinori is still much stronger than he looks and is capable of lifting most full grown adults over his head. He rarely demonstrates this ability, but it is useful in a pinch.

Backstory:

Humans are nothing. They’re scattered, lost, barely holding on. Liege lords lay claims to any land they desired, caring nothing for the smallfolk they force under their thumbs. Farmland is burnt when absurd taxes aren’t paid. Mercenaries terrorize towns barely strong enough to keep standing. 

Toshinori’s home burns. He’s a child as he watches the embers take to the wind. His father leaves, seeking work and a doctor for his mother. The cough came with the fire, it takes her not long after. His father never returns. 

It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. Someone must do something. 

He’s not the only orphan left behind by the blazes that spread across the village. Taking to the woods, he learns to fish, tries (and fails and fails and fails) to hunt. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep the children fed, to tide the few parents left over for another day. It’s nearly a month before men in armor approach the town, demanding to know who has been hunting in the lord’s woods. Toshinori steps forward without a thought. The punishment for theft is death at the knight’s sword, life in service, or life in chains. He’s ten years old. Given a choice, he asks for a sword. 

The weight is nearly too much for his hands, but he lifts it as the crowd gasps. He blocks one blow, then two, then the third sends the sword from his hands, skittering across the dirt. Starving, hands aching, he stands tall and waits for the blow to fall. It never comes. A new knight stands before him, calling for an end. Her voice rings out strong as she sends the lords’ men running, tails between their legs. 

Nana Shimura offers her hand and Toshinori takes it. 

They travel together. After a few years, the sword never feels too heavy in his hands. But it isn’t enough. Nana fights for justice, for the little people, but once she’s done, she moves onto the next town and the next. And every time, Toshinori fights to stay. There must be more they can do, there’s so much more that their people need. If the people were to come together, unite under a common banner, they could be so much more. All they need is a force to rally behind. 

Toshinori doesn’t mean to become that force, to be a leader, but when he speaks, people begin to listen. When he tells them they can band together, they do. When he speaks of strength, they find it in themselves, more than they could ever know. When he speaks of a future, they start to see it too. But seeing it alone isn’t enough. 

They need someone who can fight for it, and Toshinori does. He fights until his bones ache, until his fingers are scarred and bloody, until he can barely stay upright. And there are still more battles ahead. His hope has been given to so many and for a time, it nearly abandons him until Nana tells him of a legend. Whispers of a witch who could grant him the power he needs, not just to fight, but to stand firm, to be the symbol that the people need.

Searching through frost and fire, down to a forbidden cave, Toshinori finds not a witch, but a well. The promise of power and long life draw him in, the inscription assuring both, for those who are true of heart. So Toshinori drinks deep. It’s after his rousing speech, when blood creeps up his throat that he learns all magic comes with a price. But he remains strong, stands tall. If he can bring the people together, last long enough for them to be united under one peaceful banner, it will be enough.

His strength grows, as do the people rallying around him. The liege lords are forced out when even their strongest men turn tail and flee. One last white flag rises and Toshinori lifts his hand in victory. They’ve won. Blood fills his lungs and his muscles ache, but his smile remains as he waves and shakes every hand held his way. 

From there, he steps down, or he means to. The people have been brought together, his job is done. But… things are never so easy. Meetings are held and Toshinori insists on a vote. It is for the people to choose who should lead them. He puts forth several names, some of his supporters, some who opposed him, all wise, earnest people worthy of following. Every last one of them votes for him instead. The people follow suit and Toshinori is crowned king of the new kingdom of Unifia. 

For years, he reigns and peace is held. But the pain creeps. Day by day it grows. Still, his people need him, so Toshinori keeps his head held high. A little bit of unpleasant magic can’t hold him back. 

The question rises now and then, who will follow after him once his reign is done? His advisers make casual comments, suggestions, perhaps it’s time you think about finding a wife, your highness. Toshinori lets his laugh echo through the halls as he gently turns their ideas aside. No, that is not what he wants. 

His mind drifts now and then to a man with dark hair, shadows beneath his eyes, something altogether inhuman about his beauty. But Toshinori lets the moment pass. He’s no longer some young, eager adventurer, he is king, and flights of fantasy must be put aside. 

The strength starts to leave him, slowly at first, but it isn’t long before others take notice. Toshinori does what he can, but he can no longer hide the blood that dots his hands with every hacking cough. A healer is brought in, then another then another. Some ease the pain, slow the blood, others bring it back tenfold. Finally, a young mage is summoned. He’s talented and powerful. A great bout of sickness strikes at once and Toshinori knows nothing for nearly a month.

When he awakes, the blood has slowed to a trickle, but the softness of his youth has abandoned him. His arms are thin, brittle, his face sunken and gaunt. It’s truly for the best he never sought out a wife, for who could stand to look upon him with love now. But he lives on, his legs still carrying him, his eyes still sharp, his voice still enough to reach his people. 

It is only now that Toshinori knows what must be done. He needs a successor, one who can carry his people into the world he has given everything to build for them. And with the aid of the elven king and the newly established adventurer’s guild, he has just the place to begin his search. 

Extras:

Toshinori took the throne when he was a little over 50 years old, but due to the magic of the well, he looked quite a bit younger even then. Now his true age is finally starting to catch up with him a bit. 

The magic that gave him strength all those years ago has taken its toll and Toshinori finds himself feeling rather weak. The worst of his coughing fits have passed thanks to his healers, but from time to time, he still coughs up a bit of blood. 

He has his eye on Izuku Midoriya to be his successor, how far their relationship has progressed will be discussed when Midoriya is picked up. 

Writing sample:

The castle’s grand halls are empty and unnecessary. Toshinori has always thought they were far too much, far too grand. But the people insisted. His advisers insisted. A king must have a castle. If it were up to him, he would be content with a cottage in the woods, close to the central city, but far enough away that he could have his privacy. He loves the people, he always has, but even he needs a bit of time for himself now and then.

Especially now. 

He flexes his fingers. The skin feels taut, drawn too tight, like it might begin to crack at any moment. Life is leaking out of him. Everyday a bit more springs free, slowly trailing away. Toshinori doesn’t guess at the number of days. It’s likely to be years still. That hardly matters. He hardly matters in the long run. It’s the kingdom, the people who must live on. 

So he refocuses, attention going to the parchment laid out on the desk before him. More potential successors. He trusts his advisers, of course he does. But… they have different ideas about things, about what it means to be king. They mean well. Toshinori scans the ever growing list. “Strong candidates,” he says, almost gently. “You’ve brought me an excellent list. Thank you.” 

His words are earnest, genuine. They always are. His advisers bow, mumbling platitudes as they make for the door. By now, they know that he prefers to examine the lists on his own. The door shuts behind them and Toshinori finally lets his shoulders slump. He brings a hand to his brow and lets out a slow breath. They all want him to have the gusto, the energy of his youth, but… it isn’t in him anymore. After so long, he’s started to wonder if it ever was. 

Hand falling away, he turns his eyes back to the list. A frown slowly grows. The choices are clever, careful. His advisers have picked children… sons of prominent families. Any would bring their supporters rallying behind them. But none of them are right. Leaning back in his chair, Toshinori lets his eyes fall shut.

At once, he sees them, the jeering faces of the old lords, smells the ever present smoke. Sitting up sharply, he presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a cough. No blood lingers on his hand when he finally draws it away. That’s something at least. As he’s done again and again, he casts the list aside. None of them are right. If this kingdom is to go on, the choice must be his. He trusts his people, of course he does, but they’re young, they’re too optimistic. They haven’t seen the cruelness of people, they haven’t seen the power of hatred and greed. And perhaps that is his own fault. 

He leans forward in his seat, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment. There is a decree to be made. A letter to be sent. It is time to bring the next generation of adventurers, of heroes , into the fold. One of them will be worthy, of that much, he is certain. He must be. 

[edogawatranslations]

Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 3, Part 1

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 2, Part 4

Chapter 3 - The Palace of Twelve Locked Rooms

Dusk had already fallen by the time we made it back to my dorm around six in the evening.

While walking to my room, we passed by one of my hallmates. The sight of Kyoko sleeping on my back and the boy in the vest tagging along behind us caused her eyes to shoot wide open.

“Yui...” she said with a look of concern. “You’ve been hanging out with a strange crowd recently.”

“You saw nothing.”

After entering my room, I lay Kyoko down onto my bed and let her sleep. Those ghastly marks remained visible on her white neck, a painful reminder she had been moments removed from death. I felt sorry for her.

Lico took a curious glance around.

“Huh... I’ve never been in a girl’s dorm room before.”

“Don’t let your eyes wander.” I quickly kicked some clothes and underwear that had been scattered on the floor under my bed. “Take a seat.”

