#then they kept it alive for another 10 and nothing was the same or as good

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hmmmm 👁️🫦👁️ yandere Doflamingo X from male reader who develops stockholm syndrome (I'm it isn't scientific but it's helpful ;-;) and ends up slowly warming up to/falling in love with him?

Doffy can be sickly sweet, always holding reader close, lavishing them with praise and buying things for them, but when reader tried to escape or got -what Doflamingo thought- was too close to someone else, he gets kinda dark. Cue some kind of punishment followed by him acting all good cop and doting on reader.

Some fluff/smut peppered in if that's okay 😭

Hope this is alright and doesn't break any of the rules

Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo x male reader

Headcanons

Tw for darker stuff ig? I love Doffy, hes my little crazy muffin. Probably not the best Stockholm syndrome, mainly just the reader being dumb and easily manipulated.

i feel like my obsession with doffys tongue is visible in this... exposing myself.

Doflamingo is known for being a master manipulator, so once he turns his attention to you and wants you for himself, he will have you one way or another. Theres a big chance you won’t even realize what’s happening until its way too late, and you are completely caught in his web of strings.

You had just been the average dock worker, working for one of the many companies working under The Joker in the underworld, smuggling all kinds of stuff. It was never your job to question what you were shipping, and not asking questions meant you got to stay alive.

You just happened to be at the wrong place at the same time. You just happened to be dumb enough to not have a sense of self preservation. You just happened to not recognize the 10 ft tall blonde in a pink feathery coat and goofy sunglasses. And you just happened to look so… cute.

You didn’t really have any friends on this island. It wasn’t the place you got close to anybody, and you sure as hell never trusted anybody, as everyone here was some kind of criminal. You were one of the few who wasn’t a blood thirsty psycho. You just had been given a bad hand in life and a lot of bad luck.

When the tall blonde started appearing near the docks on the regular, you didn’t question it. Questions should never be placed, and even though you had no idea who he was, everyone else seemed to fear him. So, no matter how handsome he was, you tried to stay out of his way.

You were a clumsy fool. It had resulted in a lot of punishment and beatings, but to Doflamingo, you were just so adorable. Like watching a little lamb running around thinking they were safe from the pack of blood thirsty wolves always circling.

When gifts started appearing in your dorm, as you were so low ranked in the system that you didn’t even have enough money for your own place, you didn’t know what to do.

You had never owned expensive things, so you knew nothing about the quality of things you were given. You didn’t understand just how expensive the shirt you were given was, or that the bracelets that looked a little too much like shackles cost more than someone like you would ever see in their life.

The gifts kept coming, and somehow your roommates disappeared, leaving the room all for you. One day when returning from the docks, it had even been redecorated. You almost had a heart attack, thinking someone else had moved in. But when you asked your superior, they had just glanced around nervously and said it was for you and to not question it.

Through all of this, Doflamingo watched your every move. From the moment you got up in the morning till you went to bed, and sometimes even as you slept.

Being who he was, Doflamingo had nothing against sneaking into your room as you slept, just so he could watch you. Or if he was feeling starved enough, he would lean down and kiss you, sometimes letting that long monster of a tongue slide into your mouth for just a small taste.

Before you knew it you were pretty much Doflamingos property. In the beginning you didn’t wear any of the fancy clothes or jewelry, not wanting to dirty any of it. But from one day to the next, all your old clothes went away, leaving you with only the clothes so expensive the majority of the world could only dream about owning it.

You didn’t understand why most of it bore a specific shade of pink, or that the symbol sewn into most of the clothes in one way or another was a jolly roger. You, in your oblivious mind, just thought it was a brand or print.

Doflamingo couldn’t help but feel pleased as everyone stared at you with fear and dread, avoiding you every chance they got, as everyone but you seemed to know you were his, and his alone.

You were right where he wants you, and little by little, Doflamingo would insert himself into your life. At first, you’d see him in passing, but soon you would see him every shift and you two would talk.

You were so concentrated with working that you didn’t notice how he always seemed to stare at you, and if he hadn’t worn sunglasses, you might have seen how he so rarely blinked, as if wanting to eat you up.

At some point he just happens to “offer you a job”, giving you the job of a lifetime. Doflamingo could almost have writhed in pleasure when you agreed, smiling so brightly and looking so deliciously stupid, to him at least.

All the many mysterious gifts you were given were moved, and soon you worked right under Doflamingo. Maybe as his assistant or something like that, some job where you would be right by him every day. Of course, you weren’t actually do any work that mattered, he just gave you fluffy paperwork that would be thrown out, since there was nothing of importance on them.

From then on you gave you his presents in person, leering and grinning when you became flustered and stuttered before giving a shy thanks.

Everyone in the donquixote family knew you were off limits as they saw the possessive look Doflamingo always gave you, or how he would pull you into his lap and claim there weren’t any more seats, using his strings to whisk whatever chairs were around away.

Working for Doflamingo, you ended up growing, what should I say, used to the treatment. You had come to expect his praise and lingering touches, or the gifts hed rain down on you. So when he kissed you the first time, you weren’t too surprised.

Sure you still blushed up a storm, but it had all seemed to lead up to this. To you, who still had no idea of Doflamingos darker side, thought he may just have been shy and expressed his feelings for you through gifts.

When you guys started “officially” dating, he got worse, or better, depending on who asks. I’m putting officially in quotations, as to Doflamingo you had always been his.

Forget about any type of work you were doing before, you were always seated in his lap now, wearing the clothes he picked out for you, and being a good little lover for him.

Dating Doflamingo also meant you quickly got used to gagging, since he’s the type of guy that always tries to shove his tongue down your throat, and with Doflamingo having the tongue he does, he actually succeeds in doing so.

Hes sickeningly sweet to you, fawning over you and piling praise on you, his large hands wandering and making you see stars whenever you are even a little bit in the mood. Its because of this it takes you so very long to realize what kind of monster he is.

The reveal was never meant to happen, but you somehow ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you got to see Doflamingos true colors. Seeing him tear someone apart with his strings, that large grin on his face, made you feel sick.

After that you grew distant, and Doflamingo pouted and kissed your face all over, trying to get him to tell you what was wrong. But you never told him, just shrinking away from him, as the seriousness of the situation finally seemed to dawn on you.

Even to you, who wasn’t the smartest person around by far, it all seemed to click into place. From your job, to your clothes, to how everyone seemed to avoid you, isolating you to under interact with Doflamingo.

You needed to get you, that’s what you became sure of. Its only because Doflamingo never thought you’d actually try to leave that you got the upper hand. In the end you didn’t even get off the island, but you were smart enough to get out of his base and to the docks where you had worked before.

But as you were about to board a ship to get outta there, strings seemed to cage in the entire island, like a birdcage. Doflamingo had realized you were gone, and he was pissed.

Before you knew it, conquerors haki covered the entire island, knocking you out almost immediately, but not before you felt your heart sink to the bottom of your feet, the reality of Doflamingos strength finally hitting you.

When you wake up again, you find yourself in Doflamingos bedroom, golden shackles similar to the bracelets you were given keeping you locked to the bed.

It takes you a moment to notice him, but when you do you almost throw up from the fear it causes. There in the corner sits Doflamingo, but for the first time since you’ve met him, he looks angry. No, he doesn’t look angry, he looks enraged.

He doesn’t even demand an answer from you as to why you tried to run. He just gets to his feet and approaches you, and for the first time his 10 feet of height scares you. But then he doesn’t something unexpected. He cradles your face in his hands and coos at you, treating you as if you were some kind of child or animal that had broken the rules, not because you wanted too, but because you were so very dumb you didn’t realize you broke them.

All these months of being with Doflamingo from morning till dawn as caused you to love him, its no secret. Its just a reaction of the human psyche, so part of you had been scared of disappointing him. It also makes your insides flutter at his cooing, even as he calls you a brainless stupid idiot who can’t think for themselves.

All his cooing and sugar sweet but cruel words makes you cry, making Doflamingo smirk when you sob into his chest, apologizing for running away. When you agree with him that you are stupid and can’t make decisions on your own, he knows he’s won. Well, he’s known he’s had you for months, but seeing you admit it is euphoric.

Doflamingo ends up holding you in his arms and cooing at you, pouting and sounding of so sweet as you cry, telling you he forgives you. But there must be consequences, and you have to be punished.

You’ve never been punished by Doflamingo before, so you have no idea what to expect. Knowing the kind of role Doflamingo wants to play, the punishment is probably something along the lines of overstimulation until you pass out, and when you wake up, he will do it again and again, repeating the process until he feels you’ve paid for your sins.

When hes strung you of everything you’ve got and you cant even think straight, he would pick you up and kiss you all over, praising you in that sickeningly sweet honey voice of his, carrying you to his personal bathroom.

Here he would get both of you into his large bathtub, where he would scrub your limp and hickey covered body dry as you whine and whimper, almost melting against his chest as his large hands massage all your sore muscles.

As you bathe, you most likely end up with him fucking your thighs, Doflamingo cooing in your ear that he will have mercy on your cute little holes for now, since they’re still so sensitive from your punishments. But next time he won’t be as lenient.

As he slides his shaft between your thighs, Doflamingo would slide his tongue down your throat again, smirking to himself as you jolt and twitch, still arching into his touch even as your body ached and burned from all the overstimulation.

After he finishes, he would praise you more before getting out of the bath, where he would dry you off in the softest of towels, before Doflamingo would tuck you both into bed. You would pass out immediately again, slumping against his chest as Doflamingo laughs, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head.

He loves you, as much as someone like Doflamingo could love. And because he loves you, he owns you. That’s his logic at least. This also means you will never be allowed to leave, and no one will ever be allowed to take you away. And he will do everything in his power to make it a reality.

#male reader #one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #yandere #yandere one piece #yandere doflamingo #doting sickeningly sweet doffy #one piece headcanon #one piece imagine #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #donquixote doflamingo headcanon #donquixote doflamingo imagine #donquixote doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x male reader #doflamingo imagine #doflamingo x male reader #doflamingo headcanon #doflamingo x reader #op #op imagine #op headcanon #op x male reader #op x reader #reader being stupid and oblivious and getting a yandere sugar daddy as a result

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Nightmares

Summary: Ellie has nightmares after what happened with David. So do you. Back in Jackson she just wants to feel safe after another nightmare, searching for the comfort of the people who had become something like parents for her.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.2k

Rating: G

Warnings: established relationship, nightmares, angst, comfort, some fluff, platonic cuddling, protective Joel, found family

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics to get notified for new fics

Tommy had asked you today how long ago it was that you had slept through the night. 

You had been thinking about this question for too long, even though you knew the answer. 

It was the one night, the first night you had in Jackson all those weeks ago. The day Joel found his brother and you had your first warm shower in god knows how long. 

You had fallen asleep as soon as your head had landed on the pillow, only waking up a good 10 hours later in Joel’s arms. 

And even though you went to bed each night now with Joel close by, as soon as you closed your eyes you saw them. The men who tried to hurt you and Ellie while you prayed to an unknown power that Joel was still alive.

Waking up screaming, disoriented until Joel calmed you down. 

Nothing had been the same since the three of you dragged your beat and tired bodies back to Jackson, the search for the Fireflies postponed until you were all back to being back to full health. Whatever that meant nowadays. 

Joel had healed, so had you. Physically. The knife wound you suffered by the hands of David hadn’t been that deep. Though the anxiety you felt whenever you closed your eyes was something that would take a long time to heal from. 

Joel kept you close every night, mumbling against your ear that you were safe and that he was there. 

You were like a shell of your former self, terrified of every shadow, every sound. 

You missed how you were before. You missed making fun of Joel with Ellie. You missed Ellie. 

She was struggling too. Of course she was.

The both of you spend the days inside your home in Jackson, reading books Joel brought every day, holding hands while you read quietly in the safety of your house. Afraid to go outside, even though there probably wasn’t a safer place for you right now than Jackson.

It was two weeks after coming back that he told you that Ellie was having nightmares too. That she woke up during the night and went from her room downstairs to sleep in front of the fireplace.

Of course she was struggling. 

She had killed David thinking he had killed you. She had told you so, told you how terrified and angry she was. Back then you had told her to run, not taking any arguments as you attacked the man to buy her time. She had seen the knife in his hand as she ran, heard your scream and struggle until there was only silence before the man followed her to kill her.

Joel and you had asked her what you could do to help her, but she only shook her head, mumbling about leaving her alone. Yet she stayed always close to either you or Joel. 

It was another night, you had just laid down to sleep, a book in your lap while Joel already snored next to you when you heard the bedroom door creak open. You looked up, seeing Ellie hesitantly standing in the doorway. 

It was moments like these that you were reminded just how young she was as she stood there in her blue pyjamas Maria had gifted her, her hair braided over her shoulder just like you had thought her weeks ago. She was sucking her bottom lip in, looking at you with fearful eyes. 

You set your book down on the bedside table. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. She hesitantly shook her head. 

“Nightmare?” you asked. She nodded.

Joel turned to his side, his face now towards you as he grunted in his sleep, his arm reaching out to you even in deep slumber, landing on your knee. It brought a small smile to your lips before you looked up at Ellie again. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” she whispered. 

“You wanna sleep here?” you asked then. Her eyes wandered to Joel. Thinking.

“It helps me sleep when I know I’m not alone,” you said.

“Don’t know how you can sleep with him snoring like that,” she said but took a small step forward. You scooted down, pulling the covers up.

“He’ll stop after a while after he turns to his side,” you said and she tilted her head to the side to watch him.

“He looks weird,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Less grumpy,” she closed the door behind her as she slowly walked towards the bed, while you chuckled. 

“Yeah. You’re right,” you said. Ellie stopped in front of the bed. 

“Is it… Will he be okay when I…?”

“Look at him. He’s passed out.”

She frowned.

“It’ll be okay. But… If you don’t want to be alone we can go downstairs…”

She shook her head, taking a deep breath before she sat down on the bed in front of you, her back towards you and laid down. You smiled softly as you put the covers over her, tucking her in.

“I’m gonna turn off the lights,” you whispered as you reached over to turn them off, before you laid down on your back.

Ellie slowly turned around after a while, looking at you and you turned onto your side so you were looking at her. 

“Every time I close my eyes I see how he…” she closed her eyes. 

“Ellie…” you whispered. She scooted closer.

“Can…. Can you… hold me?” her voice was so quiet, so broken you wanted nothing more than to take it all away. You pulled your arms around her and she cuddled against you. You kissed her hair, one of your hands running soothingly over her back. 

“I… You’re the closest thing I have to a mom. I don’t want to lose you. Or Joel,” she whispered and you had to take a deep breath to not start crying right there.

“You’re safe now, Ellie. We all are. I’m gonna keep you safe,” you whispered as her breathing evened out, her eyes closing as she fell asleep. 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes too. 

Feeling Joel move behind you, you smiled when you felt him kiss your shoulder, his body coming closer until he was spooning you from behind. His arm reached over and you turned your head to watch over your shoulder as you saw him lift his head to look over you. 

“She had a nightmare,” you whispered and he looked at you, before he laid down again, pulling you flush against his chest, his arm protectively holding both you and Ellie. 

“Gonna have to get a dreamcatcher for both of you,” he mumbled and you smiled. 

“Wouldn’t it be great if that worked?” you yawned. 

“Yeah,” you felt him nuzzling his nose against your neck. 

“In the meantime I just try to chase the bad dreams away,” he said.

“And I’ll chase yours away,” you mumbled just before you fell asleep. 

Hours later, when the sun was rising and your eyes slowly blinked open you were still laying in between Ellie and Joel, who was holding you both.

And you didn’t know why you slept through the night for the first time in weeks, but maybe all you and Ellie needed was to be close to the people you loved most to start healing.

#my fic #Joel Miller x fem. reader #Joel Miller #Pedro pascal #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to pay for my brother's phone line?

A little background here: I am a freshman in college and work as a manager at a local fast food joint part-time. I make around $350-$500 biweekly, depending on my hours. I still live at home as I go to college in the area and I do not pay rent. Beyond that, I don’t really pay any household bills. I will occasionally pay for groceries, but that is a shared responsibility between us, and it would be apocryphal to say that I’m paying for that on a consistent basis. I do pay for a couple streaming services, but that feels silly to put on the same level as paying for water. My Mother recently asked me to pick up the phone bill as her hours at work had been cut, and I found no issue with this as it was well within my means. It wasn’t until I questioned why there were three lines on our plan and learned that the third belonged to my brother that I began to get apprehensive.

For even more background, I have been no contact with my older brother for three years. I will say that our relationship ended because of his mistreatment of myself and our family both immediate and extended. My Mother is low contact with him, just checking in to make sure he’s alive and has apparently kept him on our phone plan to help facilitate that, which I understand completely. I imagine it’s easier to cut off a brother than a son.

I asked my Mother if there was another bill I could pick up (I suggested Wi-Fi or electric, both of those are at least $50 more than the phone bill) She found it strange and began questioning me as to why I would want to pay for a bigger bill especially since I am saving up to attend a convention with my friends this summer. I told her the truth that I did not feel comfortable paying for my Brother’s phone, I’m not sure why something about it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth, I again offered to pay another bill or maybe have her cover the extra $10 it costs to keep my brother’s line active. She told me I was being ridiculous and said that I should “Step up” and that it’s “A simple household responsibility [I] can absolutely manage” I might be the asshole for telling her that I was willing to handle the responsibility for our household but seeing that my Brother doesn’t live with us and isn’t really in my family any more it’s not really my household. I again offered to pay another bill, and she said that she needed to walk away for a little bit. My Mother and I are usually on the same page, and she has been nothing but supportive and accommodating in my decision to no longer see my brother, so I’m beginning to wonder if I’m just being irrational here. As I mentioned it’s just an extra $10 a month, and it seems to give my Mother great peace of mind to see that he is active and alive, so AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[marilynthornhilllover]

When you call my name. do you think I'll come running? { chapter 7}

+ If i only could I'd make a deal with God I'd get him to swap our places.

