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babyboy-cody · 3 years

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‘ ‘ chapter | 01 ’ ’

complex desires. ( prologue ) ( masterlist )

SUMMARY: It’s the first week of classes after winter break, but you’re not exactly used to seeing new faces - teachers and students in between.

WARNINGS: explicit language, mentions of mental disorders, anxious thoughts, anxiety attack

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

NOTES: i’m currently writing this chapter while drinking a big ass mug of hot cocoa. also, hunter’s pronouns are they/them! this series is one i’m most excited for. hope you kiddies enjoy <3

It was still early when the clouds gave off their rain to the grass and trees, when the road became alive with more splashes than your eyes could appreciate. Yet together they brought such a soothing sound, a natural melody every bit as beautiful as a mother's soulful hum. You felt each splash that touched your skin, watching as your cardigan become a deeper, more rocky hue. It was as if earlier the street had been a matte photograph, only to be washed as glossy as any magazine page.

Each raindrop is a kaleidoscope, if people could only see more closely. You wonder as you walk how it would be to stop time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside those raindrops and take that gravity propelled ride to the earth, as you imagine it you feel your inner self laughing – a little at the crazy daydream and a little at your own silliness. You see the rain beads upon the cars, upon each leaf and washing your outstretched fingers. Soon they will pull together, forming the puddles, opening up a whole new avenue of rain-related fun. Perhaps it isn't normal to love a rainy day so much, but who cares about normal anyway? You’re pretty sure "normal" is a made up thing.

Upon the umbrella come the playful sounds of dancing drops, and from it's rim comes the sight of their more relaxed cousins, dripping as if their soul purpose was to bring a sense of ease and calm to the day. And as the rain became more intense, it began to soak the bottom of each dark blue jean leg, deepening the denim to a stronger hue, bringing your brown boots to a glossy water-shine, becoming a kind of natural cocoon.

Each raindrop is a doorway into nature's heart, an invitation of sorts, a request for your soul to rejoin creation. In the rain there is a serenity, a sense of peace that offers to resonate with the peaceful elements of the soul. Walking among those drops is your meditation, a way to fully become present in the moment, a way to feel free.

There was a vibration coming to life in the back pocket of your jeans, cutting you out of your peaceful daydream in the rain. You stepped to the side to allow a cyclist to pass by and gave him a brief smile when he nodded his head in thanks. When you pulled out your phone to read the contact, you instantly smiled when seeing Mickey’s name on the screen.

“Okay, first off, hello. Second off, where the hell are you? Me and Hunter – okaayy – Hunter and I have been in the cafeteria since 7:15 in the goddamn morning,” she immediately went off as soon as you put the phone to your ear. “Also, did you take your meds today? My alarm went off as a reminder.”

“First off, hi back, Mick. Second off, it’s been 15 minutes and I’m five minutes away from the school. It’s fine if we don’t have breakfast today just once,” you laughed as you heard her scoff. “And thirdly, yes mom, I did take my meds. I actually have to get another refill for my BPD meds. Thank you for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, you better hurry. We have the last of your favorite yogurt and Hunter’s close to eating the damn thing,” you heard Mickey laugh as she shushes her significant other. “Also, be careful coming around the usual entrance. The school is doing some bogus construction to add a statue of the principal.”

“You’re shitting me!” You exclaimed, earning a dirty glare from a tiny senior citizen as she slowly walks passed you with her small cane. “What the hell did this prick do to earn that? Also, can you grab me a fruit cup too? I’ve been craving kiwi’s for some odd reason.”

“Well, he’s wicked rich and can basically do anything in this school and get away with it, literally. And there’s no fruit cups today, but there’s a bag of sliced apples and tangerine slices,” Mickey told you as she huffed, which you assume is her getting out of her seat to go back to the assortment of breakfast foods. “Ooh, there’s bagels too. I think they just added these.”

“Jesus Christ, this statue is stupid as hell,” you groaned and stood in front of the half built statue, your principal’s name on a gold plated plaque attached to the marble. “This guy really needs an ego boost, huh? And just tangerine slices then. I’m heading inside.”

“Alright, see you soon, baby doll.” She annoyingly kisses into the phone as you snorted and rolled your eyes at her antics.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket, you stood outside the entrance doors and shook the leftover raindrops from your yellow umbrella before closing it. You inhaled the fresh rain water for one last time before grasping onto the freezing cold and disgustingly wet doorknob and pulling it open to head inside. There was a small litter of students here and there; some reading new announcements on the bulletin board in the main hall; some sitting in the lounging chairs with laptops or textbooks open on their laps; some sitting on the ground with a half empty bottle of water beside their laps and phones in their hands, headphones in their ears. You terribly, annoyingly, and oddly missed this. You missed the bustle of students laughing and running down the halls. You missed it all, even if it has been two weeks.

You hear loud chatter coming from just ahead, so you know you’re about to enter the cafeteria area. Just as you’re about to do so, you stop in your tracks in front of a bulletin board. There were a few posters for new clubs, as well as study groups, upcoming announcements, room changes, and more. But one that really struck out to you was a new story writing group, specifically for writers or English majors. You felt a burst of excitement spread throughout your chest and settle into the pit of your stomach. You made sure to take a quick photo of the sheet beforr moving on into the cafeteria.

Almost immediately, you spotted Hunters straight platinum blonde hair and fiery streaks on one side while the other was icy blue. Sitting in front of them was Mickey, her hair curly and unruly, making you wonder if she rolled out of bed, threw some clothes on, and called it a day. You felt your cheek mucles twitch as your lips pulled up into a bright smile. Hunter was the first to notice you. They looked up at you passed Mickey’s shoulder and smiled so brightly that it made you reciprocate. They adorned bright orange eyeshadow with white eyeliner, making their eyes pop out even more. You loved how they didn’t cake on makeup, they kept it simple, yet so drop dead gorgeous.

“There she is, the man of the hour,” they announced and got up from their seat to pull you in for a warm, tight hug. “I missed you so much. I’m so sorry for not messaging you the entire break. We didn’t have any service whatsoever.” There was a crestfallen look on Hunter’s face and you held their cheeks so they wouldn’t look away.

“Look at me, don’t stress about it, okay? Did you at least have fun?” They nodded with a pout. You grinned and gave their forehead a kiss before pulling them in for another hug.

“Okay, first you’re late. And now you’re stealing my person. I see how it is,” Mickey smirked as you gave her the bird behind Hunter’s back as you both pulled away from the hug. “Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Michelle,” you responded in the same tone as you sat in an empty chair around the table. “Give me my tangerine, please.” She passed you the small cup of tangerine slices with a grin when you began eating them.

“You been eating three times a day?” She asked you, looking at you through her mane of curls rather than pushing her hair away. You shrugged and kept your eyes on the half empty cup in your hands. “Y/N..”

“I’m doing it little by little, Mick. And I’m starting to drink water too,” you blushed and laughed softly when her and Hunter began praising you. Praise was something you weren’t used to, but hearing it every now and then really gave you butterflies. “It’s nothing..”

“Are you kidding me?” Hunter laughed and reached over to lay a hand over yours. “This is amazing. This is progress and we’re both so very proud of you.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Mickey lightly bumped your shoulder with her knuckles as Hunter pulled away. “You should do a meal plan like I did when I had to get my weight back up, so that way you don’t forget to eat three times a day.”

“I don’t know.. I don’t exactly have the funds to buy a lot of groceries. I had to use over $100 of my food stamps cause almost everything in my kitchen was old,” you huffed and popped another tangerine slice into your mouth. “Plus, I’ve been busy with finding a job and paying for my therapy appointments and doing school work, and it’s all so fucking overwhelming.”

The first bell rang, signaling students to begin their walk to class with only a few more minutes to spare. You grabbed your shoulder bag and stood beside Mickey while she held onto Hunter’s hand. The three of you passed by a swarm of students; freshman’s and sophomores running by to get to the lecture halls early; juniors having their books and laptops already out and pressed to their chests; seniors loitering in the halls with their friends. Thankfully, you, Hunter, and Mickey had your first English class together.

“How about this?” Mickey began. “Hunter and I will help pay for your groceries.” She hushed you as you began to lightly protest. “Listen, you already got a lot on your plate. I’d be a really shitty best friend if I allowed you to deal with all that. So every week, we’re gonna swing by your place to drop off some stuff, okay? I’ll create a meal plan for you with your favorites, so that way we’re taking that worry for money off your back.”

“Mick, you don’t have to do that for me. Like I said, I’ll find a way,” you mumbled and shrugged as you walked up the long staircase to head up to the lecture halls. “I couldn’t do that to you guys.”

“Y/N,” Hunter stopped you three in the middle of the hallway. “We care about you and we don’t want you going down that negative route alone. We both have jobs and enough money to cover Mickey and I, and it’ll seriously make me the happiest if you let us do this, please.”

“Two more minutes until class begins,” the voiceover on the speaker spoke.

“Fine,” you sighed, feeling a smile pull your lips as you all continued walking to the English room. “I love you both. And I’m very grateful for you to do this for me.”

“We know,” Mickey told you as she kissed your cheek obnoxiously, causing you to groan and Hunter to laugh. “But in all seriousness, don’t be a stranger to asking, okay?”

You nodded and gave her a reassuring smile as you made your up the steps to your seats in the bottom middle row. Mickey sat in between you and Hunter as more students filled the class. There was light chatter and soft clatter as seats were pulled down and the folding desks were pulled up. You set your bag between your feet, being cautious of not getting it dirty from your boots. Pulling out your spiral notebook that had four sections, you neatly wrote the course name, your name, and the date. Nervously clicking your pen, you tried to block out the noise that had started to get a little too loud. Nibbling on your bottom lip to distract yourself, your feet began tapping on its own while you tapped your pen on your book. Mickey and Hunter were having a conversation of their own, so they didn’t notice the early signs of a small anxiety attack.

An invisible hand clasps over your mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierces your heart, unloading in an instant. You feel your ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate your lungs. Your head is a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing your mind into blackness. You want to run; you need to freeze. Sounds that were near feel far away, like you’re no longer in the body that sits paralyzed in the cold seat. Your breath comes out in rapid, shallow breaths as you shake your head at yourself.

“No, no, no,” you harshly whisper as your bobbing knee gets almost frantic.

You felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in your abdomen. Tension grew your her face and limbs, your mind replaying the last attack. You held onto the sides of your head, your elbows digging into the hardness of your desk. Your only movement was the trembling of your limbs and salty tears darkening your sleeves. There you stayed, unaware of the numerous eyes watching you until Mickey turned and noticed your frantic state.

“Shit,” she hissed and slung her arm across your desk as the other wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m here, Y/N. It’s okay.. sshhh.. I’m right here.” She noticed a few students staring, to which she narrowed her eyes and snarled, “What the fuck are you looking at, dipshits?!” They immediately looked away after being caught. She turned her attention back on you. “What’s going on, huh?” Her voice was soft and soothing as she smoothed her hand down your hair.

“It-It’s so.. loud,” you hiccuped and covered your face even more when a sob escaped your lips, spit flying onto your hands as you felt your neck, cheeks, and ears heat up out of embarrassment and shame. “I can’t stop it, Mick. I-I can’t!”

Hunter sat on the other side of you, reaching down to get your back, shuffling their hand inside to pull out your earplugs and inhaler. They handed the earplugs fo Mickey while pressing the opening of the inhaler to your lips. “Come on, babe,” they quietly told you and tucked a few strands of hair behind your ears, lightly blowing on your flushed skin to cool it down. “There we go,” they gently said when you took two deep puffs of your inhaler while Mickey made sure your earplugs were snug inside your ears. You felt your lungs open up as the cold, bitter medicine settled on your tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and shook your head, wiping away the last of your tears. You sniffled and looked at Mickey and Hunter. “I-I don’t know what happened.. it just... happened.”

“It’s always unexplained, but don’t be sorry for something you can’t control, okay?” Mickey told you firmly while making sure you were looking into her eyes. “This doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

Hunter smiled and sat your bag back between your feet before moving to their seat next to Mickey. All the students had settled down, their conversations now a quiet murmur. You felt relieved as you pulled your earplugs out and slid them inside your protective case, making sure the lid was closed tight before shoving it into your bag. Mickey kept an eye on you the entire time, making sure no one triggered you. She sat with an elbow resting on the back her chair with her legs lightly spread.

“You’re man-spreading,” you quietly told her, laughing quietly when she flipped you off.

Suddenly, the metal doors opened and a man hurriedly walks in with an expensive looking leather messenger back over his shoulder. Your lips parted and you sat up straight in your seat when he gave the class a guilty smile. You’ve never seen him in the school. Not even before break. He must’ve been in a different department and just got transferred to the English center. He deeply intrigued you. You noticed the other girls in the class twirling their hair in a cliché way with the tips of their pens between their teeth. He wore all black, and it was so very different compared to what other professors wore. There was no sweater vest or button up shirt. He just wore a comfortable and soft looking black sweater with black jeans and black boots. His dirty blonde - almost brunette - hair was perfectly styled. He looked devastatingly handsome.

“Hello, my name is Professor Shepherd and I’m going to be your English teacher for the rest of the semester. Professor Winifred recently had her baby during winter break and shall be back for the next semester,” he gave another knee-weakening grin as he clapped his hands together. “Shall we get started?”

#AAAHHHH FIRST CHAPTER IS OUT!!!#we’re just getting started 😏#duncan shepherd x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #professor!bill #professor!duncan #love triangle #complex desires series

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sophisticated-creepy · 3 years

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Lola’s mind was swarming. Although one thought seamlessly bled into the next, there was a supreme lack of a single thread with which to follow, and completely lost in the void of her own mind, she hadn’t noticed she’d walked passed her destination, realizing halfway down the next block she had to double back to reach Curios and Oddities. She was stepping up to the main entrance as Modesta was walking out, holding the door open wide for a customer who had finished purchasing an order of candles and dreamcatchers, the lady’s arms draped in large shopping bags.

“Thanks again, and have a pleasant day,” Modesta told the satisfied shopper. “Lola! I thought I saw you walking by.”

“Hi, Modesta,” Lola chirped, perhaps a tad too sharply to even her own ears. “How was inventory?”

“Fine,” Modesta answered, her eyebrows knitting together in question. Lola’s energy was sporadic and fluctuating, sending out an unsettling vibe despite standing perfectly still in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe that was the issue: Lola was merely standing. Lola didn’t “stand”, she fluttered, like an overly caffeinated butterfly. If Modesta did find her friend by chance to be in a state of rest, some other part of her was usually moving, whether it were her arms gesturing about grandly during some ostentatious storytelling, or her eyes dancing to absorb the scenery around her. Lola was like the wind, and rarely remained stagnant, so when she noticed the eerie calm in the way Lola remained motionless, staring at nothing, she was immediately on edge and completely creeped out.

“Look, I know Halloween is right around the corner, but you are really starting to freak me out, Lola. Do you need help or something?”

“Sorry,” Lola spoke. She then blinked, her shoulders slouching downwards naturally, shifting back into a more fluid realm of movement and mannerisms. “Sorry,” she repeated. “Yes, actually, I was wondering if you could help me. Are you busy, or can we talk for a moment?”

“I’m not too terribly busy, come on in. What’s on your mind? You were a total zombie on the sidewalk just now.” Lola was ushered into the warmth of the shop, the scent of vanilla and cookies instantly had her relaxing, feeling once more at peace and in control of her rampant thoughts and imagination.

“I’m processing a lot of information,” Lola began as she stepped into the sacred space. “Actually, I’m trying to get some research done on a new story for a writing contest I’m entering.”

Modesta gave a light laugh. “Oh! Another story, huh? That explains your zone-out. What’s your theme this time?”

“The Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“Of course it is,” Modesta laughed harder. “Why did I even bother to ask?”

“Anyway…,” Lola transitioned, giving her friend a look that clearly meant she herself was not amused. “I have a deadline in little over a week, so I need to get as much research done as possible before I can do any actual writing.”

“Do you really need to do research? I thought you knew all there was to your loveable Hobblin’ Goblin.”

“It’s rather quite shocking on how much I don’t know, except for the everyday basics: he’s a goblin, he hobbles, walks with a crutch, and plays pranks. I don’t know the real, tangible origins, so I’m looking for the deeper meaning. I’m looking for his story.”

“I’ve never thought about it from that angle before,” Modesta admitted. “It’s a unique way to portray the legend, that’s for sure.”

Aggrievedly, Lola leaned her hip against a tall table stacked with candles and heaved a sigh. “I want to get some personal testimonies of people experiencing a real run-in with Mr. Goblin as part of my research to get a truer feel of his hauntings, but I’m coming to realize it’s going to be near impossible to sort the differences between a Hobblin’ haunt and a regular haunt.”

“I can help with that!” Jack sprung up from behind the furniture piece Lola and Modesta were talking next to, his boisterous appearance scaring the living daylights out of the two women, having the whole shop of customers stare in their direction as they each let out a scream of fright.

“Jack!” Modesta scolded after catching her breath. “Have you been waiting behind that table this whole time to scare us?”

Laughing, Jack nodded. “I was. But, do you at least get my point?”

“What are you talking about?” Lola asked, still trying to get her racing heartbeat under control.

“I heard you talking about the Hobblin’ Goblin. He pulls pranks, just like me, and like any other prankster, his jokes are mainly for his enjoyment,” Jack informed. “You can’t rely on the typical moans and groans and rattling of chains. You need to look for the fun.”

Lola snapped her fingers in confirmation. “That’s exactly what I said to Stacy. I’m looking for what makes the Hobblin’ Goblin so special, and I believe it lies in the fun. Do you mind if I record you saying that, Jack? From one trickster to another, I’m sure you’ve got some great insight I could borrow.” Eager to get a new perspective on her favorite goblin, Lola began digging around in her purse to renew her quest of investigation.

“Did you hear that, Mo? I get to be recorded,” Jack smugly stated, plastering on a cheesy smile a charlatan of yore would envy.

“I don’t think the world is ready for your mug,” Modesta sarcastically shot back. Lola emerged from her handbag, holding her tape recorder towards Jack’s face, his smile swapping out for a confused pout as he stared down the microphone of the handheld device.

“Tell me again about the motivation of tricksters, Jack,” Lola sweetly requested.

“Yes, Jack,” Modesta agreed, stifling her laughter to the best of her ability. “Tell the audio world all about it.”

“Uh, Lola, when you said ‘record’, I assumed---.” Jack trailed off, not wanting to hurt the wannabe reporter’s feelings, as Lola’s innocent expression at recording him with her archaic equipment weighed heavily against his conscience.

“Oh, shit, hold on,” Lola cursed. “I need to take notes.” Lola’s quick movements to try and free up her hands in order to get a pen and her notebook caused her to jumble and jostle the items in her arm, and she dropped her notepad along with the newspaper straight to the floor in a flurry of commotion. Modesta bent down to help Lola retrieve her items. When her fingertips brushed the newspaper, she hissed, jolted by the sharp sensation, and yanked her arm back, the feeling as if she had touched the coils of a stovetop scorching into her fingers. Looking at the periodical, her eyes fell on the front page, the grainy image of the train yard staring back at her, and Modesta could have sworn she had been punched in the gut.

“Oh, no. Nope. Not okay, and not today. Nada, nope, not happening,” she stammered furiously, and shoved the paper away from her. “I don’t know why you brought that newspaper into my store, but you need to take it outside now.”

Lola reclaimed the newspaper, slowly picking it up off the floor. “Well, that helps answer some of my questions,” she softly stated.

“Everything all right?” asked Jack.

“I was hoping Modesta would take a look at this picture in the newspaper. Even I got a weird vibe from it, and I wanted to get her opinion on the photo, too.” Lola gave the paper to Jack so he could take a look at the cause of excitement.

“Is this the train yard where that attack was made?” he asked, and Lola nodded.

“What attack?” Modesta asked, unconsciously staggering away from Jack as he held the paper out, studying the photo intensely. The residual tingle of being burned lingered on her fingertips, and her hackles were prickling in warry foreboding.

“I heard about it on the radio last night. A security guard was attacked by a demon,” Jack informed, dropping his voice at the end to whisper so as not to alarm nearby customers.