“Okay.” With a smile, Lico sat down on his knees.

“There are a bajillion things I wanna ask you once Kyoko wakes up... But I gotta know: are you really Rei Mikagami?”

“If by that, you’re asking if there are people in this world who refer to me by that name, then the answer is yes. I do not recall my actual name. I mentioned earlier that both of my parents died when I was young; my earliest memories were at an orphanage.”

“Then what about the Rei Mikagami registered with the Detective Library?”

“That would be me.”

“So you’re really a triple-zero class detective? That’s incredible, you know. Are you aware of that?”

“Of course. That’s why the whole world is hunting me down, after all.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve, I think?”

“Huh? Something doesn’t add up... When did you first register with the Detective Library?”

“Probably when I was around seven or so. There was a case I couldn’t solve without a Detective Library ID card, so I registered.”

“A seven-year-old kid managed to rank up to a triple-zero class detective in the span of only five years?”

“Technically speaking, I reached that status when I was maybe around nine.”

Sitting before me was the quintessential genius. His skill was far beyond that of other detectives who might languish for three years before ranking up for the first time, not to mention those who perpetrated and solved their own crimes to rank up six times.

Since Rei Mikagami was promoted to triple-zero class in such a short period after registering with the Library, the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee likely didn’t have enough time to determine his identity. It also didn’t hurt that he seemed to excel at laying low, thwarting the attempts of those who sought to track his movements.

“Every single one of the cases I’ve solved under the name Rei Mikagami has been archived into my file at the Library. I wonder, who has been watching me, and from where?”

“I bet Committee members keep a close eye on you at their watch parties.”

“The Committee has nothing to do with it.”

“Huh? But aren’t the Detective Library and the Committee secretly connected?”

“Nope. Not in the slightest.”

“No way, that can’t be true. No matter how you think about it...”

“The Detective Library has strictly adhered to its founding ideals—to serve as a database with no will of its own. By eschewing the influence of any and all organizations, it guarantees its status as a neutral institution for all registered detectives.”

“I’m saying, what if all of that is just lip service?”

“...I wonder.” Lico flashed a smile and tilted his head.

“Hmph. You don’t care one bit about this, do you? It’s written all over your face.”

“Heh. I’m sorry, but the Detective Library doesn’t interest me,” Lico said with a childish smile. “However, I can say with the utmost confidence that no reciprocal relationship exists between the Committee and the Library. If anything, the Committee has unilaterally been using the Library.”

“...Really?”

“Consider this. If the same group controlled both the Committee and the Library, isn’t it odd that the file of their leader, Mikado Shinsen, was deleted from the archive? No other detective received the same treatment.”[3]

“Isn’t that because they don’t want his file to be available for everyone to access? If I were leading a criminal organization, I wouldn’t want my info out in the open; it’d be detrimental.”

“I think differently. If they could freely adjust their ranks and falsify their files however they desired, why would they intentionally draw attention to their leader by only deleting his file?”

“You have a point there...”

“The evidence suggests the Committee has no influence over detectives’ ranks or anything listed in individual files. In fact, I don’t think the Committee ever even considered trying to reign over the Library. Duel Noirs are considered fair gambles, so it is essential for the summoned detective to be ranked by a neutral organization. With that in mind, you could say that the activities of the Committee necessitate the complete neutrality of the Library. I doubt their audience would approve of match fixing.”

The audience for Duel Noirs likely took pleasure in witnessing real crimes unfold before their very eyes. Of course, however, some of the theatrics had to be prepared in advance.

“But, they specifically summoned me as the detective for the current challenge. How is that fair?”

“It’s not exactly unfair to designate a specific detective, as long as their rank is commensurate with the cost range.”

“I’m still not convinced; just look at these!”

I slapped the twelve challenge cards onto the floor.

“If Ryuuzouji is betting his retirement over this game, it’s a cheap price,” Lico commented. “His worth as a detective far outweighs being determined by these twelve scraps of paper.”

“...So you support him.”

“I hold him in high esteem.”

“Whose side are you on? The Committee’s? Or mine?”

“That sounds like something you’d ask a date,” Lico blushed, likely imagining being in a relationship. But I was fully aware of the deadly poison lurking beneath his smile. I was fearful of the fact that it was so easy to be entranced by his projected innocence.

“Well, I trust you’re not an enemy.”

“I’m glad to have your trust,” Lico replied with a genuine-looking smile.

Despite being a triple-zero class detective, he didn’t boast of his achievements, instead devoting his time to solving mysteries that interested him. But that begged the question: Why choose to work as an assistant to Ryuuzouji in the place most closely connected with the Committee? There was so much about him I found puzzling, and to get to the bottom of it, I thought of countless things I wanted to ask.

As I pondered where to begin my interrogation, Kyoko awoke with a groan and sat up in my bed. A painful-sounding cough followed.

“Kyoko, are you okay?” I asked. “Here, drink some water. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I’m fine... I’ll be okay,” Kyoko answered with a raspy voice, before chugging a bottle of water. It wasn’t just her throat; her entire body had taken a beating. Even so, she tried to pretend like nothing was wrong.

I worried that continuing to express my concern for her would hurt her pride, so I decided to move on with the conversation.

“You woke up at the right time; I’ve just started to question this kid,” I said, pointing at the boy sitting straight up on the floor. “You won’t believe it, but he’s Rei Mikagami.”

“Indeed,” Kyoko said nonchalantly, scratching her throat.

“What, you knew?”

“I had a sneaking suspicion. You only introduced me to him as a friend, but he somehow knew my name without it being mentioned.”

“I could have learned about you at Ryuuzouji’s place, you know?” Lico shot back with a smile.

“Then you should’ve been more surprised to see me. Ryuuzouji and the Committee have been trying their hardest to locate me, so my appearance at the station would've come as a shock. Regardless, any notion of you being a normal kid vanished after seeing how you handled those assassins.”

“With the way things were headed, I couldn’t keep things a secret. It may sound like an excuse, but I had every intention of revealing my identity to you after dealing with the assassins, I swear.”

“Uh huh.” I eyed Lico suspiciously. “Why are you even working at Ryuuzouji’s place?”

“Unless I constantly surround myself with the mysterious, I’ll shrivel up into ash and die,” Lico said with a soft smile.

But behind that smile, there was a certain earnestness that couldn’t be laughed off.

“That is why I decided to infiltrate Ryuuzouji’s castle, in pursuit of the world’s greatest mysteries. While I have solved many mysteries up until now, the quality of them has been suffocatingly low.”

“You sure have a taste for luxury.”

“I have come to realize that a lifestyle journeying around the world suits me better than one lingering in a fixed place. I’m certain that somewhere on this earth, the ‘something mysterious’ I’m seeking is awaiting me.”

Lico sounded like a boy with great aspirations for summer vacation.

He belonged to a different breed of detective, one made up of those who wholeheartedly devoted themselves to chasing after mysteries. Unlike detectives who served to protect something or save others, he was free to move and act without restraint.

“Does Ryuuzouji know you’re Rei Mikagami?”

“I don’t think he knew when he first hired me. He might have had faint suspicions about my identity up until yesterday, but following today’s events, I’m sure his beliefs have cemented into certainty.”

“Why? Was Ryuuzouji watching you from somewhere?”

“No. I suspect at least one of the assassins was hired by Ryuuzouji himself,” Lico said with a straight face.

“R-Really? Why would he do that?”

“To kill me—just kidding. More likely to confirm my identity as Rei Mikagami. Since all of the assassins survived, they will inevitably report back to Ryuuzouji.”

“Then Ryuuzouji must have been the one who leaked the information that Rei Mikagami was going to appear at Meyura Station,” Kyoko said, adjusting her posture on the edge of the bed.

“W-Wait a sec. What’s the big deal? Why would Ryuuzouji go to such lengths?”

Kyoko stared coldly at my frantic expression, before beginning to explain. “All of it was planned out from the very start. First, Ryuuzouji leaked false information to send his hired assassins to Meyura Station, keeping the truth hidden from them. At the same time, he challenged you to an unfair Duel Noir, engineering a situation where you would have no choice but to head to the station. In doing so, he gained a reason to send Lico—your assistant in the game—to the station as well. Naturally, Lico and the assassins would encounter each other there.”

“You lost me. So you’re saying these twelve challenges were designed as a trap to expose Rei Mikagami’s identity?”

With that understanding, the decision game Ryuuzouji forced me to play took on a new meaning. It was a test to confirm that I was someone who would never dirty my hands: someone who would stop Rei Mikagami from silencing the assassins when the time came.

“I realize why he kept me so close to him as a trusted assistant, despite only having worked for him for half a year. He wanted me by his side so he could uncover my identity,” Lico reasoned.