Alcina dimitrescu x fem!Reader

Warning: pre-grief, depression, slight sadness, extreme rage, LOTS of angst, extreme plot twist, talk of suicide, slight fluff. { read chapter 6 here }

A/n: I just wanted to start off by saying thank you to the people who showed utmost appreciation to this series and interest of it continuing! I never actually thought this series would hit it off! And it warms my heart to know so many of you are interested and it has captured the attention of your heart! Sorry for the long wait in chapter update! I know it's been almost five months since i last posted CH. 6 and I sincerely apologize! :). This is a bit lengthy so I had to split it into two parts so, chapter 8 will be a bit short!! Love you guys enjoy!!.

Today no one spoke..... no one moved.... no one even dared to blink or breathe too hard. If you were ever to be caught dead in the sight of Lady Dimitrescu who knows what she might do to you..... Perhaps Rip you in half?, shred you to pieces?, pull your throat out?..... well no one wanted to be a human experiment, therefore everyone kept their distance away from the lady and her personal space. Her rage is not one to be tested and neither is her faith. She's like a lion, sly in the shadows but dangerous in light, she couldn't be trusted then and certainly not now. Ever since you left she's been acting as a fish out of water.

She never left her office or the castle itself and when she did, no one could be able to point out her emotions. She'd always dress in her usual formal black dresses and Veil hats that covered three quarters of her face. Her elegant walk and perfectly fitted gloves, only God knew what monster hid behind the poker face of 'Countess Dimitrescu' .

The entire castle was silent - completely silent. You could hear a pin drop. Make noise and your dead, make one slip up and show weakness or incompetence and your also dead, no one wanted to be alive in the same place where " Countess Alcina Dimitrescu " also lived. The villagers who'd usually bring fresh food and fruits to the castle heard of the matter and started delivering their pastries at the back door, too terrified of the wrath she held for anyone who may know what she's going through or even the smallest detail of your whereabouts.

It was a mad house at castle dimitrescu, maids started whispering rumors and stories of how the lady was going completely mad and turning into some sort of witch or dragon - if that's even possible, at night. Some say she flys over the village howling and puffing looking for her.... lost one.... but that's not true..... right?.....

It was 10:05 am, the lady drinks tea at 10:00 am, the lady's tea is five minutes late.... why because the poor little tiny girl who's job is to bring the raven hair goddess tea is scared out of her mind to so much as to stand infront of her door, she's done this a million times, so what's holding her back now? Maybe the fact that no one knows where her fate might lie after the woman opens the door, perhaps only mother miranda will know.... but she's a topic for another time.....

The girl took slow strides walking up to the lady's door as the tray that laid in her hand containing the lady's tea shook vigorously as a result of her nervous system failing her, cold sweat dripped from her forehead as her lips quivered and shook.

One

Two

Three

Knock, knock

Her shaking palms returned to her side as she sighed a breath of pure fright. For two long , minutes there was complete silence, no movement, no breathing, no sign of other recreations, nothing, absolutely nothing. And just as she was about to leave, hoping the lady thought her ears deceived her, there were loud thudding foot steps. No exaggeration used, the tall woman's footsteps were loud and massive. They spoke of frustration and pure rage. The young girl then again started struggling to breathe.

As the footsteps got louder and closer she managed to bow her head just in time when the lady opened the door. Suddenly the girl was taken back when an impossibly human surviving air hit her skin. The air was cold and thick, she could easily tell that the lady in fact hadn't left her room in a while and there was no ventilation happening in there. It felt as if someone had truly died, as if all life was lost, and the world had truly ended and all love was forgotten.

" yes, what is it, can't you see I'm busy?!" her voice was cold, brutal and hoarse, it showed no sign of life, love or even integrity , instead she sounded bitter and cold as, if she was the first person to ever be born on earth and everyone else were just a burden or her just her unwanted ornaments.

" f- forgive m- me my lady i-if I'm wrong but- you have wine with your b- breakfast, and tea in t- the mid afternoon, m- my lady" she wasn't wrong... in fact she's one hundred percent correct, but when your life is at stake you try to minimize your talking and smart mouthing - simply being correct. Again there was a long pause of utter silence. The girl couldn't even hear the lady breathe above her , it was as if she wasn't there at all, if she wasn't quite literally staring at her heels she would have believed she had returned inside.

Besides from that she couldn't even hear herself breathe, she minimized her heart beat and lungs respiration so low that it felt as if she was dying, her chest started to burn, it was as if she wasn't breathing at all. The girl heard a sigh of frustration before a loud slam of the door infront of her.

Well.... it's better than having your throat ripped out and being made into fine Romanian wine then being sold to the market.

Alcina sniffed walking back towards her desk. she held onto the rim of it for emotional support. She bit her lip as it quivered, while fighting back tears. Your voice rang through her mind, you were like a ghost, invisible with high amount of impact but held powerful memories. Alcina couldn't function or focus the way she should be. You were the only thing she thought about, the only person she ever truly loved or cared about besides her daughters. And to have you pulled out of her life by the hands of the person she hated so greatly made her feel as an failure even more.

It ate away at her heart to know that if you had died - as miranda said you did, that means that you spent the last few minutes of your life probably cold and afraid, thinking that it was her fault. But regardless, what ate her up the most was the fact that you died with holding her hand, without her being by your side until you took your last breathe. It wasn't fair, and it was her fault. It is her fault. After all she is a monster.

' Monster '

' Your a monster '

' No one loves you '

' Your the reason she's d- '

" SHUT UP" alcina picked up her vanity and threw it across the room with great power, breaking it in half and slightly cracking the floor of her office. That's definitely gonna need fixing.... which means someone will have to visit the castle. She didn't want any guests or company, not because of the rumors, or the uneasiness you felt as soon as you stepped foot into the palace, no alcina was bigger than that, what she wasn't bigger than was herself.

Not her literally self, the one she saw when she looked into the mirror, the one she felt 24/7 weighing down her shoulders, the one she heard most of the time.....her entire life, the one she felt deeply inside waiting to be unleashed, to be able to set the world ablaze and get rid of all human beings. The one she was called...... a monster..... this part of her..... this was the part she wasn't bigger than.

No matter how much she tried, no matter how much she fought..... it ate her up inside..... her inner soul was bruised, scared, busted, call it what you want, but the truth was she fought to keep the outside going strong and tall. While the fire was running low she fought to keep herself elegant and up right. Good Posture, perfect teeth, phenomenal business, respected name. All of it was just a show that people got to tell. What people failed to realize was that although Alcina may be dead on the inside..... she's still human.....

She still loved... she's still cared, for God's sake. This was the part of her she just couldn't get rid of. The weight of it all soon caught up to her and it and not light at all.

She missed you.... so so much, beyond explanation.... beyond belief.... she loved you, every part, your smile, your hair, the way you'd do a little nose scrunch when she tackled you onto the bed, your laugher, your dramatic side eyes when she said something that didn't quite suit your style. She cared for you.... so damn much too. Cared if you ate, if you slept, if you were happy.... and now you were gone.... erased from her memories, from her life.

She longed for you....

You stired as you slowly opened your eyes to see daylight. You blinked rapidly trying to clear your eyes and refocus your vision. After a while of low steady breathing you were finally able to open your eyes completely and take hold of your surroundings. The room was small, it reminded you of the vintage times. It was raged with cigarette smoke and burning medicine plants - too much burning medicine plants. The room wasn't clean but it also wasn't the tidest.

There was a small bed on which you laid on and another which was empty, there was another room connected to the room that you were in that had a beaded curtain handing before the entrance. From the view that you were sitting you could see an old woman slowly moving her hips side to side as she hummed softly to a playing jazz music that your ears couldn't yet pick up. You coughed as you tried to get up slowly, you instantly felt excruciating pain all over your body.

You fell back sobbing as your hands felt utterly weak. You heard small foot steps before seeing a familiar face. It was Carmen. Your mom's old yoga and herb cooking buddy. A small warm smile was plasted on her face as she sat on the stool infront of you.

" Easy now child, you don't want to make this wound worst" she spoke, her voice cracky and faint. She was dressed in a light pink night gown and a soft brown head band with her hair braided in a fish braid. She gently dipped a wash cloth in a bowl of green like liquid before gently pressing it to your wound that was located on your hip. You whimpered softly at the slight stinking sensation before it disappeared as quickly as it appeared. After multiple wips of her cleaning the wound she placed a badge on it.

" thank you carmen" you mumbled, your voice also being raspy from using for the fisrt time since God knows when. The elder woman smile before waving you off with her hand. She got up and and went back into the kitchen.

" how did I end up here?" You asked her before standing since you felt a bit more better now. You heard her chuckle before hearing some pans clack together.

" I found you laying in the forest the other day when I went out to pick berries, you were all cut up and bruised, could have swore you were a zombie or perhaps even a lycan" she laughed before emerging from the kitchen and into another room. You Curiously followed her just to find four small but widthful shelves of books.

She bent down groaning slightly before taking out some books and dusting them off and replacing them, continuing the step for others.

" I hoped you'd wake up soon, when I found you, you had only a faint pulse that lasted every twelve seconds, you were basically half dead. Anyway I need to go to the market, i'm sure you can fend for yourself, you did just fine, God knows how you ended up 36 miles out into the woods" you froze..... did she just say 36 miles..... into the woods....

" am I in south Romanian?!" You asked a bit too loudly. Carmen looked up at you with raised eyebrows.

" yes.... did you forget you and your mother use to hop the river to come visit me for my birthday? Silly girl, yes south Romanian, mother Miranda's old village, the one she used to rule over? Yes my dear" she moved towards the other selve and began packing.

" Carmen! Do you heard how crazy this sounds?! I live in north Romania, you know... where castle dimitrescu is?! " again your voice was on the raise and she didn't quite like it, but you didn't really care either. She sighed before getting up, she facial expression and body language completely changed into a colder one.

" have a seat child" you compiled before she sat infront if you with a very serious expression. She sighed before placing her hands down onto your thighs.

" your mother died y/n...." your eyes zoned and you swore you could hear your eyes ring as you heard your heart beat slow down. Carmen squeezed your thighs before continuing.

" it's a hard pill to swallow but you better do, my condolences my daughter" she said doing the sign of the cross. Your mother meant alot to you, she wasn't really a huge part of your life, you didn't even remember much of her. You remember being kidnapped from your house one night by mother miranda and seeing the terror on her face before you passed out, and seeing her in a dream once. You've lived in an orphanage for your entire life and that night was the first time that you got back your life to her.

That didn't meant you wouldn't miss her.... you just couldn't find a reason to miss her.... you barely even knew her to begin with.....

" you know that lady people said your in love with?.... you know.... tall, big vampire mommy lady with wings" you gaved her a sarcastic fake laugh before looking at her dead serious. She smirked before continuing.

" there was a rumor that she killed your mother....." you tilted your head to the right, trying to comprehend the information you just received. You shook your head before nervously laughing.

" No that's not true.... it was probably miranda but people are to scared to say that so they blame alcina, they always do that, trust me, miranda was the last person my mom saw so-" Carmen cut you off by shaking her head and tsking.

" No child..... your mother was killed six months ago... and if I'm not mistaken you were kidnapped and forced to work for this ' Alcina' almost two years ago.... look they said it was big boobs vampire lady, bird lady and some lady who's obsessed with carrying her doll everywhere" you were significantly frozened between reality and what carmen was telling you now - which would obviously be a lie.

No one is saying carmen is a lier but sometimes elderly people loss their minds as time goes by - especially is they love to gossip..... anway.... your mom is dead and you felt nothing, you don't even think you miss alcina, now that your away you feel.... nothing..... you don't miss her, part of you don't even seem to care if she's doing ok, it's as if you never loved her.... maybe your body is still in shook, carmen did say that you had been out for two days straight, maybe your sleep dprived and can't think straight or maybe........ no let's not go there.

Carmen could clearly see that you didn't believe her, getting her she sighed as she began to grab her belongs, shoes, shopping bags, bud spray and pepper spray.

" look child believe what you want, don't go cra cra over your mom too much, wishing on things that just weren't possible, i'm off, when I'm back maybe we can make cinnamon rolls and some soup to get you better" she smiled softly at you before leaving a small peck on your forehead then leaving. You decide that your going back to castle dimitrescu, you needed answers...... you demanded them..... and even if it's the last human thing that alcina is capable of doing she will give them to you.

You could feel it in your heart that you were drifting away from alcina..... that spark that you once felt.... that burning passion.... that burning love.... gone....

You didn't have any belongs at Carmen's but you walked with some of her stuff, like water, little protein bars, bud spray and a knife. You left her a note thanking her for her utmost compassion and kindness upon you before starting your very very long journey....

TAG LIST : @willalovexx @ilovehugslikealotalot @milkiedimitrescu @willowshadenox @enchantressb @moisblofish, @nclgsticore @vampire-s61914 @snkskyler15 @milkkyshakeez @luisa323 . If you wish to be apart of the tag list for the next up coming chapters please comment below :) <3

#Spotify #fypシ゚viral #fanfic #love #angst #lady dimitrescuxreader #re8 lady dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #mother miranda re8 #re8 alcina #re8 village #re8 #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil alcina #alcina dimitriscu x reader #resdient evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil the village #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #chapter 7 #chapter 8 coming soon #series update!

[big-low-t]

My Record Store...

This was my record store in Charleston, West Virginia. It is closing. The owners are retiring. It breaks my heart, but at the same time it stirs up great memories and nostalgia.

It's 1979, a young and innocent Tim (yeah, 10 or 11 year old me) convinced his mother to stop at Budget Tapes and Records. I needed to get the latest Bad Company album. Hey, "Rock and Roll Fantasy" was a good song, but I can't say I was impressed by much of the rest of the album. My record kept skipping, so I took it back, got another and it skipped too. One of the kind folks at Budget suggested I go to the audio store a few doors down and get a new needle for my fairly cheap stereo system. I did and it worked. No more skipping.

It was the start of some special memories. I got my first Iron Maiden record there. The "Maiden Japan" live EP. Very quickly afterwards I was grabbing everything else Iron Maiden had released up to that point. Picked up my first Motorhead album there, too.

This would be my record store of choice up until around 1990 when I moved out of state after college for a job.

Once I had my driver's license I stopped there at least once a week. It got to be where one of the main employees, John, would see me come in and yell "Hey Timmmmm, we just got something in that I think you'll like..." He was pretty much always right. I remember him playing the promo copies of "Electric" by the Cult and "Nothing's Shocking" by Jane's Addiction to me. I bought the promo copy of that Cult album on the cheap when they were done playing it in the store a few months later. I think I still have it stashed away somewhere. By the way, John still works there, has been for 48 years, but that will be ending once they close on March 3rd.

I met some cool people there while browsing for records. One dude a friend and I bumped into in the metal import section began raving about a band called Celtic Frost... before we left the store parking lot we hopped in his back seat and he blasted the song "Dethroned Emperor" to us. I just remember looking at my buddy and saying "Holy shit!" Blew me away.

Another time I bumped into the "other guy." It seems that between me and this other guy, we would be the ones who usually bought the latest heavy metal import albums. But for a long time we didn't know that. Once we met and started talking we became friends. We would record a cassette tape for each other of the albums we got that the other didn't have.

So many good memories from a place that's been around nearly as long as I have been alive.

But it will all be ending in a few days. Another piece of my past crumbling away into the dust of memories.

I can still hear this dude yelling "Timmmmm, you gotta check this new album out we just got in..."

Those were good days.

#big low t #my record store #charleston #west virginia #budget tapes & records

[sgiandubh]

What do you think about the ring?

Dear (insisting) Ring Anon,

I see the topic itches. I have answered this question three days ago, but somehow kept receiving Anon upon Anon upon Anon about it and, to be honest, I was surprised to be thinking about it, too.

Which is exactly the intended - and achieved - effect of this new plot device.

Mordor went berserk, including Meow Kabob's Gay Clique. The Shire hummed and buzzed with DMs. Lasagna Lady could have testified before a Grand Jury it was gold. Another halfwit joked on X about giving it to Desi, then retracted when things went completely out of control. A perfectly executed spin for a drier, longer Droughtlander.

If all this hullaballoo were happening at the Olympic Games, I'd give Desi a Comăneci 10.

This ring is all about using very useful and cost-effective props. It will fuel endless speculation, vanishing and reappearing whenever convenient, with no further need for painful pap walks, Flukenzie Floozy clones or a new round of The Matrix Bikini Game.

And that brings along another thought. We often use the expression going down the rabbit hole, when we talk about how this charade started for anyone in this fandom. But I begin to wonder if we didn't go down a funnel: at first wide open and then narrower and narrower (IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-End, etc). Then COVID, followed by this strike made it even narrower, if at all possible, because now we don't even have the customary promo/banter periodically thrown in to keep the sacred fire alive. The Vestals are bored and already yawning.

But there is also a new book and some more booze to be sold. He knows - because he reads us, make no mistake- this fandom's documented obsession with rings (his or Lucy's, for that matter), so let's assume he indulged us. Yeah, I am grinning as I write it. Desi is trolling us big time and let's be honest: we love every single second of it.

As an aside, allow me to share a little something about me:

This is my left hand, of course. And that is a beloved family heirloom madame Mère gave me on my eighteenth birthday. It belonged to my Armenian great-grandmother and I never took it off. Not even when doing the dishes, swimming or walking around Phnom Penh's slums. I am not married and I am not especially looking forward to, for personal reasons.

In Desi's case, The Ring appeared at Starbucks (who the hell shows an 'engagement ring' while staying in line for covfefe?), on one of those very hot & humid end of summer days when NYC turns into a giant sauna. Understandably, he was dressed to suggest he casually went to record that book at Hachette's after a workout session: but if also weightlifting, why bring The Ring?

So read my lips, Anon: it means nothing and also anything you want it to mean. Yes, at the same time. This is OL, after all.

We didn't even start to see the end of this, mark me. It's way too juicy and the night is young.

PS: The good thing about going down a funnel is that at the end of the day you know you'll be out of it, somehow. That moment will come. Not a single doubt or worry in the world about it.