“A demon?” Modesta repeated, crossing her arms and raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Someone approved that statement to be broadcasted all over local radio?”

“Hey, there’s no mention of the demon in the paper,” Jack stated, turning the pages to try and find the rest of the story.

“Why would there be? The article said it was the work of some kids’ prank gone wrong,” Lola interjected.

“What I heard,” Jack began, “was that the security guard was attacked by a hunched over shadow creature he saw lurking just outside the trees of the forest.”

“How would the radio station know that? The newspaper said the guard has a concussion and a fractured skull. He couldn’t make a statement. His partner found him after he fell,” Lola surmised.

“The dates are wrong, too,” Jack continued, his gaze sharp on the paper. “I heard about the attack happening two nights ago, not last night.”

“Maybe the radio got it wrong,” Lola theorized. “Or, maybe the paper has a misprint. Wait!” Jack’s words began to poke at Lola’s mind, helping to fit pieces of the puzzle together from her earlier haphazard thoughts. “Did you say something about a hunched over shadow creature? Here, let me see that again.” Lola reached for the newspaper and turned to the front page, squinting hard once more at the blurry image. “I can’t tell for sure,” she said at last.

“What are you looking for?” Modesta asked, still standing on the outskirts of her friends thanks to the uneasy item of interest.

“I think the photographer caught an image in the forest, but I can’t make it out. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but could you please take a look for me, Mo? I get the feeling something’s there, but I need you to validate it or not.”

“Oh, there’s something in that photo, all right,” Modesta confirmed, not even having to look at the image, refusing to touch the newspaper.

“Let me take a look in a better light,” Jack requested, and leading the others to the main checkout counter, spread the pages out on the glass surface. Leaning over the image, he peered closely at the tree line. “I think I can make out a shape. Here, right?” Jack pointed to the same shape that first caught Lola’s attention. "It looks cut off, but that might really be a picture of some kind of figure.”

“Oh, my gracious!” Lola gasped. “What if this is proof of the Hobblin’ Goblin?” she asked in a burst of delight. “Isn’t he rumored to have lived in the forest? What if, what if,” she stressed, “this is him?” Her heartrate had picked back up several faster beats per minute, and the pleasant prickle of goosebumps began crawling up her arms, her earlier disposition melting to give way to the wash of excitement lighting her features. “We’ve got to check this place out!”

“No, Lola,” Modesta cut in harshly. “Absolutely not.” Lola turned to her sour friend, the brusque declaration confusing, and her expression must have read as much, for Modesta pointedly tapped a firm finger on the counter where they all hovered above the newspaper. “This is not safe,” the consternated brunette stated evenly.

“I don’t understand,” Lola spoke. “Why are you so spooked?”

“You wanted my opinion? This is it: stay away.”

“What exactly are you picking up on?” Jack questioned.

“I’m all for Lola doing her research on the legend of the Hobblin’ Goblin,” Modesta began to elaborate. “Since you’re looking for the ‘fun’, I suggest you stick to that route. This,” she indicated, waving her hand over the newspaper, “is not him.”

Lola’s excitement quelled as she stared down at the shape in the photo, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth in contemplation as she considered Modesta’s words compared to her impulse to investigate. This article was a tangible lead, a jumping point for her story to breathe life and take flight. She trusted her friend’s opinion, but nothing short of her own prodding could satiate Lola’s curiosity once it had been roused.

“I trust your judgment,” Lola began carefully, “but maybe we should check things out for ourselves. Come out to the train yard with me tonight.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m leading that workshop tonight and Jack is helping run the store, so don’t even bother asking him,” Modesta replied.

“Sorry,” Jack apologized, shrugging his shoulders in pre-obligated surrender.

“Besides, you’d be trespassing. You don’t have the authority to go traipsing around on private property after hours anyway,” Modesta reminded. If it were anymore possible, Lola’s exuberance and spirits deflated with the realization that she wasn’t, in fact, allowed to do her investigating after hours. A rebellious side of her stayed hopeful, however, and the back of her mind was already formulating plans to get the research she so desperately sought.

“Lola,” Modesta drawled in warning, seeing the gleam of trouble brewing behind her friend’s eyes. “Give me your word you’re not going to go after this figure. Leave it alone.”

Lola rolled her eyes, but still held a smile, always appreciative of Modesta’s caring and cautious nature. “I give you my word I won’t go seeking this figure,” she promised.

“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, I have customers to tend.” With that, Modesta flicked her eyes upon the newspaper one final time before turning away. A moment passed before Jack cleared his throat.

“You’re going to go after this figure, aren’t you?”

“Now, Jack, I gave my word, you heard me promise,” Lola reiterated.

“Just…please take Raph with you. I know you are more than capable of handling things on your own, but…if there really is something demonic out there, it’s best if you don’t face it alone.” He gave his friend a comforting squeeze on her shoulder before going to help Modesta with the store. Lola remained silent, thankful of her friends’ concerns, however, the desire to figure out this growing mystery of ghosts and goblins staring back at her from a newspaper headline had her solidifying in her mind what she needed to do in order to properly tell a story.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, that Lola. Always getting into trouble.

#newberry at night #adventure #fantasy #romance #love #magic #witches #ghosts #goblins #ghost stories #paranormal #paranormal investigation

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mackeydoodledoo · 3 years

Text

Two Different Types of Musicians

Pairing: Jesy Nelson x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You're a musician who plays instruments, so you are a renowned Guitarist, Bassist and of many other instruments however, mainly guitar and bass. Jesy Nelson is most known for being in the British girl group; Little Mix. In Little Mixs' upcoming tour, their managers and producers want to pick the best of the best musicians to help them with this tour. One of them happens to be you....

Warnings: Past Trauma

A/N: This is in 1st person

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As I step out if the gate, I grab some food. I grab my big suitcase and my guitar and begin making my way to the exit of the airport. I hail a cab to head to the O2 arena and I pay with the money I was able to convert for England.

"What’s the occasion you're here for?" The cab driver asks

"For a Tour," I answer, trying to not have the guy ask too many questions

He doesn't ask many more, thank god. And so I step out as soon as I grab my guitar from the trunk and take out my "Tour member" pass. However as soon as I close the trunk, I recognize one of the Little Mix members outside. I saw a swarm of fans beginning to form around her; security guards trying to keep them back. I slowly begin snaking around the crowd however, more people just keep on coming. However once I make it through, she spots me and smiles and walks over. She takes my hand and rushes back inside.

"How was your flight love?" Jesy asks

"Oh it was pretty laid back," I start, "But I am absolutely slap-happy!"

Jesy turns to look at me, confused at whatvi said.

"Slap-happy is a band term back home," I smile

She smiles with me and continues to lead me to the stage area. There I see Perrie, Leigh-Anne and Jade. If im going to be honest I didn't think I'd get to go on tour with Little Mix. Or any type of band for that matter.

"So you're the one excellent Guitar player our manager hand picked?" Jade comes up to me and gives me a hug

I give one back and to the same to the rest of the girls and I get introduced to the live band.

"So what do you have for us to show off your amazing skills?" Perrie asks

I smirk and click my tongue and gently place my guitar case down and proceed to take her out. Her name is Shelby Toro. Her body color is a Silver Base with medium to large sparkles and a Deep Ocean Blue racing stripe vinyl. She's a Fender/Squier Jazzmaster. She has a Squier body/hardware and a Fender Jazzmaster neck. She has a black woven designed strap. I plug in my wireless system transmitters and play a C chord and begin tuning her. As soon as she's tuned, I call out to the sound system people and tell them to play "Bulletproof heart" by My Chemical Romance. I put in a headset that also plays the song so I can listen to the lyrics. Because I already have the riff memorized. Everyone begins making their way to the audience and begin watching me.

Gravity

Don't mean too much to me

I'm who I've got to be

These pigs are after me

After you

Run away

Like it was yesterday

And we can run away

If we could run away

Run away from here

I begin to play the power chord and begin jamming out to the music and begin getting into it. I notice everyone has their jaw on the floor. Especially Jesy. I kneel down and begin making eye contact with her. I could see the sparkles from my guitar in her eyes. I couldn't help but smile at her.

I gotta Bulletproof Heart

You gotta Hallow point smile

We had our run away scarves

Got a photograph dream on the getaway mile

I wanted to hold her hand as I sing to her however, my right hand is strumming and my left had is making the notes. So, I give her a wink and a kiss, feeling in the moment of the music. I stand up and begin to close my eyes, letting the music take me into my place, both of my hands instinctively playing the lead guitar riff, letting the song sing itself out. Once the solo arrives, I turn myself around and begin backbending. Letting my back bend me as far as it'll go without me falling backward. As the solo begins to end, I bend myself back up and put my foot on one of the floor lights as I ring out the last note of the solo. Once I ring out the last note of the song, I watch Perrie, Leigh-Anne, Jade and Jesy run up on stage as I put my guitar on a stand. Jesy practically jumps into my arms and I stumble back.

"That was amazing," she says, "How did you do that with the backbending, and the part where you closed your eyes and began feeling the music?"

"Been playing for years now," I smile, "Perks of being a band kid."

I settle myself into the back with all of the other live band members and they all begin congratulating me on a really great performance.

Once rehearsal ends, we all head back to the airport to Paris, France for the opening night of the tour.

"Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?" Jade says

As I lock my case and stand up as I loop the case strap around me.

"I saw how Jesy looked at you during your initiation performance," Jade starts, "I'm supposed to sit next to her but I think she'll have a great time on the plane ride next to you."

"Thanks Jade," I smile, switching our tickets

I catch up to Jesy.

"Hey love," she says, "Would you wanna grab food when we get to Paris?"

"Oh for sure," I smile

I unintentionally hold onto Jesy's hand as we begin trying to sweep through the crowd to get to the cars. But I follow Jesy closely as she begins signing as many autographs as she can give.

"Is it true you two are going to go steady?" A fan asks

Jesy blushes as I look at them confused. And I remember our joined hands.

"Um no," I stutter, "We literally just met today."

However, I feel a pair of lips press lightly on my cheek. I look at her and she gives out her signature witch laugh. I blush. Not because of the light cheek kiss, but because of her laugh. I really enjoyed listening to it when I watch a compilation of their funny moments. The fans screech and cheer as Jesy drags me to the car to head to the airport.

"What was that for?" I ask

"Just for giggles," she laughs, "besides I think you liked it too. Seeing how red you went."

"Shut up," I laugh, gently nudging her in the shoulder.

I watch the city lights go by as we drive tk the airport. However, I feel Jesy lean into me. She must've had a long day.... Same here love. I gently wrap my arm around her to give her a more comfortable pillow as we wait.

We finally reach the airport, again, a handful of fans try to get photos with them or want autographs. I catch up with the rest of the live band and we head inside of the airport, no one really paid any attention to us. As we wait inside, I scroll through my phone when I feel a pair of hands slowly coiling around my waist. I almost jump and accidentally elbow Jesy in the face.

"Oh, God you scared me," I laugh, "How'd that go out there?"

"Chaotic," Jesy laughs

I laugh with her and we make our way to our gate to go to Paris. I put Shelby Toro with my suitcase and pay the extra whatever it costed. I hold onto Jesy's hand again as we continue to our gate. As we sit in the terminal area, I yawn.

"Jet lag?" Perrie asks

"Well I'm just tired in general Perrie," I crack my knuckles

Jesy gently rubs my back and I'm going to be honest.... It was therapeutic. Especially when Jesy rolls her thumb against my back.

Once we finally get on the plane and land in Paris, Jesy hails a cab for us two and get breakfast somewhere. The show didn't start until the day after tomorrow so we had a little bit of time to chill.

"So.... I understand you've been having rough times," I start, "We don't have to talk about it here or in general if you don't feel comfortable."

"Somewhere else would be lovely," Jesy says

"I don't mean to hop right into that but, I understand how you felt, or even still feel to this day," I state

Jesy looks at me, not like Stop Talking but as if she's interested in my story.

"Well," I clear my throat, "it started when I was in high school. It was my second year and i am thriving with some new friends I've made. They were new to the school and so I was like 'oh they're cool I wanna be friends with them!' And we hit it off well and when I started showing them how I usually am. Especially with the high school marching band, they stopped talking to me all of a sudden. In a panic, I was trying to ask them what was wrong, if I made them mad or if I did something wrong. One of them told me I did nothing wrong but then proceeds to block me. Next day I couldn't talk to them and then I get called to the counseling office. I'm ushered into a small office space just to be told, how I act around my trusted people was wrong and that I should have stopped.-"

I clearly begin feeling slight tears forming into my eyes but I try my best to not show how much it hurt around Jesy.

"And I sobbed in that confined room and I wanted to leave but the counselor didn't let me," I continue. "So I forced myself to stop crying and I left. The next few months I felt really depressed and.... I-it was the first time I had suicidal thoughts. That's all I've been thinking about and no matter how many times my close friends tried to comfort me I always revert back to being depressed and wanting to no longer feel the pain I felt."

I feel a thumb gently wipe across my cheek and her other thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry that happened to you," she says

"However, I am doing better than I did at that time," I state, "But more important question, are you okay?"

Jesy just looks at me.... I was about to open my mouth when Jesy opens hers.

"I'm quite alright," she answers, "Thanks love."

"I really should be thanking you," I say, "Thanks for listening to my whole shit show."

"I don't want anyone going down a dark path love," she says, "I'm here for you."

We make eye contact and I was about to make a comment before I heard a phone ring. It was Jesy's. We were requested back to the rehearsal venue and we take a taxi to the venue.

The two of us walk in and I already see the drummer setting up my guitar.

"Thanks dude!" I call out

He gives me a thumbs up and goes back to his drumset.

"Did you two enjoy your date?" Jade asks, teasing me

"Yes we did it sweetheart," Jesy answers but in a joking tone

Knowing myself, I'm oblivious if someone likes me and is showing me by flirting or they're just being nice. I nod along and I walk over to tune my guitar.

Tour goes amazingly, crowd is always awesome and the girls tend to give us the spotlight. Every other night the girls would want us to play a couple of songs. And mostly for the encore we all agreed to just have a little mix out on stage. We're fine with that as we need a break too. We were in the final show, which was using the UK, easy for the girls to go home.

"You alright love?" Jesy comes up to me

"Yeah," I answer, stretching out my wrists, "I never thought I'd be touring with any sort of band. So cross that off my bucket list."

Before I leave to warm up with the live band, I tuck hair behind my ear and plant a gentle kiss in Jesy's cheek.

"Good luck love," I say, mimicking Jesy's accent

"That was really good actually," Jesy laughs

That damn laugh again.... She might have it but I love it. A natural laugh is the best kind of laugh to hear. The both of us part ways for now.

#jesy nelson #we love you jesy #little mix #jesy nelson x reader #little mix imagine #jesy nelson imagine #female guitarist #lm imagines #leigh anne pinnock #perrie edwards #jade thirlwall #rock music

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himbohargreeves · 4 years

Text

You’ve begun to matter more than the things you say

Summary: The children are twelve, and Diego is worried that Allison is starting to get careless with her powers. The other siblings don’t notice until it’s too late.

Word Count: 2137

Square Filled: Rumour

Characters: All the siblings + Grace and Reginald Hargreeves

Warnings: Mild gore, mild blood, swearing

A/N: The first of nine entries for @tuacreatorsbingo!

You can read it here, or on my AO3

There had been a change in Allison in the last few months, and Diego seemed to be the only one to have noticed. Before, her powers were reserved only for missions and training, but now she seemed to be using them multiple times a day, for the smallest of things. He’d seen her controlling their siblings, and even if he couldn’t prove it, he was certain she’d controlled him too. Several times. Maybe he was the only person who was paying any attention, or maybe the others were choosing to ignore it. Either way, he never mentioned it to anyone, but sometimes he wished he had.

Their last mission was a roaring success. Ten bank robbers apprehended, a few dozen hostages saved, zero casualties. It seemed like forever before they finally managed to escape the hoards of reporters and photographers swarming them. The others didn’t seem to mind of course. Luther stood proudly puffing his chest out, Allison and Klaus were in their element posing for photos, and even Five had a smug smile on his face. He and Ben loitered in the background until finally they were ushered into a car and driven home. When their father greeted them on the doorstep, his heart sunk, but for once he actually had some good news.

“Children,” He said in his usual cold tone of voice, looking down his nose at them. “You completed your mission earlier than expected. There will be no further training until after dinner. Six o’clock, sharp.”

Never one to stay and chat, he turned and headed back inside, presumably returning to his office to get on with… whatever the hell he always did in there.

“I think that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to paying us a compliment,” Five said dryly from behind him.

“That was a compliment?” Klaus asked and Ben sniggered. “I thought we just got punished.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot,” Luther told him.

Klaus punched Luther in the arm and Luther shoved him, sending him stumbling back a few paces. The two of them moved to hit each other again but Allison grabbed Klaus by the collar, pulling him back and forcing herself between them.

“Stop it,” She ordered. “Dad just gave us the afternoon off and you morons are wasting it.”

“Maybe I wanna spend my free time beating the crap out of my brother,” Klaus said with a shrug and she let out an exasperated sigh.

“We should play a game. We should play… Hide and seek!”

“I don’t want to play that,” Ben mumbled.

“Well I heard a rumour that you do,” She snapped.

Ben looked blank for a moment, before nodding and agreeing that it was a good idea. Nobody else argued.

The rules were always the same. Number 1: No powers allowed. Number 2: Five is the seeker because he never listens to rule 1. Diego hid in one of the dozens of spare bedrooms, laying on his front under the bed with just enough space to peek out and see if anyone was coming. He had no idea how long he’d been hiding there, but he was starting to zone out when a voice next to him startled him and he lifted his head, smacking it on the top of the bed.

“Jeeze,” Klaus said, wincing as Diego rubbed the top of his head. “What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” He muttered. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“You’re not the seeker.”

“Diego, we have two entire hours to do whatever we want. I’m not spending it hiding behind a curtain. Let’s go do something fun.”

Klaus grinned at him, wriggling out from under the bed and holding his hand out to him. Hesitantly, Diego took his hand and followed him through the maze of corridors and staircases.

“Where are we going?” He asked after a few minutes, completely losing his sense of direction as they ascended yet another flight of stairs.

“Mom’s room,” Klaus told him as he finally ground to a halt outside a door. “I found it last week.”

“M-M-M…” He paused, letting out a frustrated sigh and trying to concentrate. “M-Mom doesn’t have a room,” He said, eyeing up the door suspiciously. “She sleeps in the hall.”

“She still has to keep her clothes somewhere,” Klaus said excitedly, pushing the door open and waving his hands dramatically. “Ta da!”

Behind the door was a walk-in closet, similar to the one their father had, just a little smaller. The racks one one side were filled with brightly coloured dresses, and on the other, coats, hats, and scarves. At the back of the room there was a wooden vanity with an ornate jewellery box and a small collection of makeup.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Klaus said eagerly, spinning around in the middle of the room before running over to one of the racks and running his hands over the fabric.

Diego found himself wondering whether their mom even liked these clothes, or if this was just what their dad wanted her to wear, but before he could dwell on it for too long, Klaus was looping a deep blue silk scarf around his neck and giggling at him.

“You look so fancy.” He sniggered. “Wait! You need a hat!”

Running back over to the rack, Klaus grabbed a black fascinator and pinned into his hair, before pulling him over to the mirror to show him his reflection. Diego burst out laughing when he saw himself.

“I look stupid,” He said as he pulled the fascinator out of his hair, throwing it in Klaus’ face and making him laugh.

“You just don’t appreciate fashion.” Klaus turned on his heel, gasping loudly and turning back around with a pair of bright red high heels in his hands. “What about these!”

“I’m not wearing those,” Diego said, wrinkling his nose up.

“Not for you, idiot.”

He watched as Klaus pulled his shoes off and stepped into the heels, clapping his hands together happily.

“They’re so pretty,” He whispered.

“They’re too big,” Diego observed. “No way can you walk in those.”

“Oh yeah? Just watch me.”

He took a step and immediately lost his balance, grabbing on to one of the dresses as he toppled over and landing with the fabric draped over his head. They both collapsed in a fit of giggles on the floor, leaning against each other as they tried to catch their breath.