“Geez, we’ve all been played because of you. I can’t believe all of this was just a ploy to flush out Rei Mikagami. Well, at least I can rest easy knowing that these Duel Noir cards are all phonies,” I sighed in relief.

“On the contrary, the fact that they are not is evident of Ryuuzouji’s true, frightening nature,” Lico shrugged. “The cards aren’t phonies—they’re real. That’s one reason why Ryuuzouji is known as a genius of parallel thinking and multitasking; he can seamlessly weave multiple plans into one.”

“Wait, so the Duel Noir is actually going on right now?”

“Yep.”

It was impossible to wrap my head around it all.

How many different plots did Ryuuzouji have planned out? He didn’t have to move an inch from his headquarters; the press of a button was enough to set everything into motion. This was how daunting it felt to be facing off against an armchair detective.

“The Duel Noir has only just begun. There’s plenty of time,” Lico said with a smile.

161 hours remained. That seemed like a lot, but it also felt severely lacking.

“On that note, are you aware of the contents of the Duel Noir this time?” Kyoko asked Lico with a piercing look.

Lico shook his head. “Normally, Ryuuzouji forbade me from entering his room. Hypothetically speaking, even if I did get the chance to watch him work, since he always multitasked on many different tasks at once, I wouldn’t be able to identify what, if anything, was related to a Duel Noir—”

“You would.”

“Hmm?”

“Someone like you is more than capable of identifying such a thing.”

“...You think so?” Lico tilted his head, playing dumb.

“Tell us the truth,” I pressed. “Whose side are you on?”

“I don’t know myself,” Lico shrugged, throwing his hands up.

“What don’t you know? Is there even anything in this world that you don’t know?”

“Left or right, A or B, friend or foe—I cannot understand why humans are always so obsessed with dichotomizing everything, nor why they seek to define themselves as being tied to one side or the other. Wouldn’t either side be fine? Think about how many conflicts throughout history could have been prevented if the issues hadn’t been framed as black and white...”

“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s no time for your philosophical ramblings. Lico, I need your help. You understand that much, don’t you?”

“You need me?”

“Yeah. Please, lend us your skills.”

“On one condition.”

“One condition...? Fine, what is it?”

“Kiss me.”

[3] (TN: At the end of Volume 1, Yui and Kyoko visit the Detective Library, where Yui tells Kyoko the rumors about there being a fourth triple-zero class detective whose file was erased. At the end of Volume 2, Yui and Kyoko receive a call from Kyoko’s grandfather, who reveals to them that Mikado Shinsen was a former triple-zero class detective. Lico confirms this information here.)

Next: Chapter 3, Part 2

[fandomtrashwhoops]

Fool’s Tears Pt.2

Chapter:| 1 | 2 |

Word Count: 1699

Summary: Eliana Lynn Gothel is sought to be the lost daughter of Rapunzel and Eugene. What happens when an evil girl is caught between two words?

Author’s Note: this is very self indulgent to me, and you can tell lmao

—————-

Mother wouldn’t let me leave the house in the following week. I stayed inside, day after day, wondering when she would let me go. I sat atop of the crate in front of our dirt covered TV, flipping through the channels. I saw Auradon, freezing in place. No, today couldn’t be the day, right? My heart sank when I watched the live footage of the limousine pass through the barrier and into the land of Auradon. What I saw next shook me to my core. My best friends got off the Island, and out of the vehicle to meet the king.

Nobody even said goodbye to me.

This was the exact moment my hatred began to grow, my blood would soon turn into a boiling sea and nothing was ever the same from the second they stepped foot into Auradon and shook hands with King Ben.

My focus snapped back to the TV as I watched who I thought to be my best friends step foot into Auradon Prep. I shut the TV off, fighting back the tears that were forming. For what felt like the millionth time this week, I cried.

“They’ll be back. They will come back for you and everything is gonna be okay.” I kept repeating these words to myself but somewhere in my heart I knew they weren’t true.

~

“Honey, you don’t need to be in Auradon with them. They’re no good for you.” Mother stroked my hair, attempting to comfort me.

Ever since they left, I’ve been a hopeless wreck. Mother does her best to comfort me in these times, but I can tell that she doesn’t really care. Only keeping up the act until she finds someone and gets rid of me.

I never in my life expected to be invited to Auradon, and should have fully expected mother to say no. I never should’ve gotten my hopes up.

“You’re right mother, and I know you’re right.”

“That’s what I like to hear, darling. Now, go clean up the house. I’ll be back in a week.”

“Where are you going?”

“I said I’ll be back in a week. It better be done by the time I return.”

“Yes, mother.”

I watched as she walked up the stairs, glistening tears still rolling down my cheeks. Putting on a brave face, I began my work. Every day felt more and more hopeless. Would they ever get the wand and set us free?

The second she was out of sight, I sprinted up the stairs, through the alleyway, and onto the roofs that Jay and I used to race across. I could still see our footprints across the sand covered rooftops, and the streak of Jay’s shortcuts. I never knew how he did it, but he always seemed to get there a split second faster. Maybe he just ran faster than I did, or maybe I let him beat me. Either way, the reminder was brutal. I didn’t want to cry, really. But crying felt like the only thing I could do right anymore.

Their parents were still around, though. Right? I’ve always been welcomed into their space. Confirming my decision, I ran the route that Jay and I would always race on, straight back to the door. I decided to take an alternate entrance, since I’d heard voices yelling. At the back balcony, I peered into the room, seeing the faces of my 4 best friends on the screen of their TV.

For a second, I thought I saw Jay’s eyes widen, but he’d already pressed the button when the screen went black. My imagination must’ve gone crazy.

“Knock, knock.” I said, entering the room.

“Eliana, dear. You’re not in Auradon with them?” The Evil Queen asked.

I shook my head, masking my sadness. “Mother refused.”

“Soon enough, that won’t even matter!” Maleficent exclaimed. “We just spoke to the children. Friday, at ten AM there’s a big coronation. The wand will be ours.” Everyone in the room cheered triumphantly.

“I can’t wait.” I couldn’t tell if I was sincere. Did we really want Maleficent to be our leader? To make so many people suffer?

~

It was Friday, 9:30 AM. I’d cleaned the entirety of the house more than three times this morning. Mother still hadn’t returned, and I eagerly waited in front of the TV. Today was the day I could finally see them again. Maybe I could find out that them not saying goodbye was all a misunderstanding. My head wanted to believe that, but my heart knew I was wrong.

I paced around the house, double checking everything before looking at my shattered clock, running back to the TV. The sound wasn’t perfect but the picture was almost crystal clear.

A beautiful woman appeared on the screen, and I recognized her appearance as Snow White. “At last, here we are, broadcasting live from the coronation where Prince Benjamin will soon be crowned king! I’m Snow White,” She continued to speak for a moment, and I went into a daze for a moment. “Oh! And here comes Ben now!”

I looked at Ben and Mal in the carriage together. Mal was in a beautiful purple dress, fitting every bit of her perfectly. “King Ben. Huh, never would’ve thought.” I said quietly to myself. They chatted quietly to each other in the carriage before the scene switched back to Snow White.

“Here comes Ben with Mal, looking like a princess!” Snow White grinned as she spoke. “Now let’s see who this beauty is wearing.” She looked down to read the card. “Evie! Someone named Evie designed her gown.”

Evie always did have a knack for fashion. She designed all of our outfits specially for us. Mine was a beautiful wine red halter neck top made of leather, and black leather pants with gold accents along the edges in delicate shapes of suns and flowers. In her clothing, you could always tell she was destined to be in Auradon. It was the land of opportunity, after all.

I fiddled with my bracelet nervously. It was a black braided bracelet with a fading charm with the letter ‘J’. Jay had given it to me the day he declared us best friends. Slowly our relationship deepened and if it hadn’t been for them leaving to Auradon, I almost think it could’ve been more.

The cameras switched to them about to crown Ben as the king. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. Something in my heart told me this was wrong, but every other part of me needed to get off this Island.

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the peoples of Auradon with justice and mercy as long as you shall reign?” Fairy Godmother asked, holding the wand in her hands.

“I do solemnly swear.” Ben looked calm. He had no idea what they were about to do.

“Then it is my honor and my joy to bless our new-” Fairy Godmother couldn’t even finish her sentence as the camera quickly panned to the wand being grabbed. But the only thing I wasn’t expecting was that Mal hadn’t grabbed the wand. “Child, what are you doing?!”

“If you won’t make me beautiful, I’ll do it myself!” A girl I didn’t recognize, evidently the Fairy Godmother’s daughter, spun around as she tried to use the wand on herself.

It was only then that I watched Mal grab the wand from her. Ben stood back in horror, slowly trying to approach her.

“Mal, give me the wand.” He said.

“Stand back!” She responded.

“It’s okay.”