#Anon

[rehfan]

Chapter 10 of...

The Hat Shop Girl

Inexperienced!Ralph Penbury X Fem!Reader/AFAB!Reader

Summary: You were working as a clerk in a hat shop when Ralph Penbury walked into your life. Nothing was ever the same.

Tags: meet-cute, eventual smut, slow build, angst with a happy ending, class differences, fantasizing, implied/referenced drug use, non-consensual touching, sexual inexperience, first kiss, kissing, first French kiss, neck kissing, sexual education, angst, emotional hurt, handjob, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal sex, PIV sex, first time, blow job, cream pie, fluff and smut, anal play, rimming, cunnilingus

Warnings: 18+ and over only please. Eventual smutty smut - NOT for children! Non-consensual touching, implied/referenced drug use.

PLEASE DO NOT POST MY WORK TO ANY OTHER SITE. MY WORK IS MINE. PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

If you want to read this and my other stuff, find this work on AO3

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - EPILOGUE

A/N: There is a dress mentioned in this chapter that is based on THIS actual design. Take a gander if you want.

************************************

CHAPTER 10: One Last Party

Your staff couldn’t help but notice the profound change in you, try though you might to hide it. You were listless for the next month, just treading water. The best you could do was a smile that didn’t reach your eyes and a tired response anytime anyone asked you a question. Still, the place managed to turn a profit, which gave you hope to hang on to. You knew that for as long as the shop could remain open at least part of your life remained alive. Your heart could be half full.

The other half of your heart, however…

You did write to him at both the country estate and the house they kept in the city. Both letters were returned unopened. You attempted to ring him up, but Lord Penbury was always out. You even became so incensed and bold that you went to their home in the city only to be turned away at both the main door and the servant’s entrance. You knew it was Victoria who gave the order for all of this to happen. The urge to speak with him, if only for a moment, became an obsession. You had to hear his voice, if only on paper. Yet no matter what you tried, Victoria blocked your way to him. It was no use. You were cut off completely.

Used to be your days began with the florist’s delivery, but those had stopped as well. Your heart had held faint hope that Mrs. Randolph might serve as a go-between for the two of you, but when the deliveries stopped, that dream died. You thought it might happen. Victoria was far too thorough. You loved the flowers. It was as if Ralph had been sending them to you and not the shop. Perhaps he had been

Before the last of the flowers that had been delivered could die completely, you stole one display and placed it in your flat. Once the petals were beginning to fall from the peach roses, so you pressed one in some wax paper between the pages of a large dictionary. Right next to the entry for “moron”. You thought it appropriate. You felt a perfect fool for daring to be happy.

One early morning, you had just unlocked the door and were expecting the first of your staff to arrive when you heard the bell on the door ring. Without turning to face your assistant manager, you said, “Anne, I’m going to need you to ring up Mr. Watson and ask them where the green felt is. They can’t be late again with their deliveries. We’re going to have to find another, if they keep this up.”

“Well, well, well,” said a man’s voice, “how cold and businesslike you’ve become, bearcat.”

Randall Miller, late of Selfridges, stood looking smug in the middle of your showroom. It had been months since you were in his odious presence but your skin still crawled. You prepared yourself to scream and scratch but held tight to yourself, managing a calm question: “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, darling,” he said, his grin wide. You thought his good humor was misplaced; you couldn’t understand why he was so happy to be in the presence of a woman who clearly despised him.

“What are you grinning at? Answer me. Why are you here?”

“I’m here on behalf of the new owners of the building. They’re pals of mine. Gave me a job collecting for them,” he said, fingering the feather on a lady’s tea hat. “Time to pay the rent, bearcat.”

You breathed a sigh. “Well why didn’t you say? Here,” you led him to the till and with a motion of your hand, signaled for him to wait. You dipped into the back room where a large table took up the majority of the space. Scattered upon it was the detritus of all your latest efforts on creativity. Only two projects were currently underway - a drought for you - but then, your heart hadn’t really been in it lately and your mind was always elsewhere. Always wondering where he was and what he was doing and whether he was happy.

The safe was at the back of the room, underneath one of the other work counters. It didn’t contain much, just some papers relating to the shop, the company payroll, and some money for the overhead - including the rent. Ever since the grand announcement of the changing of hands, you had become a meticulous bookkeeper - not that you were negligent before! But oh, the hours you’d spent figuring out ways of trimming your budget while still managing to keep things afloat! You had worked a minor miracle week after week, to be honest.

The extra effort and extra hours you put in really helped to make the place seem more and more like yours. It was the one thing you could definitely still control in your life. It gave you stability and a sense of pride. You really loved this old place. It was worth the fight.

“So this is where you keep the dosh, eh?”

Instantly you straightened up. “I told you to stay out there. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing!” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “It’s just that the people I work for own the building. The whole building. Including this part of it too. I’m just looking out for their best interests.”

“I’m sure you are,” you said, your tone implying that you thought no such thing. You handed him the cash in an envelope. “Count it. Here. Make sure it’s all there.”

“Aww, I trust you!” he said, tucking the package into his inside pocket.

“No! Count. Here. Now,” you said. “I insist. And you’ll sign a receipt taking a copy with you. I’m not taking any chances.” You produced a chit book with a carbon paper that you neatly printed with the rent amount and the date, marking it paid, and leaving space enough for both of your signatures.

“Alright, alright,” he said, drawing out the envelope and counting the bills inside. It was all there. Satisfied, he signed the chit and then you followed suit. You gave him the copy to place in the envelope.

“I see now why Ralph is so besotted with you,” he said.

At the sound of his name, your heart skipped a beat. Swallowing down your thrill of excitement, you managed to sound casual when you said, “Oh? How is that?”

His eyes roved over you, up your front and down your back as he replied: “You’ve got a sharp little mind as well as a well-turned-“

“Stop!” you cried, narrowing your eyes at him. “That will be quite enough of that. You have what you came for. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave so that our business day can begin.”

The front door bell rang just then, emphasizing your statement. Anne came through to the back room within moments. “Oh! Miss! Sorry I’m late. The train was- Oh. Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Anne. This is Mr. Miller. He’s going to be collecting our rent on behalf of the new owners.” Miller and Anne exchanged greetings and you ushered him out as soon as possible. But not before he could give Anne a quick once over, his eyes roving all over her figure. Once gone, Anne turned to you with concern.

“Everything alright, miss?” she asked. “He seemed a bit-“

“Like a wrong ‘un?” you asked. She nodded.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “I just hope things go a lot smoother next month.”

It didn’t.

Miller showed up just as you opened, pushed his way into the back room again and it took death threats on your part to get him to turn his back as you opened the safe. You were fairly certain he didn’t see the combination, but you didn’t feel comfortable hunched down as you were with him standing behind you.

He chatted with you as he counted the money. “Season opener’s next weekend,” he remarked.

“Season opener?”

“Penbury’s season opener!” And here he put a finger to the side of his nose and winked. “Sure to be a big blowout too. Victoria doesn’t do anything by halves.”

“You mean you still get invitations?”

“Lord, yes! After Ralphie-boy unceremoniously tossed me out after you tried to wrangle a job from me, Victoria came to me all apologies and begged me to come back next season. I’m practically the guest of honor, old girl!” 

“Well, congratulations?” you said, at a loss for anything else to say.

As far as you were concerned, attending a Penbury party wasn’t on your to-do list ever again. If Miller was trying to make you jealous, it wasn’t going to work. You never wanted to attend another party of Victoria’s again. Especially if she actually wanted men like Miller there. “I suppose there’ll be plenty of snow there to keep you happy.”

“There should! Ralph scored a coup, believe it or not. Plenty to go around for parties for the rest of his life, I should warrant. Come to think of it, considering Ralph almost died, he and I might share top honors at the do.”

“What?! He almost what?!” Your heart was in your throat. “Is he alright? What happened?”

“Oh he’s fine! Tops!” said Miller. “He’s the hero of the day, it seems. At least, according to the crims that provided him with the powder. Our Ralphie boy took a bullet for their top gent in charge of the syndicate. Italian fellow. American, I think.” Your eyes flew wide and you gasped. Here Miller laughed. “Oh don’t lose your mind, bearcat. You loverboy’s fine. Just a scratch! But it was enough to get that fat cat in the criminal underworld to bestow his gratitude on our little Ralphie - and by extension - the rest of us!”

He stuffed the money back in the envelope and signed the chit. Almost as an afterthought, he added: “Of course, now all his talk about joining the French Foreign Legion has a spine to it, what with that near-death experience.”

“Joining the-” you couldn’t finish the question out loud. Your head was spinning. So much had happened in such a short time, it left you breathless.

“Yes, well. He’s been going on about it for almost two solid months now. It’s getting a little old. Almost ready to drive him to the docks myself and see him off. Still, rumor has it he’s been making his final arrangements with his lawyers. Last will and testament and all that. It really changed him.”

“And how would you know that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “You know how Victoria and her mates can talk. They say she was panicked that he was actually serious this time. Looks like he is.”

Your heart sank and you couldn’t speak. For his part, Miller was unfazed. He bid you goodbye as he tucked the money and the chit in his coat pocket and strolled out of your shop whistling a Gershwin tune.

~080~

Three days came and went and all you did was wonder about Ralph’s physical condition. He was strong and fit, it was true, but he was also Ralph! Where was he shot? Was there a bad scar? Did he have a limp?

That day you first learned the news, your gut had twisted and you were sick. So much so that you had taken to your bed upstairs with a headache and a stomachache and a heartache all at the same time. Anne had taken charge, but you had still been ashamed. To let a man you could never have waylay you in this manner… the independent side of you had been angry. The woman in love within you was shattered. Between the two emotions, you had lost your equilibrium entirely that first day.

You had cried for an hour before sleep took you.

Two days had come and gone since and you were unsteady, but still fighting. The customers were still coming. Hats still needed to be created. Vendors still needed to be negotiated with. Bills still needed to be paid. And there was Marvin the mailman handing you another stack. You sighed and took them to your little bench in the back room. You flipped through them, noting the sender’s names as they flitted by.

But there was one that stood out. Heavy card stock, embossed, sealed with a wax stamp.

Lord Ralph Penbury.

Your breath stopped and it took you a minute to recover, white spots dancing in front of your eyes. Taking slow gulps of air, grateful that you were alone, you unsealed the envelope and with shaking hands removed the paper from within.

It was an invitation. To the party. That weekend. In two days. At the country estate. As a personal guest of Lord Ralph Penbury.

You were thrilled for an instant, but soon took pause. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Victoria. It had to be. You propped the invitation up against a book or two on the shelf and looked at it like a picture. What did this mean? What could it lead to? What was Victoria up to?

“Miss?” called Anne from the door behind you. You flipped the invite over on its face and quickly turned to regard her. “You have a package, miss,” she said, her arms full of three massive boxes, one only slightly smaller yet taller than the other two. “Three, in fact,” she laughed. She set them on the table and hurried back to the showroom.

Wordlessly, you came to them. Setting each to the side of the other, you opened the biggest box first. Inside, wrapped in thin paper was the most gorgeous gown, diaphanous pleated silk, every shade of blue captured in a graduated hue, heavenly blue at the high collar, sleeveless, a cinched waist, and running down through midnight blue at the sweeping hem. As you held it to you, it swam against your body with a beautiful sheen and shimmer. The maker’s card on top had read “Mariano Fortuny ~ Delphos”. Holy shit. The Italian dressmaker was famous. And famously expensive.

You placed the dress back in the box carefully and stared at it. It was too much. This wasn’t Victoria. It couldn’t be. Oh she’d have invited you alright. She’d invite you then leave you to sort out your own clothes as a final humiliation. She’d invite you and then cackle about you with her friends, all of whom never expected you to come because they knew you had nothing to wear.

No. This was Ralph. It had to be.

The other two boxes held undergarments, accessories, and shoes, respectively. Each from different fashion houses that you recognized easily. Each of the highest quality, because of course they were. There was even a handbag to match the shoes.

You wandered back over to the invitation still flipped over on your desk. There was handwriting on the back. Curious.

Darling – Don’t forget money for the train home. - R.

You had never seen Ralph’s handwriting before, but you could tell it was him. But that was such an odd message. Nothing romantic about it whatsoever. If anything, it was perfunctory. Practical. Two words you would never use to describe Ralph. And the words sort of hurt. Of all the things to say to you, how could he be so…dismissive? Whatever his reasons, he seemed to be inviting you and then sending you home all in one note.

You tapped the invite against your chin as you surveyed your gifts. If you go, at the very least you’ll get to see Ralph again. Which, in the end, is the very thing you heart wanted most. There was also the added enticement that you’ll also get to see Victoria’s and Miller’s jaws drop when they see you arrive in such a stunning ensemble. You can even wear the new hair band you had designed based on the pattern in the walls of the spare room you had occupied all those months ago. And then you and Ralph could hopefully talk and try to figure things out before Victoria had you unceremoniously thrown out.

Was it worth the risk?

A wicked smile spread across your face. “Why not?” you said to the empty room. “Why the hell not?”

~080~

The jazz music hit your ears as you stepped from the cab. The house was lit from within and without, people dancing past the windows. You followed a few other latecomers through the main doors and into the now-familiar foyer. The reception hall was filled with more revelers in their finery, but you noticed that you pulled the attention of more than a few of them as you passed. The Delphos gown was weaving its magic. 

Suppressing a grin, you walked with confidence past the grand staircase and into the anteroom, head back, spine straight, knowing you looked like a million bucks. You wanted to keep an air of cool indifference so that your snobby attitude could blend with everyone else’s. As a waiter passed with flutes of champagne, you snatched one up smoothly and proceeded through the crowd to the main ballroom. You felt like you were a spy on a secret mission.

The ballroom was alive. People were everywhere. Booze was everywhere. Jazz was everywhere. You caught sight of Victoria dancing with Miller in the middle of the dance floor. You attempted to elude his focus. You were attempting to seek out Ralph and you didn’t want him to spot you and call the alarm before you could find him.

Moving through the crowd, you kept them both in your peripheral vision. She was talking and talking and talking, her mouth going a mile a minute. He seemed addled as well, but his eyes were everywhere. It seemed they had started on the snow the moment they had arrived.

As you rounded the other side of the dance floor and gained the center of the room, he glanced up from her nattering face and he saw you. The massive jaw drop you expected was just as delicious as you had hoped. You faced him full on having nowhere to hide any longer and wiggled your fingers at him in a small wave that said “yes, it’s me. I’m really here. Eat your heart out”. You saw him whisper urgently to Victoria before turning your attention to the rest of the room still seeking Ralph.

You didn’t have to search for long. 

A man mounted one of the centrally located tables just beside you and called for a stop to the music. His clothes were impeccable - especially that dazzling waistcoat he wore. Despite his now-familiar garb, you hardly recognized Ralph. There was nothing of the meek about him. He stood there boldly, his eyes searching the room, stopping when they locked on yours.

“My Lords, Ladies and gents, if I could have your attention, please!” he called out, arms raised, calling a stop to the music.

“Ralph! What are you doing?! “ Victoria shouted. She was right behind you. You didn’t bother to turn to look at her. Your focus was completely on Ralph. He looked so good your fingers ached to touch him. But he wasn’t done addressing the crowd. 

He held a glass up to the crowd and said, “A toast! To my new friend, Signore Frantonelli. He was kind enough to join us this evening along with his nephews and cousins and their lovely wives. Let us all give them a warm welcome!” 

A cheer went up from the crowd, the alcohol controlling the volume based on individual states of inebriation. For his part, Mr. Frantonelli, who looked to you like a gangster from Chicago (and likely was), raised his glass in salute to Lord Penbury. You heard someone just to your right ask to his friend, sotto voce: “Isn’t that the bloke Ralphie took the bullet for? Gruesome fellow.” The friend nodded. “That’s the very one. I heard…”

But the voice was drowned out by Ralph moving on with his toast: “And next-“

“Ralphie, do stop being tiresome and let’s get on with the dancing!” shouted Victoria. 

Ralph ignored her request and went on: “-my adorable twin sister, Victoria!” A general cheer went up at her name and she giggled and waved to one and all.

“My sister, who for years never once allowed me to finish a sentence! Who treated me as the butt of many jokes - most of which all of you were in on. Who can forget all the money that’s been bet over the years when Ralphie was hiding and none of you were seeking? Yes, my sister! That’s thanks to you! Spoiled now, though, I’m afraid. I know better now, my sweet. So let’s hear it for my affectionate, loving, cunning, manipulative, shameful and hateful sister who has spent the better part of our lives deciding my happiness for me.”

The room was quiet now. And a tad bit more sober. Ralph pressed on.

“In her honor, I thought I would recognize her lifetime of effort. And to announce that as of tonight, my dear, you are officially free of your burden.”

The crowd murmured in confusion. “Finally joining up, Ralphie?” shouted a voice from the crowd. “French Foreign Legion at long last?” A murmur of amusement passed through the crowd. 

“I did have those plans, Dickie,” Ralph replied. “But after speaking to our family solicitors in order to prepare for my untimely death in said Foreign Legion, a few details about my family and its fortunes have been brought to my attention.”

Another murmur passed through the crowd, voices concerned. Ralph gave them a mean smile and raised his hands for their attention again.

“Oh never fear! Never fear! We will always have enough booze and coke to share with our friends. You just won’t have me to kick around anymore. Isn’t that right, dear sister?” He glared at Victoria. She stared at him, eyes blinking in confusion, mouth opening and shutting like a freshly caught mackerel in the bottom of a boat.

“Now, I must beg your indulgence! I want all of you to play nice while I speak privately with my dear sister. We shan’t be long.” To the band leader he gave a nod and the music resumed with full fervor. He leapt down from the table and scooped up his sister by the elbow, whispering for you to follow. As he passed Signore Frantonelli and his entourage, he gave him a nod. The Italian gentleman nodded back and watched him leave with a wriggling Victoria, you bringing up the rear.