“What are you doing?”

They both looked up and saw Allison standing in the doorway, with Five and Luther behind her.

“Dressing up,” Klaus said with a grin, scrambling to his feet and wrapping the pink dress around himself like a skirt. “See? Now I’m you!”

“We were supposed to be playing hide and seek.”

“Well, you found me.” He shrugged. “Diego, I heard a rumour that you… Stood up!”

Sniggering, Diego got to his feet, and Luther and Five laughed. Still wearing the heels, Klaus shuffled back out into the corridor with Diego following behind him.

“I heard a rumour that you all followed me,” Klaus said, trying to mimic Allison’s voice, and headed towards the stairs.

Diego, Luther, and Five all started following him, and Allison folded her arms grumpily.

“That’s not funny, Klaus.”

“Well, I heard a rumour that you do think it’s funny,” He said with a grin, turning back around to face her. “And I also heard a rumour that you stopped being such a spoilsport.”

“I am not a spoilsport,” She muttered.

“I heard a rumour that you admitted you’re a spoilsport,” Klaus said, putting his hands on his hips.

“Shut up!”

“I heard a rumour that you stopped telling me to shut up.”

“I heard a rumour that you stopped talking!”

Klaus was quiet for a moment, and the others glanced at each other uncomfortably. Then, without a word, Klaus turned and took a step down the stairs. Everything happened so quickly that Diego didn’t have time to react. Immediately, Klaus lost his balance in the heels, twisting his ankle and tumbling head first down the stairs. There was a sickening crunch, Allison screamed, and Five jumped to the bottom of the stairs just in time to catch Klaus before his head hit the floor.

A horrified silence hung in the air as they all tried to take in what had happened. From the top of the stairs, Diego couldn’t see how badly Klaus was hurt, but he could see the blood on his face and on Five’s hands.

“Shit,” Luther said behind him, pushing past and running down the stairs. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Someone needs to get mom,” Five said calmly. “Right now.”

Nodding, Luther took off down the corridor.

“What the hell did you do?” Diego asked quietly, turning to Allison.

The colour had completely drained from her face, and it took her a moment to tear her wide eyes away from Klaus to look at him.

“I… That wasn’t me,” She said, shaking her head. “He tripped.”

“Two seconds after you rumoured him.”

“I told him to stop talking! Not fall down the stairs!”

“Well he sure isn’t talking now!”

Allison choked on a sob, clasping her hands over her mouth and shaking her head frantically. Before either of them could say anything else, Luther returned with their mom, whose eyes went wide when she saw Klaus lying with his head in Five’s lap. Diego hurried down the stairs, stopping dead in his tracks on the top step when he finally got a better look at Klaus’. The bottom of his face was swollen and disfigured, blood was pouring out of his mouth, and Diego could see a couple of his teeth had been knocked loose.

“It looks like he’s broken his jaw,” Mom said, smoothing the hair away from Klaus’ forehead. “I’ll need to take him to the medical room.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” Five asked as he reluctantly let go so she could pick him up.

“He’ll be fine,” She reassured him. “The rest of you go and play. He won’t be awake for a while.”

After they’d found Ben and Vanya and told them what happened, it was a torturous wait for their mom to return with news. When she finally arrived, they all crowded around her, talking over each other with a million different questions.

“He’s alright,” She said, raising her voice so they could hear her and crouching down to put her arms around them. “But he’ll need to have his jaw wired shut for a few weeks.”

“What does that mean?” Ben asked and she paused for a moment before replying.

“He won’t be able to talk,” She explained. “Not until it heals.”

Diego and Five exchanged a glance, and their mom stood upright again.

“Now you all need to get ready for dinner. You know your father doesn’t like you to be late.”

As the others filed obediently out of the room, Diego tugged on her dress and looked up at her.

“Can I go and see him?” He asked in a hushed voice.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall and chewed her lip thoughtfully before nodding. “Alright,” She said, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “Just be quick.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Diego darted out of the room and headed for the medical room. The door was ajar when he reached it, and when he peered inside he saw Allison crouched next to Klaus on the bed. Sneaking inside, he could just about make out her whispering.

“I heard a rumour that you don’t remember what happened.”

Klaus stirred on the bed and Allison ran for the door, almost running straight into Diego on her way out. The two of them stared at each other wordlessly as they passed each other, but Diego was more interested in getting to Klaus than confronting her. He ran over to the bed, putting his hand on Klaus’ shoulder as he blinked a few times at him.

“Hey,” He said quietly. “It’s me.”

Looking up at him, Klaus furrowed his brow and moved his hand up to his mouth, feeling around and wincing.

“You broke your jaw,” Diego explained. “Mom said you’ve gotta have it wired shut. So you can’t talk.”

Despite his explanation, Klaus made a noise as he tried to say something, and Diego got up to look for a notepad, handing it to him and waiting patiently as he scribbled something down. Finally, Klaus held the notepad up for him to see.

“What happened?”

Diego opened his mouth, then shut it again and glanced over at the door, where Allison was still lingering and watching the two of them.

“You tripped,” He said quietly, hanging his head. “You were trying to walk in mom’s heels and you fell down the stairs.”

#tuacreatorsbingo #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua fic #river writes #[starts passionately singing heaven on their minds]#my fics

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

Text

Wires [1] A Fresh Start

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Everybody has a geography that can be used for change; that is why we travel to far off places. Whether we know it or not, we need to renew ourselves in territories that are fresh and wild. We need to come home through the body of alien lands.” — Joan Halifax

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Holding an aspirin tablet between her teeth, craving a drink, Lir listens to the clacking of the keyboard and blinks against the watery light streaming between the blinds. The office of Red Grave’s chief of police is smaller than the one in Fortuna, but neater: gone are the numerous potted plants, the maps and spreadsheets tacked to every available surface, the bookcases littered with little knick-knacks and family photographs. Those personal touches have been ignored in favor of something that is neat, organized, the little bit of warmth the room has coming from the soft bulb of the desk lamp and the mahogany of the furniture. It’s a bit of a relief, really. Sanctus had been old—too old, in the opinion of many—and took on a fatherly role that often left Lir feeling chafed and angry. At least here, going from first impressions, there will be no blurring of the line between duty and her personal life.

Seated with his back rod-straight is her new superior. A gold nameplate on the desk reads J.D. Morrison, and as he reads whatever file he’s pulled up on his monitor, Lir wonders what the initials stand for. James Dean is her first thought, and she finally crunches the aspirin, using the bitter flavor to smother her budding laughter. Sure, yeah, why not? Red Grave is a big city, and maybe Morrison’s parents had been so attached to the ill-fated actor that they’d saddled their son with his name. Certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’s heard of.

“Detective Thorne,” Morrison says. He opens a drawer and pulls out a cigar, which he lights in clear disregard of the signs posted on the doors to the building. “Says here you transferred out for personal reasons.”

“Yessir.” The dull throbbing behind her temples grows at the scent of smoke. “Wanted a change of scenery.”

He coughs, clears his throat. “That so? Well, we’ve had people do it for less. Though your track record . . . You seem to have been on a fast path to promotion. ” Lir says nothing. The expectant silence stretches between them until it turns uncomfortable, but she’s not in any particular mood for niceties. She has an apartment to unpack and a bitch of a headache brewing and she wants to get this introduction over with as quickly as she can. Finally, Morrison sighs, silver plumes curling through the air. “Normally, you’d get a tour and time to sort out your desk, but we got a call this morning and it’s all hands on deck. You up to fieldwork?”

His shrewd gaze rephrases that question nicely. You willing to actually work? “Sure.”

Morrison studies her for a few seconds longer, then nods and stands up, raising his voice to a shout that makes her wince. “Officer Simmons!”

A young man with untidy white hair tucked messily under his cap stumbles in. “Yes, Chief?”

“Take Detective Thorne here to the alley.” Simmons’ face pales, and Morrison barks, “Now!”

“Yes, Chief!” Simmons snaps into a hasty salute before scurrying out of the office.

Lir gives one of her own to Morrison and follows, feeling a sort of bemused pity for the officer. She’d been there once, bright-eyed and eager to please, thinking that the law enforcement they showed on television, with its friendly camaraderie and kind-yet-stern chiefs, was the truth of it. Simmons must still be clinging to that, and she pops another aspirin into her mouth and chews it as they weave through the bullpen to the doors that lead outside.

Simmons doesn’t say much, though he opens her door when they reach the cruiser, flushing under her raised brow, and his uneasy quiet persists well into the ride. Definitely fresh, Lir thinks. Probably still spit shines his shoes in the morning and tells people he’s a cop with pride.The thought is bitter, and angry, and distasteful. Not that it really bothers her anymore; her mind has been particularly not tasty as of late.

They drive through cramped, winding streets that turn unexpectedly into one-ways and cross over themselves into a maze, closed in by the dingy buildings until it all feels more than a little claustrophobic. Red Grave City is coastal, just like Fortuna, but it’s much larger, with more crime, and rumors of rampant corruption and greased pockets give it an unsavory reputation with other law enforcement agencies. Yet in stark contrast, it’s as much of a tourist hotspot as Fortuna, its historic district and scenic parks and ritzy downtown drawing numerous crowds every year, regardless of the season. Lir takes all of it in, the cafès and hotels and convenience stores fighting for space, their colorful signs and banners almost garish against the dull brick, and it’s not until they pass into a more modern area with skyscrapers of steel and glass that she decides to ask where the hell Simmons is taking her to.

“What’s in this alley?”

Simmons jumps, the wheel jerking under his hands and sending them partially over the white lines. A minivan behind them lays on the horn, and Lir watches the driver raise his middle finger as he speeds by once Simmons has corrected. “Sorry, ma’am. Uh, Detective. I thought the Chief filled you in.”

“No.” She straightens. “Just that it’s serious.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he mumbles. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes.” The sight of his momentary pout sends irritation flaring hot and thick along her spine. Lir swallows it and rubs her temples. “Just crack the damn window.”

“Sure thing.” He does, and then reaches for a pack on the dash and. Drawing a cigarette from it, he says, “Call came in maybe twenty minutes before you showed up. Jane Doe found in an alley. She, uh . . . Well, it might be better for you to see for yourself, but it’s . . .” His fingers tremble as he tries to flick his lighter. Lir takes pity on him and pulls her own from her coat, and he smiles gratefully as she holds it to his cigarette, though his face is pallid and shiny with sweat. “First body?” At his nod, she sighs. “You’ve probably heard it gets easier.”

“Does it?” Simmons looks at her hopefully.

Lir snorts. “No. Eyes on the road.”

He retreats into a silence that’s not quite sullen, leaving her to her thoughts. Which mostly center around whether or not she’ll have time to find a new bar, one of the nice and private ones where no one wants to get friendly or gives a shit that she’s a cop, only that she pays her tab. When they arrive at the crime scene, Simmons stays in the car, looking ready to puke. Lir raps on the door once it’s closed and jerks her chin, signalling for him to head out, and she waits until he gives a shaky thumbs up and pulls away from the curb to head towards the yellow tape strung between a nightclub on one side and a sports bar on the other. An officer at the corner stops her until she shows her badge, then lifts the tape for her to step beneath. Immediately, she’s assaulted by the wet, mossy stench of death and viscera, and she takes the gloves and shoe covers and slides them on to buy herself time to adjust to it.

Cops swarm outside of the alley, keeping the rabid press contained. Inside, there’s only four others, three men and a woman, but Lir ignores them in favor of taking in all that she can before she’s forced to talk. Four dumpsters are present, two on each wall with the city’s waste disposal logo printed on the side; bits of trash and litter surround them: used condoms, soda cans, scraps of newspaper, all of the usual findings. There’s no spray paint graffiti, and a security camera faces out into the busy street. Maybe they’ll get something useful from it, though she doubts it. In her experience, they’re usually for show, just a weak-hearted attempt to prevent crime or a way to deter violence on the premises of businesses who host rowdy crowds.

The scenery accounted for, Lir turns her attention to the misshapen body in the center. Nude and pale, the woman is covered from chest to knee in red that’s gone black with time, her unseeing eyes staring at the sky with a terror that won’t disappear until the medical examiner closes them on the slab. She walks towards her, offal and iron making her throat constrict against nausea, and the woman kneeling next to the corpse looks up at her approach with a friendly nod. Dressed in a black jumpsuit, she’s no doubt the M.E., or someone affiliated with them, and she stays quiet as Lir kneels to fully take in the mutilation inflicted on the victim.

While the rest of her is untouched, her throat is slashed, and she’s been split open from rib to hip, the skin and muscle peeled away to reveal her organs beneath. As far as Lir can tell, nothing has been removed, but something has certainly been added: a pendant rests on top of her stomach, glistening wetly in the daylight. “I pulled it out,” the maybe-M.E. says. “Dante wanted to see it.”

“Dante?” The woman tilts her head, and Lir turns to see a man speaking quietly but furiously to two uniforms. “Uh-huh.”

“You must be the new detective. My name’s Trish.” Lir looks blankly at the hand she holds out before taking it, and Trish’s handshake is firm and cordial. “I’m the medical examiner, coroner, whatever you’d like to call me. Your stiffs go onto my slab, anyway.”

Her dry humor draws an unwilling smile from Lir. “Okay. Trish. I’m Lir, Detective Thorne, take your pick as long as it’s not Lily. What can you tell me about our Jane Doe?”

“Not much, other than the obvious.” Trish points to the wound. “This was more than likely done pre-mortem, going by the amount of blood—there wouldn’t be so much of it if she was already dead—and there are a couple of hesitation marks at her throat. But as to which of those killed her, and how long ago, why she didn’t fight back, I won’t know all of that until I take her out of here.”

Lir considers all of that. “Why do you think she didn’t resist?”

“No self-defense wounds on the hands or arms. At least, not that I can see.”

“Mm. Your guys get pictures?”

“Not yet.” Trish smiles wryly. “Chief wanted you to see it first. It’s why Dante’s giving those two a lashing, though he’s just shooting the messengers at this point.”

“Right.” Standing, Lir peels off her gloves and drops them into the bag Trish holds out to her. “Guess I should go save ‘em.”

“Good luck.”

Lir snorts as she turns. On first sight, she’s already unimpressed with the so-called Dante. He’s handsome, sure, model or film star handsome even, with his straight nose and strong jaw dusted with a five o’clock shadow, but he’s dressed like a detective from a noir novel: pinstripe trousers and a matching vest, a red tie, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, brown Oxfords polished to a dull shine. The only things that break the illusion that he’s stepped off the silver screen are the watch at his wrist, the gleaming handcuffs clipped to the back of his belt, the radio at his hip, and the Beretta in its holster next to the radio. She more than half expects him to pull out a flask from somewhere and take a swig mid-tirade, but the only time he pauses is to draw in a breath.

“—how the hell he expects us to carry out an investigation when he’s waiting on some country bumpkin—” “Howdy,” Lir drawls.

He whirls on her so fiercely that she instinctively rests her hand on the butt of her own gun, her pulse roaring into her ears. Dante seems to catch himself, straightening to his full height to scowl down to her, and she’s startled by the pale, frozen blue of his eyes. “You Detective Thorne?”

She shrugs. “Country bumpkin works, too.”

Dante doesn’t have the grace to look embarrassed that she overheard him. “I’m Detective Redgrave. Yes, like the city, no, I don’t give a shit. You done lookin’ at the body?”

“Sure.”

“You hear that, Trish?” Dante hollers. “Take her out.”

Behind her, she hears the telltale metallic clatter of a gurney being placed on the ground, followed by a bit of huffing, the rasp of a zipper, and more heavy breathing and the rustling of fabric. “Are you going to give me the details or am I going to guess?”

He barks a laugh. “Morrison sent you out here blind? Doesn’t surprise me. Sure, I’ll humor you.” With a grin that’s more mocking than genuine, he says, “Call came in at 7:45. Some poor schmuck takin’ out the trash found our body and had the decency to lose his breakfast outside of the crime scene before he called. No witnesses so far, no clothing, no I.D., just—” “What about the camera?” Lir points over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Can’t get to it until the owner shows up, which, according to his staff could be anytime between noon and midnight.”

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Dante considers her, that cruel smile still playing at his lips. “You want to help?” She nods. “Go keep those fuckers away.”

“The press?” His expression doesn’t slip, and she shakes her head. “That’s uniform work. Send them to—”

“Either deal with them or go home. I don’t have time to hold your hand.”

Just like that, he turns away in a clear dismissal. Lir stares at his broad back, her head throbbing from the night before and the rage that’s been building since she stepped into Morrison’s office: rage at the incompetence of her former chief, at the glares that had followed her once she entered the precinct, at Simmons’ earnest naivety, at whoever butchered a woman and left her in an alley like she was no better than the trash already there, at Dante himself. It’s familiar, and choking, the same burning that’s festered within her all her life with every snide, “Are you sure you can handle that? Wouldn’t you rather answer phones and let the men handle the rest?”

Instead of giving into her urge to punch him in his smug mouth, she inhales deeply and holds it until spots dance in her vision. Then she exhales and heads towards the bright yellow tape and, beyond it, the reporters and photographers craning their necks to get a look at the violence that’s visited their city. Two steps, and cold fingers curl around her wrist, sending numbness crawling along her skin from where they touch. Lir closes her eyes, counting to ten, and then she pulls free. Only on the other side of the tape does she look back, and the sight of a woman in a red dress with pale hair staring back at her sadly, her lips moving soundlessly, is exactly what she expected. Definitely getting a drink, she muses.

The reporters are no different from the ones Lir dealt with in Fortuna, just more persistent. She repeats the phrase, “No comment,” so many times that it begins to lose meaning to her, until a uniform comes to relieve her and she’s able to hail a taxi. But she doesn’t go back to work straight away. The cabbie drops her at a liquor store, waiting at the curb while she hurries in to buy a mini bottle of vodka and hurries back out, and she cracks it open and takes it like a shot, stowing the empty bottle in her pocket as they reach the precinct. Lir tips him double, then heads inside, and the bustling and noise is so at odds with the sullen silence of only hours ago that she nearly stops in her tracks. It’s only force of will that keeps her moving to the stairs in the back and up them, to where her desk sits just outside of Morrison’s office.

Dante is seated at the desk across from hers, a phone clamped between his face and shoulder while he writes on a notepad. Lir waits until he hangs up to say, “You’re an ass.”

“Been called worse,” he replies distractedly. “Trish’s report get in yet?”

“Not in my inbox. You got a problem with me?”

“No offense, sweetheart, but city crime is different from country crime.”

“I’m from Fortuna. Not the mountains.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure you dealt with a lot of purse snatching.”

Lir bristles. “Listen, jackass—”

“Go see Trish. See if she’s got a report yet or not.”

Her mouth hangs open. Then she stands, slamming her chair back into her desk loudly enough that Morrison looks out from his office with a frown, and stalks back the way she’d come, heading for the elevators. On one hand, she understands Dante’s shit attitude; she’s new to Red Grave, new to their force. On the other, she transferred from Homicide to Homicide, and there were enough of them in Fortuna that the sight of another isn’t going to send her running, and he’s a sour bastard with a chip on his shoulder who probably thinks he can do nothing wrong and his word is law. Which she’s only proving, she realizes, running his errands for him, and she jabs irritably at the button that will take her to the basement and the morgue. Next time he demands she do something, she’s going to tell him right where he can shove it. In the back of her mind, however, disappointment is bitter. So much, she thinks, for a fresh start.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires #dmcweek #dmcweek2020 #holy shit i'm so nervous for this lol #i've been working on it for over a month

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userseokkie · 5 years

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Met Gala, Stony, 2.3k

In honor of the Met Gala tonight, I whipped up this quick fic. It’s so self indulgent but it’s fluffy and short. No smut, but I might be persuaded to do a follow up. Enjoy!

***

The flashes of the cameras were the first thing Tony could notice even before the limo rounded the corner. The paparazzi were swarming the entire entrance and media vans were parked well down fifth.

While Happy was busy cursing every poor reporter that dared get in the way and mumbling god knows what, Tony checked his phone one last time, thumbing a quick email before sliding it back in his pocket. He glanced over at Steve.