“Ben, I said stand back!”

I watched the others run down to help her, my mind in a daze. This was actually happening..

“Do you really want to do this?”

“We have no choice, Ben! Our parents-”

“Your parents made their choice. Now, you make yours.”

Mal froze for a moment, her voice trembling as she looked at Ben, to the wand, and back to Ben. “I think I want to be good.”

“What?!” I stood up from my crate, backing away. My mind was in a daze, my heart racing as I watched further.

Mal was talking again, tears coming from her eyes. “I want to listen to my heart, too. My heart is telling me that we are not our parents. I mean, stealing things doesn’t make you happy.” She was talking to Jay. “Tourney and victory pizza with the team makes you happy.” She was right, stealing never made Jay happy. Running long the rooftops and beating me in races made him happy.

Is Auradon really where he belonged?

She turned to Carlos. “And you, scratching Dude’s belly makes you happy. Who would’ve thought? And Evie, you do not have to play dumb to get a guy. You are so smart. And I don’t wanna take over the world with evil. It doesn’t make me happy. I want to go to school, and be with Ben.” She held up her hand, a ring showing on her finger. “Because Ben makes me really happy. Us being friends makes me really happy. Not destroying things. I choose good, you guys.” She put her hand out, waiting for everyone to respond.

To my heartbreak, Jay almost immeditely put his hand on top of hers. “I choose good, too.”

“I choose good.” Next was Evie.

Carlos hesitated, his hand hovering. “So, just to be clear, we don’t have to be worried about how really mad our parents will be? Because they’re gonna be really, really mad.” He laughed nervously.

“Your parents can’t reach you here.” Ben smiled at the group, internally I was screaming.

Don’t do it, Carlos. Please.

“Okay, then. Good.” He put his hand in.

“No!” I ripped a wood panel off of the crate next to me, breaking it over my knee and chucking it.

I cried.

When I brought my attention back to the TV, I saw Mal and what looked to be Maleficent in her dragon form on the screen. There must’ve been a small enough break in the barrier for her sceptor to work and get to Auradon.

“Leave my friends alone! This is between me and you mother.” She began to chant, her eyes lighting up more green than I’d ever seen them before. “The strength of evil is good as none, when stands before four hearts as one. The strength of evil is good as none, when stands before four hearts as one. The strength of evil is good as none, when stands before four hearts as one.”

Just like that it was over. Maleficent was defeated and Mal was in control. I watched Fairy Godmother speak to Mal. “She shrank to the sizeof the love in her heart. That’s why she’s so small right now.”

“Is she gonna be this way forever?” Mal asked.

“Well, forever is a long time. You learned to love. Maybe she can, too.” I shut off the TV, fuming and heartbroken.

I couldn’t believe this. First they leave without saying goodbye, and now they’re staying in Auradon forever? To be good? I moved without thinking, rage boiling inside of me as I ran out of the house and straight towards the docks.

If anyone was going to be as mad as I was, it was going to be Uma. She had to understand.

There were fireworks that night. We could faintly hear the music from the ship. The lights were beautiful, and I was livid. 

[rydenstories]

My Worst Failure as a CPS Worker: The Hall Case

REDDIT

Working for CPS is a sad job, but it's normally not as bad as everyone thinks.

Sure, there are the obviously depressing parts. The whole reason we have to intervene is because something internally destructive is hurting the family dynamic. At the same time, we get to work with these families and do a lot of good. In fact, with the proper counseling, we remove far less children and see more families healed. It's not uncommon that a person is only a poor parent because it's all that they know. People learn.

There are situations that are out of our hands, though, that are the worst. Those ones where no matter how much you help, you just feel like something higher is at play. You find yourself feeling like you're just waiting to clean up the mess.

In our branch, management has always tried to even out cases as much as possible. They wanted to be sure nobody became overwhelmed. Still, there were certain social workers with us that were more pressed to get the job done than the others. "Case-closers." I used to be one of them until recently, with an unsolvable case that's nearly ruined my life.

For privacy reasons, we'll just call this the Hall Case.

It didn't start out abnormal. It was challenging, sure. 8 year old kid being pulled back and forth between a nasty divorce in process. Two whackjob parents, neither of which seemed fit to care for themselves, let alone their daughter. Still, that's not something at all uncommon with us. This particular case had just run for a very long time.

One misconception about CPS workers is that we make the final decisions regarding what happens in these cases. Really, we're just mediators. Here to gather the information in a direct setting, make observations, and report back to those in charge.

I wish it were how it is in films. Reading a file and report isn't the same as observing damage in real time. If I had the choice, I would've placed the little girl with a temporary foster within weeks. Instead, her parents guarded her like a prized gem and fought to near violence to keep her as long as they could. One parent would get their two weeks with the child and we'd have to threaten to intervene when she finally needed to go back to the other.

Things changed when the father, Mr. Hall, was arrested in an unrelated criminal drug case. This gave Mrs. Hall free reign to keep the child as long as she wanted. I guess was partially relieved, knowing at least one of them was away from the child. It also meant I could focus on monitoring just one parent.

However, this is where things begin to get strange.

Mrs. Hall calls me on the day of her scheduled counseling appointment with a question about possibly switching to an alternative counselor. I explained that they'd have to be approved by me and any non-CPS counseling has to be monitored by the case-worker (myself) for a month or so before they can go unattended. She seemed glad but... unconcerned? Like a very "sure, yeah, whatever" attitude.

However, when I tried to meet her at the address she gave for the next counseling session, she and the girl weren't there. The building on the property was a church called "Church of Milcom" that seemed recently occupied but was then empty. It didn't seem that strange to me, in the moment. Churches hold counseling sessions. Maybe we got our times mixed up, I worried. Still, I had to report that they missed the counseling session, which didn't look good for Mrs. Hall.

The next session came and went with no word. Two more days and my superiors sent me to check on the house. Empty, car gone. An elderly neighbor strolled across the lawn as I was leaving and explained that he hadn't seen either of them in a while, likely since the last I spoke to her.

With the evidence mounting, we finally got the local police involved and put out an alert. It seemed very likely that Mrs. Hall had run off with the child. I hated when it came to things like this, but at least it was certain that she would finally be arrested and the little girl would be placed somewhere safe.

Despite all of this seeming very clean cut, I couldn't shake that church out of my head, so I started to do some research. The building was owned by the city but wasn't supposed to be inhabited by anyone, let alone a seemingly fully established church just from a glance. Stranger still, there was no record of a "Church of Milcom" anywhere in the city, state, or country. I brought this up to my superiors, but for some reason, it was left out of the proceedings.

The most helpful tip came surprisingly from Mr. Hall, though not immediately and not directly.

Initially, it was a natural step in the process to go question him in jail, he was the first person we came and saw, but his estranged wife had seen to it that he wouldn't have a clue where they'd go. He said that she'd changed so much over the several months that they were separated, he couldn't fathom where she'd take their daughter. Meanwhile, it seemed like some time behind bars really woke him up, and he seemed more concerned for his daughter than ever before.

For weeks, things stayed the same. We got dozens of false tips and strange individuals trying to claim some involvement. Nothing came of any of it.

When a call came from the jailhouse that they'd possibly recorded a call between Mr and Mrs Hall, we rushed down to hear the recording.

The conversation starts our casual, him clearly not wanting to alarm her. He gently asks her where she's gone. Her air is light and unbothered as she explains that her new church had them on an important trip. She promised she would come back better than ever before. This clearly worried Mr. Hall, the statement lacking the mention of their daughter, which he brings up. There's a long pause on the other end before she gleefully replies that their daughter is going to help in the most wonderful way.

Mr. Hall can't hold his composure anymore and begins to sob, which isn't what Mrs. Hall wants to hear, causing her to hang up.

It was a very strange and very sad exchange. Apparently, after the call, they had to move Mr. Hall to a different area of the jail as he was inconsolable.

Meanwhile, I reported this back to my superiors who, unshockingly at this point, did very little with the information. Their report reflected the religious fanaticism but wouldn't acknowledge the Church of Milcom's involvement at all. Without this information, I knew somewhere inside that nobody would be able to find them.

I started to lose hope as the days went on. We got a call from the jail that Mr. Hall was having nightmares about his daughter. These nightmares made him entirely certain that she was already dead, causing him to lose hope. He was moved to a psychiatric facility to be kept on suicide watch.

This case unsettled me to no end. I couldn't give my other cases the proper attention. I couldn't focus in my personal life. Meanwhile, I was terrified to admit that I had begun to have nightmares as well. This poor little girl, screaming at me from within raging fire. It was almost too much to stand.