In the anteroom, Victoria became annoyed. “Ralphie, what are you doing? Let me go back to the party!” But Ralph moved her along with quick steps to the remote and much quieter library.

He roughly jerked her elbow toward him, arresting her movement. “Not until after I’ve said what I need to say.” He made full eye contact with her and his tone brooked no argument. You thought it also sounded a bit sad. For her part, Victoria was stunned into silence. Probably for the first time in her life.

As the three of you passed down a back corridor through the manse, you marveled at him. Never before had you seen him so angry. Yet, he seemed perfectly controlled. It was an agonizingly sexy combination and you were a little breathless and flushed. Now there was Lord Ralph Penbury.

He quietly closed the library doors behind the three of you and stood ramrod straight, his hands flexed and unflexed and you both waited for him to say or do something. Anything. The mood in the room had shifted. Not a word was spoken between you three at first, which gave you time to recognize that you weren’t entirely alone. Two men sat at the fireside, brandy snifters in their hands. You thought Ralph was going to ask them to leave, but he didn’t.

He walked to the two men and held out his hand. One of them gave him a pack of paper, triple folded. Ralph opened up the documents and gazed at them briefly before nodding to them both. “Have you got your fare for the train home, darling?” he asked, turning to you, his eyes held a soft light. His boldness was fresh and yet, he was still the same soft boy.

“I- I do,” you replied. “Why? Did you want me to leave?”

“I do,” muttered Victoria.

“Shut up, Victoria,” said Ralph.

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Ralphie-“

“Shut up,” he said again.

He came to you. “Now you know that I had plans to join the French Foreign Legion. Darling, I’m not doing it. I don’t wish to disappear like I did before. Life without you in it seemed meaningless - is meaningless. But with my new-found knowledge, my sister no longer has a hold on my happiness.” He held out the papers. “I have here a contract,” he said. “It sells my share of the shop to you.”

“Wait. What? You’ll give her the controlling share?” Victoria said. “You fool, Ralph! She’s a nobody! A know-nothing. We are the business-people! We’re the goddamned captains of industry here!”

“I’m doing this and you cannot stop me,” he said to her. Her mouth shut with a snap of her teeth.

To you, gently, he said, “All you have to do is sign. Then the control goes to you.”

Victoria huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, if you must, Ralph. Sell your share. Still, twenty five and a half percent of a profitable business is better than nothing. But I still think you’re doing the wrong thing! You’re giving up too much control! It was your brainchild after all, getting that shop. Our family should see more than a paltry little twenty-five and a half percent!”

“I’m seeing nothing,” he said, “that is to say: we’re seeing nothing. This contract sells all fifty-one percent to her.”

“That’s not right,” she cried. “I have half of that fifty-one!”

“What?” you asked at the same moment, your confusion mixing with Victoria’s outrage.

He took your hand and stepped even closer to you. Softly, he said, “You never deserved to be treated like this. The shop is yours, body and soul. All that’s left is for you to sign and try to forgive me for being so weak for so long. It’s just- I never knew. I never knew about my real place in any of this.”

“Ralphie, the party is going on without us! We’re being bad hosts! We have to get-”

“Do shut UP, Victoria!” he said, his voice firm, his tone cross. His eyes were storm clouds. “If I have to tell you again, I shall bodily carry you to the south fountain and deposit you in it. Do NOT interrupt me again!”

Victoria gasped and stared.

In the awkward silence that followed, your voice was barely heard: “Ralph? What are you talking about?”

His attention snapped back to you and instantly he looked a tad contrite. “My apologies for my behavior just now, my love. None of my ire is directed at you, I assure you. But, as you are about to find out,” here he cut a stare at his sister, “I have been deceived and I am rather incensed.

“Apparently,” he began, “even though I was made to think otherwise after our father’s death, all of this,” and here he held his arms open to encompass the room, “is not meant to be an equal split between us both. It has nothing whatsoever to do with being a twin. It has nothing whatsoever to do with me being born second instead of first as I had been repeatedly reminded.

“You see, my angel, It’s all actually mine. All of it. Every door knob of every room on every estate. Every fireplace. Every brass farthing in our bank accounts.” He stared at his sister. “Even the clothes on your back.”

You snuck a sly look at her. She was as pale as milk. “I was blissfully unaware of this,” continued Ralph, “until our solicitors were so kind as to inform me,” and he gestured at the two men at the fire, “that the money follows the title. Something great-great-great-grandfather declared legally and in perpetuity ages ago. And since you, my sister, are only Lady Penbury by virtue of the fact that I am Lord Penbury - it’s all mine.”

He placed the documents in your hand. “And I’m buying back the entire building as well. I’m willing to knock down a few walls and expand the space of the shop so you can have more room, if you wish. I only-”

“They won’t sell,” said Victoria in smug triumph. “I made a deal with the new owners that they couldn’t afford to refuse.” You gave her a curious look at this. She shrugged. “Helps to know a few gossips in town. And it helps to know the mistress the gent has been keeping secret from his wife. A man is far more simple to deal with when you have all your ducks in a row.”

“I thought you’d try something underhanded,” said Ralph. “Well glad to know we’ve been up to the same thing. You see, thanks to my new friend, Signore Frantonelli and his eternal gratitude, your new owner-friend was very keen to sell. It seems he was more afraid of the signore’s goons than he was of his wife finding out about his mistress.”

“Ralph! You didn’t!” you said.

His ears turned pink. “It was all Mr. Fratonelli’s idea, actually. I didn’t say for him to do anything. He just… did me the favor. For saving his life. He asked me if there was anything in the world that I wanted in order for him to start to repay me and… well…”

“You told him about me,” you whispered. Ralph nodded.

“Turns out, the old signore’s a bit of a romantic at heart,” he smiled. “And I am paying for the building. A genuine price. Not like this contract with you - although, you will find the cost to you quite reasonable, I hope.”

You looked at the document. All sorts of legalese flew past your eyes until you settled on the intended words:

“sale in total of Moxie Creations: £1.00”

“One pound?” you said. “Only one pound?”

“I wanted to choose a nice round figure,” he said, sheepishly grinning at you.

“You’re selling all those shares of that shop for one lousy quid??!” Victoria fairly screamed in her anger. “Have you completely lost your mind?!”

“No, Victoria. Just my heart,” he said, never once glancing at his sister, but pressing his forehead to yours and gliding his hands up and down your upper arms. “Besides, almost getting shot to death helps to clear the cobwebs. Provides perspective on the important things. On everything.”

“Ralph,” you managed around the lump in your throat.

“Can you forgive me for being so weak and stupid for so long?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t harm me,” you said. And you meant it.

“But you would harm me!” cried Victoria. “And all I did was try to protect the Penbury name!”

An anger rose in you. One you didn’t know you possessed. You turned on her. “You! YOU! You protect the Penbury name? HA! You protect the Penbury name about as well as a dog would guard a piece of meat! Only you’re the bigger bitch!

“You snort coke and get drunk and take and take and take - never once thanking anyone who assists you and you consider yourself elite and better bred! You’ve got a hell of a nerve, my girl. You haven’t one genuine feeling for anyone but yourself - not even for your own brother. You claim to guide him into making better choices for the Penbury family name when you can’t seem to keep your nose clean yourself! Literally! And then you act as if your choices are somehow more respectable than mine?

“You should be ashamed of yourself, but you’re not. You wouldn’t know what shame was if it ran up and bit you!”

You saw Ralph out of the corner of your eye, his face the picture of shock mixed with pride. It gave you the spirit to go on. “This man has more respectability and embodies what a true Penbury is. Better than you could ever know! Now I say that after having seen him do right by me - and others! - time and time and time again. He’s moved mountains to help me achieve my dreams and he did it not expecting a single thing in return. The paper in my hand proves that!

“He’s selfless, respectful, innocent, kind, generous, and wonderful and has done everything to earn the title of lord in my eyes. He’s got real class.”

“Real class? Ralph? And not me? We were both to the manner born, shop girl. Unlike you! And you think yourself better than me? Don’t make me laugh,” she replied, her face hard and deadpan. Her statement was all show, however. You could tell by her eyes that you had rattled her. You pressed your advantage.

“Oh! What’s the matter, rich girl? Don’t you know?” you asked, stepping toward her, the fire of your anger giving over to a quiet, cold hatred, “I’ve been raised in the shadow of people like you - people of your social class - and if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned this: having class isn’t a matter of birth at all. It’s a matter of breeding. Somehow you missed the lessons your brother learned. He’s definitely a lord. You? You’re no lady. And you never will be.”

Victoria reached back to slap you. Ralph caught her wrist before it could land. She stared at him. “Get out,” he said. She opened her mouth to argue, wrenched at his grasp, but he held her and repeated, the words slower and more carefully pronounced. “Get. Out.”

She extricated her arm from her brother’s grip. “I can’t believe you’d throw our good name-”

“I’m not the one who started the snowball party traditions, dear sister. Our good name? We don’t have one because of you. Please don’t act as if you care about the family. Lord knows you’ve never actually cared about me. Our good name? Don’t make me laugh,” he repeated her words back to her and she visibly crumbled.

One of the two solicitors cleared their throat.

“Oh! Apologies gentlemen!” said Ralph, his glare never breaking from his sister’s. “Just a bit of a family squabble. Please forgive my sister. She’s obviously drunk. Again. And she was just leaving.”

Victoria backed out of the room in shocked and defeated silence with her proverbial tail between her legs. The door of the library clicked closed behind her. Faintly, the music came to you through them, but the loudest sound was the crackle in the fireplace and another murmur from the gentlemen behind you.

Ralph took your hand and squeezed it, giving you a shy smile. “Brava, darling.”

“Bravo, yourself,” you smiled back. 

Ralph gestured behind you to a grand desk at the other side of the room. “Darling? Will you sign?”

“And how!” You signed three copies of the bill of sale with a pen proffered by one of the solicitors and handed over your payment. Ralph signed where he needed to, the lawyers making their respective marks as well. When all was finished, you expected handshakes all around and the men to leave, but they didn’t.

Ralph asked the men to stand around the other side of the desk and to wait.

Curious as to what is going on, but too afraid to ask directly, you decided to break the awkwardness again: “Will you put me up for the night? I’m afraid I just spent all my train money on a hat shop.”

“Oh I surely do hope you want to stay the night. And then some.”

Ralph went to another door just beside the desk that led out of the library and into a servant’s passage. He motioned to Martha who stood at attention there and she curseyed and came to him escorting another gentleman.

“Now for the second surprise,” said Ralph.

“Not too sure I can take much more, Ralph,” you admitted.

He said to you: “Just come with me for a moment.” To the three men, he said: “Gentlemen, just a minute please.”

He took you by the arm and led you back toward the main library door. “Do you remember when you first came here all those months ago?”

“I do. It seems like a dream now.”

“To me too. A dream that you would be here, always. With me. A dream that I would see a reality.”

“That dream? Made real? How?”

“You could… marry me?” he asked.

“Ralph, I-“

“Before you talk both of us down from this joy, I just want to say this,” he said, holding you away from him at arm’s length. He knelt on one knee and fished a box out of his pocket. “Darling. My darling,” he began, saying your name with a softness that melted your heart, “if I told you that you were the only one for me, I’m not sure you would believe me. If I said that you were the most amazing woman I’d ever met, I know that sounds slightly trite, and maybe even disingenuous.

“What I can say is that you are the one person who has shown me the deepest, most sincere kindness I have ever known. A kindness I’m not sure I deserve because of my cowardice. And so, I am forever in your debt. And since a Penbury always pays his debts, the only way I can repay you would be to keep you in my life for always so that every day I can find bigger and better ways of telling you how much I love you and how much you mean to me.

“So? I shall ask you again, shall I?”

Stunned, you nodded slowly.

“Will you marry me? Will you let me make a feeble start to repaying my debt you?”

He opened the box. Inside was a breathtaking emerald and diamond ring. This had to be the ring he had mentioned before, the one that had once been his grandmother’s. It was staggering. The man who held it out to you was equally staggering. Your vision swam with tears. They burned hot down your cheeks.

On the whole, his experience with you had been brief and sweet. Too brief for most people to know exactly what they wanted. Yet here he was, down on one knee, promising the rest of his life to you. He felt so strongly and so deeply about everything, it wasn’t really a surprise to you that his faith in you was just as all-encompassing; he was so sure about your relationship, about the success of committing to it. It was apparent from the way he had spoken to you just now. Ralph was betting high on the two of you. All his chips were on the table. Now it was up to you.

But were you up for the gamble? Staring into his big brown eyes, he was hard to resist. Still, that stubborn part of you would have its voice. You thought of your independence. You thought of your career. You thought of your own little place all to yourself. And you knew what you had to do. There was no doubt about it. There was no gamble to this. There wasn’t even a risk. 

“Yes, Ralph. I would love to marry you.”

The three men applauded. Martha cried and sniffled into a handkerchief. Ralph slipped the ring on your finger and kissed your hand, his eyes welling up with tears.

“May I keep my shop?” The stubborn side of you had to know.

“Of course! I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from what you love!” he said, rising to his feet. “And I think once your first shop gets really going, you’ll want to open others? Just say the word, my dear.”

Delighted, your mind raced with more questions. “When are we to be married?” you asked. “I haven’t even told my parents about you! When am I to introduce you?”

“I agree that our courtship has been most unusual,” he said. “But I have taken the liberty and already spoken to your parents, asking them for your hand. I hope you don’t mind.”

“When? They didn’t tell me!”

“Last weekend,” he said, “and please forgive them, but I asked them not to tell you. I did want you to be surprised. Your mother insisted on beginning to organize a proper wedding for us. She’s already begun to put your trousseau together.”

“Leave it to mother,” you said and laughed. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed. Perhaps it was the last time you saw Ralph. Yes. You knew it was. You sighed, grateful that you wouldn’t have to part from him again. That you would always have laughter in your life from now on. At least, after you were finally married. Until then, however….

“Won’t Victoria make a fuss whenever I’m about? What do we do about her until we can actually wed?”

“I’ve thought of that,” said Ralph with a wink. “And before you say anything, please know that I have always wanted a big splashy wedding. This is just to satisfy the legal aspect of things until we can do things properly. So please trust me.” He led you back to the other side of the room and the stranger among them was introduced to you.

The mysterious third man that had been brought into the room by Martha was the Right Reverend Josiah Wilkes from the local parish. Ralph had planned everything down to the last, it seemed.

Reverend Wilkes presented a marriage certificate which you and Ralph signed and which was witnessed by the two solicitors and Martha. One of the solicitors produced a box with two gold bands inside, one for Ralph, the other for you. Martha handed you a small bouquet of spring flowers which she had retrieved from the servant’s pantry just beyond the side door. There was a card set among the flowers.

Good for you. Choosing the love that’s here today is the smartest thing you could have done. Hang on to that one forever, dearie. Best Wishes — Mrs. Randolph 

You couldn’t help but cry now. Martha handed you a fresh handkerchief and you dabbed at your eyes.

“All set?” asked the reverend.

You nodded and stood at Ralph’s left side and the ceremony began. You married Lord Ralph Penbury in the quiet of the library, while the music played and the revelers danced with abandon outside the doors, blissfully unaware that the two of you were making a start on a new life together, now and forever.

******************

MASTERLIST LINK

Tagged readers: @h-ness1944 / @eddie-is-a-god / emma77645 / @hahahafucku / @paranoidmunson / @honey-eyed-munson / @mystars123 / @bl4ckt00thgr1n / @live-love-be-unique / @ becca-alexa / @aysheashea / @bohemianrhapsody86 / @luvrsbian / @etherealglimmer / @ladybug0095 / @pollenallergie / @iyagikkun / @vladersira / @nightonblogmountain / @quinnsmunson / @aysheashea / @bubbabugbee / @dylanmunson

#joseph quinn #fanfic #writing #ralph penbury #ralph x reader #ralph timewasters #ao3 #ao3 writer #The Hat Shop Girl #THSG

[melanieathene]

Suptober 2023 Day 10 - Close Shave

It was raining, Raindrops wove crooked tracks down the motel's windowpane, the weak light of a streetlamp casting their shadows on Dean's face: phantom tears, that he refused to shed.

Cas had almost died this afternoon. Dean had almost died trying to save him. Sam had almost died saving them both. It had been one hell of a day.

Dean raised the bottle he held clenched tight in one hand and took a swig. A trail of fire burned its way down his throat: the echo of a sob, that he refused to utter.

Bone weary, yet unable to sleep, he kept a silent, lonely vigil: watching lightning fork its way across the sky; trying to convince himself the only storm was the one raging outside.

Sam was okay. He was safe and sleeping in the bed behind him.

Cas was alive – though god only knew where he had flapped off to in such a hurry.

“I'm fine,” Dean whispered, and took another long swallow. The whiskey – and the lie – slipped down his throat with the ease of long practice.

It was easier to numb the pain than it was to confront the truth behind it. Cas had almost died this afternoon, and if he had... well, let's just say Dean would have preferred death too, rather than a life without him. That Sam had saved them both left Dean's head – and heart – in turmoil. When had Cas become so important to him? What was he supposed to do with the sudden realization that he had? He felt his world tilt on its axis; unbridled emotion struck him like a thunderbolt. Nothing would ever be the same.

“I'm fine,” he repeated, gritting his teeth.

“You are anything but fine,” a low voice murmured.

“Cas,” he breathed.

“Hello, Dean.”

He could hear the smile in the fond tone. Could feel the tension in his body easing with the familiar presence at his side.

“You're back.” He set the bottle on the table and turned to face the angel.

“I always come back.”

“You always have so far... But you almost didn't today.”

Castiel frowned. “And you almost died as well. I didn't ask for you to save me.”

“You didn't have to. Just as you didn't have to throw yourself away to save my life.”

“I had no other choice.”

“Neither did I.” Dean expelled a shaky breath that was closer to a sob than it was a sigh. “Self-sacrificing bastards, aren't we?”

“It would appear so.”

“Not the first time we've had such a close shave... and it probably won't be the last.”

“Probably not.”