“You know, if you’d only let Carla style you-”

“I’m fine, Tony. What? This is just a gala.” Steve peered out the window, his brow pinching slightly the way it always did when he got nervous.

“Jesus, I already told you, this isn’t just another gala, this is the Met Gala and Anna trusts me to carry this event-”

“Just say it. Just admit you’re embarrassed by me and that I’m hideous and not worthy of being your date,” Steve said with that deadpan tone he used, and god his jaw could cut through glass. Tony bit his lip unconsciously, trying to get rid of inappropriate thoughts. This outfit was too tight to be getting hard.

Through the honking, Tony shrugged and smiled despite his efforts. “You know you’re the only one who could be my date, stud.”

Steve’s eyes softened, a glint on his blue eyes as they focused on Tony.

“I mean, Natasha and Clint are going together, Thor is bringing Jane and I’d have more luck convincing Bruce to smoke up with me than bringing him to one of these things. You were the only one left, obviously.”

“Tony.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I just don’t see what the big deal is, we go in, we have dinner, we donate some money to keep the museum funded.”

Tony was about to object to how Steve casually referred to 1.5 million as some money, but their car came to a stop. “We’re here, boss.” Happy announced.

Steve looked at him once more, an expectant look on his face. “Do I really look bad?”

The theme for this year was Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology, which, duh. Of course it was important, when Anna had called Tony and asked him to host, it was a no brainer. This was practically made for the Futurist, and the media had gone ballistic when they announced Tony was co-hosting. This entire thing was built on the Mark LVII. Not to toot his own horn, but Tony had really outdone himself with this one.

Dragging his gaze up and down the super soldier in front of him, it was hard to be objective. But Steve certainly didn’t look bad, he just looked... like himself. The Met Gala was meant to go outside your comfort zone and push the envelope on what fashion meant, if Jan had taught Tony anything, it’s that fashion is for the brave and bold. And he was anything if not ballsy. Steve, however, in his all black suit, head to toe Dior, looked like a devil put on Earth to tempt Tony into unspeakable acts. Did it scream fashion and technology, though? No, it didn’t.

“Honey bunch, you look like sin incarnate.” Tony slid across his seat, making to get up. He leaned in, grabbing onto Steve’s bicep for support. “And I’ll make sure to let you know just how crazy you are making me with that outfit right after this thing is over.” His whisper made Steve shiver, and when he looked at his face, Tony could laugh at how big Steve’s pupils had become. He counted it as a win.

He slid his sunglasses on and turned to the door. “But now, it’s showtime.”

***

The steps in the main entrance were covered in a plush red carpet that felt thicker than some floors, and Steve appreciated the decoration lining up each side. People must have worked real hard for this event.

“Tony! Tony, over here!”

“Tony, who’re you wearing?”

The photographers were going nuts over Tony. Steve could swear a woman had fainted in the entrance.

“This is a Stark original, darling,” Tony drawled, and twirled to let them get a good look.

And boy, was it a sight for sore eyes.

The celebrities coming in were starting to gather around, some walking slower to let the photographers get a good shot, some talking with the cameras over on the steps. But not a single person had so many people focused on them as Tony. He had worked with those designers real hard, and what they’d come up with was a piece of pure technological genius that managed to look amazing and unreal at the same time.

Nanotech, Tony had called it. Steve had sit through the entire explanation about the nanotubes and how Tony “would be damned before he let another ant sized fucker get into his suit,” but he’d only use it to design a new Iron Man armor until last year. When he received the news he’d be hosting the Met Gala, Tony had called one of those world famous designers and they’d work on this outfit for seven months. Versace, Steve thinks.

The result was a nanotech armor that felt like fabric and looked like fabric, with the density of a hair and the resistance of a Falcon 9 spaceship. The suit managed to look slick and bulletproof at the same time, and well, the way it hugged Tony’s ass was reason enough to be here.

Steve saw Tony’s arm reaching for him, and he walked up to join him in front of the cameras. “Dazzle them, Steve.” Tony grinned at him, and Steve felt his heart grow a little bit. God, he loved this man so much.

The flashes were getting a bit too overwhelming for Steve, the way they always did, but even he had to admit it felt kinda good to have Tony on his arm and the whole world to see them. He had always admired Tony’s philanthropic nature and his tech genius, and the world needed to admire it too.

“A kiss, give us a kiss!”

The guys with the cameras egged them on, and since Tony liked to put on a show so much he figured he could do this for him. Tony looked at him and shrugged slightly, as if saying “it’s your call, Cap.”

Good thing Steve’s reflects were so fast. He slid his arm behind Tony’s back and with the other one he held his left hand, putting his leg behind Tony’s thighs quickly.

The photographers started dog whistling and cheering when Steve swooped Tony and dipped him into the ground, kissing him softly.

He felt Tony sighing and his lips parting, and it took all of Steve’s will to keep the kiss short and sweet, instead of doing what he really wanted to do. But he couldn’t resist swiping his tongue over Tony’s plush bottom lip once.

He parted the kiss, but remained with Tony dipped like a princess for a second. The chocolate eyes he loved melted and blinked up at him. “Woah, you’re pulling out all the tricks tonight, Captain.” Steve felt inner pride swell at Tony’s slightly dazed expression when he said that.

“Well, I have to make up for my terrible outfit, don’t I?”

After that, they continued their stroll down the entrance, stopping to talk to reporters and saying hi to some of the other guests. Tony stopped to talk with George Clay? George Crowley? Whoever, he was familiar from that movie they went to see last month.

“Hey, Steve,” A voice behind him said. “You look awfully ordinary today.”

Natasha came with Clint in tow, as Tony had said. Her red dress reminded Steve of a knight’s chainmail, but he couldn’t tell if it was made from the same material. “Nat, you look like a fairy tale. Where’s the charming prince?”

“Hey, right here.” Clint piped in. Well, he was wearing a suit just like Steve was. Except he had put on a type of metal prosthesis over his arm. Great.

“No, really, where is he?”

“Very funny, Cap,” Clint punched him with his metal arm. “You might wanna stop the banter and make sure someone doesn’t steal your man.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder.

Steve turned around to see Tony chatting with a different guy from the movie actor. This man was tall and blonde and- well, he looked like a real dickhead if Steve was being honest. But Tony didn’t seem to mind, as he was deeply in conversation telling a very entertaining story, judging by the man’s laugh.

He shrugged. “I might have to take some measures.”

Nat smiled at him, knowing he was joking, and pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sure he can fend by himself any potential suitors.”

“Hey, did you see Thor?” Clint turned his head, cackling. “Holy shit, he’s gonna start summoning thunder soon.”

And Thor was a few meters behind them in the main photo stand with Jane by his side, the media couldn’t get enough of him. He was swinging Mjolnir around, his cape glistening with the camera flashes.

“Hey, that’s cheating.” Steve frowned. “He’s just wearing his regular battle outfit.”

“Well, how much fashionably avant garde can you get when you’re an Asgardian god?” Natasha tilted her head. “I think they look cute.”

“Yeah, just wait til he pours a storm over them. One of the paparazzi almost pushes Jane out in the curb.” Clint said.

Tony appeared right beside Steve, his suit catching the light. “Hey Barton, lost your Robocop helmet back there?”

“For your information, this is Armani. Not all of us can get a custom made armor suit.”

“Miss Romanoff,” Tony kissed Nat’s hand. “You look particularly deadly today.”

“Thank you, Shellhead. I was going for that.”

A reporter asked them to pose for a group photo, and then when Thor joined them they had to go through another eight rounds of posing for every media outlet in existence. Steve was getting a little bit antsy, but luckily the dinner came after this. He could eat.

The darlings of the night were Tony and Nat, obviously. They posed for some duo photos and Steve had to admit, the sight of the two of them together could probably turn any man or woman, no matter the sexuality.

Nat’s firey red hair was styled into a short, disheveled bob with bangs reaching her mid forehead. Her dress, now that Steve had seen it properly, was part dress and part chainmail indeed. She looked stunning.

But Tony, Tony was on a whole new playing field. Right after the announcements and the opening speech, the media asked for some last photographs. Tony humored them and as the crowd rose into applause, he tapped something in the arc reactor (or nano case as he had called it), and the suit transformed right before them.

Steve had seen the way the tubes formed over Tony’s body many times, how it looked almost like a living entity, swallowing Tony, spreading around him to protect him. He must admit, he had been a weak man more than once and dragged Tony right after a debriefing into the nearest closet or conference room and, well. Let’s just say it’s incredibly easy to fuck someone wearing nanotech tubes, as they need to just open up around the right parts.

And now the crowd was going crazy with it. The suit formed arm gauntlets, and then in the back, something that resembled the flight stabilizers that the armor often had came up, forming a circle of long spikes framing Tony’s head, with an almost regal nature. The suit went from a steel gray to the classic red and gold colors, and Tony smiled. Steve was getting as hyped as the crowd with this, honestly.

“He’s born for this, it’s ridiculous,” Steve heard Clint say behind him. He thought of other adjectives rather than ridiculous, but whatever.

***

The dinner was good, but it wasn’t shawarma or some greasy spoon’s cheeseburger. “God, I’m so getting burgers after this,” Tony mumbled, placing the fork and knife over his plate in a cross.

“Tell Thor that, he just asked for doubles and the head chef had to come and tell him they don’t do ‘doubles’,” Steve chuckled next to him.

Things had been surprisingly well. The exhibition was exquisite, as always. Tony had to go find Anna for the final speech, but things were sailing smoothly.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Tony placed his hand over Steve’s on the table, turning to glance at him. “I’ve been so busy mingling and being the MC, I hadn’t checked up with you.”

Steve smiled at him, nodding. “I get it, don’t worry. You’re the main attraction. I’ve been perfectly alright just sitting back and watching you.”

Tony definitely did not blush at that. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, it’s easy to just stand back and look pretty when you have the experience.”

Steve put his hand on Tony’s thigh under the table, squeezing slightly. “Yes, it is. But I might have to stop sitting down and be right behind you, like a bodyguard. What with all these men coming after my fella.”

Tony snorted. “Like a bodyguard, huh? Like Whitney Houston and Costner?”

“Have we seen that one?”

“No, I don’t think you have,” Tony tried to remember. “Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t end well for them.”

Steve’s hand felt warm and solid even over the nano layer of the suit.

“But yeah, I might have to step up. I’d hate to cause scene at this fancy event, though.” Steve said, looking at Tony sideways. His smile was charming as ever.

“Captain?” Tony arched an eyebrow. “Are you getting jealous over here?”

Steve lowered his head, looking down at his hand on Tony. “I mean, I can’t blame them. You’re a vision in that outfit tonight.”

Tony felt himself getting hot under the collar. Steve praising him always did things to him, weird, mushy things, dammit.

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Tony peered at Steve through his eyelashes. “Remember what I told you in the car? Cause I’m good on my word, soldier.”

He enjoyed so much getting Steve riled up in public. His lips parted slightly, his eyes always widened and his jaw started clenching when he tried to control it. Steve never looked more attractive.

“Well, you better sweetheart. Because I have some ideas for this suit of yours.” Steve said quietly, his hand moving higher up Tony’s thigh and squeezing right before taking it away and turning his body, acting like nothing had happened.

Tony almost combusted. Right before he could suggest taking things to the restroom, he heard a voice in the speaker call his name. It was Anna.

Dammit, time for the closing ceremony.

Steve chuckled as he made his way up the chair. “You’re so paying for this, Steve,” Tony said, getting up behind him.

“I sincerely hope I do,” Steve replied, biting his lip. He put his hands on Tony’s shoulders and patted him, a big smile on his face. “Now go get them, tiger.”

Tony was adding this to the list of Reasons Why Steve Isn’t America’s Boyscout And He Has Everyone Fooled.

#stevetony #fic rec #tony stark #steve rogers #stony fic #stevetonyedit

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avengerscompound · 5 years

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The Unicorn - Chapter 19

The Unicorn: A Pepperony Fanfic PREVIOUS

Series Masterlist

Buy me a coffee with Ko-fi Word Count: 1805

Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader x Pepper Potts

Warnings: pregnancy, sex talk, anxiety

Synopsis: You, Tony and Pepper go to London to see if you think it might fit.

Chapter 19

“What are you eating now?” Tony asked as he came into the kitchen to find you and Pepper sitting at the table with a large pile of white grease stained butchers paper laid out in front of you both and the smell of fried food lingering in the air.

“Fish and chips, gov’na,” You answered putting on a very strong, very bad version of a cockney accent.

He let out a breath and sat down. The three of you had been in London three days now and you had taken to traditional English food pretty strongly. It was like, whatever it was about Shepherd's Pies, eggs rolled in sausage meat and pastries filled with ground beef, carrot, and peas, was just hitting all your specific cravings.

“Thank god,” He said sitting down and grabbing one of the thick fries. Chips really but he was having trouble thinking of them like that. Also, chips being called crisps threw him every single time he came to England. “I thought you were going to be eating black pudding again.”

“Oh, now you mention it,” You said getting up.

Pepper caught you by the wrist and pulled you back down into your seat. “No. My stomach can't handle you eating blood right now.”

“I thought cured meats were a no-no.” Tony said. “I swear that’s what it said in all that paperwork Doctor Singh gave us.”

“I looked it up. If you cook it it's fine.” You said starting to assemble a pile of fries onto some buttered white bread. “Also it's super high in iron so it's good for you.”

“I’m super high in iron.” Tony joked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Tony!” Pepper yelped. “You are so gross.”

Tony chuckled and tore off a piece of the battered fish and then ate it slowly as you added ketchup to your fries, put another piece of bread on top and took a bite. “Enough carbs for you, dear?” He asked.

“Barely. You know how exhausting it is to grow two people?” You answered with your mouth full.

“Swallow before you speak, for the love of god,” Pepper said rubbing her temples. “I’m going to have to look after five kids aren’t I? Why didn’t I consider that before I got myself into this mess?”

You chewed and swallowed and leaned over and gave Pepper a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “You love it.”

She rolled her eyes and Tony chuckled grabbing himself a fry. “Where did this come from anyway?”

“The place two blocks over.” You answered.

“Did you drive?”

“Walked.”

“Alone?”

You sighed dramatically and sunk into your chair a little. “I’m an Avengers’ special Agent, Tony.”

“You’re the pregnant girlfriend of two very high profile billionaires, one of whom is a big name in an organization that specifically take out terrorist groups,” Tony argued.

He wasn’t normally so concerned about the safety of you. Pepper he worried about, but Pepper didn’t take unnecessary risks. She took Happy with her when she went out. She knew she needed security with her. Besides, he’d seen her in action when she was put in danger, she could handle that shit.

Not that you couldn’t take care of yourself. Like you said, you were a special agent. You had the training. You could kick ass. You were, however, reckless. You didn’t really know the worst of what celebrity brought because until recently you’d been protected by both anonymity and being at the Compound where there was a strict no-fly zone and a secure border that press couldn’t cross without invitation.

The paparazzi had gotten very interested in you when they had taken you to the gala to announce the relationship the three of you were in. You had then returned to the compound where all they could do was dig up photos on social media and speak to friends and family about you.

Public appearances always had the throng of press but that was different. You went with security. You were dressed up. You had prepared. Being at the airport was similar but you flew via private jet so it was easy to be picked up directly from the hanger and to just avoid it. Otherwise, yeah, when they were in New York looking at houses occasionally they’d get spotted and asked for autographs or photographed from the distance. It was worse again in LA though easy enough to avoid mass groups of the vultures. Here… here was different.

Here they gathered around your door and just waited. They were obsessed with getting photos of you looking anything less than perfect. They wanted photos of baby bumps since word had gotten out that there was a pregnancy. The news of ‘expecting a baby’ had been released, but the three of you hadn’t said who was pregnant or how many were due. It was the subject of a lot of speculation. It was a sideshow. No one could step outside the door without flashbulbs going off directly in your face and people yelling out about babies and threesomes. It worried Tony. He’d grown up with it so he’d gotten used to it. You hadn’t.

Not only had you not grown up with it, but you also didn’t seem to get how dangerous it was. You kept just going out and flipping them off. You answered their inane questions with ridiculous answers. Tony might think it was funny, but he was genuinely worried you might actually get hurt. That worry spiraled out into worry about the children too. How could he raise children in the heart of this city if it meant that every time they went out they’d be set upon by paparazzi?

“I took Happy, okay?” You said.

He let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“We can’t live here can we?” Pepper asked.

You whined and your head rolled back. “But I like it. They have Platform 9 and three quarters.”

Both Pepper and Tony looked at you deadpan. “And that’s enough reason to subject our kids to that outside?”

You huffed, straightened up and took a large bite out of the sandwich you’d made. “I guess not. But what if it doesn’t last?”

“Honey, can you please swallow before you speak.” Pepper said turning her head.

“And what if it does last? What if they’re always just hounded all the time? Do you know what it’s like to grow up with that? To have the spotlight on you constantly. To be expected to just be on all the time as a child. To be expected to be something when all you want to do is play with your new remote controlled car?” Tony said the pain of the childhood lived under constant scrutiny bubbling up.

You put your sandwich down and took his hand and started gently playing with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Tony. I guess I didn’t really think about what it would be like growing up with that.”

“It’s okay. Why would you? You got a normal life. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t complain, money and all that.” He said, shifting a little in his seat and giving a small half smile. He always felt that he shouldn’t complain about that part of his life. It was one thing to tear Howard a new one for his neglectful and often abusive parenting, it was another to complain about the negative trappings of celebrity when he basked in the positive parts of it. The anxiety of public speaking and being hounded by people was something you smothered. You put on your Armani and your designer sunglasses and you faked it.

“Hey,” Pepper said cupping his cheek. “You lived it. Just because some aspects of your life are good doesn’t mean you should have to put up with the bad. Nor does it mean you should want to inflict the bad on your kids.”

Tony leaned in against her and rested his head against Pepper’s chest. She carded her fingers through his hair and he felt himself relax under her touch. His hands moved to her stomach almost on autopilot. She was only barely showing. That ‘maybe she just had a large meal’ look. But he loved to touch you both. He loved thinking about how little there was between him and his kids when he did that. “Thank you.” He barely whispered.

“How are we going to protect them from that though? I mean… I’m not making this as an argument to stay here, but the only place that there is none of that is the compound and we’ve already said we can’t raise them there.” You asked. “I know other places aren’t as bad as this, but they are still there. It’s possible this is just bad because of circumstances. We aren’t here often. There are baby rumors. Maybe after they get used to us, they will chill.”

“Maybe. Maybe they won’t.” Pepper said. “The schools here are good. The city is nice but with how far it is from the Avengers and S.I.’s main base of operations. It’s not ideal and with the chance that we won’t even be able to go outside with the babies without being swarmed, I think we just have to say London isn’t right for us.”

You sighed and nodded giving Tony’s hand a squeeze. “I really liked that Townhouse we looked at.”

Tony chuckled. “It was nice. I could see exactly where I was going to put FRIDAY.”

“We can steal the things we liked though,” Pepper said.

“Like that walk in.” You said.

“Like the walk in.” She agreed.

“Can we still go have morning tea at the Ritz?” You asked.

Pepper poked your side. “Absolutely we can.”

“And see The Mousetrap?”

Tony started laughing. “You are such a tourist. Yes, we can do that. Then home I guess.”

Pepper nodded in agreement. “Just gotta think about where to next. I love the Windmill. You think the Hampton’s would be okay? It’s not exactly near anything.”

Tony pulled back away from Pepper. “If we’re going to do remote, how about I take you to the place in Australia.”

Pepper tilted her head to the side. “You’ve never taken me there. I guess it’s worth a look. I don’t think it fits any of the criteria though.”

“I know. But if nothing else, it will be a nice holiday. I’d like to take you there. There’s a reason I bought it.” Tony said.

“Australia it is,” Pepper said with a nod. “Why not?”

Tony kissed her softly and then did the same to you. He thought back to the few times he’d been there, why he’d bought it in the first place. How good it felt to just be anonymous. Maybe it wouldn’t be the place to go, but maybe for a while, it could be a place for them to escape how hectic this had all been.