I still don't know how she got my personal number, but I was snapped out of one of these nightmares by the ringing of my cellphone. Without really bothering to check the caller ID, I answered to be greeted by Mrs. Hall. All of her certainty and cheerfulness from the jailhouse phone recording was gone, replaced by fear and confusion. She spat near nonsense at me through ugly, unstifled sobs. From the mess, I pulled the information that she was at home.

I put her on mute for a moment as I retrieved the landline from it's base, calling the police and then my superiors to get permission to go to the scene. Afterwards, I got dressed and rushed towards the house.

The police were only just arriving on the scene, awaiting my own arrival to accompany them inside the house. The front door was already partially open and Mrs. Hall sat in a disheveled mess on the couch, still weeping into her phone as if I were still on the other end. However, as she realized that we were inside the room, she jumped up with overwhelmed excitement, sobbing even louder as she threw herself into my arms.

Immediately, there was a lot that was very different about this woman. Although her face was seized up in fear, I could tell that her skin was much smoother and cleaner. Hair that was damaged from years of chemical processing was now silken and new. She even had a bright new set of teeth. Even though she seemed to have lost her mind, Mrs. Hall could've passed as 15 years younger.

It was difficult getting full words out of her, but she didn't need to tell us where the girl was. The police had already slipped past us to check out the rest of the house, and they were indicating toward a back bedroom door that was sealed shut with broken pieces of wooden furniture and nails. There was an awful smell coming from the other side, which put a pit in everyone's stomach but also pushed them to remove the boards quicker.

This is when Mrs. Hall lost it. She tore away from me and began barreling towards the officers in the hallway, screaming for them to stop. She was detained and removed as the final board was removed from the door. Before it could even be sat down, the bedroom door opened from inside.

A foul smelling 8 year old appeared in the doorway, asking if she was allowed to come out now.

There was something strange and casual in her tone that would have felt slightly off if we weren't all so shocked and relieved to see her. I led her out and it should have been the end of everything.

I wish it was.

Initially, both parents were in separate psychiatric facilities, and we really didn't have much to go on. Besides, the case seemed pretty cut and dry to anyone besides myself. There were things I still wondered and worried about, like the Church of Milcom. I wasn't able to get anyone to hear me out, even when the elderly neighbor I'd talked to earlier had gone out of his way to let the authorities know that a grey bus full of people dropped the mother and daughter off that day.

Meanwhile with nobody to care for the Hall girl, we had no choice but to place her with a foster family. The family asked us within two days to begin looking into other options for her and straight brought her back after four.

First and foremost, she smells terrible. The stench of rotten meat has continued to permeate from this girl. More-so, she's just... scary.

At first, she confronted me about the nightmares. It was so casual, I barely caught what she'd said. She had to repeat herself twice; "the nightmares are never going away." Afterward, she continued with the conversation like nothing but I was too shaken to finish speaking with her. It was true, the nightmares hadn't stopped. I still had horrible dreams about this little girl engulfed in flame. It always seemed like she was saying something, but I could never hear her over the roar of flames. Either way, she somehow knew.

It became more serious, to me, when I found her with burnt photographs, which she claimed she'd stolen from another CPS worker's cubicle. There were still cinders falling from the burnt edges, but I couldn't find any sign of matches or a lighter and she wouldn't have had enough time to hide them.

The idea of taking some time off sounded better and better with each passing day. I even started to talk with another caseworker about possibly transferring the Hall case over to him yesterday evening. As if the universe was intervening, my superiors called me into their office with an emergency. The Hall girl disappeared from her current foster home. Even worse, one of her foster brother's was badly injured.

I wasn't allowed to attend on this scene, though I wasn't given a reason why. I was luckily able to convince the coworker who had been there to show me some of the photos she'd taken. At first, I couldn't honestly tell what had happened. This poor kid's neck looked like cooked ham. Only upon closer inspection did I notice the finger impression. Adult finger impressions, literally burnt into this poor child's neck.

I'm not sure if my superiors found out about me seeing these photos, or if everything had just come down the point of blaming me for not preventing any of this, but I was put on indefinite leave this morning.

The boy is in a coma and can't explain what happened, and the Hall girl is still missing. They're treating it as a kidnapping, linking the burns to an unidentified assailant. Now, with everything coming together, I'm entirely sure that's not what happened. It doesn't matter what I think though, at least not at this minute.

I know that when I go to sleep tonight, the nightmares are going to continue. This case.... I don't want to give up on it, but I'm terrified. I'm also not entirely sure this little girl is done with me. I have lots more research to do, I just hope I can go back to helping people after this.

[withastolenlantern]

Santomas sat on a formed plastic bench before an enormous control console, not dissimilar from the one in his office in Wales. “This is the main control center,” the engineer explained as he powered on the terminal and the various holos flickered to life. “The various sub-systems are routed to the main process PLCs here, and then up to the comms array on the roof. I can supervise the entire production queue from this terminal, manually interface with individual machines, et cetera. It’s really fascinating when you think about it, how the automation protocols have advanced in the last thirty years...” 

“While the facility tour has been highly interesting,” Chatham interrupted, “I might remind you that we’re here to investigate a possible crime.”.

“Right, right, we’re getting to it.” He keyed several commands into the console, and a process flow diagram appeared on the holoscreen. 

The detective wasn’t sure what she was looking at. “Help me understand what I’m seeing here.”

“Well, for starters, clearly the status link is working.”

“I could see that the moment we walked in,” she countered.

“Right, but that’s the thing. The external command status for this entire fab is set to shutdown. It basically terminated all line operations and told all the machinery to power down. Nothing’s supposed to be running, which is why we were seeing the red flag back in my office. But somehow the production queue got restarted; I don’t know… how... but the lines are obviously running. And, well,” Santomas scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish look on his face. “We never really planned for a conflict like this.”

“How so?”

“Just because I can control things from this terminal doesn’t mean we ever intended to. The status flag fed back to the office is strictly report-only. Once the line starts up it closes the contact on an output relay which sends the status signal out. So there’s a conflict: the last external value was set for shutdown, which its reporting. But I don’t think anyone ever anticipated a scenario where the fab would still also be running production, so we’re getting both statuses. The system didn’t know what to report, so it just reported everything.” 

Chatham closed in behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder, as she lowered her face in towards the holo. “I thought you said the batch files-”

“Recipes.”

“Right, the recipes, are only uploaded over your secure link,” she finished.

The engineer nodded in assent. “Correct.”

“Well can you determine who uploaded this particular recipe file?” Chatham asked.

“Should be able to. Hold on,” Santomas said, typing furiously at the terminal. The holo flashed as he cycled through the screens and windows. He frowned, flipping his glasses up onto his forehead as he narrowed his eyes at the projection. “Okay, now, that’s real weird.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense Mister Santomas,” the detective demanded.

“So, I can’t figure out who ran this recipe,” he said. Chatham’s eyebrows raised in concern, but he waved her off. “That’s not even the weirdest part.”

She cocked her head slightly in frustration, rolling her eyes as she motioned him on. 

“I’m looking at the execution instructions for this recipe and it’s missing the authorization code.” 

“English, please,” she pleaded. “We haven’t all day here.”

He pointed toward the holo. “You see here, at the top of this recipe file? This is the program header: it’s not really any different from your average code file, where the programmer will put a bunch of identifying information. Revision number, code author, notes, etc. Well, in the case of our recipe files, there’s also supposed to be an authorization code - when the recipe goes into execution, the first thing the PLCs are supposed to do is confirm the authorization code. We, by which I mean, The Consortium, add it to every recipe. It’s part of our regulatory review process, and it also prevents user recipes from running without our knowledge.” 

He paused, as if for dramatic effect, and gestured for him to continue with a stern glare.

“Each activation code is tied to a specific Consortium user, so it would ID who approved it.”

The detective digested this for a moment, following his logic to its inevitable conclusion. “So you’re telling me that not only do you know why the facility is running, but also who started it?”

“Evidently not,” Santomas replied through clenched teeth, one hand resting on his temple as he continued to stare into the holographic interface. 

“Is it possible the recipe was somehow executed from here in this command station, overriding the authorization?” Chatham posited.

“Nope. Has to be over the remote link. Otherwise anybody could break in here, hard as it might be, and run whatever they wanted. I’d say that’s mainly for security reasons but honestly the higher-ups wanted it to make sure the maintenance guys couldn’t run some kind of black market operations without anyone knowing,” he explained.

“And that link protocol is…”

“Uncrackable, yes. Or at least, so we thought.” Santomas slid back into the bench in defeat. “I just… this shouldn’t be possible.”  

“Alright, well,” Chatham said, mustering as much reassurance as she could manner, “we don’t know who is doing this, or how. Can we at least find out what they’re up to?”

The engineer perked back up slightly. “That, madame detective, we can do. Let me pull up the production orders.” 