“Why do we do it, Cas? Why do we find it easier to die for one another, than we do to face the fact that we – ”

Castiel's head tilted to one side. “That we what, Dean?”

This was it. This was the moment to set himself free, to spill his newfound truth and damned be the consequences. But the words stuck in his throat. All he could manage was: “You know. You have to know. You can't be that stupid.”

“I know. I just need to hear you say it. It's an angel thing, Dean. I can't possess a vessel without its permission. I can't say what you want to hear until you say it first. And believe me, I long to say it. I've waited what seems to be an eon. I've despaired time and time again, but still I cling to the hope that someday – ”

“I love you,” Dean said quietly, the words at last – at long last – bubbling to the surface. And, oh, they were easier and sweeter than he had imagined they would be. “I think I'm in love with you.”

“I love you too, Dean. And I am definitely in love with you.”

There was no telling who made the first move; whose hands reached out to hold and caress, whose mouth was first to claim the other's. There was no you or me, no what ifs and lost yesterdays. There was only here and now and us, and it consumed them.

“So, where do we go from here?” Dean wondered, as they surfaced from a searingly hot first kiss.

Castiel met his stare, lips red and puffy, blue eyes wide and wild with desire, dark hair ruffled as if a strong wind had blown through it instead of Dean's wandering hands. He was, quite simply, the most gorgeous sight Dean had ever seen.

“May I suggest you go book another room?”

“That might be the smartest thing you've ever said, Sam,” Dean laughed, and grabbed the angel – his angel – by the hand. “C'mon, Cas. Let's not waste another minute. Whatever time we have left on this planet, I want to spend it with you.”

“Finally!” Sam sighed as the door slammed shut behind them. “Those two idiots finally got their act together. I just hope their room isn't right next to mine!”

#suptober #suptober23 #suptober23 day 10 #destiel #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester

[stylessatellite]

Tech on Tour: Welcome to Tour

Feeling the bass of Sarah’s drums in your bones made you feel alive and judging by Harry’s face when he walked off stage he felt it too.

He met your eyes first thing and grinned.

You grinned back.

If this was how the rest of the tour was going to go, you couldn’t wait.

A/N: Welcome to the first official post for the Tech on Tour series!! Feel free to like and/ or reblog. Happy reading <3

Warnings: None that I can think of besides shitty writing lol. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. The first official day on the job is nerve wracking enough, but having your first day be opening night for the Harry Styles's opening show of his first solo tour. You were about to pass out.

9 months ago you were mourning the loss of One Direction.

9 months ago you were mourning the loss of One Direction.

7 months ago you along with the rest of the world were eagerly awaiting for Harry Styles debut album to drop.

5 months ago you received an email from Jeff asking if you would be willing to join Harry on tour.

You didn’t think it was real art first. Maybe a scam or something. Turns out it wasn’t. Apparently Jeff was asking around for good techs, and your boss had recommended you. After freaking out with your roommate, you eagerly responded with yes and a few phone calls later you were all set to start packing and jet off to California for tour rehearsals.

“10 minutes to show”

You start gathering your stuff and head closer to the stager to do a last minute check in with the band. Heading towards them you make sure everyone's mic packs are attached securely and their in-ears are in place along with some nerve soothing as well on everyone’s parts.

“5 minutes to show. Band stand by to enter”

Finishing up your conversation with Sarah, you head over to where Harry's hanging out with Jeff in the corner. The former seems more nervous than before, especially now that show time is a lot closer. You just manage to catch the tail end of his and Jeff's conversation

Looking significantly paler, you hand Harry his mic pack and in-ears and help him put them on.

“Hey look at me,” you say, “you have nothing to be worried about. You hear all of those screams? They’re all for you. You don't have to freak out and think that all of your fans were there for the rest of the boys. THEY. ARE. HERE. FOR. YOU. Now get out there and do the same thing you’ve been doing for the past 7 years.

“Thank you” he says, and you can barely hear him over the increasing screams and the faint intro of Only Angel.

“You know you’re kinda good at this pep talk thing.” Jeff comments.

“Well, it was an altered version of the one I give myself.” you reply shrugging, “Besides it gives you a reason to keep me around should he fail tonight.”

“Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be making sure he doesn't fail tonight?”

“Oh I’m on instruments tonight, so I have some time.”

Actually meeting Harry and the rest of the band wasn’t as nerve wracking as you had anticipated. Sure Mitch kept turning around to look at Sarah and getting caught in wires, but you thought it was cute so you didn’t care. You had a feeling Harry kept messing up just so Mitch would have another excuse to look at Sarah.

One thing you didn’t anticipate was taking that time to look at Harry. With you being designated with mostly his instruments and mic packs you spent a lot of time with him.

Like A Lot.

More so than was probably acceptable for someone that was just a techie. Getting to know Harry was probably your favourite thing so far and you didn't want to mess that up and you had a feeling he didn’t either.

Feeling the bass of Sarah’s drums in your bones made you feel alive and judging by Harry’s face when he walked off stage he felt it too.

He met your eyes first thing and grinned.

You grinned back.

If this was how the rest of the tour was going to go, you couldn’t wait.

#harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fake social media #harry styles fanfiction #tech on tour

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader ) - Chapter Five

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter Five Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 6718 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

You watched from your place against the wall as Spencer, Kate and Hotch left the Pit, keenly aware of Spencer's eyes seeking you out and adjusting your hiding place accordingly. But you kept eyes on him, and when his own turned away from the Pit in defeat, you let yourself relax.

You hadn't been expecting your old team to come down and put pressure on Madame Lacroix, especially not tonight when a meeting had already been arranged. As long as they didn't allude to what they know, you thought, everything should be fine.

The plan would remain the same: you would meet the seller, play it casual, seem willing and pliant, gain as much evidence as possible that would expose him and the rest of the managers, then high-tail it back to your team ready for the take down.

You rubbed your temples as opposed to your tired eyes to avoid ruining your makeup. All Madame Lacroix had said about the meeting was that you would be summoned sometime tonight. And while you knew you needed to be focusing on the upcoming meeting, on the seller, on taking him down, all you could think of was him.

Dr. Spencer Reid, with his brilliant, amber eyes that could freeze you in place with one look. Dr. Spencer Reid, with his strong hands - the hands that held you close to his body only minutes beforehand. You'd initiated the contact, but it had been instinct, a defence mechanism as Serena Vanderguff. Once you'd realised the position you'd placed the both of you in, you knew you had to pull away as fast as possible.

He'd looked at you like he had that night in the office. Looking up, the soft light of the booth had illuminated his eyes to appear warm and alive - and so full of admiration you could hardly believe such a wondrous, more beautiful sight existed on earth.

But that voice in the back of your head, Serena's voice, nagged at you. Not yet, she said, it's too risky. But hadn't you risked it all already? Hadn't you done your duty to the fullest? No. That voice belonged to you, and that was what pulled you away from him, what made you send him away.

'What would you have said? That night I asked you out. Yes or no?'

It wasn't that you were surprised he asked the question. It was inevitable, and you had practiced your answer everyday since you'd left, hoping you'd get to finally say it to him.

What surprised you was how he said. It was like his whole life surrounded the question, like it would determine how he would live the rest of it according to your answer. It was important to him, but something as trivial as an answer to a date didn't seem like the thing Dr. Spencer Reid would be hung up on almost a year later.

But Spence - your Spence - would. The man behind the facts and figures, statistics and books; the man you'd befriended; the man you had stood by and who had stood by you in return through the hardest of times. The man who'd quoted you Shakespeare when you were tired, and made you laugh by recalling a memory of you two you had sealed away so carefully you'd almost lost it.

The question was important to Spence, in all his vulnerable glory, and it was for that reason you did not answer him. The mere thought that you mattered to him in the way he mattered to you was too much to handle, especially now.

A gentle hand on your shoulder jolted you from your silent state. It was Ajani, worry creasing her gorgeous, dark features.

'You good, Serena?' she asked, observant eyes raking over you in a quick check.

You nodded, using the action to bring you back to the present. 'Yeah, I'm fine,' you answered, slipping back into your Serena Vanderguff costume. 'Just feel a bit crowded in here, you know?'

'That's why I stay behind the bar,' Ajani quipped, and you were thankful for the break in solemness.

'Then what are you doing with us peasants out here?" you asked, a cheeky smile pulling your lips up.

Ajani pushed your shoulder she was holding lightly, her laughter making it feel you were in your own little bubble. 'You're in luck, it seems,' she said, and your stomach dropped along with her smile. 'Madame wants you in the loading dock.'

You didn't question it. The request could only be one thing. You nodded your thanks and made your way through the masses towards the loading dock. Making sure no one was watching you leave, you opened the door partly and slipped through the small gap before gently closing it behind you.

You were met with Madame Lacroix at the garage entrance to the dock, three men in black S.W.A.T.-like outfits, mouth masks, and a limo behind them. None of the men moved at your appearance which told you they were trained guards of sorts, maybe ex-military. You noticed one of them had a tattoo peaking out from under his pushed up long sleeve shirt. It was a tail of sorts, maybe an ancient Chinese dragon's tail.

You switched your focus back on Madame Lacroix and approached her, the perfect picture of calm and grace. You didn't flinch as you spotted each men with an assortment of knives attached to their legs, and a gun each holstered at their hips.

Madame Lacroix stepped closer to greet you, a hopeful smile adorning her red lips. 'It's time,' she said, taking your hands in hers, giving them a squeeze, and leading you to the limo. The men didn't move as you approached, instead waiting until you were closer to make a move. The middle one - the dragon tattoo guy - stepped forward as you approached, a canvas bag in hand.

'Is that really necessary?' you asked, pulling your head away slightly.

He raised it to your head. 'Nothing personal. Just protocol.'

You scowled at him but didn't argue further, allowing the man to place the bag over your head. Your world went instantly pitch black, and then you were moving again towards the car thanks to the men and Madame Lacroix. She sat next to you in the car based on the hand that still held yours, and from the sound of the other door opening on the opposite side one of the three guards was sitting in the back with you, too.

The car trip was silent and an hour almost passed before the car pulled to a complete stop, the engine rumbling down to a soft purr, then silence. You'd counted the minutes that passed in your head as an anchor. Not being able to see made you a little anxious, and counting kept your mind occupied. It also helped you listen out for anything happening outside of the car.

The men and Madame Lacroix had been careful not to speak the entire ride, but that allowed you to hear the blaring of car horns and city traffic fade about twenty minutes into the trip. You'd noticed the slight change in road when that happened too; slick tarmac like a highway. The road became increasingly rougher the longer you travelled, and the last ten minutes you turned off the highway and onto a long dirt road.

Out of town, you concluded internally. Secluded, off the beaten track, south bound. While these people were bringing you into their elite circle, you couldn't shake the feeling that something might go wrong. It was important you had some idea where you were in case you needed to escape.

You were gently tugged out of the car by Madame Lacroix, who had never let go of your hand the entire time. In an odd way, it was comforting, knowing someone was there supporting you, looking out for you. Even if it was someone as shady and two-faced as Madame Lacroix.

Your opened toed heels tripped on gravel and dirt, lodging a few loose stones between the straps. It was summer, but the cool breeze of the night had you shaking in your skimpy red dress. Yep, definitely off the beaten track.

You heard a tin door open by the way it echoed and creaked with the motion, and you were guided into a darker place where the moon couldn't illuminate the bottom edge of the canvas bag that kept you connected to the outside world. Immediately your nose was hit with the sterile scent of bleach, like a hospital. You mentally counted your steps, mapping out at what number you turned left, then right, then right again, and finally straight for about ten paces. One of the men fiddled with a door handle, but this one sounded more solid, not rustic like the outside one.

Another ten paces forward and you were pulled to a stop. The door behind you closed, and finally the canvas bag was taken off.

You blinked a few times, gaining your eyesight back and catching your bearings. Once both had returned, you found yourself in a room with a long table and thirteen chairs around it. In eleven of them sat men and women, some of whom you recognised as your old managers like Alfred Royalton and Melton Jones.

Behind them stood women, all different, but all undeniably beautiful. But for some, being called a woman was a stretch. Some of them couldn't have been older than eighteen at best, their faces too youthful, too innocent. And yet they were here, standing behind their bosses like trophies or handbags. You couldn't tell which label was worse.

You noticed an empty seat. No doubt Madame Lacroix's place at the table. That made the twelve establishments. But there was still one more person sitting down, appropriately at the head of the table.

He was a burley man, white button up under a grey suit jacket barely holding in massive muscles. His dark hair was slicked back from dark, slitted eyes, pale face glowing with health under the fluorescent light. The Boss, you concluded. The Unsub. His ringed hands were clasped in front of his face, and you forced yourself to hold your ground as those slitted eyes narrowed on you.

The emptiness you found in his eyes scared you more than anything. You expected him to be lecherous, perverted and possessive in all aspects of his being. That was how you profiled him after learning of the sadistic manner the girls were killed in. But he showed nothing but a void of emotions or care.

And a man without feeling was a man worth fearing.

You held his gaze for a moment longer before he waved a hand in the direction of the empty seat. 'Madame Lacroix. So good of you to join us. And I see you've brought a guest.'

Like a proud mother, Madame Lacroix grabbed your arm with one hand and wrapped her other around your opposite shoulder, red lips drawn back in a wide smile. 'Yes! Everyone, some of you may know her already, but this is Serena. She'll be hanging out a lot more often after tonight.'

'Bold of you to assume I will approve of her,' the Boss said, and his gaze returned to you. 'You know I have... requirements she must meet.'

'Trust me, she will, Walter,' Madame Lacroix said, her smile slipping into a scowl as she narrowed her snake eyes on him. 'Besides, if you'd stop killing off our girls, we wouldn't have to keep bringing in new ones to teach everything all over again.'

You held back your surprised gasp. So she did know this whole time he was the killer. She'd practically just called him out in front of everyone, and none of his men were in the room to protect him if things went south.

Agreeing murmurs dribbled around the room, but a single raise of the Boss' - Walter's - hand silenced them in a second.

'You'd do well to remember your place, Madame Lacroix,' he said, deathly calm as he returned his hands to clasping one another, his dead eyes locking onto her. 'You may make money off your girls, but I'm the one who still owns them; therefore, I suggest you keep your accusations to yourself unless you don't want to have any employees tomorrow.'

Walter either truly didn't kill Roxy and the others, or he wanted the managers to be looking over their shoulders in constant fear that they would be next. Either way, by not out-rightly admitting to it, he retained power over them all because it was too ambiguous to determine whether he did or didn't kill those girls. And you didn't get a confession.

Like it would've been that easy anyways.

The threat was enough to dull the ire in Madame Lacroix's eyes, lowering her gaze from him in defeat. You looked between her and Walter, terrified at how such a man could tame - no, make cower - a woman as bold and powerful as Madame Lacroix. He re-offered his hand to the empty seat, and you followed your manager as she followed his silent order without question.

'Now, anyone else have something to say?' Walter asked, but the room remained silent, every spokes girl with heads bowed and every manger looking sheepish as they avoided his steel gaze. Walter leant back in his seat. 'You know I will not tolerate insubordination. I have given you lives, prospects, something to call your own. Those girls... met an unfortunate end. Work with me, and I can protect you from that same fate.'

Again, he danced around the confession. He spoke with such threat, but acted like a protector. It frustrated you. It was like he was taunting you specifically, knowing that you were recording-

Your breath escaped you as fear crept into your bones. What if he did know? What if you'd already given yourself away and he was just biding his time until he could finish you off himself?

The thought niggled at the back of your mind as the meeting continued. They talked about stock and other deals, all the while the spokes girls remaining silent as the managers discussed business. The thought had almost slipped your mind until the end of the meeting came about.

'What do you want us to do about the FBI?' Alfred asked. 'There are only so many lies and half-truths we can tell to cover for all this.'

You watched Walter's reaction carefully. But he didn't flinch at the thought of your team getting closer. Confidence oozed from his every movement as he sat back in his seat, arms resting on the chair's arms.

'Leave the FBI to me,' he said. 'The feds won't be a problem much longer I can assure you, Alfred. For now, it is business as usual. Everyone is dismissed.'

All the managers stood up and made their way to the exit door, their girls walking promptly behind them. You waited for Madame Lacroix to stand, but she never did, and neither did Walter. You all remained at the table even when the last person left, agonising silence suffocating you as you waited for someone to break it.

Walter broke it. 'So you're the Serena I've been hearing so much about,' he said, his dead eyes flicking to you, his face not giving anything away.

You waited for him to continue, but you quickly realised in the following silence that he wanted you to speak. 'Only good things, I hope,' you said, offering your best flirtatious smile. If there was one thing you had learnt over your eleven months in the business, it was that men like him always softened for a confident smile. 'Or, you know, bad things, depending on how you look at it.'

To your luck, the corner of his lips lifted in a slight smile. The void in his eyes changed then into desire and a weird sense of admiration as they raked over your body, as if just realising how skimpy your outfit really was. 'Confident,' he said after he stopped gazing at you. 'I like that.'

You held your smile as he stood up from his chair for the first time that night. He was a good head-and-chest taller than you, causing you to strain your neck to look up at him as he came around to you. You forced yourself to keep breathing evenly as he stood over you, dark eyes alight with lust and desire.

'Six of my different establishments in eleven months,' he said. 'Some would say that was suspicious.'

'Or just ambitious,' you challenged, not allowing him to continue. 'You're not as sneaky as you'd like to believe, Walter. But I'm not one to kiss and tell. All I ask is to be let in on the secret. You've heard about me, so I don't need to tell you what I'll do to be let in the room where it all happens.'

'That's Mr. Khan to you,' he said, lust and desire trading in for dominance. His stare was cold, but you held it. Men like him who craved power and dominate would react to a headstrong, daring woman like you in one of two ways:

They get angry at being made impotent or an imbecile compared to a woman, and the anger is most of the time physicalised in violent actions against women; or

The man will admire the woman's confidence, and reward her for not backing down from his otherwise dominant presence.

You were hoping for the latter.

And when his gaze softened with that lust and desire once more, you knew you had won.