// NEXT

#tony stark #pepper potts #iron man #tony stark x reader #pepper potts x reader #tony stark x pepper potts #iron man fanfic #pepperony #pepperony x reader #tony stark x pepper potts x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #fluff #angst #polyamory #the unicorn

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tony-luvv · 6 years

Text

Don’t Assume You Know

Prompt: I finally watched Wonder Woman today and am over the moon about the thought of her and Tony either romantically or even just as a friendship. I’d like to prompt you with someone being rude/mean to Tony and Diana losing her SHIT.

P.S. You’re super lovely and I always enjoy seeing your posts!

Here you go, it took me a while to figure out how to start this but once I started I fell in love. Thank you so much for this prompt, I love this ship and need more content for them!

Available on Ao3 and Fanfiction as well.

Surprisingly, they met at a photoshoot. Diana was there to do a cover on the Smithsonian. They asked her to come in and do a preview of the article and to ask if they could include her in the piece. Even though she had already politely declined.

“Please Miss Prince, you’d make a lovely addition to the article.” Mr. Roberts attempted to plead with her one more time. He was a nice gentleman in his forties, his hair graying at the edges. But his eyes gleamed with a vision for her behind his round wire framed glances.

Diana held back a sigh, “Thank you Mr. Roberts, I’m truly flattered. But again, I must decline.” She could tell he wanted to push the issue further but just barely held his tongue. He would be fine. Once the next pretty face walked past him he’d forget all about her.

“Such a shame, if you ever decide to change careers, please,” he grabbed a business card from his desk and held it out to her, “call me.”

Reluctantly she took the card, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Smiling politely she rose from her seat and made her exit out the editor’s office.

She knew the only reason they asked her out here was because they wanted to convince her to model for them. But Diana wasn’t the model type, she preferred her seclusion. Staying tucked away in museum away from the eyes of the public. It’s where she belonged.

Diana made to leave the magazine’s office building when a small commotion caught her attention. She stopped and wondered down an adjacent hall. At the end of the hall there’s an open room, the doors wide open and a group of girls swarming a man. A beautiful man.

He was on the smaller side, standing probably an inch or two smaller than him. Brown fluffy hair and mess since one of the girls kept running her fingers through it. His skin has a natural tan color that made his brown eyes shine and sparkle. Although it was hard to see because another girl kept brushing blush or concealer over his cheek bone. Blocking Diana’s view or causing the man to shut his eyes against the assault.

When the makeup artist finally moved aside Diana was able to see the rest of the man. His face held an interesting mustache and beard combination. Framing his full pink lips perfectly in (if she remembered correctly) a van dyke style.

He wore a black long sleeve shirt that was one size to big. Hanging loose around his collarbones and covering the palms of his hands. He was sitting on a wooden stool but she could see his pants were baggy and black as well. On his feet he had plain white sneakers. Over all, he was adorable.

“Mr. Stark, look here for me.”

Her eyes widen, she could see it now. That was Tony Stark.

Mr. Stark turned on the stool looking at the photographer. Legs slightly spread with one bent and the other stretched down to the floor. His hands held onto the edge of the stool between his legs. The photographer practically cooed at him, praising him and directing him to make subtle moves and faces as the camera flashed. A few times Stark laughed at the photographers antics, making his face light up in a beautiful smile. Diana was memorized.

Then their eyes locked. Tony looked up and past the photographer, right at Diana. He froze momentarily, looking at her as she stood there. She watched him take her in, from her hair which she wore loose. Long, brown, and wavy hair framed her face and stretched past her shoulders. Eyes followed the length of her green dress that stopped right below her knees and then finished at her white heels.

When his eyes bounced back up to her face and saw her smiling at him, he blushed and looked away. The photographer went crazy and the girls squealed on the sidelines. Diana couldn’t help basking in the feeling of making one of the world’s sexiest bachelors (as multiple magazines claimed) blush.

“Disgusting.” The quiet sneer beside her shocked the feeling right out of her.

“Pardon?”

A little louder this time, the blonde lady beside him gestured at Stark, “It’s disgusting, the way Stark plays women left and right.” She was glaring at Mr. Stark and Diana turned back to him just in time to see hurt flash across his face. The photographer was taking a break from snapping pictures, briefly glancing through the ones he’d already taken and Stark had stood from his seat. Coming closer to where Diana stood with the blonde lady which is why he probably heard what they woman said. “Trust me girl, you don’t want to go near someone like that. He’s just like the rest of these trash fuck boys.”

Diana was astounding by this woman. The nerve of people these days, it filled her with anger on Stark’s behalf. “Who are you to say such things?”

Now it was the lady’s turn to be surprised, “What?”

“Has Mr. Stark personally wronged you?

“No, but he has a reputation–”

“And?” Diana was furious, this woman was just walking around slandering a man she knew nothing about. “Just because one person says something doesn’t make it true. If you personally don’t know Mr. Stark who are you to decide who he is and walk around slandering his name and personality. If anything I’d say you were disgusting for walking around talking about someone like that. It’s rude. Consider using your time more wisely in the future and fix your own personality.”

Leaving the woman shocked speechless she turned and walked away. Nothing bothered her more than how people were so quick to judge and execute negative opinions on one another. Why did everyone hold so much hate in their hearts? That thought briefly made her think of Ares but she shock off the thoughts of him.

She was almost at the exit when she heard someone call for her.

“Wait! Miss–” She stopped and turned to see Stark trying to catch up to her.

“Mr. Stark?” He stopped in front of her and she vaguely realized the in her heels she was much taller than him.

“Thank you!”

“What for?”

“I – I saw was you did back there. Defending me against that lady…you didn’t have to do that. So thanks.” Stark was awkwardly avoiding her eyes, preferring instead to stare at his feet. His hands were clasped in front of his self, fingers fiddling with his sleeves nervously. That woman was wrong to judge him and realistically Stark didn’t have to chase her down and thank her, but he did.

Stepping forward to close the space between them Diana brought her hands up. Gently she cradled his head, holding him in place as she leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “You are very welcome Mr. Stark.” When she leaned back she could see the blush had returned. It looked even better up close. Faintly she heard him say something but couldn’t quite make out what it was, “Hmm?”

He looked up at her, hands still cupped around his ears, “T-Tony. Please, call me Tony.”

“You’re welcome, Tony.”

His smile was bright and beautiful. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Normally she would decline, keeping herself as unattached as possible. But something about him was addicting and she couldn’t find it anywhere in her soul to say no, “I’d love dinner.” She pulled out her phone and let him enter his number. “I look forward to speaking with you later Tony.”

“I – uh, same.” Smiling she turned to leave but his hand shot out and grabbed hers, “Wait! I don’t…I don’t know your name.”

“Diana. Diana Prince.”

“Diana…I like it. Bye Diana.”

“Goodbye Tony.”

Walking up to the restaurant she could see Tony standing outside wait for her but he was facing the other direction so all she could see was his back. They had agreed to meet up at a small family own Italian place that wasn’t too far from Diana’s house.

She checked her watch, she was a few minutes early. It made her wonder how long Tony had been waiting for her. He was wearing black jeans that fit him perfectly, a complete change from when she’d first seen him. And from what she could tell, his shirt was a maroon button up with matching sneakers.

She’s glad her outfit wasn’t overdone. Her white blouse, dark blue jeans and brown heel boots were comfortable and causal enough for their date. Today she wore her hair up in a ponytail since it was too hot to let it rest on her neck. “Hi Tony.” Hearing her voice he spun around and she was surprised to see him holding a white rose. “What’s that?”

“I got it for you. I just – wanted to get you something. It meant a lot to me for you to come out with me tonight and I wanted to get you something. I think it compliments your natural beauty.” He held out the rose, gaze looking right past her and blush faint on his face.

“Thank you Tony, it’s lovely.” She took the flower, bringing it close to hide her smile behind and smell. Tony finally looked eyes with her and beamed at her. She reached for his hand, “Come on, I’m getting hungry.”

Dinner was just as good. The food was tasteful and well made. They decided to forego any alcohol, Tony expressing he’d hope they could stroll through the park afterwards and so they stuck to water. Conversation was easy, picking up and dropping topics as they ate. When the bill came Tony paid. Diana attempted to pay her portion but he insisted that he would pay since he had asked for the date. If she wanted to pay she would have to ask him out.

Afterwards, they left the restaurant hand in hand. Diana’s rose held in her free hand. Arriving at the park they walked the path, asking each other questions to get to know one another. When they got to an opening with a pond and benches Tony lead her over to an empty spot.

“Wait here.” Making sure Diana was sitting on the bench and not going to go anywhere Tony jogged away out of sight.

Diana was pleasantly surprised. She’d never really been on a date before but she was enjoying her time with Tony. He was cute, going from smooth and charming to fumbling and nervous in a heartbeat. He was sweet, asking her about her interest and then pitching in what he knew of the topic. When it came up how many languages she knew he tested her. Bouncing between languages and when she spoke in a few he didn’t recognize he was amazed. Asking her where they came from and asking her to teach him a few words. Then when she mentioned the Smithsonian he mentioned a few pieces of art he held a love for.

It was refreshing, learning about Tony Stark and learning that he was nothing like the world thought of him. It made her think about how wrong that woman had been in her assumptions.

Twirling the rose she thought about asking Tony on a date when she saw the man returning. “Where’d you go?”

He stood in front of her, panting a little bit but smiling happily. “They have duck food dispensers and I’ve always wanted to do this.” He took her free hand, dropping little pebbled food in her hand. “Hold these, I’m going to see if I can lure some over here.” He went over to the pond where a few ducks and swans were swimming and laying about. “Here duckies!” Dropping so pebbles he slowly backed up until he had a few trialing after him.

Once he was by the bench again he sat down next to her and together they fed the ducks. It was peaceful, “You know…” Diana turned to look at Tony who’s gaze stayed on the ducks, “my aunt used to call me Ducky when I was little.”

Diana couldn’t help it this time, she squealed in delight.

After that day, Tony’s name was permanently changed to Ducky in her phone.

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#luvvswrittng #diana x tony #diana prince #tony stark #wonderiron #first date #fluff #super cute #bamf diana #cute tony #submission

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ladye11e · 6 years

Text

Deception pt 5

The conflict between the Assassins and the Templars is getting out of hand. Lies, deceit and subterfuge, now you must pick a side...

I'm gonna be busy with work for a bit (stupid exams 😭) so I thought I'd post a little earlier than normal 😁 This chapters a bit maturer than the others 😶

Tagging @geekgoddess813💕💕 and @sweet-flash 😍 if anyone else would like tagging, please ask 😊

Link to the full fic is Here.

"Son of a....!"

Grabbing a tissue when you managed to poke yourself in your eye with the mascara wand, you gently blotted away the black smudge, careful not to ruin any of the other makeup that you had just spent the last half hour doing. Clenching your fist to try and stop your hand from trembling, you chucked the mascara down on your dresser with a sigh when it did little good. You hadn't been this anxious about going out on a mission since your first time in the field all those years ago, the ticking of the clock on the wall as it edged closer to the time Shay was picking you up making it more nerve wracking with each passing second.

Studying yourself in the mirror and determining that you didn't look like a clown, you grabbed your shoes and slipped them on, wobbling a little as it had been some time since you had worn heels this high. You dropped to the floor and rummaged about under your bed to pull out a small weapons chest, scowling when the several yards of body tape you had used to keep your dress in place started to peel from your skin.

"Whyyyyyy did I choose one with a low back?!" You wailed to yourself miserably as you pressed the dress firmly onto the side of your breast again, praying that it actually held for the evening so the entirety of the Brotherhood didn't see your nipples.

Picking the smallest and thinnest blade you owned out of the box and kicking it back under the bed, you tucked it into the concealed pocket in the front of the bodice, the ruffled and beaded fabric hiding it's outline perfectly. Peering past your curtains when you heard a car horn outside, you took a deep breath and picked up your clutch and mask off your dresser when you saw a black town car waiting for you downstairs, hoping that you weren't about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

Ignoring the stares from the chauffeur as he held open the rear door for you, you held onto your dress tightly as you slid yourself in onto the smooth leather seat, Shay's instant gawking making you giggle slightly.

"Shit lass, you do scrub up well. Don't think ya can say anything about me not wearing much anymore."

"Um, thank you? You look nice too." You uttered as you pulled the dress over your leg when it had parted due to the high slit and the movement of the car, stealing little peeks at him out of the corner of your eye.

Your heart began to pound as your gaze roamed over him and drank in every little detail, wondering how on earth you were going to be able to concentrate on anything now. He was wearing a tuxedo but he had foregone the traditional bow tie and left the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a dark red brocade waistcoat and he had left his hair down; only just resisting the temptation to raise your hand to run your fingers through it. The mask he had chosen suited him perfectly, completely covering the top half of his face with little horns on the edge, reminding you of a devil. If you didn't know who he already was, you would never had been able to guess.

You yelped when the car took a hard left turn and you slipped across the seat so you were now pressing up firmly against Shay; glancing up quickly to see the driver sniggering in the rear view mirror.

Cheeky bastard. You thought as the warmth from the man next to you seemed to swarm straight to your core, not helped in the slightest when he rested his hand on your knee. Clearing your throat gently, you leaned over to pick up your mask that had fell to the floor thanks to the drivers shenanigans, and shifted around to turn your back to Shay as you held it up to your face, figuring the momentary distraction would give you the chance to calm down slightly.

"Would you mind?"

You had never been so wrong in your life.

Your skin immediately goosebumped when his fingers grazed your neck to pick up the ribbon that would secure your mask, your breathing becoming shallower, faster when he tied it carefully as not to catch your hair and leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, his knuckles skimming down your bare back.

"Is that alright?"

You hoped the lace of the mask covered enough of your cheeks to hide the flush creeping up them as you softly nodded and turned back around so you could sit properly, catching his gaze and unable to look away when you saw his eyes had darkened to almost black.

"You okay love? Don't seem yourself tonight."

It took you longer to reply than usual thanks to your highly aroused state, making Shay look a little anxious when he thought that he had overstepped his bounds as you quickly looked away and stared at the purse in your lap.

"I'm fine, just a bit of nerves. Because of the mission." You blurted out, not able to come up with any other excuse. "Plus it's a bit warm in here, glad I didn't bring a coat."

Shay chuckled at your attempted excuse of why you were so distracted tonight, smirking to himself when he caught you staring at his rear as he leaned forward to pick up a decanter and two glasses from a drinks compartment near the door.

"Is that right? Well, how about a little something to steady those nerves ay?"

Damn it. He knows what he's done to you. Hoping to pull yourself out of the clouds, you flashed him a smile as he handed you one of the glasses with a rather hefty slosh of whiskey in it, staring at the amber liquid for a moment before drinking it in one gulp and coughing slightly when spices burnt your throat.

"Thanks, I needed that." You wheezed as you handed him back the glass, looking out the window to see a familiar car park.

"Shay, we're here. You ready?"

Watching him wink at you and knock back his own drink before getting out the car with an air of confidence when it pulled up outside the manor, you were pleasantly surprised when it was him that opened the door for you and not the driver. Taking his arm as he extended it to help you out, you took a deep breath and put your game face on as you were escorted up the steps and into the party.

Making it through security without a hitch; the gadgets Shay had concealed in his jacket just as undetectable as before, your eyes widened as you walked through the dimly lit hallway towards the back of the house. It had been cordened off to all apart from Connor and the workmen, making it a surprise for everyone attending and you were almost speechless as you passed through the thin strips of voile and into the new grand hall. It was something out of a mystical fantasy, almost all completely candle lit, drapes of purples, reds, and golds cordening off secluded booth's and areas, and a large dance floor in the middle of the room. A grand chandelier hung above it, reflecting the light and making it look like stars were floating in the air, and the band were playing something soft in the background while the guests were arriving.

"Wow, never been to a party this fancy before lass, did you know it was gonna be like this?"

Shaking your head as you looked about the nearly hundred odd guests that were already here, even though everyone was wearing masks you instantly spotted several people you knew. Ezio was not so subtly glancing at himself at one of the large ornate mirrors, smoothing down his ruffled dress shirt even though it wasn't creased. The corner of your mouth twitched as you spied the Greenes, Evie looking way out of her comfort zone in an emerald chiffon ballgown and looking like she would do anything to rip it off right here and now.

"Nothing we can do at the moment, so how about we enjoy ourselves for a bit? You go an say hi, I'll go to the bar for us."

Shuddering when you felt Shay's hand caress the small of your back for a moment before heading over to the obscenely large drinks station on the left, you wondered how long you were going to be able to keep this up before you went out of your mind with lust as you made your way through the room towards your friends.

"Henry! I've not seen you in ages, how have you been? You look nice Evie."

Biting your lip so you wouldn't laugh when she scowled at your compliment, you gave Henry an apologetic look when he sighed and shook his head at his wife's growing temper.

"You know I despise wearing these infernal things (name), hence my bad mood. The second the photographs are done I'm getting changed."

Just as you were about to ask what photo's, you yelped when you felt a meaty hand slap your arse, spinning around when you immediately knew who would be so bold.

"Hi Eddie."

"Jeysus (name)! Daaaamn you look good! That dress would be much better on my floor though."

Edward Kenway was in charge of all of the assassins seafaring missions and amarda of ships, fancying himself as a bit of a pirate and ladies man. The party had obviously started several hours before for him, judging by his slightly dishevelled state and the nearly empty bottle of Jack in his hand, but him being here also meant... Crap. Right on queue his best friend and your ex polled up behind him, slinging his arm over his shoulder with couple of bottles of beer in his other hand, not quite as drunk as Edward, but still tipsy.

"Hi Jacob, made an effort I see. I thought you couldn't come because of what was going on in London?" You breathed when you saw he was in his usual attire of hat, waistcoat and shirt, but at least had the good grace to take his coat off.

"Eddie came and got me, no chance I'd pass up an open bar! Going back tomorrow, missed me?"

Even though your break up wasn't amicable, you still carried a torch for the man, and you knew he did for you. His offer to take you to London, away from all of this and get a fresh start had been hugely tempting, but like a fool you had said no, in way too deep to be able to sever the ties from the Templars. They would have found you, exposing what you had done, branding you a traitor and being hunted down by both sides. Not a life that you wanted, and you definitely didn't want to put Jacob in more danger than he was already in so it was better this way. Noticing Evie and Henry were glaring at you; them having took the brunt of Jacob's more than normal reckless behaviour and attitude after you had split, you forced a laugh and gave him a playful punch in the arm, then ruffled Edward's hair as you gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Course I missed you both, you're the life of the party!"

"Damn right we are! Who might this be then?" Edward said, his words becoming more slurred with each pass of the bottle over his lips.

You were surprised when you saw an arm come from behind you and hand you a glass of some kind of fruity punch, thinking that Shay was going to avoid as much interaction as he could with other people while he was here, but one glance up at him you knew he was confident enough that none of them knew who he was. The entire group bar yourself immediately tensed up at having a complete stranger in their midst, an expected natural reaction which is why you had come up with an alias during your planning.

"This is Sergai, we met in Russia. Sergai this is Henry and his wife Evie, Edward, and.. Jacob."

Watching Jacob flex his fist out of the corner of your eye when Shay wove his arm around your waist, you slyly elbowed him in the ribs to get him to remove it for two reasons. One, you had already drawn enough attention to yourselves without having a punch up in the middle of the hall, and secondly Henry was the only one to extend his hand to Shay, still eyeing him up suspiciously.

"Welcome friend, I hear Russia is nice this time of year. Kak vy poznakomilis' (name)?"

Wait, what?! Henry speaks Russian?? Now this you had not prepared for, and you began to internally panic as you thought your cover was blown when Shay shook Henry's hand and just stared at him blankly. Your jaw dropped slightly with what happened next, the entire evening becoming full of revelations.

"Bezopasnost' v novom byuro. Think we better stick to English, doesn't look like anyone else here can speak the language?" Shay chuckled when he saw that Henry was satisfied that he was who he claimed to be, now eyeing up his hidden blade that was peeking out from under his shirt.

"Indeed. An admirer of the classics I see. I too prefer the older versions of weapons, you should visit my Curio shop, if you ever venture to London."

"Aye I shall. I'm afraid I must steal (name) away for a moment, there's something we need to talk about. Good to meet you all."