He toggled the holo back to the process flow diagram they had seen earlier, and after some additional keystrokes and a few seconds of loading, an exploded view of several manufacturing assemblies replaced it. The images that appeared was instantly recognizable, and Santomas slid his glasses back down onto his nose as he leaned in. “Well, that’s… fuck.”

Before them stood schematics for a veritable armory’s worth of equipment- assault rifles, attack drones, launch tubes for explosives, and body armor.  

They both paused, taking in the enormity of the discovery, until Santomas let out a low whistle to break the tension. “I guess we know why we couldn’t find the activation code.”

“Quite.” Chatham leaned in close, grasping the back of the bench in her hands as she surveyed the plans. “But what’s that?” she said, pointing towards what appeared to be a chemical formula quietly tucked into the corner of the display.

The engineer enlarged that particular schematic, a sequence of lines and symbols stacked upon each other in a gridlike arrangement. “It’s… some kind of MEMS device, I think?”

“I’m not familiar.”

“Right, okay. MEMS is an acronym. Micro-electromechanical systems. They’re like... “ he paused, searching for an analogy. “Tiny robots, I guess? Think like, incredibly small simple machines. On the order of microns, or smaller. They’re typically used in stuff like electronics. I don’t really know what this one is, though. I’m not a materials guy. I’d have to ask one of the manufacturing engineers back in the office.”

The detective took out her mobile and enabled the video capture feed from her glasses. She wanted a record of what they were looking at, both to further the investigation, and to convince the Earl that something was indeed going on within the Consortium. “I plan to do just that. But these items are actively in production, are they not? Can we perhaps go take a look at the finished products?”

“Yes ma’am. The final products are shunted down to the lower level where the Logistics freighters pull up.” He shut down the interface to the console and stood from the bench, beckoning her to follow him.

They descended from the control tower back down onto the main production floor. Chatham passed drone trolleys carrying semi-finished assemblies that now, with the benefit of hindsight, she clearly recognized as components for various weapons: machined barrels, molded hand grips, polymer-ceramic plates for body armor. The automatons labored on, blissfully unaware of the dangerous repercussions their efforts implied; in this age of great upheaval in the global economy when an under-employed populace had little room for moral judgment with regard to their job prospects, some might still think twice about contributing toward a runaway military industrial complex. These automated foundries, freed from the constraints of ethical consideration, had no compunctions or considerations toward the fruits of their labors. They couldn’t be bargained with, or reasoned with; they felt not pity, not remorse, nor fear, and they absolutely would not stop, ever, until their jobs were complete or they were commanded otherwise.

As they wound their way through the fab, Chatham wondered what it would be like to have such a drive, independent of any ethics or human hesitancies. She sometimes felt almost mechanical in her hunt for justice, as if some command line deep inside her been hacked that adolescent evening, over-writing any other directives she might have grown to contemplate. But even then a choice had been made, whether by her own volition or not. She was not a form bound to its function, like these mindless machines, never deviating from their pre-programmed routines. She too had her governance, but within those constraints she was still free to act with some personal will; free to pursue her justice her own way, in direct contravention of orders if and when required, much to her superiors’ irritation. It was a comforting thought, here in this enormous monument to man’s drive to commercial advancement; the almighty pound sterling might still reign supreme, but the detective still got to decide how to spend hers. For now, at least.

Davis broke her from her reverie as he opened a large freight elevator that carried them down to the lower level. “This is a lot to take in, huh?” he asked as they descended. “I don’t know about you, but I’m really worried about what’s happening here.”

Chatham smiled reassuringly. “I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of anxiety, Mister Santomas,” she lied. “Only a dangerous mix of curiosity and determination.”

The elevator doors parted, and they exited out into a loading dock. It was piled high with crates, each emblazoned with the Ross logo. The detective hunched down below one, prying futilely at the top, but it was nailed shut tight. Davis appeared behind her with a crowbar, and with a concerted effort they lifted the lid off, sending it crashing to the floor with a loud clang.

“What the hell was that?” a voice called from somewhere down the dock.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Stereotypical Bodyguard

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Final Fantasy XV/Gladiolus Amicitia

Rating: PG-11/T- (for minor peril)

Original Idea: @welovegroot asked: “A Gladiolus bodyguard one-shot??? Please????? :) :) :)”---coupled with This set of headcanons again

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) First Gladio one-shot that I’ve finished! Yay! 3,280 words is a LOT longer than I intended... oh well! Side thought: I’m American so I meant “degrees” in Fahrenheit! Also, context? What context? Why the need for a bodyguard? Who knows, who cares!

^^^^^

“Ohhh! So this is the little lady, huh?” a deep, amused voice asks as you enter the living room in search of your phone. You look up from where you’d been concentrating on the coffee table and sofa cushions—

To see the tallest man you have ever seen in your entire life. He’s nearly seven feet tall—shy by maybe four inches—with the most muscular physique you’ve ever seen on a human. His eyes have a glint of humor in them. His hair is long, though shaved at the sides, and he has a scar down the left side of his face. He has on a black tank top and dark jeans, with his arms folded over his chest. He has tattoos down his arms that appear to be feathers.

Hot dang, is the first thought that rises, unbidden, to your mind.

Shut up, the reasonable part of your mind snaps back.

“Yes!” your father exclaims, clapping his hands. “Gladiolus Amicitia, I’d like you to meet my daughter.”

“What’s this about, Dad?” you ask as Gladiolus sticks his hand out to you. It’s so big you’re pretty sure he could palm your head like a basketball. You shake his hand and give him your name. “Nice to meet you, Gladiolus.”

“Please, miss, call me Gladio. Everyone does,” he replies with a smile. His hand is warm and callused and drowns yours. He shakes your hand with a fraction of the strength he must have and you still feel your fingers protest from being squeezed too hard.

Your dad steps in and Gladiolus drops his hand. Your fingers sigh in relief. “Sweetheart, Gladiolus here is going to be your bodyguard until the whole threat thing dies down,” he says.

Yeah he looks like a stereotypical bodyguard, you think sarcastically.

Good thing you’ve always had decent self-control so you don’t say that out loud.

Instead, you try something a little more professional. “Um… it’ll be nice working with you?” you try.

He smiles. It’s a rather charming smile. “I'm sure it will be,” he says. The smile drops. “Now. To business. May I see your phone?”

“Sure if you can find it,” you say. “That’s what I came in here looking for.”

His eyes sweep the living room and he scoops something off the shelf next to the television. “This yours?” he asks.

Sure enough, there’s your phone, in the one part of the room you couldn’t see because it was blocked by his built-like-a-fridge body. You nod. “Yeah that’s mine,” you say.

He holds it out to you. “Unlock please?” he requests.

You don’t put your passcode in. You’re not just going to let him have free reign over your phone whenever he wants. So you set your thumb on the Touch-ID button and let the phone open that way. As you hand it back to him, you notice him giving you a knowing smirk.

He taps on your screen a few times, though it’s a bit awkward and clunky—like he’s not really used to using a phone. Or at least not one as small as yours. Heck you can barely see the thing while he holds it. He bites the inside of his cheek as he pokes at your screen. He sighs at something—probably a typo—and clenches his jaw before relaxing and handing your phone back to you.

“Here, see?” he says. He’s put his name in your contact list, pretty high up on the list. Amicitia, Gladiolus ICE.

“What’s ICE for?” you ask.

“‘In case of emergency,’” he replies. “That way, if for some reason I'm ever not with you and the police find you unconscious, they call me.”

“… Right,” you say.

Before you can say anything else, your dad nods at Gladiolus and he performs an extremely thorough check of your house—and bedroom. Thankfully your mom had you clean it yesterday so nothing embarrassing is sitting out.

“Okay. Let’s set some ground rules,” Gladiolus says. “One: never go anywhere without telling me if for some reason I'm not here. Two: no trying to sneak away from me. It won’t work.” You’re fairly certain he’s right—and you have a brief mental image of him catching you by the collar of your shirt while glowering. “Three: no sneaking out at night to hang with your friends—without me.”

“Pretty sure that defeats the purpose of sneaking out,” you say.

He chuckles—a deep rumble in his chest. “Not really,” he remarks. “It’s my job to keep you safe—not tell your parents about everything you do.” He folds his arms over his chest. “You’re still allowed to live your life. I'm just here to make sure you live it safely. I’ll just be your shadow.”

“You look nothing like my shadow,” you say, voice completely deadpan.

That earns you a laugh—a real laugh. Big and hearty and loud. “Fair enough,” Gladiolus says. “Alright. Rule Number Four…”

^^^^^

Gladiolus—Gladio—grows on you. Two weeks into his constant presence and he’s loosened up considerably. He teases you and shows you pictures of his little sister, Iris. That doesn’t mean his security measures aren’t a tad overkill—because they are—but they’re not as irritating anymore.