'But maybe one day that will change,' he said, and he held out his arm towards a door at the back of the room. 'You're impressive, Serena. I will admit. But there's just one last test I'd like to put you to.'

You looked between him and the doorway cautiously, keeping in the back of your mind the notion that he might actually know who you are. But seeing as it was only you, him, and Madame Lacroix left in the room, your odds of refusing him and leaving unscathed were low. So you smiled like the obedient employee you were and said, 'If you say so, Mr. Khan.'

'Be gentle with her, please,' Madame Lacroix said, remaining in her seat. She sounded defeated, tired. It made you wonder how many girls she had handed over to him before you and Roxy like this. Maybe she really did care for her girls, for you.

'Always, Madame,' he said, then ushered you in front of him towards the door. 'Don't bother waiting around. We're going to be a while.'

You repressed the shiver of terror that wanted to run down your spine. That doesn't sound good, you thought, but smiled appreciatively as Walter opened the door and allowed you to enter first. The click that echoed through the dimly lit hallway when the door closed was like the hammer of justice used in court, sentencing you to whatever horror he had hiding in the shadows.

You couldn't help the gasp that escaped you when Walter's hand pressed firmly into the small of your back. Your dress was thin and did nothing to stop the cold that came along with his touch.

'I won't lie to you,' Walter started, walking the both of you forward steadily. 'I've been following you for some time now, Serena. But usually those who climb my corporate ladder, so to say, come through me first. So where did you come from?'

You made sure to keep your features relaxed as you twisted your neck to look up at him. You've presented yourself as a confident woman now. The moment you show otherwise he'll start to suspect you. If he hasn't already, that is. 'Like I said, I'm an ambitious woman, Mr. Khan. If there is something I want, there's nothing I won't do to get it.'

'And what is it that you want, dear Serena?' He leaned in closer, warm breath brushing your cheeks. You were even more conscious of his touch on your back and arm now. You wouldn't be able to run even if you wanted to. Just relax, just relax, just relax.

'I want what everyone of those other girls want,' you answered, turning your attention forwards again. 'To have control over my life. To make something more of myself than what this wretched world had predestined for me.'

You were pulled to a halt out the front of door. You'd been walking for sometime, so whatever place this was had to be big. That wouldn't be easy to hide. But instead of opening the door, Walter turned you to face him, his hands now holding your arms in a grip that bordered between gentle and harsh.

'I don't believe you,' he said, a coy smile tugging his lips. 'You don't strike me as the kind of girl that is like every other girl. If you were, you wouldn't have bothered worming your way up to where we stand now, Serena.'

'You make it sound like dirty work,' you quipped.

'That's because it is.' For a moment, his eyes softened, and you saw a kind man. Maybe he once was before. But you quickly realised it was the face of a liar, a mask he put on to get people to believe him and his cause.

You would not be another victim to his lies.

'So tell me the truth,' he demanded. 'Why are you here? Right now?'

You couldn't exactly tell him the truth unless you had a death wish. But he'd already seen through your practised lies, so another one wouldn't work. So you settled on a half-truth. 'Because I want to be as powerful as I can be in this world, to protect my own and deal out punishment accordingly to those who wrong me. It is, after all, a dangerous world out there. I just want to be one that makes it so.'

He contemplated you for a moment, for the first time that evening looking shocked and unsuspecting of what just occurred. But that quickly dissipated into a devilish smile, dark eyes burning with promise. 'See? I knew you weren't like the other girls.'

You had no time to respond as he opened the door and once again allowed you to go in first. You hesitated at first, as the room was pitch black so you couldn't see what potential trap you were heading into. But you walked in anyways, Walter right behind you. You held your breath as he closed the door behind him and blanketed you in darkness briefly. Your eyes didn't have time to adjust as you heard a switch flick, and fluorescent lights flickered on.

You blinked, but not from the lights, but from the sight that met you underneath them.

Girls. In a cage.

The cage was positioned along the back wall of the long room, cramming what seemed to be thirteen or so girls crammed into the small cell. You took a step closer, both out of horror and a need to help those girls, but also so your camera got a clear view of the girls. Horror coursed through you like cold water, and you had to bite your inner cheek to contain the urge to hurl at the animality of it all.

The eldest girls of the group couldn't be older than thirteen, their youthful faces smeared with dirt, littered with cuts and painted with bruises. The more you looked over them the more you saw how diverse they were in race. Caucasian, Latina, and African-American. He had them all.

You bit your cheek harder when Walter seized your arm and pressed his mouth close to your ear, trapping your gaze forward. 'Welcome to the Warehouse, Serena,' he murmured, his tone almost proud of what you were seeing. 'This is where all the magic happens.'

You couldn't speak even if you wanted to. Your throat was clogged trying to hold back bile; your voice was silenced, and words escaped you as you couldn't believe someone could actually do this to young girls. What sickened you even more was the space in the middle of the warehouse, littered with hay like a manger. A chain hung from the ceiling above the hay, straps for wrists dangling on its end. And off to the side laid a table of all kinds of tools and instruments one could mistake for sex toys. But you guessed otherwise.

You'd profiled Walter to be sadistic and all about the message. Those tools weren't for sex. They were to teach the girls he kidnapped who was in charge of them, who owned them.

This was where he brainwashed them.

This was where he killed them.

Girls looked at you with tired eyes, but none called out to you. You saw tear streaks cutting through the layer of dirt on their cheeks, but still they remained silent. He'd already taken their voices.

You never knew you could hate a man as much as you hated Walter Khan.

'Well, what do you think?' he asked, walking around to block your view of the girls. 'Isn't it just... magnificent?'

You wanted to slug him, kick him, bite him, shoot him if you had your gun. You wanted to scratch his eyes out with the fake talons the nail salon called nails. He liked what he saw, and you wanted so badly to make him regret enjoying someone else's pain, let alone young girls'.

You didn't say any of what you truly felt, however. Instead, you forced yourself to look at him, trained your voice into a steady tone as you said, 'They are magnificent.'

His grin widened and he squeezed your arms. 'Welcome aboard, Serena. Come now, we have much to discuss.'

He guided you towards the door again, but not before you looked one more time at the girls and mouthed, I'll be back.

You concentrated on steadying your breathing as he closed the door behind you, as if there was more air in the tiny corridor than the Warehouse. After he did, he guided you down the hallway a little before he spoke again. 'Now, where were we?'

Before you could answer, a phone dial blared, pinging off the walls of the corridor. Walter quickly realised it was his phone that was ringing, and fished the phone out and answered the call. 'Rufus... Yep... I see... I'll be right there.'

He ended the call then turned his attention back to you, pocketing his phone in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 'Business never sleeps, I'm afraid. You know the way back right? One of my men will meet you there to take you back to the Chateau.'

'Of course,' you said, offering an understanding smile.

He picked your hand up and kissed the back of it, like he thought he was some gentleman. You resisted the urge to hurl everything up on him at the delusional thought.

'Until next time, dear Serena,' he said lowly. 'I'm very much looking forward to the future with you here.'

'So am I.'

He turned away and walked down the corridor, the opposite direction of the meeting room. You decided to head back to the meeting room slowly, but your mind was reeling with what you'd just seen.

Those poor girls. You couldn't get their faces out of your mind. How they silently pleaded for help with big, doe eyes that were weighed down by dark circles of exhaustion and starvation. How could anyone do that to a child let alone a group of them, you would never understand. But after meeting Walter Khan in person finally, the man behind all the trauma and deaths, you had someone to be angry at.

You halted in front of the door back to the meeting room. You knew a man in a mask was waiting on the otherwise, and that if you stayed any longer than was necessary, he'd suspect something wrong and come find you. I've got enough, you told yourself, I have enough evidence to get this man to court.

But you didn't have a confession. And if he was as feared and powerful as everyone claimed him to be, he'd get out of it without so much as a slap on the wrist.

The girls' faces haunted you as you stared at the door, hand unable to bring itself to open the door and walk away. I should go. I need to go, your training screamed at you.

But your heart...

The door suddenly opened, startling you out of your frozen state. One of the men that brought you there stood in the opening, eyes narrowed in confusion. 'What are you doing? We've got to go.'

You reacted before your mind could convince you otherwise. You jabbed your hand to his throat, punching hard to silence any cries for help he'd try to make in the next few seconds. He choked at the sudden loss of air, reaching for his throat with both hands. Big mistake.

Next, you drove your knee into his groin, sending him sprawling to the ground in a choking, gasping heap of pain and agony. You crouched by his hip and pulled out the gun holstered there, and just as he started to regain air, you slammed the butt of it into the back of his head.

He was unconscious before his head hit the ground again.

Knowing you didn't have much time, you grabbed the man's shoulders and dragged him under the table somewhat out of sight. It wasn't a full-proof hiding place; someone would find him eventually. But it would buy you just enough time to do what you needed to do.

Running on your toes so as not to clack your heels, you quickly made your way back to the Warehouse, checking your surroundings before entering and closing the door gently behind you.

You surveyed the room, gun aimed ready to fire in case someone else was there. It might've been luck or someone looking out for you from above, but it was just you and the girls.

'You're that girl from before,' one sweet voice said across the long room.

You ran over to the girls, hand pressed to your lips in a quieting motion. Only once you were crouched close enough did you speak again. 'Don't worry, girls. I'm going to get you out of here.'

'Who are you?' The question came from one of the older girls, dull brown eyes narrowed at you with scepticism. Sadly, you didn't blame her.

'I am with the FBI,' you answered. 'My name is Y/N. How long have you been here?' When no one answered, you noticed their scared eyes, darting away from your sight. They didn't trust you.

'Look,' you started, 'I know you have no reason to trust me. I can't imagine how many lies these people have told you to trap you here. But I promise you I am not with them. I've been searching for a way to stop this from happening for a while now. So please, let me help you now before anymore bad things happen to you.'

Some lifted their gazes back to you, and you were happy to see a glimmer of hope shining in them. Gosh, how long had they been trapped for?

'Some of us only a few days,' the girl with the dull eyes finally replied. The way she spoke made it out that she was the leader of the group, as some girls nodded in support of her. 'Others a couple of weeks already. He's... done things to us, you know... down there.'

Your anger came roaring up from inside you with such ferocity you wanted to scream. He raped these girls? They were children.

You silently vowed to slaughter that monster if it was the last thing you would do.

But you remembered where you were and composed yourself, pushing your anger down to speak again. 'He won't do that ever again to you, I promise.' You looked around the room and saw another door just off to the side. Looking upwards, you noticed a window high above shining moonlight into the room. An exit.

You stood back up and moved to the lock on the cage. It was heavy duty, but you weren't good at undercover missions for no reason. You unclipped one of your hoop earrings and inserted the pointy end into the keyhole. You listened for specific clicks, twisting and turning the earring until you heard a resounding click and the lock unlocked.

Swift hands took the lock off the door and swung it open, offering your hand to one of the young girls to take. 'Come on, we don't have a lot of time.' Thankfully the girl understood your urgency and took your hand, and you guided her and the others to the exit door.

You were met with a cold breeze as you stepped outside into a cleared lot of the woods. Looking around it seemed you were on some sort of hidden farm, as you couldn't see any road beyond the tree line except for the driveway out of there. Bright lights lit up the entrance to the facility where cars were parked and men in black guarded, guns ready in their hands.

Okay, stealing a car is not an option, you concluded. You looked to the woods, but found only darkness staring back at you. You could risk it, but who knew what wildlife you'd meet.

You looked around desperately. Come on! There has to be something! But when the answer didn't hit you straight away, you looked up to the moon. Hang on, you thought, eyeing the moon's positioning. You'd concluded you'd driven south bound. And since it was near early morning, the moon's arc would be more to your left if you were looking north.

You twisted yourself to stand in such a way, and once you'd gotten your bearings, a mental map of New York State entered your mind. Even before you went back undercover, you'd always helped Spencer with geographical profiles, having looked at pretty much every state's map once or twice. While you didn't have Spencer's eidetic memory, you prided yourself on image relativity and mentally mapped out big landmarks you recalled from the map in relation to your bearings.

Even when he wasn't here, Spencer Reid was there to save the day.

You crouched by the girls, bringing them closer to listen to you. 'There should be a set of train tracks about two miles east of here, okay? We're gonna head in that direction, and when we hit it, we're going to head north, or left, until we get to a station or New York, you hear me?'

The girls nodded, and you were about to start moving them when an angry cry echoed from the Warehouse. 'The girls are gone!'

You pulled the girl with the dull eyes towards you, making sure she looked you in the eyes and understood what you were about to say. 'You girls go now. I will hold these guys off and I'll catch up. But whatever you do, don't stop. Follow my instructions and don't look back.'

'You're leaving us?' the girl asked, fear shaking her voice slightly.

You grabbed ahold of her shoulders and said in a low voice, 'What's your name?'

'Ellie.'

'Okay, Ellie. I know you're scared, but I need you to be brave for me and these other girls right now. Lead them to the tracks and run along. Find the police and tell them everything. You think you can do that for me?'

'I-I guess.'

'That's good enough for me.' You clapped her shoulders before standing back up and pointing towards the woods, easterly. 'Now go!'

Ellie nodded, and grabbed two young girls' hands before taking off in a run in the direction you pointed. The other older girls followed Ellie's lead and grabbed or picked up some of the younger girls and disappeared into the dark woods, knives of moonlight cutting through the trees occasionally to light their journey.

You didn't allow yourself to ponder them any longer as you heard hurried footsteps behind you. You unlocked the safety on the gun and didn't wait to be shot at, firing the first bullet as some of Walter's cronies came running out of the Warehouse.

One man fell with an agonising cry, but the second ducked back inside briefly as you shot. By now, other men had noticed the commotion and had started running over to you.

I'm not getting out of this alive. The realisation came as you fired another shot before running towards the second man in the warehouse, shooting him down as you sought refuge back in the room. You weren't scared, you realised, to die fighting for those girls. But a sense of regret gnawed at your subconscious.

Just as you stepped inside, however, your face exploded with pain as a ringed fist slammed into your nose, producing a resounding crack. You gasped as blood ran like a river down your face, into your mouth and down your chin. But your attacker didn't give you time to recover, slamming another fist into your stomach and sending you stumbling outside and onto your back.

The gun fell from your hand in the fall, leaving you disoriented and flailing as you tried looking for it. But a strong grip on your throat stopped your movement. You spat blood as you gasped for air, desperately clawing at the hand in your weakened state. Your vision was blurry from the lack of oxygen, but you had a second of clarity which revealed your attacker.

'Oh Serena,' Walter Khan drawled, his tone more like a disappointed parent than angry. 'Or is it... Agent Y/N L/N?'

Your eyes widened with fear and surprise. He did know. You wondered how long for. Had your mission been compromised from the start?

'I knew the FBI would try something like this eventually,' he said casually, his grip never slipping. 'Which is why I had my people look into you when you started making yourself... more useful to us. I must admit, I admire your commitment. How much did it kill you to help with all our illegal dealings?'

You didn't respond, only kept clawing at his hand with your bloody ones. More of his men arrived, guns aimed at you, but Walter halted them with one hand.

'I thought you'd do the smart thing and just go back home, no doubt deliver all the information you knew about my operation to your little FBI friends. And I was going to do what I did to the others in your own home before you could, just to show those FBI fools that they aren't as smart as they think.'

His eyes raked down your body, and you flinched as he leaned in closer to the camera button on your dress. 'Did you guys hear that? You think you outsmarted me? Think again.'

With his other hand, he ripped the button off and dropped it to the ground where he stepped on it, shattering it completely.

'They'll.. find me,' you managed out, spitting blood in Walter's face as you did. 'My team... They will find me... and take you down... When they find those girls...'

'They're not going to find those girls,' Walter interrupted, arrogance radiating from him as he leaned in close to you 'You want to know why? Because you're going to tell me what direction they went and where you told them to go.'

You gathered blood and saliva in your mouth and spat it all in his face. 'Over my... dead body... bastard.'

For the first time since meeting him, his arrogance slipped and anger took its place as he stared directly into your eyes through the blood and spit, his own eyes again void of any emotion. 'Careful what you wish for, Agent.'

His free fist hit the side of your head before you knew what was happening. The world went dark before you even hit the ground.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #romance #angst #david rossi #derek morgan #jason gideon #jennifer jareau #slowburn #aaron hotch hotchner #bau #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #alex blake #kate callahan #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #fbi #criminal minds fanfiction #spencerreid #criminals minds imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #friends to lovers

[purpleyoonn]

Individual Masterlist

Poly BTS Masterlist

This is where all of my individual member works are going to be located. I will have them categorized by member. Each work will have a summary and pairing associated with it. Most of these, if not all of them, will be one shots.

*Please see my poly bts master list if looking for something different.

My Queen (one shot)

Seokjin had just returned to find his court and staff were not treating you how they should when he was gone. You were hurt, and his instincts were telling him to claim you and make sure you were unharmed. 

Pairing: Vampire King Jin x Human Reader

Part 1 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 9/16)

My Home (one shot)

It was close to winter, and your medicine was nearly complete for you to use. But when it came to, you helped another whose wounds were life threatening. Now, random items kept showing up on your porch, with each item bringing you closer to the creature you healed. And when he returned, he saved you. Now, with him, you felt like you were home. 

Pairing: Dragon Yoongi x Human Healer Reader

Part 2 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 9/23)

My Prisoner (one shot)

You were trying to buy a new notebook for your writings, not expecting to get lost in a forest you didn’t recognize from your map. After passing the same tree multiple times, you stop to rest for the night, only to be captured and taken to a King’s castle for judgement. You weren’t expecting a Fae King to keep you as his...prisoner?

Pairing Fae King Hobi x Writer Reader

Part 3 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 9/30)

My Goddess (one shot)

You tried to escape again, only to epically fail. Nothing seemed to work, and Hades just smiled as he watched you walk away. He knew the real reason you kept trying to run away, and was just waiting for you to realize it.  