You were still slightly dumbfounded as Shay returned his arm to around your waist and led you away from the group, who were now slightly more at ease apart from Jacob who was still gritting his teeth and glaring as you went to sit down in one of the secluded booths.

"Well you're just full of surprises! Where did you learn Russian? I spent half a year there and only just managed to pick up 'where's the bathroom'."

"I used to travel a lot, helps no end if ya can speak the same language. Looks like I need to avoid a certain someone for the next few hours?" He whispered against you with a rather amused smirk on his face.

Glancing back to the other side of the room when he gestured over before draping his arm over your shoulders, you frowned when you saw a rather surly Jacob staring over at you, and an annoyed Evie yelling at him to calm down.

"Yeah.... Sorry about that. I don't know why he's being this way, he was the one who dumped me and that was years ago. This isn't helping you know."

Jigging your shoulders and looking at him pointedly only made him pull you closer to him, followed by a light kiss to the side of your head which made your stomach resemble an acrobats performance.

"I am supposed to be your date this evening, people would think there was something wrong if I didn't behave this. Best I carry on, for appearances."

You chewed the inside of your lip as his fingers ghosted up and down your arm, knowing he was partly right, but that wasn't the main reason and it was driving you crazy, especially now you could feel his breath on your neck that was making you tremble in anticipation. You just stifled a whimper when his hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up so you caught his gaze as his thumb caressed your cheek, his eyes flicking over you enticingly as he leaned forward so that his lips were an inch away from yours.

"I need to go for a moment, check things out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

All you could manage was a simple nod as he slid out of the seat and made his way back out of the hall, snapping you out of your lascivious haze. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! You're a trained assassin for god's sake, how on earth are you letting a man seduce you like this?! At this moment in time you wish you had a gun pointed at your head, at least that would be less nerve wracking. Maybe.... You shouldn't hold back anymore? Once this mission was over you assumed you wouldn't be working together in the foreseeable future, so you could see no reason to keep denying what you craved so much.

Peeking through the drapes when you heard almighty cheers coming from the other side of the room, you burst out laughing when you saw Ezio and Connor engaged in a pretty intense arm wrestle, Edward somehow refereeing whilst still cheering for his grandson. Just as you got up to join in the fun, you were immediately knocked back down onto your seat when you crashed into something warm and firm, the wind knocking out of you when you saw Jacob had suddenly stepped in front of you to stop you from leaving.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Erm, sure. What about?"

Sliding down the seat so he could sit next to you, you began to feel slightly anxious when he just stared at his beer bottle, picking at the label and tearing it off one thin strip at a time.

"Where's your date gone?"

"Had to nip off to take a call, work I think."

"His loss is my gain then. I would never run off and leave you, especially when you're looking like that."

Jacob smirked as he not so subtly eyed you up, your already warm features burning as he made that little needy keen that used to make your heart melt. You took a huge gulp of your drink to try and give you a moment to come up with some kind of witty retort, but after several moments of uncomfortable silence, you couldn't come up with a single thing other than to ask a dumb question.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

You kept your eyes fixated on his hands while he fiddled with the bottle a moment longer, making you slightly nonplussed when he set it down on the table and pushed it away, still half full. In all the years you had known him, he had never not finished a drink, he actually prided himself on it so you knew he must be serious for a change.

"I want... I want you to come back with me. Tomorrow. I've missed you so much. I've got a place now, and a proper job, apart from going about busting up Templars, and I know that's what you were worried about before even though you didn't say."

All you could do was sit there staring into space, your jaw slacked as his words hit your ears. You regretted saying no once before, and here he was asking you again. Your mind was whirlwinding out of control, stirring up every single emotion imaginable within you as you internally debated his question. After what felt like an eternity, your vocal chords decided to work just as you had come to the same answer as before. You couldn't, you just... couldn't do it. The reasons hadn't changed, nor had the huge risk to both his and your lives. Placing your hand gently on top of his and letting out a soft sigh as he gazed up at you hopefully, you found that you couldn't look him in the eye as you spoke.

"Jacob, I....."

You were spared of actually saying the words that he already knew were coming as he dropped his head numbly, when your attention was pulled to someone clearing their throat beside you. Snapping your hand back quickly and watching every single one of Jacobs muscles tense up as Shay pushed aside the fabric so he could see you properly, you flinched when Jacob suddenly got up and snatched his beer back off the table, knocking it back in one swallow before barging past Shay forcefully.

"She's all yours, mate." He sneered as his eyes flickered between you and Shay when he extended his hand to help you up.

"Never had a doubt. Mate. Appreciate you noticing though."

Even though the music had gotten louder you could hear Shay's comment was dripping with sarcasm, making you think you were back in a Grade school playground. Letting out a huff while you watched Jacob saunter off back over to his best friend and sister as if nothing had happened, you decided that you'd had enough dramatics this evening and concentrated on the mission at hand instead.

"So, everything's in order I take it?" You mumbled as he lay his palm on your back, the momentary lack of shudders down your spine coming back full force at his touch.

"Hmmm just about lass, just need to make sure everyones in here. We need to create some kind of distraction. You up for it? After your little conversation there?"

Cocking your head when you couldn't place his expression; the mask making it damn near impossible to distinguish anything other than the curve threatening to adorn his lips, you stood a little straighter and lifted your head with resolve, determined to see this thing through.

"Of course. What did you have in mind?"

You linked your arm through the crook of his elbow as he guided the way through the now almost jam packed hall and towards the polished wooden area in the centre, stopping at the edge of it to turn around to face you.

"Tell me love. Can you dance?"

A sensual smile crept up your face and your chest began to flutter as he draped his hands on your hips and made little stroking movements; inhaling sharply as he stepped forward so that he was just brushing against you.

"Can you?"

"Aye, and not just in the way you're thinking of right now." He murmured huskily against your cheek before grazing his mouth against it, every part of you starting to go into a frenzy when he pulled back and even with his face half obscured, you knew exactly what that look was.

There were only two other couples on the dance floor when Shay took your hand and led you into the middle, laying your hand on his arm as he rest his on your waist. The corner of your lips twitched as the band started the next song when they saw they had new people in front of them, Shakira's Objection ringing through the air.

"Did you plan this?" You gasped as he suddenly moved his arm down to part your dress and hook your bare leg over his hip, his other holding your body flush against his.

"Maybe."

You didn't know whether to smile or moan when he leant you back slowly, swaying you and bringing you back up as the intro started, his breath hot on your lips as he slowly and deliberately inched his hand up to caress the curve of your rear. You smirked as his eyes widened for a moment before he dropped your leg down to spin you several times in front of him and you ended up with your back to his chest; sliding your body down him provocatively in time with beat.

"You're not wearing underwear, are ya?" He whispered in your ear as you returned back up and curled your arm around his neck.

"Nope."

The playful glint in his eye became more fervent as you subtly pressed your ass against his groin just before he took your hands again, twirling you out of his embrace as the tempo started to quicken.

You had been taught the tango long ago, your mentors insisting that you had to be ready in any situation, but nothing could have ever prepared you for this. Your skin felt like it was on fire under his every caress of your body, each time he pressed himself against you, you could feel a dangerous tingling in your abdomen, pooling between your legs that was blooming with each risqué step. You hadn't even noticed that the other people had left the floor and the vast majority of the party were now circling around gasping in awe at your alluring display; everything seemed to disappear, the only things remaining were you, and the man who was driving you to delirium under his touch.

His grip tightened around you when you softly moaned in his ear as he slid his thigh between your legs, grinding you against him and pressing just hard enough to send a pulse straight through you that had you writhing against him for more, making the wetness that was growing seep into the fabric of your dress. You knew it wouldn't take much more to make you come undone, and judging by what all of your senses were telling you, it wouldn't for him either. From his heavy breathing that had nothing to do with the dancing, to the sly little kisses he kept leaving over you in between moves were definitely a sure thing of that.

Just before your body was about to give in to the burning heat inside you, the music came to an end, leaving the whole room in complete silence while you stared into Shays eyes, both breathless as he held you leant back in his arms. Your fingers dug into his arm as he closed the gap between you and softly pressed his lips against yours, just fleeting, but it was enough to make you melt into his embrace. You were dragged from your lust filled buzz when a thunderous applause filled the air, but neither of you moved until people came flooding towards you to sing your praises.

"When this is over, meet me later at the hotel? I think we should... talk. I've gotta go." He mumbled against your lips, not quite managing to control the cracking in his voice.

Shay gently pulled you back up to standing when a crowd swarmed around you, squeezing your fingers briefly with a look of yearning and anticipation when you nodded, and slipped out in the horde while everyones attention was on you.

"(Name) that was brilliant!" "Oh wow that was hot!" "Teach me! Please!"

You barely registered the compliments being thrown at you as you stared at the space where Shay was just stood, licking your lips slowly to taste the remnants of his kiss on them. Just as your brain reconnected with the rest of your body, you were suddenly met with a heavy arm over your shoulders and a loud smooch on your mask as you were led away from the still gushing mass of assassins.

"Well blow me! Didn't realise you were gonna be the entertainment tonight (name), don't think there's a dry seat in this place!"

Grinning and swiping the fresh bottle of rum out of Edward's hand when your mouth was decidedly parched, you took a quick swig before handling it back, noticing that Jacob was not amongst your group of friends anymore. Thinking he had just gone off to drink himself into a stupor after what had happened, you paid it no mind and instead gave a deep bow to your companions when they stared cheering and whooping as you were dragged over to them.

"(Name)?"

You turned around when you heard someone quietly mumble your name behind you, looking up with a beaming smile when you saw another acquaintance of yours staring nervously at the floor.

"Connor? You look, well, wow! A tux really suits you. What's up?"

"Well, I may not be as good of a dancer as the man you are with, but I was wondering, if you would do me the honour of joining me in the next?" He uttered nervously, his eyes flickering between everyone to see if there were any traces of laughter, which of course, there was none.

"Excellent idea! Course you will, won't ya (name)! Teach this hulk of a grandson of mine how to woo a lady?"

You took Connor's hand gently and gave it a reassuring squeeze when Edward pushed you both towards the dance floor, yelling at the band to play something 'sexy'. Just as you guided Connor into the proper stance; his rigid posture and size making it no easy feat, you were about to take the first step when a deafening wail sounded out instead of the expected music. Dropping his hands and covering your ears when the piercing alarm began to hurt, you looked around frantically when it suddenly stopped, to see that all of the exits were now blocked with steel security doors.

Panic began to set in as you fumbled in your bodice and pulled out your phone; the 'no signal' on your screen glaring at you in the dim light of the hall, a wave of dread washed over you when you saw that almost everyone else was doing the same thing.

You were trapped.

#fanfic #Shay Cormac #reader insert #jacob frye #connor kenway #evie frye #henry greene #Assassin's Creed #Modern au #edward kenway

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lifeofgroffsauce · 6 years

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Miscellaneous papers spilled from a crisp manilla folder held lax and haphazardly, clattering onto the apartment's hallway floor to cause a groan from the actor. Various safety waivers and film contracts now mixed up and out of the ascending order of dates he'd meticulously placed them in, was a hell of an end to the night. Crouching down to gather them, grumbling irritably as he did, he tried his best to reorganize the mess before knocking on the door.

“Jon Groff! My faaavorite client!”

The shrill ring of his, uncharacteristically drunk, agent Kelly hit his ears. It was her cheery smile that was infectious and suddenly he matched her enthusiasm, despite his previous misfortune seconds ago.

“Oh my god, you're such a little liar!” He accused playfully then gestured to her relaxed posture against the wood slab that seemed to hold her up, having it half way open. “What are you doing on a Monday night, missy? Don't you have special agent things to be doing?”

Freshly manicured nails, tips too boxy in Jonathan's opinion, tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. He noticed they both suffered the same fate when it came to alcohol flushing their cheeks. Hers, however, wore only a faint blush peeking through her artificially tan skin. “What?! Why are you- did you not get my email?” A gasp fled from her lithe form, soon swatting his arm. “Check your fucking emails more than once a year! Jesus, I sent you an e-vite!”

Just as he rose an inquisitive brow, she swung the door fully open, bright cerleans catching the light of the Brooklyn bridge out of gigantic panoramic windows lining the living room wall. A small group of people congregated about the space, all mingling with each other. They all appeared to be close friends and work connections.

“You're having a party? Oh my goodness,” He laughed almost nervously and mustered up a sheepish grin. “I'm super sorry. I wish I had known! I'll make a better habit of reading those but, it's really late and I just needed to-”

“Jonathan! Nooo, don't be sorry! Come in, come in!” To her urging, his lips parted to object but she quickly silenced him with her shushing, coiling her nimble digits around his larger ones. /Don't argue with Italians, even the five-foot-two short shits like Kelly./ He smirked at his own thought and walked in.

“You know Drew Gehling, right?” The boozy Kelly slurred her way through each introduction like a proper hostess. A striking baritone voice flooded the space with his drawl, steps moving toward the agent as they circled around the dining table. “Why bother asking, Kels. Tall, dark, handsome. Fits Jonathan's type perfectly. Of course they know each other.”

Jonathan's muscles tensed slightly, his mouth pulling a tight-lipped grin. “Though I guess the 'tall' box has been unchecked. New boyfriend's on the vertically challenged side.” Zachary offered a sassy smirk to Jon to let him know he was joking and calm him down; unfortunately, it did the opposite. He was painfully reminded of where he should be versus where he was.

“He's flexible; that's all that matters,” Flew from his lips faster than his brain could register. It earned him a chuckle from his ex-boyfriend. J shrugged.

Kelly, the serial gasper at this point, followed with a grip of Jon's bicep. “Oh my god, I fucking meant to talk to you about all those Instagram posts! Stop with the lovey crap or Jeana will actually have a job to do- and Jon- I'd rather keep her on standby and not pay her an exorbitant amount of money because you're in your feelings...” She continued to scold him, but he had long since tuned her out as, in paranoid fashion, his focus was on studying Quinto until the tall male left the room to go refill his oversized glass of chardonnay.

Another theatre family member (he remembered as Lin's “cousin”) joined their conversation and began a debate regarding the proper use of social media. Jonathan eased up a bit when he saw Zach return but rather than engage, turned to his own huddle of friends on the other side of the room. /I'll stay for a little while longer, I don't want to be rude./

Before he knew it, a blush colored wine glass was being thrust into one of his hands he was animatedly driving his point home with. Without thought, he accepted it, not aware it was Zachary that had given it to him until several moments after. Naturally, the thirty-three year old regarded him with a polite nod, watching as he seamlessly dove into the topic at hand.

“I just don't see the point in lying on social media about who you are or what you do. Why try to make someone believe you pop bottle of Dom every weekend and prance around on a private beach every holiday? Stop stunting.” One actor in their bundle scoffed.

While Jonathan's eyes were taking in the many that had swarmed around their expanded circle, Zach spoke up. His left arm leaned against the kitchen's accent wall. “I take it you've never heard of 'escape theory'? Mm, what a shame, Brandon.”

A click of his tongue snagged Groff's attention, wine kissing his lips, attention on Quinto. “All of us here; we're trying to find an outlet to help us step outside, escape- if you've put two and two together- who we are for a fragment in time. It can be as simple as that evening glass of cheri you have in your underwhelming studio apartment, or as large as the theatre audience seeing you stripped down, bare-assed, utterly exposed for eyes to feast on your body. You don't think posting photographs on social media does that as well?”

He was met with silence; the group stealing glances but not quite knowing how to move forward. Quinto took that as a que to continue speaking, this time with a tone that was introspective. “We can project anything out into the world... put out... anything, but the hardest thing to do is show it who we are. To the core. That's why people 'stunt' on social media. Maybe, after a while, we'll start to believe it, too. We'll start to believe we're something more than we actually are.”

Another pause. “Here I just thought everyone had Cartier bracelets and endless frequent flier miles.” Jon deadpanned, earning laughter from everyone, as well as a slightly grim smile from Zachary. The older actor excused himself, accidentally (intentionally?) brushing his front against the Hamilton star's chest when he passed.

“Jeez, Zach!” Kelly coughed, senses overloaded at the trail he left in his wake. “Use more Bleu de Chanel, please. I don't think they can smell your bougie ass in Chelsea!”

Two hours later...

“Drive safe. Take back alleys. The scenic routes. Turn on your Friends app so I can see when you're home.” The demands came at lightening speed from his drunk agent, whom he was sure peppered some Italian expletives in there. “Kelly Bean, I'm good. Three glasses of wine. Solid as a rock. Go to bed.”

He watched the petite woman tuck herself into the Pottery Barn sheets then began his quest for the door, stopped only by the sound of glasses clanking together. Everyone was gone with the exception of two. While the first was exhausted beyond belief, seeing the second clearing the glasses off the table alone guilted him. “Do you... do you want help with this?”

The onyx haired man shook his head no. “I'll have you know, I'm very domestic now, Groff. I got it. Go home,” He insisted. “I would just feel bad if I left this for her because honey, with that hangover she's going to have tomorrow, she's going to be wishing for death. Dirty crystal will be the catalyst that pushes her over the edge; the Brooklyn nutcase. That's why you don't get involved with Virgos.”

Jon nodded slowly as he spoke, semi-entertained though far away in his mind. It caused him to approach his next set of words with caution. “Hey, do you remember... I know this was a long time ago and it's probably super unprofessional because of, you know, the show, but...” A sigh. “When we were together, maybe the first six or so months, we- we did a scene. It was super intense...” He was gaging Quinto's, so far, anti-climactic reaction. “I threw up...” An embarrassed laugh leaked into the air.

“Which time? I remember that you had the weeeeakest stomach,” The laugh that followed from Zachary was filled with nostalgic amusement. After diving up the glasses in even rows into the dishwasher, he spun around to pin his broad back against the pantry door, raising a finger. “I think you may have cried once, too. I don't do crying so, kind of let you do your thing on that one. A little dark, in retrospect.” His hand waved back and forth, not too sold on the idea that he added, “To be fair, I mean; we did a lot of intense stuff. We were intense stuff.”

The gears in Jonathan's brain were turning. An odd comfort came from hearing him stress were. Mentally noting to keep that in his arsenal when he had to balance his career and relationship. As if that justified him being there talking to him, instead of at home, spooning Lin as he promised. The lyricist was never far from his mind, especially as he stood in the warm cast of light in the otherwise empty home, staring at the distant embodiment of someone he cared about.

Zachary was a walking memory; an old polaroid that had discolored and aged with time. Circumstances were what they were. No amount of positive narration would change the way something was. Not even the comfort a lie would provide. There was ice and the bite of winter whenever he looked at him.

He greatly preferred Lin, who was a photo album with more promise and opportunity for happiness. A radiating warmth that flowed from a steadily burning fire. Thoughts, the splitting wood and radiant embers that transformed into something beyond what is expected. In life, he'd found another soul he believed shared a part of his. They were intertwined in some cosmic way, and life was too short to not pursue that. Even if that meant he had to intervene in the man's own marriage to make it happen.

Still, none of this quelled the incessant internal squabbling that came with trying to piece together... the reality. /To weed through the lies of the past is necessary to have a better understanding of the future's truth./ Some shit his therapist told him that he wished he hadn't. Now he couldn't stop trying to remember.

Lingering whispers of anxiety multiplied into an fierce entity that occupied his headspace long after he'd left. Two small pills were his savior, dissolving into his Rosé-filled gut.

Finally, he made it home.

Luckily, his boyfriend was out cold. Feet weren't as coordinated as they could have been, stumbling while attempting to take off his jacket. The blunt hit of his kneecap on the night stand caused his hiss before he whispered apologies to the offending piece of furniture. Resuming his place with the Puerto Rican in his embrace, a smile graced his lips. He could only hope his aura remained as peaceful as it did in this moment.

#//#mentions:#lin #zq #kelly #tws apply #I'm sorry if this rambles which lol ok we know me ofc it does #also if theres any typos or lack of flow #rp

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anodetodaphne · 3 years

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Looking at old pictures will always be my favorite past time. I don't have many, and honestly, my teenhood photos have seemingly disappeared, but occasionally I'll come across a childhood photo, or a photo only a decade old and time travel into the moment it was captured. The warm feeling of remembering washes over me & I realize, every time, how much of a gift remembering is.