You’ve been out running errands with your friends all day, as well as doing a little shopping for a fancy party coming up. You’re not terribly into it, but it turns out Gladio has a decent eye for fashion. He finds a dress that fits you perfectly and looks good with your complexion.

Your friends aren’t going to stop teasing you about it for years.

Once you have the dress sent to your house—no way are you carrying it on the walk home—you leave the store and your friends bid you goodbye. You part ways and head home.

“You’re dragging your feet,” Gladio remarks. “Do you not want to go home?”

“I don’t care. I'm tired,” you reply.

He contemplates you for a moment before turning his back and bending his knees. “Hop on. Let’s go,” he says.

You’re too tired to even question it. So you climb on his back and let him give you a piggyback ride home.

While he walks—the gentle sway of his gait nearly putting you to sleep—he talks to you. About the books he’s read, about his best friends, about his little sister, about the city around you. His voice is deep and vibrates in his entire upper body. You feel it against your chest where you’re pressed against his back.

Honestly you don’t even notice if anyone is giving you strange looks. You’re not looking at other pedestrians.

Back home, he sets you gently on the sofa. “Get some good rest tonight,” he says. “I'm going to teach you some self-defense in the morning.”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumble.

He chuckles, ruffles your hair, and moves to leave.

“Wait, what?” you ask.

“Self-defense. In the morning. Just in case I'm ever not with you. Hopefully it will never come to that, but I'm trying to keep you safe.”

You try not to squeak. You can’t imagine a self-defense training session with Gladio going well. You can feel bruises before you’ve even got them.

^^^^^

“Welcome, m’lady, to training session one,” Gladio says when you arrive at a gym. He takes you past all the equipment to a big empty room labelled Sparring Room. You feel anticipation building in your throat.

In the sparring room is a girl. She’s got short dark brown hair and the same whiskey brown eyes as Gladio. She’s pretty small, especially compared to him, but her skinny arms are still pretty muscled. There’s a smile on her face. You recognize her from pictures Gladio has shown you on his phone.

Iris Amicitia. His little sister.

“Hi! I'm Iris!” she greets brightly. “I'm Gladdy’s sister!”

“Hi,” you reply, giving her your name too.

“If for any reason I can’t be with you, Iris will keep you safe,” Gladio says. In the corner of your eye, while you shake Iris’ hand, you see him take off his tank top. His tattoos continue from his arms to his chest—with an eagle’s head on his left side. Which, you think, explains the feather design down his arms.

You can’t help it—you definitely stare. How is he that chiseled? Like, how is that even possible for a human?

You look away before he can catch you staring, but he does catch the movement. You hear him chuckle. “Like what you see?” he jokes.

The answer is yes but you’re definitely not saying that out loud. A blush rises over your face and your ears burn. “Shut up,” you mutter half-heartedly.

Iris giggles but changes the subject. “You ready?” she asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” you reply.

With Iris there it goes better than you anticipated. She’s gentler but tough. She gives you demonstrations slowly before asking you to replicate and practice. She walks you through it your first couple times before speeding it up.

Once, she gets carried away sparring with her brother and somehow manages to put him in a chokehold while you stare in surprise. She’s more petite than you—how did she do that? He’s a mountain of a man and, in comparison, she’s a small baby animal. Yet she has him on the floor with her arm around his neck, laughing her head off.

You find yourself laughing too. Their sibling interactions are so familial and pure. You can’t help it.

The rest of the session went a bit better with Iris coaching you through more than Gladio did. Before you knew it, you had showered at the gym—a strange feeling—and were out in the city at the street market looking for fruit from other parts of the country. Gladio follows behind you, standing at your left shoulder with his arms folded and a bored expression on his face—except when someone seems threatening. Then he glares at them.

Not that you take too much notice. You are more interested in the fruit for the moment. You can stare at Gladio any time but the fruit is more of a one-time thing.

^^^^^

Laughing, you and Gladio are on your way home from a day out a few weeks later when you get stopped on a narrow street.

Honestly, you’re not sure why anyone would even consider threatening you when you have a 6’8” titan at your side at all times.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” one of the three men asks flirtatiously. You scoff. His words are slightly slurred—he’s not sober. You’re unsure if he’s drunk or high or what, but he’s definitely inebriated in some way.

“You, apparently,” you say as Gladio tenses up behind you. You can feel it. A month of being around him has helped you attune to his mannerisms.

“Aw, don’t be like that, darlin’,” another of the three says. He’s bigger than the first one who spoke—and seems a little soberer. He takes a step forward and you see a glass bottle in his hand. You take a step backward. Gladio’s hand lands on your shoulder and gently pulls you back until your shoulder blades brush his torso. “Just bein’ friendly.”

“Decidedly not,” Gladio growls. “Be on your way, gentlemen, or let us go ours.”

“Heeeeey, big guy!” the last of the three—and clearly the most inebriated—slurs, staggering forward. In one swift movement Gladio pushes you behind him as the third man’s hand lands on his chest. “Just havin’ a little fun! Know what I mean?” You can smell alcohol on the man.

Gladio shoves the man off him with a disgusted scoff. “Alright. If you want to do this the hard way, we can do this the hard way,” he says. The third man stumbles back, hits a wall, and slides down it, all while laughing his head off. Gladio glances back at you to make sure you’re alright, one hand behind him in case he has to grab you.

The other two men, who are slightly more lucid, blink in surprise and back away. Apparently they realize at the same time that Gladio is not one to mess with—his height and muscles are not just for show.

Still, the first man who spoke tries to take a swing at Gladio—maybe to defend his friend’s honor?

Gladio grabs the first man’s fist and twists his arm behind him before shoving him forward and delivering a swift kick in the pants. The first man falls face-first into the pavement with a loud, “Oof!”

The second man backs off completely, raising his hands in surrender and dropping the glass bottle. It shatters on the ground.

Noticing the glass shards, Gladio scoops you up like you’re a plush toy and proceeds down the street, only setting you down when you’re far enough away that there’s no way for you to step on any glass.

You’re not entirely sure what to say to him, so you settle on good manners. “Thanks,” you say.

He smiles and tugs on the ends of your hair gently. “That’s what I'm here for, m’lady,” he replies. “Buncha drunk creeps lookin’ for trouble, making passes at anyone they s—LOOK OUT!” He grabs your arm and yanks you forward, dodging around you and deflecting a punch from the second man. The other two are right behind him.

They don’t look drunk anymore. You can still smell alcohol, but the men seem stone-cold sober.

A fake-out? you wonder. You’re not sure.

It takes Gladio less than a minute to knock them all out cold. One of the men gets thrown into a wall. Gladio takes a few licks, but it seems not to faze him.

You only take a single punch from one of the men who managed to get past Gladio for all of seven seconds. You’re not sure which man it is, given it’s getting dark and you’re frightened, but his collar gets grabbed by Gladio and hauled back. He’s the next man to go down.

Once all three men are unconscious on the ground, Gladio takes your hand and the two of you run the rest of the way home. His legs are much longer than yours so you struggle to keep up. You feel as though your lungs are being torn from your body slowly. Your throat is dry and you can’t breathe.

The front door of your house slams shut behind you. You collapse on the sofa, panting with your eyes closed. “That was no chance meeting,” you manage to say between pants.

“No. It wasn’t,” Gladio agrees. He’s barely winded. Which is totally not fair.

You get up to get a glass of water—and pause. There’s a cut on his face. Right on his cheekbone. It’s bleeding. “Oh my—you’re hurt!” you say.

He shrugs. “It’s nothin’. Probably won’t even scar,” he replies.

You go to the kitchen. In the living room you hear him on the phone with someone—either your dad or the police, you can’t tell. After downing an entire glass of water, all you hear is silence from the other room. You wet a dish towel and return to the living room. “Sit,” you instruct.

“What’re you—”

“Now.”

Surprised at your tone, Gladio sits on the sofa. You kneel on the cushion next to him and clean out the cut. He winces a little as it stings, and you give him a tiny little smirk. “Don’t you dare,” he mutters.

You bite your lip but don’t tease. The adrenaline and fear still haven’t gone away so your mind is struggling to come up with the perfect quip anyway.

Once the cut is cleaned out and the blood has been sponged off, you kiss it. “There,” you say. “That’ll make it all better.”

He chuckles. “Is that right?” he asks.

“Yes. It is,” you reply with a playful but sharp tone.

“If you insist, m’lady,” he says with a grin.

Judging by the lack of interaction from your family and how dark the house is, you guess that no one is home. Gladio sweeps the house to confirm it before returning to the living room and dropping onto the sofa next to you.

He brushes his thumb over your cheek.

“You took a hit too,” he says. “You’re bruising.”

You feel your cheekbone throbbing from the punch you’d taken. You turn the injury away from him. “It’s nothing.”