Pairing: God of the Underworld Namjoon x Human Reader

Part 4 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 10/07)

My Light (one shot)

“Your beauty brought out the light in him, made him see how dark the world truly was He couldn’t bare the thought of leaving you in the dark.”

Your uncle had left you a home in some seaside town you hadn’t heard of. Moving out there was easy, but living there was harder. Until he found you, then...you didn’t know what to think.

Pairing: Mermaid Prince Jimin x Human Reader

Part 5 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 10/14)

My Witch (one shot)

It was Halloween night and you were in the old church fulfilling a dare your friends tasked you with. Little did you know you were being watched, and he had been waiting a long time to finally make you his. Now, you were his, and he wasn’t letting you go.

Demon Taehyung x Human (witch) Reader

Part 6 of Maritober 2022

Out Now (posted 10/21)

My Mate (one shot)

Your village was surrounded by a never-ending forest. Every 20 years, for as long as the village people could remember, offerings were held for the beast who roamed the forest. It was the only way your village could remain safe. This times offering, you were one of the women being offered up to the beast. You only hoped that you could make it out alive.

Werewolf Jungkook x Human Sacrifice reader

Part 7 of Maritober 2022

Coming 10/28

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

© 2021 purpleyoon. All rights reserved.

These works nor any part of their content may be republished, reproduced, translated or used in any manner without the express permission of purpleyoonn. These are works of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

#bts #bts one shots #bts jin #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts jhope #bts hoseok #bts namjoon #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts v #bts jungkook #purpleyoonn one shot #purpleyoonn

[rotzaprachim]

ok so something insane about andor’s storytelling is the way it works in neat closed loops, and also as a crescendoing spiral in which everything is reconnected to each other. something i noticed just now? arvel skeen, three-episode side motherfucker who gets promptly shot down by the narrative and has a whole almost episode space between him and cassian getting sentenced to narkina 5. because, well, we’ve seen someone who’s already been sentenced to two rounds of imperial prison camps, the kind that leave tattoos burned into your skin. (and yes, this sequence also emphasizes that cassian has been through the quasi-imperial prison system already for three years as a young teenager which is.... horrifying to think about.) 

(horrifying things to think about but anyway: the shape of the krayt prison tattoo resembles the whole shape of narkina 5) 

now, we don’t know too much about arvel skeen, but i think the show probably implies that he’s a survivor of the large scale imperial adult sentencing system from BEFORE P.O.R.D. changes everything into class-a offences, meaning, from when there were at least a few people who made it out alive. and he’s haunted. he’s so fucked, as a person, but so fucking haunted, and ebon moss bachrach does an incredible job with this, with playing a man who is just broken beyond belief. 

like, what DOES nemik’s ideas man manifesto mean to this man whose seen some of the most oppressive action of the empire? not only that, but the narkina 5 episodes emphasize the specific ways the empire runs the prisons by pitting prisoners against each other - for flavour in their soylent green, essentially. the prisoners in cassian’s work gang and even kino loy end up actively resisting this division again and again, which is ultimately a massive aspect of how they can band together to carry out an uprising. But would everyone face that situation in the same way? Arvel Skeen suggests not, also suggests that even those prisoners “let go” are still kept mentally from home in a million ways from the trauma of their experiernces. someone pointed out that the final rallying cries of episode 10′s rebellion, we leave together or not at all, we all climb for the light function as a direct response to skeen telling cassian we all climb over each other. 

so no, i don’t think the show is providing apologism for skeen’s actions. but i do think it’s impossible to look at this character without a more sincere and radical empathy considering everything that we now know about the context which created him. skeen, like everyone else, was already a dead man walking when he came on screen, but a disturbing ghost of cassian’s future, and an example of this show’s writing structure of intricate rings that seem unrelated but ultimately reconnect for broader thematic purpose. skeen seems like an unrelated character who goes down after three fucking episodes, but he’s also part of the crew that’s going to both set fire another log of the rebellion’s kindling (even if he was in it for nothing but the money) AND cause the sentence he survived to be a death sentence for everyone else. and in his own way skeen never was alive for the narrative, but a walking spector and a memorandum to ask the question that even if when people could go home from the prisons, anyone ever actually did.

#tw prison camps #i don't even know how to fucking tag this i'm tired my brain is having so many thoughts about skeen as spector and ghost #skeen as ghost of the future AND haunting memorandum of what happens to the guys who actualy amke it out #andor #arvel skeen #narkina 5 #just the idea that someone only in one lil of four arcs of two seasons is haunting the rest of it as a specter of what's to come

[maltmealo]

Chapter 10: Call me

"You sound like the stars."

"What do they sound like?"

"Hurt."

The ride back to the base was relatively quiet, the food you brought had been eaten and the trash had been stored in his ‘subspace’, whatever that was. Cliffjumper had put on some music, some random country song you couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to because hey, you’re a multidimensional traveler now, thinking about that beats trying to pay attention to a country song.

You just barely snapped back to reality when you heard Cliffjumper asking for a groundbridge, Ratchet responding in a gruff hold on and only a few moments later the bright light appeared in front of you. Now that you weren’t freaking out about car robots you could actually feel yourself being transported, your whole body felt fuzzy and your hair stood on end.

The bright light subsided and you were back in that metal room, Ratchet and Optimus waiting for the two of you. Cliffjumper’s door popped and you climbed out, he transformed and leaned on the nearby wall. He didn’t even look at you, he was literally facing the opposite way and acting like none of that actually happened. How rude.

“I assume Cliffjumper kept you unharmed?” Ratchet asked, scanning over you with the same instrument he did when he brought you here. The windchimes were back, even if they were calm you still cringed.

“I’m okay.” you say, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot as you stare at the instrument, “Should you be scanning me with that thing after what happened?”

“Yes, it's perfectly safe, the only reason all of that happened is because the reader is supposed to take a chunk off your EM barrier and analyze that, but it seems that your EMF is so weak that as soon as the barrier was broken everything just came spilling out.”

Your blank stare alerted Ratchet to the fact that you understand nothing of what he just said and he let out a frustrated sigh, scooping you up with one hand and setting you down beside the monitor.

“Think of it like a dome around you, that dome keeps in all your feeling, emotions, and in your case, your spark,” Ratchet begins, typing into the computer and pulling up an image of what he was talking about, “Usually when they’re broken, they regrow or reshape to keep all of that in, but in your instance your dome was to weak and stayed open.”

“I thought you said my EMF was strong though, why would the barrier be weak?”

“That's just it, your EMF is so strong that your barrier is struggling to keep it inside.” Ratchet says, turning back to you with a glint in his eyes, “The only reason you’re alive right now is because you merged with Optimus’ EMF field.”

“She what?” Cliffjumper interjected, walking up to the table quickly, an incredulous look on his face, “How?”

“As i said, her barrier is incredibly weak, it’s malleable, instead of it just pressing up against another EM it simply slips inside it and uses the natural energy given off to heal itself.”

“You were right there, why did she only heal when Optimus was around?” Cliffjumper asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the dear doctor.

Ratchet goes silent for a moment before he sighs and leans on the table, trapping you in his shadow, the light shining around him making him seem that much more threatening.

“I have to admit, it is my fault you experienced so much pain, when I scanned you, I wasn't in the right mindset, so when you attempted to merge with my field it harmed you instead of healing you.” he uttered, the bright blue eyes staring down at you with remorse. “I am sorry.”

You look up at the looming giant, trying to formulate an answer. On one hand, he hurt you, on the other, it was an accident and you’re fine now, right?

“It's okay.” you manage to get out, giving him a weak smile, it was fine, sort of, your chest was still kind of achy but that was it,, “i’m okay now.”

“If it's all the same with you, I'd like to keep you nearby just in case.”He says, his expression softening silently when you said you were okay, was he relieved that he didn’t kill you? Or relieved that he wouldn't have the government up his ass?

“Yeah, sure, you’re the doctor, doctor.” You nod. Ratchet huffs and turns away, going back to the computer. You subsequently turn away but out of the corner of your eye you could swear you saw him smiling. Optimus was waiting for you, staring down at you with the same intensity he did when you arrived.

“Miss, if I may, may I ask a question?” Optimus asked, kneeling down to be eye level with you, patiently waiting for your response.

“Um, yeah go ahead.” You almost whisper, a bit nervous under his intense gaze, his eyes were brighter then Ratchet you soon learned, even staring at them for more than a few seconds burned the light into your retinas.

“What happened in the hallway?”

“Um, I thought I already told you.” You say, gulping down the salvia gathering your mouth, did he believe you? Did he think you were some spy?

“Humor me.” he rumbles, his gaze narrowing.

“Well… after i got hit, I woke up in this stone hallway, it had statues of robots, there was a pool of water behind me, when i stood up this dude in a cloak told me to run, something big was behind him and i tripped into the pool, then i woke up here.” you recount, averting your gaze towards the ground, your eyes hurt now, and whenever you blinked you saw his eyes.

It was silent for a moment,then you heard him stand back up, towering over you.

“You do not need to be scared.”

“I'm not.” you lie, looking back up at the looming bot.

“Our EMF is merged, I can feel everything you feel.” Optimus said, offering you a hand to step up on.

“Oh.” you answer blankly, staring at his open hand. “Listen, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but I'm not too keen on being picked up right now.”

“That is understandable.” He says, lowering his hand, “but you are still scared.”

“Well, um yeah, in the span of a week I died, found out giant alien robots are real, oh wait, real in this universe, and i’m not even from this universe, my friend is probably dead, and earth is under attack from evil alien robots, so yes, i am scared!” you shout as you begin to pace around on the counter, your gaze turned to the ground as you let out your frustrations, “I can’t go home until this war ends, and as far as I know, I can’t leave without having an escort, unless i want to be experienced on by evil robots!”

It was calm. The humming. It drowned out the sounds of the windchimes. It was surrounding you, pulling you further and further away-

“Stop doing that!” you shout, hugging yourself tightly, on the verge of breaking down in front of them. Optimus and Ratchet freeze and the humming subsides, Optimus takes a step back.

“My apologies.” Optimus mutters after having a realization, then he walks away, leaving you, Ratchet, and Cliffjumper alone.

You sit down on the cold metal, pulling your knees up and resting your head in between them. It felt nice, the humming, it calmed you down, but you didn’t want to be calm. A knot forms in your throat as you try to breathe, it hurts, it hurts so much. You wanted your family, you wanted home, you wanted your friend back.

You wanted to wake up.

“What happened?” Cliffjumper asked, he had gotten closer. It was… Bacon? No, oil, it was oil. It was popping and sizzling, just getting going in the pan.

“I don’t know.” you mutter, your voice muffled by your knees.

“Listen, the big guy is right, you ain’t gotta be scared.” He pauses, looking up at the ceiling in thought, “Well, you do but not of us.”

“Cliffjumper.” Ratchet growls out warning, he had been watching this entire time, with either pity or sympathy, it was hard to tell from your obscured view.

“Listen, all I'm sayin’ is that all of this is new to us, humans, multiverse, earth.” He sighs, “You.”

“Didn’t you guys say that this happened before?” you ask, looking up from your knees. The red horned autobot was right in front of you, kneeling to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah, it happened a while ago, way before the old Docbot over there was even thought about being made.” he makes a jerking motion with his thumb towards Ratchet.

“Don’t call me that.” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Point being-” Cliffjumper starts, looking back at you, “Big guy is trying his best with what he knows, and EMF merging is kinda a big deal for us, like laying naked for you humans, third biggest thing for trusting someone besides becoming a conjunx or amica for us.”

“Latin.”

They were both silent for a moment before they looked down at you with a confused expression.

“Latin? What's that?” Cliffjumper asked.

“It's a language here, conjunx means joint and amica means friend.” You say quietly, taking a deep breath, “it’s just a guess but you guys must have come here earlier in earth's history and spread your language.”

“Can I ask why you think that?” Ratchet butts in, stepping closer to you and Cliffjumper.

“Your species is older than ours, right? It makes sense that you guys would have spread your language here because I doubt two species from different planets that had no contact would develop languages the same way.”

“That is scarily accurate.” Cliffjumper whispers to himself, moving his face a bit closer to you, “You sure you’re not a ‘bot?” he asked teasingly, reaching out and poking your head, not hard enough to even move you.

“Not really.” You look back at the floor, rubbing your arms up and down.

They were silent again, how were they supposed to deal with this, you were of the same species, so they couldn’t even relate to you on that.

“Cliffjumper, go help Arcee with the recovery.” Ratchet commands rather than asks, the groundbridge already opening up for him.

“But-”

“Go, it’ll be fine.”

Cliffjumper’s conflicted, you need comfort and he knows the dear doctor's bedside manner needs some working on, but his partner does need help, the Decepticons could attack at any moment and she’s by herself.

“Sorry, Fleshy,” he apologies, but before he stands up and walks away he whispers, “Don’t be put off by his bad manners, he means well.”

He winks and stands up, you give him a weak smile and then he's gone. The portal thing gone.

“Kid, it’s not Optimus’ fault, his servos are tied, he’s trying his best to end this war but he can’t get you home, none of us can.” Ratchet says after a moment, he had turned back to his computer.

“So I'm just supposed to sit in the middle of this war that I have no business being a part of?” you ask, looking up at him, he doesn’t answer, he doesn't even look at you. “Ratchet, please say no.”

“I can’t, kid, you can’t leave or else you’ll die, and we can’t get you home, I'm sorry.” He said sympathetically.

You can’t go home, not until this war is over. You run our hands through your hair, sniffling as you take a deep breath.

“Then let me help.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let me help you end the war, then you guys can get me home.” you decide, standing up and brushing off your pants, taking a moment to collect yourself. “Right?”

“You can’t seriously be serious.” He deadpans, walking up to you and looming over you again, “you look like you won’t survive a nano-click in a fight, let alone against a Con.”

“I don’t have to face them head on, I'm a scientist, I can research, find new ways for you guys to fight.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You’re human, that's why.” he scoffed, his bright blue eyes staring down at him.

“So? That doesn’t make me any less than you.” you put your hands on your hips, you had to help, you had to get home.

“You don’t know the first thing about Cybertronians! Let alone our war!”

“I can learn! You said I can't go home until this war is over, then I'm going to help!”

He goes silent, staring down at you in shock, a human that would rather fight than hide in an office was rare for him.

“I can’t promise anything… but I'll talk to Optimus.” he sighed, straightening his back and turning to his computer. “It’s best to leave him alone right now, I doubt he feels well after what happened.”

“What happened?” you ask, frowning as you stare up at him.

“When your barrier was open, Optimus made the active decision to let you enter and use his EMF, and as Cliffjumper said, it's a very intimate act, and Optimus didn’t mind that,” he turns back to you, a look of concern on his face, “When you were… speaking your mind, he felt your distress and in an attempt to comfort you, he didn’t realize it would distress you even further.” he paused again, trying to find the words, “Optimus is very rigid in his beliefs, everyone should have a choice and nobody should be forced to do anything.”

“It's… that intimate.” you state, looking down at the ground, how were you supposed to feel? Everything is so new and strange, it hurts your head to think about it.

“Yes, he’s probably going to keep his distance from you for a while, but in the meantime, you need to learn.”

He offers you a hand to step up on and a half smile.

“If you’re going to help us,you at least need to know the basics.”

#transformers #tfp #cliffjumper #arcee x reader #optimus prime x reader #ratchet x reader #bumblebee x reader #bulkhead

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 9)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (8) | Next (10)

^ The giant royal family's coat of arms, briefly mentioned in this chapter. In heraldry, black (sable) represents grief, purple (purpure) represents royalty, and silver (argent) represents peace. In this case, "peace" is twisted to be a self-serving endorsement of the status quo, since it is easy for King Richard to desire and maintain peace when he's already at the apex of the hierarchy.

Content Warning: Vore themes

Word Count: 3.3k

------ Chapter 9: The Land of the Giants ------

The humans trembled in their cage as they listened to the giant men argue. To be spoken of as if they were nothing more than property—or worse, food—foreshadowed the treatment they would receive in Giganterra. Even Candy, who only had eyes for her giant knight, turned white as a ghost as she watched Chester nearly eat the peasant woman whole like a snack. Would the object of her desire be tempted to eat her like that, since he was a giant too? She glanced over at Sir Maneater, observing his facial expressions closely. He appeared upset over the whole incident, but her mind wasn’t entirely at ease. 

Eren was surprised to see Joey, the giant whom she pricked with arrows like a pincushion, prevent the human woman from being devoured, and then defend their humanity with such passion. She thought, perhaps, that she had misjudged him; yet, he was still here with the others, enforcing the will of the king and allowing humans to be taken like livestock. She gritted her teeth. In the end, all giants were the same. He didn’t really see humans as equals; she was certain his protests were some form of cognitive dissonance that would iron out with time. She hated giants, every last one. She was tired of living under their control like an animal. She was determined to infiltrate the castle and cause bloody chaos, whatever the cost. 

The rest of the humans were not doing well at all. Jackie was having some sort of mental breakdown from being swallowed alive, which only worsened when she witnessed Chester nearly consume another human. She was crying, whimpering, and shaking uncontrollably. Tanya worked hard to comfort her, not only to help Jackie but to distract herself from her own terrified thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t know what else she could possibly do, lest she drown in panic. 

Gio stared into the abyss, lost in his own tortured mind. The betrayal hurt as much as a knife to his back. He kept replaying the king’s expression as he abandoned him, over and over in his head in an endless loop. This was how he was compensated for his years of loyal service, for going above and beyond his defined responsibilities to ensure the king always had what he required. He knew he was of lowly station, compared to royalty, but he didn’t expect to be thrown away like garbage at the mildest inconvenience. He had always respected and admired the king for being stoic in the face of adversity, and for retaining his composure despite the difficult decisions he was compelled to make. Now, he saw it all in a different, less flattering light. The king didn’t make sacrifices: He simply passed the burden onto his subjects. His heart filled with bitterness. 