I have lost myself so many times and found myself again thanks to the photographs that act as breadcrumbs I left behind for me to guide me back to me. Back home.

A single photograph unlocks scents, has background music, cues voices, displays color tones & background conversations. Feelings that live safely in the moment captured swarm out and around me like butterflies and I just...live for a moment. Looking at my old, salvaged pictures recently is helping me during postpartum depression, more than anything. I take vitamins, I read all the self help books, I have a therapist and I keep busy but none of that seems to quell the density of these lost and alone feelings I have. The grief. The ache of shedding and being reborn. It's a disenfranchised grief to miss who you were before your life drastically changes. No one talks about THAT part, and I think it's because many don't know what IT is. When I went thru postpartum the first time, it was the absence of identity that sent me into a fucking tilt a whirl psychosis of sorts. I lost myself, and didn't know how to embrace the new me. All I knew was what the new me didn't like, and that she was tired, cranky and really only had the capacity for her kids. Everyone else was annoying as fuck. Like...alright...imagine you are hella far in a video game. You've beaten hella levels, you're pretty much done, and you're elated, comfortable, coasting...then all of the sudden, something happens to the system console thingy and your shit is wiped. All of it. All the progress, all the time, energy, focus and all those bosses you defeated, all the secret levels, all the fucking golden spatulas you earned are back at square one, square zilch (word to Battle for Bikini Bottom, it's my son's shit right now). It just fucking destroys you for a bit, yeah? Well, that's what pregnancy and birth does to a woman's system. I wasn't prepared for that. I thought, "Elysse is having a baby, and when baby comes, Elysse (the elysse I've always known) will raise said baby and this will be great." No one told me that when I birth a life, one is taken too. You hear that saying but you don't realize that the person that dies is YOU. Scientists call it hormonal fluctuations, severe mood swings, etc. and I call it ego death. Identity theft. My egos do not die swiftly either, it's like they choose to fight + suffer. Lol Some women can handle that sort of thing but I...I was not one of them. I grieved then, and I grieve now. I grieve because I miss me, just a little. A lottle. I'm always sad these days. These stupid ass hormones got me acting really fucking batty and I'm embarrassed, so I just hide. I keep reaching out for myself and no one is grabbing me back. I'm just, not there anymore. I can't get into my body, I can't feel my joy. Every attempt at feeling it, creating it, capturing it, seems to be thwarted by something out of my control and I just feel defeated more than anything. All I feel are the emotions I've attributed to emptiness and unfortunately, those feelings aren't balanced. They are weighted heavily on the side of angry, and sad. (Disclaimer, my kids are worth every bit of this writhing pain because I bred pure excellence ❤️ I adore my babies, I just can't feel joy outside of them).

So back to old pictures, LOL (this bipolar adhd shit can send me on a tangent fastly), looking at old pictures has been helping me rebuild this new version of me. The memories these photographs have good bones, my foundation is felt within each photo. I feel like I'm interviewing old friends, asking "what was she like? what did she love? what were her fears, and ambitions? where was she harmful? when was she most natural?" To be asking myself this pertaining to myself is a shroom trip all on its own. Each photograph has been a comfort sorely needed, because I don't have friends here to remind me, and all of my family lives so separate and are at odds with eachother. This tumblr has also been useful; I have old written works that have left me with some important things to apply to this new person I am becoming. I wish to become more of who I am, and less of someone I think I should be. Interestingly enough, I disappoint myself and others by trying to be someone I'm not, even though I constantly engineer versions of myself that cater to the needs of others. Lol I guess that shit doesn't work as an adult does it?

I know my kids need me, my partner needs me, but more importantly, I need me. Cheers to more old photos, remembering and feeling less fear; more hope and less grief. I'm gunna feel how I feel, and mourn when the waves hit..but I'm going to keep on building until I can feel myself. I know I'm around here somewhere, I can't be too far. When I have stepped into myself, I know I'll be leaving behind more breadcrumbs in case I get lost...and I'm gunna make sure all of the photos will be filled with beauty, so they will help me connect to myself more seamlessly the next time I might lose myself in depression again.

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wannawrite · 7 years

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Type Of Boyfriend: Lee Euiwoong

who?: Yuehua's Lee Euiwoong genre: 🌸 type: bullet point blog navigator. • how Euiwoong would be as a boyfriend I’m not super good at these but I will try my best! Thank you anon, hope you like it!! And holy shit Euiwoong is going to release music ??? But where are the other 3 + 2 hidden trainees? Smh Yuehua I’m trusting you not to mess up rn.

- Admin L

PS: soulmate AUs are up next ;)

• hmm Lee Euiwoong / Eric pretty much already screams boyfriend material • like do you see his outfits dkshskswi boyfriend • bonus! he is also a really cute squish • when approaching you and in the baby steps of your relationship, he could be quite shy • blushes often and has to pull the hood of his hoodie up the whole time • hesitates to hold your hand or initiate any sort of physical contact • you know, that kind of shyness • especially shy when you’re the one to call or text first

• but actually • we all know our baby boy here is a savage • once you get past the honeymoon stage, Euiwoong’s roastings and savage sayings are a common thing • not even his best friends are safe from his roasts • sometimes it becomes a full diss track • you know his rap skills are out of this world • he is an amazing rapper • usually, he writes really sad, angsty and depressing raps but for you, he writes cute, lovable raps about summer and sunshine and puppies and generally all good things • mainly bc he is inspired by you so much • writes them in a different, secret notebook • but is exposed by Hyungseob when he accidentally leaves it in his backpack • wh00ps • he either radiates joy or angst there is no in between • but you love him either way • he gets really soft when you visit his workroom with food • more specifically, candy • self-proclaimed sweet tooth • he nearly cries when he wakes up to a ‘good morning’ text every morning • or when you randomly send him a paragraph complimenting him and hoping he’s doing well • savages can be soft okay • Euiwoong would be a big fan of matching couple clothes • whenever he goes shopping, he tries to find a similar item for you • if he can’t, he’ll try his best to DIY the clothing item for you • with the help of Jung Jung and Seunghyuk • because does it look like Justin and Hyungseob will survive threading the needle? • maybe not • “oh my god, what is this?” you ask, lifting out yet another couple shirt of the gift bag, giggling • lowkey, you’re a sucker for them • you guys rock them and kill it at Seoul Fashion Week • photographers swarm you guys, thinking you guys are models • well, Euiwoong kind of is an idol too • that IG couple • yes, all of his 133K followers need to know you two are thriving and looking amazing • and there’s no space for anyone else • takes mirror selfies of your clothes almost too often • his fan base has seen your entire closet • DIY prints his rap lyrics on shirts and gifts one of them to you for your birthday • it’s all you ever wear now and Euiwoong can’t wipe the smug look off his face • speaking of faces, this boy is SO handsome • and he knows it, too well in fact • narcissism is off the charts • “ahh, Y/N, I’m definitely the prettier one in this relationship” • “you’re more beautiful on the inside though” • “wait i’m sorry you know I lo - like you” • also really cautious when saying the L word • he’s just waiting for the right time • and so are you • gives you fashion advice like a professional stylist • “no, you should style it with a barrette and not a baseball cap” • this is how you won ‘best dressed’ in Senior year • he hypes himself but not as much as he hypes you • “yassss! that’s my baby!” he yells as he’s recording you admire your outfit in the mirror • makes sure to get all the angles • including your ‘glamorous’ ones, he saves the photos in the ‘blackmail’ album on his phone • “omg babe stop” • he thinks the world of you and never hesitates you reassure you look amazing • “of course you look good, I put that outfit together” • then he kisses the top of your head affectionally • “also because you are such a wonderful person, inside and out.” • give me a minute :”) • Euiwoong is truly an intellectual • You envy him, he’s pretty much the smartest student in the entire school • always makes Dean’s List • everyone loves him • always first in class, while you’re tearing up your report cart littered with mediocre grades • after seeing your upset face, Euiwoong wraps you in his arms and pressing a kiss to your cheek • “aww babe, don’t worry. grades are just a number” • wow okay that didn’t really make you feel any better but • he beams at you, “never fear, I’ll tutor you. You’ll get better in no time. I know you’re really smart” • he’s that kind of guy to draw up a schedule then half-heartedly sticks to it • but he is determined to pull up your F9s to A1s • he’s trying his best pls save him • kisses you awake when you’re falling asleep as he drones on about math • “hey, wake up. we’re almost done, hang in there” • you muster up whatever strength you have and finish up the last couple of sums he assigned you • you’re so tired you end up falling asleep on his shoulder once you’re done with the work • Euiwoong buries you in his hoodie and rubs your back affectionately • luckily, he decided to tutor you at your house and not at the library • so it’s easy to get you into bed • smiles at the sight of sleepy you, you’re very cute 24/7 • he’s packing up to leave when you reach out and grab his wrist • “don’t go.” • anD HE JUST BECOMES A SOFT MESS • “the last bus has left, it’s past midnight already.” you mumble, half asleep • Euiwoong just melts knowing that you care about him, you know he takes bus 152 from the bus stop across the street from your house • but the last bus has gone and it’s too dangerous for him to walk home, especially alone • protect boys too okay • Euiwoong sighs, “well, what do you want me to do then?” • in response, you open your arms wide, inviting him to cuddle • he’s a little more hesitant because he knows your family is around and he’s afraid they’ll get a bad impression of him after that • like why are you in bed with my child wtf what game are you playing • but he eventually succumbs and cuddles you to sleep • it’s super toasty, Euiwoong + comforter + hoodie, perfect for battling the Autumn cold outside • you’re sad he’s gone before you wake up but the post-its on your mirror make you smile again • “you look beautiful all the time” • “I’ll take you to Sephora next week since you’re running low on products” • “my baby always glows” • BLUSH BLUSH BLUSH • Euiwoong loves the heck out of you • and now, your family does too • he stayed long enough to help your parents to prepare breakfast while chatting with them • ah yes they claim Lee Euiwoong as their son-in-law from now on • cliche but for your birthday....remember all those raps he wrote for you because of you • he spends extra time in the studio to produce, record and burn them in a mixtape for you, with the help of his hyungs of course • also available in a digital version • “damn, Euiwoong never made me something so special,” Jung Jung complains but ruffles the younger boy’s hair adoringly • you thought you were surprised when he whipped out the tape • you nearly scream in shock when you analyse his raps • the baddie image has been shed • thE AMOUNT OF SWEETNESS AND FLUFF • nO ONE COULD EVER • iT’S ALL LOVE AND MORE LOVE AND MORE CUTE THINGS ABOUT YOU UGH • when will I ever find someone who will treat me like this • after much coding, you realise that the first letter of each title put together spells ‘My Love For You’ • 12 days of Christmas who? I got 12 raps of how much my boyfriend loves me • you have never been confessed to this way. no one has ever put in so much effort into proclaiming their love for you • Lee Euiwoong is the perfect boyfriend, of course, he does have his shortcomings • like his short temper that strikes on occasion and savage sayings • but you love him for who he is and there really isn’t any other way around it • 10/10 the best boyfriend

#Admin L #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #yuehua trainees #yuehua sprouts #lee euiwoong #justin huang #choi seunghyuk #jung jung #zhu zheng ting #ahn hyungseob

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bonnieberries · 7 years

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lady and the guard

oneshot: where jon is sansa’s bodyguard in a modern au. feel free to send me prompts!

Sansa has never felt more uneasy dialing a number, as she has now, standing in a phone booth, in the middle of god knows where, using some spare change a waitress gave her. She stares at the 10 digits, triple-checking to make sure the numbers are correct, before gulping down a breath and pressing ‘SEND’.

It rings only once before she hears his voice. “This is Snow.” He sounds thoroughly exhausted, and the guilt hits her like a punch to the stomach.

She exhales hard, feeling the tears well up, but pulling herself together to reply, “Jon, it’s me.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and she almost stops to check if the call has disconnected before she hears him swear. “Where the hell are you?” His voice is taut with tension, and she knows, if she could see him now, his knuckles would be white with frustration, and his forehead would be creased with worried wrinkles.

“I’m on Lombard Ave and 2nd.” Her voice is small, trying not to raise his hackles even more. “Can you get me? Don’t send Sandor. He reports everything to Dad and I can’t have-“

Jon cuts her off, “I’ll be there in fifteen. Find a well-lit area with people around, and don’t move.” With that, he hangs up and Sansa follows his instructions dutifully, sitting outside a nearby pub on a wooden bench. Plenty of people mill by, but none of them seem to notice Lord Eddard Stark’s daughter sitting by herself, instead of at home, like a proper Lord’s daughter should.

A gust of wind comes sweeping through, and Sansa’s choice in fashion seems especially poor at the moment. Her faux leather shorts and cropped shirt do nothing to shield her against the weather, and as she’s shivering on a wet bench at 2 AM in the morning, she hates herself more than anything.

Her little stint at the club, although hours ago, it seems like only seconds have passed, since she angrily stalked over to her ex, drunk off of 8 shots of bad vodka. Arya had pulled her away, but not before she’d recited every curse word from the Oxford dictionary and splashed a cocktail into Joffrey Baratheon’s smug face.

From there, Arya had taken her to the bathroom, patiently pulling back her hair, while she vomited all her sorrows down the toilet.

“I’m sorry, Arya.” Sansa had babbled. “We were supposed to be celebrating you! And I messed it all up, it’s all messed up and this is shit. This is the shittiest of the shit.”

Her little sister, scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, Sansa. That was the most excitement I’ve had in weeks. Granted, I don’t like this part-“she gestured to the vomit on the rim of the toilet, “But, you can’t have everything, can you?” she shrugged. “I’ll get Gendry and then we can leave, yeah? Stay here.”

Drunk Sansa did not listen, and drunk Sansa had proceeded to leave the club. She’d seen Jon hovering by the restroom door, as she exited, but she’d managed to slip away once he was looking in the opposite direction. It all felt very giddy and exhilarating, but as she sobered up, the feeling quickly left her. Now, all she felt was tired, achy, and her head was pounding as though someone had taken cymbals and was clashing them over and over above her head. She moaned into her hands, replaying every moment in excruciating detail. God, she had behaved like a reprobate! 'A perfect lady at three years old'. That was what her mother had always said of her, and if Catelyn Stark had seen how her perfect lady had behaved tonight, she would have fainted on sight.

Sansa wallows in her misery, and after a good ten minutes of internal loathing, she spots the Stark-issue, black, Range Rover in the distance. She doesn’t stand, just in case it isn’t Jon, because she knows Jon will be able to spot her either way. Sure enough, the car stops right in front of here, and an angry Jon Snow, comes out of the driver’s seat. He’s still dressed in his suit uniform, and she wonders if he’s been up all night, waiting to hear from her. Jon notices her shivering immediately and mutters a quiet ‘Jesus Christ’ under his breath before draping his suit jacket over her shoulders.

“Thanks, Jon.” She murmurs. Her throat gets thick, trying to issue an apology without crying. “Look, I’m really sorry I-“

“Get in the car, Sansa.” He says tersely, although he doesn’t look directly at her. In fact, it seems he’s trying to look anywhere but at her. She nods, and goes around the car, to get into the passenger seat, and just a few seconds later, he joins her in the driver’s seat.

They both stare straight ahead, before Sansa dares to peek over at her bodyguard. He’s texting somebody, and Sansa guesses that somebody to be the Stark’s head of security, Eddison Tollett. She can make out one of the messages, ‘Got her, heading back now.’

Jon heaves in a deep breath, “One of these days, I’m going to kill you, Sansa Stark.”

“That’s kind of the opposite of your job, isn’t it?” Sansa snarks back.

Immediately, Jon’s jaw tightens and he looks heavenward, as if trying to praying for some semblance of sanity. Sansa has never made Jon’s job easy. Lord knows Rickon and Bran’s guards don’t have to go through half the things she puts Jon through. Cleaning up after her drunken escapades, making sure she doesn’t get grabbed by press, and picking her up outside strange pubs, are just a few of Jon’s duties.

She’d had her doubts when they’d first met, scoffing to her father that she’d seen benched high-school football players bigger than Jon. However, Jon quickly proved her wrong that night, grabbing a photographer that had gotten too close to her and ushered her inside the paparazzi-swarmed limo, all without breaking a sweat. Even Sandor, had let out an impressed whistle at his display of strength. SInce then, he’d been with her for 2 years.

In a weird way, Jon’s moved from family employee to family friend in those 2 years. Robb loves the shit out of Jon, always inviting him out for drinks with Theon, despite their mother’s protests at the unprofessionalism of it all. Jon even goes to Arya’s fencing matches, and Rickon’s competition days when they match up with his days off.

He’s tried (and failed) to be the most distant with her, but for good reason. There’s a clear distinction of where they should stand. She’s his employer and he is her bodyguard, there’s no room for friendship or anything in between. That line has clear boundaries, but it hasn’t stopped Sansa and Jon from stepping over it on multiple occasions.

“Why did you run away?”

Sansa pulls his jacket closer to her body, feeling small underneath his stare. “You know why,” she replies, softly. “I see him, and all rationale leaves me. I become angry, irrational, and I just needed some space, so I left.”

His gray eyes soften imperceptibly, and she sees the anger ebb and flow out of his face. How could he be angry? Not when she had confided in him the things Joffrey had said and done to her. He was the only one she’d told, because she had wanted to tell somebody desperately, but couldn’t find the courage to tell one of her siblings, she was afraid of the disappointment, the ‘I-told-you-so’s and the judgement. Jon had given her none of that. That was the nice thing about Jon; there was never any expectations with him. He had only nodded after every sentence and when she was done, he let her soak the front of his crisp, white shirt in tears.

“My job is to protect you, remember?” His hand comes up to cradle her cheek, and she nods silently into his warm touch. At the back of her mind, she’s pretty sure that this has crossed another line somewhere, but she pushes that thought away. “Joffrey can’t do anything to you.” His tone is solemn and firm, and in that moment she truly does feel as though nothing can harm her.

“The next time, you need to run away-” He pauses, obviously searching for the right words. “Just tell me. I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go. We can even go egg the Lannister mansion if it makes you feel better.” He adds the last part with a boyish grin, as though it’s been something he’s been wanting to do as well.

A giggle escapes her lips, “Is it a deal?”

Jon extends his hand, “It’s a deal.”

It’s then that she notices a purplish bruise forming on the bridge of his knuckles. “Jon!” she gasps, “What happened?” He follows her eye-line and tries, stupidly, to hide his hand from her sight, as though it will make the discoloration fade.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head, hastily.

“Jon. What. Happened.” The words come out sharper than she intended, but the bruise is pretty ghastly, and she hopes to dear God that he’s not going to say what she thinks he’s going to say.

He clears his throat. “I punched Joffrey.” When Sansa only gapes at him, he continues sheepishly. “You disappeared, and I thought he’d done something! So I-”

“You punched him.” Sansa finishes, faintly. He looks so adorably embarrassed, his face a touch pink as he scrubs at his stubble. In this moment, she’s never been more glad that her father assigned Jon Snow to her. When she was little, he would always tease he’d find her a prince who was ‘brave, gentle, and strong’ and somehow, he’s managed to deliver on his promises, like always.

Jon turns to her and asks sheepishly, “Are you angry with me?”

Sansa laughs lightly, and leans forward to brush her lips against his cheek. He tenses, initially, as he always does, and then he melts into her touch, exhaling hard with a quiet swear.

“I could never be.” she promises.

#jonsa #fic #jon snow x sansa stark #got #jon snow #sansa stark #FEELINGS #SEND ME PROMPTS GUYS!!!