He pinches your chin and draws your head back to face him. “Hey,” he says softly. “It’s not nothing.”

“No, really,” you say. “You’re far worse off than me.”

“Well that’s my job,” he says. “Not yours. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe.”

You clear your throat. “Thanks,” you say.

He smiles softly, the backs of his fingers gently pushing some of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. “My pleasure,” he says. His hand lands on the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

The room seems to warm up by twenty degrees. Though… maybe it’s just you. Or Gladio. You’ve spent enough time standing near enough to him to know that he radiates heat like a furnace.

And you are sitting extremely close to him. Too close, probably.

This near, you can smell his spicy cologne. You can see the gold in his whiskey-colored eyes. The scar down the left side of his face takes on new definition. As does the fresh cut.

For several long, tense moments, the two of you just stare at each other. There are words hanging in the air, but neither of you catch them to speak them aloud. Is it just you or is the atmosphere a little thicker? Breathe… breathe…

Gladio’s other hand, the one not currently between your neck and shoulder, ghosts softly up your forearm, coming to a halt at your deltoid. His hands are warm and callused.

Their touch is comforting.

When did your faces get this close? Why are you leaning closer?

Before questioning anything else, you tilt your head to the side slightly and meet his lips at the same moment he leans forward to close the distance.

Relief and excitement flood through you in equal parts. Relief because you’re alive and he’s kept you safe, and excitement because… well, he’s all yours. He’s right here. He’s present and warm and strong and all yours. Your hands find his upper arms and stay there. You can feel his muscles tense and shift under your fingertips.

With a gasp, you pull away. “Should we even… be doing this?” you breathe. Both of you are panting again. For entirely different reasons this time.

His gaze drops, eyes somewhere around your chin. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s unprofessional—”

That doesn’t stop you from ducking closer to him again. He eagerly meets you.

“I promise,” he whispers against your lips. “I promise to always protect you.”

“I trust you,” you reply.

The lock to the front door clicks open. The two of you spring apart just in time for your dad to come in to see both of you sweating and panting—a bruise on your face and a cut on Gladio’s cheek. “What happened?” your father demands.

Gladio explains, leaving the seconds before your father walked through the door out. He gets up and prepares to leave for the night. Not before taking your hand to pull you aside and whisper one more promise. Clinging to his hand as long as you can, you watch him disappear into the darkness.

What have I gotten myself into? you wonder.

The darkness says nothing.

[thesecretlifeoflee]

#4

i don’t know if it was because of that situation, that it had me emotionally vulnerable and needed to be comfort by a   male. but i had called him. talking to him when i felt that way was actually kind of nice. it felt less forced and more genuine. i don’t know, he talks a lot of shit, maybe that’s just what it is. nothing real, all shit. i had been debating to ask him all night of whether he means certain things he has said to me. i feel like he’s doing it all on purpose to get underneath my skin. or to feel like he’s bigger than me. perhaps im only around just to stroke his ego. if that were the case, he should stop trying to get me to like him. i think i have started already which doesn’t fit into any of my plans. 

he kept talking about one of the women he used to mess with went crazy and was saying how she was going to show up to his house and tell his wife everything, his only response to that was, “be my guest, ill call her on 3-way and ill let you tell her.”. in my head, a thousand thoughts are running around. he went on to say that if the roles were reversed he’d want her to just tell him than to do what he’s doing, which didn’t make sense. if he would want her to just tell him that she no longer wants him sexually, why can’t he? somethings there, i can feel it. what he was saying made no sense in reference to todays current events. he’s sleeping with me, and talks about getting physically repulsed and being intimate with her. he called me this afternoon, i had asked him how his night went, he told me that his wife’s niece and her boyfriend had come over so they had went out, he went on to explain that since they had guests, he slept in the same bed as her. he told me they had sex, he didn’t actually say the word sex but that’s what he meant. he went on to say that after she finished he went to the bathroom and he said he had felt wrong, i went on to add, ‘like a whore? like dirty?’. he had agreed, he said afterward it felt wrong and he had this feeling in the pit of his stomach in the middle of it like how he couldn’t wait for it to be over. how can a man say that yet would want more from her if she was in his situation? men are so peculiar. i am not the type of woman that is going to ask the question of ‘her or me’ cause i know what answer would be. i wouldn’t want it to be any other way too. i can see myself hating him very easily, he gets annoying very easily and im already too insecure. god, i would be in misery being with someone like him. 

why does he have to open his fucking mouth sometimes. all i said was something light, something stupid and he had to ruin the conversation. am i back to hating him? we had a good week and some change but i guess its right where we were a week ago. its like he wants me to know im not the only one. i just texted him and asked him if he’s gonna give me something. since he wants to make sure i know im not the only woman right now or ever. which is fine, i know that. i just thought this could’ve been a good thing for a period of time but of course, he had to open his fucking mouth and say something that annoyed me. hurt my feelings, maybe. not quite sure yet if im being honest. i was being petty, i know that, but i want to get a rise out of him. telling him im clean and i haven’t been with anyone else and that id rather not catch anything. it probably annoyed him if anything. he doesn’t care about me that’s for sure. but it feeds into my delusion that i affected him in some way. that i affect him in some way. i know i dont, but that delusion feels nice.

i didn’t have a good night. i spent a while with him. it could be that i spent too much time with him. “its like you self sabotage” is what he said to me. im not sure what i had did or what was the moment where he thought i was annoying. the way he held his tone and how he was talking to me and about me, god, i wanted to cry. he kept saying its like i saw something good and wanted to sabotage it. in that moment, i could feel the mania slowly sliding into the depressive episode that was oncoming anyway. he just had sped it along. the show euphoria with zendaya actually was right when they said they prefer mania over depression. i guess anyone in their right mind would. i had realized when he was talking that i had internally made him my favorite person. i didn’t realize it then but last night when i had and he continued to speak to me the way he had and talk about me in such a way,  i want to cry just thinking about it. it sucks when your favorite person for that moment is upset or leaves. it hurts and i realized it wasnt that i was falling for him, sure, there are some feelings and im sure this is reciprocated just by the way he was talking. he had said if i wanted problems or arguments to go get a boyfriend cause he’s not gonna be around if it keeps happening. god, im upset but im not sure why.

im pretty sure he had threatened me. he was going on telling me about how he had been kidnapped like almost two years, explaining how he had been taken by some guys and stuffed into the trunk of their car. he said he had heard the people on the phone which aided in him figuring out who had taken him. he went on and said he had paid them a hundred and fifty thousand, he said he was either dead or they were gonna let him live but he knew living wasnt likely in this scenario. to his surprise, they had let him go, it was winter. he walked home into the freezing cold, and when he had gotten home he had him and his guys meet up and they waited. they had waited three months and the got the guys crew on by one. he said to the guy who had taken him for ransom, im keeping you alive until you pay back the money you took from me. he got that money three hours later and him and all of his guys were dead. im not sure why he had told me this, he had started to tell me and when i had asked he said he didn’t want to go into details, then followed up and told me the story anyways. he’s confusing. i can feel myself getting too deep. im too far in emotionally and physically but i can’t tell myself to stop. “you like the danger.. the edge” is what he had said to me. i couldn’t argue with it, he was right, i do. i can’t help myself. i still can’t stop myself. it feels too good. it is self sabotage. he was right with that but not with the tone. just being around him is self sabotage. he didn’t know it then and i dont think ill ever tell him. he was making me cry. it was the stolen moments that i loved, we both lie about where we are at just so we can see each other, and be with each other. maybe im the only one here with sense. 

when you look at me what is it you see? what is it about me that makes you so worked up? is it because i am so willing? i am so willing for anything at anytime. im just a phone call away. im not sure if i like him or his money more. i bought myself  new clothes, bras and panties with his money. to be fair, he does give me the money and its for the hotels i get. whatever isn’t used i think is free reign. its fair use at that point. i said i liked him which i believe is true. its weird to think about. i was just in, what i thought was, a committing relationship, and now im catching feelings for this almost fifty year old man. i just can’t come to terms with my situations. when he walks away from me my breathing stops, my brain is quiet. its usually dark so, the street is quiet. the chilly wind blowing against my skin. i dont want him to leave yet. how we’re in the hotel room and i latch onto him and grip his arm and legs and hold him to me so he doesn’t get up and get dressed. i dont want him to leave me just yet. i tell myself i just miss the physical touch and the comfort of a man. he holds me so well. his skin is so soft and he’s an absolute hotbox. i can’t even cum on my own without thinking about him. how he fucks me just so right. he touches me so nicely. i like when he has my legs to my chest and he leans down and wraps his arms around the back of my neck and squeezes me to his neck and its so firm as he fucks into me so nice. he fucks me so good, im so addicted.