222 notes · View notes

slightlydestructive · 6 years

Note

1-99 i wanna know them all ha

1: Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? closed

2: Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? always

3: Do you sleep with your sheets tucked in or out? tucked in

4: Have you ever stolen a street sign before? I’ve attempted to

5: Do you like to use post-it notes? they’re handy but I prefer a notebook

6: Do you cut out coupons but then never use them? I’m too lazy to cut coupons

7: Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees? tricky question, the bear would be brutal but a swarm of bees would hurt terribly but I’d probably live so probably bears just cause it’s metal

8: Do you have freckles? only a few under my eyes

9: Do you always smile for pictures? no but I’m trying to smile more

10: What is your biggest pet peeve? I hate when I’m ignored or when I have to wait on someone

11: Do you ever count your steps when you walk? only during a sobriety test lol

12: Have you ever peed in the woods? lol of course

13: What about pooped in the woods? can’t say that I have

14: Do you ever dance even if theres no music playing? all the time

15: Do you chew your pens and pencils? nope

16: How many people have you slept with this week? this week? none so far

17: What size is your bed? queen

18: What is your Song of the week? I don’t have one

19: Is it okay for guys to wear pink? lol colors aren’t gender specific so of course

20: Do you still watch cartoons? nope

21: Whats your least favorite movie? least favorite.... I’m not sure there’s a lot of shitty movies out there

22: Where would you bury hidden treasure if you had some? I’d bury it in many places, maybe a cemetery or two, maybe in the ocean

23: If you're a girl, bra size? If you're a guy, pants size? 34b

24: What do you dip a chicken nugget in? ranch and honey mustard

25: What is your favorite food? popcorn, steak, or pasta

26: What movies could you watch over and over and still love? Sweeney Todd, Harry Potter, The Lion King, Secret Window, Game of Thrones even tho it’s not a movie

27: Last person you kissed/kissed you? Tim

28: Were you ever a boy/girl scout? yeah I was a girl scout for maybe a year and I hated it

29: Would you ever strip or pose nude in a magazine? yeah depending on the $$ why not

30: When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper? Around August I wrote out a letter to my ex but never sent it to him

31: Can you change the oil on a car? nope

32: Ever gotten a speeding ticket? I think I’ve gotten at least 2

33: Ever ran out of gas? no I always make sure my car has enough gas so that this won’t happen

34: Favorite kind of sandwich? I love Italian subs

35: Best thing to eat for breakfast? two fried eggs with coffee

36: What is your usual bedtime? my sleep schedule is currently fucked so yeah it ranges from 10pm to 4am

37: Are you lazy? I’m extremely lazy I’m the best at procrastinating

38: When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? typically a witch

39: What is your Chinese astrological sign? I’m pretty sure it’s the pig

40: Are you horny? currently no just hungry

41: Do you have any magazine subscriptions? nope

42: Which are better legos or lincoln logs? legos

43: Are you stubborn? extremely

44: Who is better...Leno or Letterman? I don’t care for either

45: Ever watch soap operas? not my thing

46: Are you afraid of heights? it’s not really heights it’s the fear of falling

47: Do you sing in the car? duh

48: Do you sing in the shower? also duh

49: Do you dance in the car? it’s kind of hard when you’re driving but I do my best

50: Ever used a gun? no but I want shoot one at least once

51: Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? when I was about 6 with my parents

52: Do you think musicals are cheesy? no! I love them

53: Is Christmas stressful? It’s my birthday so extremely

54: Ever eat a pierogi? I had some the other week actually, I love them

55: Favorite type of fruit pie? the only pie I like is pumpkin

56: Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? ballerina

57: Do you believe in ghosts? yeah

58: Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? all the time

59: Take a vitamin daily? I try to

60: Wear slippers? around the house and when I go outside to walk my dogs

61: Wear a bath robe? I don’t own one

62: What do you wear to bed? men’s pj pants and a tank top

63: First concert? I went with Bridget to see Touche Amore and Circa Survive I think, it was my first time crowd surfing too

64: Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Target all the way but also Walmart for more practical things, fuck Kmart

65: Nike or Adidas? Adidas

66: Cheetos Or Fritos? cheetos

67: Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? sunflower seeds, I don’t like peanuts

68: Ever hear of the group Tres Bien? I have not

69: Ever take dance lessons? for about 10 years and danced up to 20 hours a week

70: Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? I don’t plan on getting married so no

71: Can you curl your tongue? I can’t

72: Ever won a spelling bee? I’ve never participated in a spelling bee actually

73: Have you ever cried because you were so happy? yes

74: Own any record albums? I don’t

75: Own a record player? no

76: Regularly burn incense? I used to but now I’m starting again

77: Ever been in love? yeah

78: Who would you like to see in concert? the red hot chili peppers

79: What was the last concert you saw? I don’t recall

80: Hot tea or cold tea? cold

81: Tea or coffee? coffee

82: Sugar or snickerdoodles? snickerdoodle

83: Can you swim well? I took mandatory swimming lessons at camp when I was younger so I think so

84: Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? yes

85: Are you patient? not at all

86: DJ or band, at a wedding? never been to a wedding

87: Ever won a contest? I don’t think so

88: Ever have plastic surgery? I haven’t but I’ve considered it

89: Which are better black or green olives? I only like olives when they’re in my martini so green

90: Can you knit or crochet? I can’t but I want to learn

91: Best room for a fireplace? a living room

92: Do you want to get married? no but I thought I did once

93: If married, how long have you been married? never married

94: Who was your HS crush? shit I had so many

95: Do you cry and throw a fit until you get your own way? no I’m not a child

96: Do you have kids? 5 furbabies if that counts

97: Do you want kids? human children fuck no

98: Whats your favorite color? black

99: Do you miss anyone right now? of course

2 notes · View notes

lukes-writing · 4 years

Text

Chapter 12: The Death by Paper

Project introduction | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Word count: 3100 Warnings: Gore, car crash (mentioned only)

September 29th, 7:19 AM, Northeastern district, Trinity Gate

The place is already swarming with Trinity Gate police officers. The less frequent backstreet on the district’s outskirts became cut off from the outside world after a terrified early morning jogger reported the gruesome finding.

The body of a man in his fifties with thinning hair dressed in an old-fashioned tweed suit is sitting, leaning against a wall next to a trash can. At first sight, he could be mistaken for a drunk who just flaked out after a night out. Only his suit would write a question mark into this theory.

“This is something I’ve never seen before,” one of the officers claims after he squats down and examines the man’s head. “I have no idea how could this be achieved.”

Most of the officers have no words. They just silently photograph the body and check for possible evidence. There seem to be none, except empty sheets of paper scattered on the ground, wet because of the slight morning rain. The modern devices the officers use find no fingerprints or body fluids. In fact, there isn’t much blood of the murdered man, too.

Clean kill.

The police officers are almost relieved when a strange man without a uniform enters the crime scene. His long dreadlocks don’t look exactly professional, but at least he seems to know what to do. He hands one of the officers a signed paper.

“Chief Peterson allowed me to take care of this situation,” he announces with a firm voice. “You can phone him if necessary. Thank you for securing the crime scene.”

“And who do you think you are? Who do you work for?” one of the younger officers lashes out.

“I would tell you if it was your goddamn business,” the newcomer scolds him. The steady glare of his eyes makes the impertinent officer back off.

The policeman who was given the papers decided to phone the chief officer for confirmation. It seems that the chief confirmed the strange man’s words. The officer urges the rest of the team to leave. Some of them don’t seem to accept it well - allowing a stranger to do their job isn’t something they do often.

The last thing they see is a second person entering the scene - a tall, beautiful girl with short hair and eyeglasses wearing a navy blue jacket and skinny jeans. The young officer who lashed out at Wiccan gives her a long look. Different time, different place…

However, the girl seems to be only interested in the body. The man can’t get the thing out of his head - why would the chief officer allow these people to investigate this murder? The way the man died is strange indeed, but even so, why would they…?

His older coworker puts his big, calloused hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “That’s not the first time,” he explains. “I have no idea who these people are, probably some secret governmental service, like the CIA. I learned to just follow the rules and don’t poke my nose into their work.”

“I arrived as soon as I could,” Sienna says. Her car is parked nearby. When she got a call from Wiccan, she got ready in about three minutes - a record for her since she usually spends up to two hours by going through her wardrobe and putting her make-up on.

Without her make-up, she feels like naked. She already managed to put lipstick on in the car. Now she takes a mascara and a pocket mirror from her purse and starts to work on her lashes.

“Sienna? I don’t think this is the right time for this,” Wiccan tells her.

“It’s always a right time for this,” Sienna says, putting on eyeliner. “A person of my social status can’t be seen looking imperfect in public. I hope you understand.”

“No, I don’t understand,” Wiccan grumbles. Every once a while, pieces of arrogant, snobby Sienna starts to show and it’s driving Wiccan furious. “Now you are working for The Society, and we don’t give a shit whether you have perfect eyebrows or not. Now put it away and do your job.”

“Okay, okay.” Sienna quickly finishes the eyeliner on her other eye so it doesn’t look symmetrical and joins Wiccan who approaches the dead body.

The girl shivers. She has never seen a dead body. However, there is a moment in her life that made her more numb towards such sights. When she was fifteen, she got involved in a horrible car crash. Her injuries were so serious she had to stay in a coma for several weeks.

Their family chauffeur died, just like the married couple in the car which crashed into them. Sienna is the only person who got involved and is still alive to this day. Her parents call it a miracle and Sienna carefully starts to adapt this theory, too. She saw pictures from the crash. Both cars were wrecked.

“So, let’s take a look at this,” Wiccan mumbles and uses his hand in a glove to lift the dead man’s chin. Sienna gasps and steps back. The sight is really gruesome.

The man’s head is filled with paper. Literally. The crumpled sheets of paper protrude from his mouth, ears, nose, even eye sockets. Some of the sheets are bloodied, red drops drip on the pavement.

Sienna has to hold back nausea when Wiccan takes one of the sheets from the man’s mouth and carefully removes it. It’s an A5 size paper that looks like an unwritten page of a book. There are just a few drops of blood on it as the more bloodied sheets lie deeper in the victim’s head.

“Oh… my… God.” The girl’s face turns pale. Of course, she has watched nasty slasher horror films with her friends, and she usually laughed at it, but the fake gore in the movies was nothing compared to seeing an actual dead body. “Why didn’t you bring Parker with you? He wouldn’t mind it this much.”

Wiccan raises his eyebrows. “You are a team leader, Sienna. When the time comes, you will do such things all by yourself. You also have a great memory and analytical thinking, so it’s also likely you can come up with some ideas about how could this happen. Don’t tell me this disturbs you?”

“Not at all,” Sienna replies and gulps audibly.

“Tell me - why are we doing this?” Sienna wonders. “I thought our task is to enforce the law in the inhuman enclave. This unlucky guy was apparently killed outside it.”

Wiccan, just like the police officers, takes a few shots of the crime scene using a small digital camera. “Our task is to investigate everything that could have any connection to inhumans, even if it happens outside the enclave,” he explains. “Peterson, the chief of local police, works with us and lets me know immediately after the regular officers find something which might be a work of an inhuman or a human with special powers. In that case, we take care of the investigation.”

“And what if it isn’t work of an inhuman?”

“Then we just return the case to the regular police,” the man shrugs. “We ain’t got time to waste with mundane causes. Well, there is a situation where we get involved even if there’s no inhuman involved, and that’s a misuse of secret or unknown technology.”

Sienna carefully memorizes every word Wiccan says. He said there will be no training, but he still follows Team Dreamcatcher, giving them useful advice without unnecessary meddling. The girl is aware that there will be time Wiccan leaves them on their own, and it will be up to her to take the lead.

She wants to be prepared as much as possible.

In the past days, Team Dreamcatcher had three interventions in the inhuman enclave; Wiccan was with them every time. It was nothing particularly dangerous, just some minor skirmishes or rioting in one of the lousy inhuman pubs in the Pit. No violence was necessary - as soon as the Enforcers showed up with their weapons drawn, the offenders calmed down.

Wiccan claimed most of the interventions are like this, but from time to time, there are more difficult tasks that require full use of their skills and teamwork. Is this one of them?

“What should we do with this man?” Sienna brings up a question.

“Now we should get him into the headquarters where we perform autopsy,” Wiccan replies.

Sienna already knows the headquarters under the Heap of Ashes isn’t just the conference room. A few days ago, the whole team went on a tour to see all the rooms. A well-equipped operating theatre and infirmary are two of them. They have a kitchen, a warehouse, a science lab and, what Sienna finds the most interesting, armory filled with the most unbelievable pieces of combat technology.

Wiccan makes a few phone calls and soon after, an anonymous black hearse arrives at the spot. In the meantime, a crowd of rubberneckers grows bigger. The people realized something happened and, of course, they want to know more.

“Those pests always piss me off,” Wiccan mutters. Together with two large men in black suits (Sienna would bet they are inhumans), he puts the cadaver into a body bag and load it into the car. Sienna can’t force herself to touch the body yet. The hearse then takes off.

Wiccan answers Sienna’s unspoken question. “They will carry the body into the enclave. From there, he will be transported into the headquarters. There we find out what happened to him.”

The man then gives Sienna a brief introduction to crime scene investigation which is sometimes a vital part of The Society’s activities. Wiccan shows her several cool gadgets, but still, it’s not anything similar to what she saw in the CSI TV shows. Sienna’s fast learning is supported by one sentence she repeats to herself over and over again: one day, this will be up to me.

They find several seemingly insignificant things which, according to Wiccan, can help with the investigation even though Sienna has no idea how. “Different inhumans leave different traces,” Wiccan explains. “Everything can be found in the book Inhuman Criminology. Have you read it yet?”

Sienna blushes. “Uhm… I was planning to.”

“Uh, okay. Let’s go.”

September 29th, 8:41 AM, The Society headquarters, Trinity Gate

The whole team gathered in the headquarters soon after the undertakers transported the murder victim into the operating room.

“Nobody told me this job will involve getting up before nine in the morning,” Parker grumbles.

“What a waste of time,” Whisper smiles. “I usually get up at five; that way, I can accomplish more and I have some time for myself before the sun rises.”

“I don’t want to know what does your time for yourself involved,” the man chuckles. “Or maybe I kinda do.”

Sienna rolls her eyes. “Are you two okay? If you don’t realize, a murder happened here, maybe committed by an inhuman. And you just exchange dirty remarks?”

“Exchange?” the pitch of Whisper’s voice rises again. “He started it!”

“Enjoy your childish bickering for a while longer, doctor Imago just took a train,” Wiccan says and explains: “He is one of The Society’s surgeons. His work is to come wherever he’s needed. He knows all possible ways the inhumans can kill a person and that helps us a bunch.”

“So The Society aren’t just enforcer teams like us,” Gary states. “How many employees does The Society have? Wouldn’t it be too hard to keep the whole thing secret if there were too many of them?”

“That’s why we like employing inhumans,” Wiccan replies with a smile. “They wouldn’t expose themselves, would they? Besides the Enforcers, we employ enclave guardians, doctors, logisticians, technicians, teachers, basically all the people you need for a working infrastructure. And bureaucrats, of course. If an inhuman decides to work for The Society, they receive various benefits. They are mostly loyal to us.”

“Mostly?” Parker points out.

“Well, there are always the ones who secretly work for hostile inhuman gangs which make sabotage attempts, but the Enforcers are usually able to spot them before they cause any harm.”

The discussion lasts for a while longer. Then, the door leading to the underground capsule train station opens and a rather strange man steps in. Must be doctor Imago.

Imago is apparently in his mid-forties, with grizzled dark hair, small round eyeglasses on his eyes and a short beard. He’s dressed in a long, buttoned-up trench coat which conceals most of his body. It’s his body build which brings up questions. Even though his head and limbs look rather slim, he has a large pot belly bulging underneath his coat, almost like he was pregnant.

“Hi, everybody!” he strides towards the team with a smile on his face.

“Hi, Doctor Nick,” Parker utters dryly.

“It’s always exciting to see a new team,” Imago shakes their hands one by one. “My name is Ignatius Imago, one of The Society’s lead surgeons with a focus on pathology. If I can’t find out what’s the cause of death, it was a divine intervention. What do we have today?”

Wiccan leads him into the operating theatre where the undressed body of the murder victim is already resting on the steel table. “Arthur Taylor, fifty-three, worked as a university professor,” Wiccan says. He was found this morning by a bypasser.”

Everyone except the surgeon stand behind a glass panel from where they can see what’s happening in the theatre. First of all, Imago takes off his coat and then removes something from underneath his shirt. Something similar to a bowl. Whisper realizes it’s a prop that filmmakers use to make a woman appear pregnant. It’s hollow on the inside and it’s clear Imago was hiding something under it.

The answer to the question what it was comes right after. Something emerges from well-hidden holes in the shirt made to not be seen unless necessary. Two pairs of small, scrawny arms with three fingers at the end of each. They slightly resemble pincers of some crustacean.

“You know your life is surreal when you realize this isn’t the weirdest thing you’ve seen this week,” Parker says. “But still, he could have told us he’s some kind of human-lobster hybrid before he did this.”

Doctor Imago washes (all) his hands and changes into a surgeon gown. After that, he finally proceeds to the autopsy itself.

The group soon realizes his inhuman traits help him greatly when he’s operating. He doesn’t even need another doctor - with his extra limbs, he can carry up to six different tools and switch between them quickly. He operates using his “main” pair of hands; the smaller ones probably aren’t as dexterous.

A problem emerges when he actually starts operating. Only Parker can watch the whole scene while remaining calm, maybe even fascinated a little. Sienna also keeps a poker face on, but her face turns ghastly pale. Whisper is yowling and covering her eyes. Gary attempts to leave the room, but Wiccan prevents him from doing so. The short man does his best to fight nausea.

“Just don’t throw up in my direction,” Parker grumbles.

“What exactly is Doctor Imago?” Whisper asks Wiccan, probably to keep herself distracted from the theatre where Imago is removing sheets of paper from the dead man’s eye sockets.

“He is what we call a halfling,” Wiccan explains. “A child of a human and an inhuman. Not all inhuman species can produce offspring, it’s something about genetics. But if they do, the child usually inherits only a part of the traits of their inhuman parent. You basically get a watered-down inhuman. However, some inhumans actively seek humans to breed with since their child would be more likely to pass as a human, which is definitely an advantage. Some completely humanlike inhumans can even leave the enclave.”

“And who is Doctor Imago’s inhuman parent?”

“Amphibian inhuman known as Coral Scavenger, Corsca in short. They live in South America and are a bit similar to Doctor Zoidberg. Ignatius inherited only the extra limbs and remains of a carapace on his back. Also, he wears false teeth. Don’t ask why.”

Whisper ran out of questions to ask, so like it or not, she has to watch the autopsy. Imago is using an electric saw to open the man’s head; both Gary and Whisper have to close their eyes to keep the contents of their stomachs where they belong. Even Sienna turns away.

They expect the surgeon to remove the man’s brain. The problem is that there is no brain inside. Just paper. Enough paper to produce a book, soaked in blood and mash which used to be the brain.

“What the hell is going on…?” Imago mutters to himself.

In the end, Imago finds out everything from the inside of his head including brain, eyes and tongue has been crushed and squeezed by the ungodly amounts of paper someone crammed into his head with brutal force. The rest of the body hasn’t been damaged anyhow. “It’s something no human is capable of,” Imago states after he finishes the autopsy.

“So it’s either an inhuman or a PSP,” Wiccan says.

“How can an ancient gaming console be responsible for this?” Parker wonders.

“PSP is an acronym for people with special powers,” Wiccan explains. “You are also one of them.”

The two men who were in the hearse earlier come for the dead body - they will transport it to a morgue, then return it to the man’s family. In the meantime, Imago changes into his casual clothes; his extra limbs are once again stored in the hollow of the fake belly.

“I admit, that was weird even for me,” Imago says after he takes a seat in the conference room. He has a very specific drink request - a glass of salt water.

“Was he dead before all that paper got into his head?” Wiccan asks.

“No, that paper was the cause of his death. Someone crammed it into his head so violently it basically crushed everything inside his head, causing immediate death. We can rule out the possibility a human did it - no human would be able to do it with such force. And what’s worse, I can’t even think of an inhuman who would be capable of something like this.”

“So the PSP is our preferred option,” Wiccan scowls.

The doctor squirms. “Actually, I have doubts even about this option. It would have to be an immensely powerful kinetic to achieve this. In other words… it’s a mystery I can’t solve. I can only give you information from my field, the rest is up to you.”

Author’s Note

I wholeheartedly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you did, please leave a comment, send me a message or share and let more people know about this story! You can also consider a small donation at www.paypal.me/lukassladky. Have a great day and stay tuned for the next chapter!

#writeblr #my writing #writers #urban fantasy #original fiction #TeamDreamcatcher

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