Addison hid under one of the seats, curled up in a tight ball. She didn’t want to be here; she didn’t want to be anywhere. She’d been nothing more than a waste of space at home, a painful fact that her mother was sure to remind her of constantly. Being worth something for once, even as a commodity, was slim comfort when compared to the horrors she would face in the clutches of giants. She understood all too well the futility of talking back or resisting against such behemoths, when she didn’t even have the courage to stand up to someone her own size. She was terrified. 

Graham’s world had been thrown upside down, yet again. He thought his life was bad enough when he’d been wrongly convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, based on flimsy circumstantial evidence. He’d spent months in a gloomy, damp dungeon, lamenting his fate and praying for salvation. And this was the answer to his prayers: to be thrown into an even worse position. He would probably die soon, as fodder for one of these enormous flesh-eating beasts in the shape of men. He slumped on his side, not bothering to get up. What was the point? His days were numbered. 

The giants passed through the border checkpoint. The guards leered into the cage with covetous eyes, grinning wide to show off their huge teeth and licking their chops. The humans felt very small and vulnerable, like trapped mice in a barn full of cats. Leon reclaimed his horse and strapped the cage to the back of the saddle. He tried his best to make the humans as comfortable as possible, placing padding underneath their enclosure so the ride would be less bumpy. He stifled an urge to apologize for their hideously unfair, dehumanizing treatment. He knew that his words would ring hollow and meaningless when they failed to match his actions.  

None of the humans had ever been in giant territory, so they were bewildered to find everything, not just the people, so unfathomably large. The giant horse was an absolute monster, snorting and stamping impatiently with mammoth strength. When Leon stepped away from his horse to aid Joey, a gigantic crow landed on the cage and pecked at the bars with curiosity. The humans darted away from the huge beak, staring up at fearsome sharp talons big enough to snatch a human off the ground and carry him away. Its hoarse caw was deafening, the glossy black feathers rustling as loudly as flowing water in a stream. 

Leon came back and shooed the giant bird away. The humans cringed away from his waving hand, which was just as scary as the crow, if not more so. The entire cage rocked and jumped as Leon mounted his horse and settled his tremendous bulk into the saddle. His back rose above into the sky like a monument. The tumultuous bumps of the horse trotting were even more jarring. The tiny folk stared in astonishment up at trees that seemed to tower into infinity, fantastically girthy and tall. A crosswind slapped a giant leaf the size of a comforter against the bars, with veins like thick tubes. The leaf skittered over the metal and was tossed away with the wind. 

Chester, who happened to be riding downwind from Leon, perked his head up and sniffed intently. “Stop a moment,” he instructed. Leon, Joey, and Martin reined in their horses and looked over at him, wondering what was going on. “I smell a human.” 

“Well, of course you smell humans, we have-” Joey began. 

“No,” Chester cut him off. “A different human. Not one of the humans in the cage.” He dismounted his horse and tracked the scent with his nose. He prowled up to Leon and placed a hand on his saddle, next to the cage, snuffling noisily. The humans shirked away to the opposite side, fearful of the voracious giant looming above them, whom they knew wouldn’t hesitate to scarf them down if he got the chance. He circled around the horse’s hindquarters to the other side, mouth watering as the various human aromas filled his nostrils. Suddenly, he aggressively grabbed Leon’s leg and hoisted it up. 

“Hey!” Leon cried out. “What are you doing?” 

Chester ignored him, pulled up the cuff of his trousers, and clasped his ankle. He dragged a tiny man from the folds of fabric and dangled him in front of his face with a distrustful squint. “You!” 

“Ooh, hey there big boy,” Cesar flirted, curling a strand of his wavy hair around his finger. “You found me, you lucky dog! Hungry for some appetizing man flesh, perchance?” He winked and flashed a pearlescent smile as he rubbed his hand down his body suggestively. 

Chester cocked a brow. “Cheeky runt. I’d be interested in eating you if you didn’t taste like dog food,” he complained. Cesar’s face fell. 

“Awww, c’mon! I can’t be that bad!” he protested. 

“You’re pretty awful. Not worthy of a princess.” Chester turned his nose up at the inferior offering. “I couldn’t serve you to Princess Bianca in good faith.” 

“We’re not too far from the border. We can still return him to the human lands,” Sir Maneater suggested. Joey nodded in agreement. 

“No, don’t take me back!” Cesar pleaded. “Please, I have more value than just my taste! I’ll do anything to make the princess happy! She’ll adore me, trust me! Where else will she find a human that’s willing to obey her every whim?” 

Sir Maneater shook his head. Joey stared at Cesar with confusion. He couldn’t believe a human would actually be begging to become a plaything for the giantess princess. Chester examined the man like a doll, picking at his limbs and rolling him over in his huge hands. “Hmmmmm. She’s very picky, you know.” 

“Please,” Cesar repeated. Chester sighed as he looked at his earnest, handsome little face. 

“Fine. I’ll let Princess Bianca make the determination. I’m sure she can find a use for you, even if you’re not suitable for eating,” Chester conceded. Cesar squealed with joy, clapping his hands as Chester dropped him unceremoniously into his breast pocket. He wanted to keep him, as inferior stock, separate from the other tributes that he deemed worthy. “Let’s keep going.” 

As they entered more inhabited areas, the humans were nonplussed to see modest peasant cottages that exceeded the square footage and height of the king’s palace tenfold. A single stalk of giant vegetables or fruits in the boundless fields could feed the entire human capital for a month. The roads were wide enough to fit several human farms all in a line.  

When the horses trotted into the city, the humans were assaulted with a cacophony of giant voices, sounds, sights, smells, and other stimuli. The metal bars, while oppressive, at least served as a barrier between them and the rest of the larger world, as slim as the protection was. They were fully surrounded by a whirlwind of giants of all shapes and social classes, working and talking and engaging in a wide variety of activities. The buildings stretched higher into the heavens than any of the little humans could comprehend. They felt smaller than ever, like insects trying to comprehend the universe. 

The giant palace was even more immense, with great towers and imposing walls of stone. The entire kingdom of Minimaterra could probably be tucked away within its boundaries. Once the giant men with their horses entered through the gates, the walls that encompassed the courtyard muted the louder noise of the surrounding city. The only sounds were the clip-clopping of horse hooves on the vast landscape of stone bricks and the trickling of water from a fountain that produced a natural stream through a giant garden of trees and flowers. The humans gazed in wonder at the gargantuan hedges and statues, which were even bigger than the giants.  

The men reached the stables and dismounted their horses. Leon unstrapped the cage and gingerly held it in his hands, staring down sadly at the humans inside in grim contemplation. Joey and Sir Maneater stayed with the horses to unload the gear and put the beasts away while Chester and Leon continued to the castle. Candy clung to the bars, looking back with fervent desire at Sir Maneater until he was hidden from view by Leon’s mass. A shadow fell over her heart as cold reality began to seep in. The knight hadn’t attempted to talk to her or hold her, not even once. Were her feelings unrequited? She’d hoped, deep down, that he would’ve been willing to save her. She believed they had a connection: Was she in error? Had she made a terrible mistake? 

They entered the castle through huge creaking doors. The inside was breathtaking, consisting of a great hall with ornate chandeliers of gold and crystal hanging from the ceiling, lush purple carpets with gold threading, and magnificent spiral staircases branching off to different wings of the castle. The walls were lined with doors and extremely tall windows with elegant glasswork to let in the sun, framed with velvety curtains. The scaffolding and molding were pure artistry, every inch carved and painted with elaborate decorative patterns. Banners and flags suspended from the walls displayed the royal family’s coat of arms: a sable wolf on a checkered purple and silver background. 

Smooth marble busts of the king and his progeny lined one of the inner walls, along with a gigantic portrait of the king in oils. As Candy’s eyes wandered over the titanic room and grazed the mammoth painting, her heart stopped. She recognized the man in the painting, with his silvery hair, sharp features, and icy blue eyes. He was the very same giant she witnessed in the soothsayer’s crystal ball, tormenting her alternate self with a sadistic leer. While his expression was portrayed as serious, Candy fancied she could see the ghost of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. She paled with dread. She had indeed made a terrible mistake. 

Leon and Chester requested an audience with the king and waited patiently for approval. Candy, along with the others, broke into a cold sweat as the tension among them hung thick in the air. They weren’t sure what to expect, but whatever fate may hold, their future couldn’t be anything good. They didn’t have long to dwell on potential nightmares, for their giant keepers were ushered into a room that looked like a giant study, with a desk stacked with quills and parchment and a fancy brass oil lamp. The stuffed head of a proud buck with a splendid rack of antlers was mounted on the wall. The king was there, leaning back in his chair with his chin resting in his palm, with a look of cold boredom on his features. An overworked and flustered servant sat at the desk frantically scribbling on one of the pages. The king’s gigantic guard, his menacing shadow, stood a few paces off to the side of his chair, as immobile as a stone statue. 

“Your Majesty,” Leon uttered with an affect of reverence, lowering into a deep bow. Chester mirrored him while the humans lurched in their cage at the wide movement. The king’s frigid eyes rotated over to his inferiors with condescension, but his face lit up when he spied the cage full of people. 

“Ah, the tribute! Excellent!” he boomed in a deep, commanding voice that made the humans shudder. He turned his attention to his scribe. “Fetch me the prince and princess.” 

“Yes, sire!” the servant cried, bowing fervently as he scuttled out of the study. The king held out a hand in a graceful movement, and Leon offered him the cage. His hands, huge and bony, curled around the cage as he raised it up to his face to examine his bounty. Adorning his fingers were several rings, fashioned with precious metals and gemstones, that clinked against the iron bars as he softly tapped the cage with anticipation. His irises burned with frigid fire as he studied each specimen, lips parted as they peeled back from large square teeth into a cruel leer.  

“Mmmm… such a fine variety of young ladies,” he purred, devouring them with his eyes. They paused on Candy, the large black pupils dilating, and she nearly fainted with fear. His fingertips absently petted the bars as his rising appetites sought satiation; his imagination ravished the delicate feminine flesh within. 

“Crown Prince Ronny and Princess Bianca!” the servant announced as the king’s children entered the room. “His Majesty, King Richard!” Chester and Leon bowed again. The humans got their first glimpse of the giant prince and princess. Ronny was hardly distinguishable from his bust, with handsome, haughty features that could’ve been chiseled from marble, and were just as pale and cold. His pasty skin was contrasted by his dark eyes and mid-length black hair, which was slicked back on his head to a glossy shine. His younger sister, by contrast, was warm and radiant, with bright hazel eyes and sensual curves. She was blessed with long black hair that flowed like rivers down her elegant back and shoulders. 

“Enough with the titles,” King Richard said with a dismissive hand wave. “Go prepare the human habitats.” The servant vanished. The king smiled, raising up the cage with a slight bend of his wrists. “Look what we have here.” 

Ronny grunted with indifference. His expression seemed to be molded permanently into an arrogant scowl. Bianca lit up with joy, leaning down to peer into the cage. She gasped. “Daddy, you got me MEN?” Gio and Graham stiffened. 

“Of course, my darling. Anything for my little girl,” Hardon replied in honeyed tones.  

Bianca squealed with delight. “Gimme!” She ripped open the door of the cage with startling force to the tiny humans and snaked her hand inside like a monster with gaping jaws, ready to snap up its prey. The two small men had no time to evade her grasp as her fingers ensnared them both in a tight fist. She tore them out and lifted them high in the air, ignoring their pitiful cries of protest. They shirked away from the gigantic hazel irises that scrutinized them with disturbing eagerness. 

“Eeeeeek! They’re so cute!” she gushed with a hungry grin. The praise only frightened the poor men more. Ronny rolled his eyes. 

“If I may, Your Highness…” Chester piped up with a small cough. She turned towards him, implicitly giving him permission to speak. He reached into his pocket and revealed Cesar, dangling him by the collar of his shirt. “This one is a bit of an extra. Regrettably, he doesn’t taste very good… but I thought perhaps you’d like him anyway.” 

Cesar gaped when he beheld the beauty of the colossal giantess before him. She took him in her hand and he blushed hard, struggling to contain himself as her massive fingers curled intimately around his body. “Oh… oh my…” He wasn’t the shy type, but he was overcome enough to be rendered almost speechless. “What a woman…” 

“I’ll take him!” she chirped happily. Without any further ado, she skipped out of the room, beaming as she squeezed her new toys in her hands. 

“Ronny, you may choose one as well,” King Richard uttered, offering the selection to his son. 

“Ugh… one of those little rats? No thanks,” the prince growled. 

“Ronny.” The king’s voice dropped into a low growl. “Take one.” His tone didn’t leave any room for negotiation. 

A raw shiver ran up Ronny’s spine like an icy claw. “Fine,” he snapped, though he had lost his edge. He wrenched open the door violently and thrust his hand inside. He didn’t bother to look at which human he was grabbing; he didn’t care. He didn’t want one, but he didn’t have a choice when his father was forcing him. He didn’t dare disobey. 

The unfortunate lady he snatched was Tanya. “Unhand me, you brute!” she yelled, attacking his fingers. The other humans cringed at her boldness, afraid of what the giant prince was capable of. Ronny glared down at her with the upmost contempt. He tightened his fingers around her, crushing the air out of her lungs and forcing her into silence. She strained for breath, slumping into his fist. He paused, thinking to himself before leaving without another word. 

King Richard watched Ronny go. His pale eyes narrowed and he withdrew as he contemplated his son with dissatisfaction. Chester and Leon waited for him, not sure what to do. Finally, Leon indicated he wished to speak, and the king allowed him. 

“S-sire? Aren’t you going to choose one?” Leon asked timidly. “I’ll send the remainder to the kitchen for you, if you’d like…” 

“No,” Hardon boomed. He leered over the cage, smacking his chops as a crazed gleam entered his pale eyes. “I want them all, right now.” 

Chapter 10

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #tiny #giant tiny #size difference #g/t story #g/t fearplay #giantess #sizetumblr #macro/micro #giant men #vore story

[offbrand-valk]

Two Knights

Hey remember Tungsten Rose? I wrote an opening for it i actually like!

Let’s start at the Mausoleum Church of Judgement. A 68 ton warmachine stands before a mosaic of the rape of Sankta Alina, its head bowed low in prayer.

Approximately, 400.631 kilometers away at the opposite end of the kingdom, inside a smaller and less storied church stands another warmachine; praying before a painting of Sankta Sabine being boiled alive by her husband.

Technically, these two events happen about a week and a half apart, but let's, for the sake of simplicity, and to acknowledge the will of God, pretend they are happening simultaneously.

Besides, on the celestial scale, 10 days is less than the blink of an eye.

Of course the similarity in the two rituals is neither coincidence, nor divine plan. One is openly modelled after the other.

The painter of the Sankta Sabine piece was given a difficult task: To create something as evocative and memorable as perhaps the most well-known image in all christendom, and made an admirable attempt. 

Without the emotional rawness that comes from having access to a snuff film of the saint’s murder to use as reference, the painter has had to rely on abstraction. By using tricks of light and perspective, the skin seems to melt off Sankta Sabine’s skin as the viewer moves closer. By twisting shadows her husband, his friends and his captain have been given devil-esque features: hair stood up to look like canine ears, eyes blurry to make it seem like they have two pairs each.

The warmachines, and the human component within them are exhausted, kept going by military stimulants and their own heavily altered physiques.

Since the ritual began a month ago, they have gone through every kind of simulated battle. They’ve had to learn, to improvise, to lead and to serve. They’ve been beaten, tortured, and shot more times than they can count.

And there’s still more to come. This moment of prayer is a merciful respite before their final trial.

They don’t know what awaits them, only that it's a furiously guarded secret, and that it above all else determines if they are worthy of knighthood. They would not have gotten this far if they were not ready for the final trial, but if they fail it, then they will die to keep its secret.

In a few moments it will be too late to back out, they will have consented to whatever happens.

The unknown doesn’t scare them, it has been part of their training since they began at only four years old. When the ancient enemy returns, there is no telling what weapons they will bring with them. That doesn’t mean they aren’t considering backing out; there’s no shame in retreat, what’s shameful is dying senselessly.

Part of expecting the unexpected, is figuring out what it might be, so of course they have theories as for what awaits them: A divine encounter, some grand revelation, a particularly challenging battle, a puzzle, or a final surgery to complete their integration with the machine. Nothing is off the table after the month they have had.

Independently of each other, both warmachines arrive at the same worst case scenario: One in which they are expected to already know the solution. It would not be the first task in which they were expected to cheat to succeed. After all, war has no victor, only losers and survivors. And to their credit, they have both tried to cheat: they have kept meticulous notes on every trial they’ve faced, looked for any stray clue or overlooked note, and stopped just short of assaulting clergy for information. A show of restraint they are now regretting.

As they are called to the trial, they are given a single instruction: “doff your armor.”

Very well. Wires click free of spines, and controls pull apart like the leaves of a flower as the human components emerges from their shells of tungsten and resin; all the while mentally adjusting their expectations for the trial to come.

The room is kept sparsely lit, only enough to show the group of senior knights and clerics gathered to carry out the trial. In the center of the room, a sword hilt sticks out of a grid in the floor, both prospective knights instinctively know they’re supposed to stand behind it and await further instructions.

The instruction comes a moment later, as orange flames spew forth from the grid, enveloping the sword completely, the knight commander utters the chivalric oath: “In the name of the people!”

Neither hesitates, if they had, they would have failed the test. “In the name of the people.” They reply, stepping forward and reaching into the roaring fire, grasping the red hot metal with both hands.

“In the name of the people.” The assembled watchers chant in unison.

The skin has already burnt off their fingers. Beneath it, their subdermal armor does what it’s supposed to, distributing the heat across the body to reduce damage.

“In the name of the people!” They roar back, keeping a firm grasp on the sword, with no concern for the fire, as their altered bodies begin producing and distributing painkillers through the bloodstream.

“In the name of the people!” The watchers call once more.

“In the name of the people!” They respond as the skin on their shoulders begin to boil from heat carried by their subdermal armor.

“In the name of the people!”

“In the name of the people!”

“In the name of the people!”

“In the name of the people!”

Finally, the fire subsides, only then do our two heroes let go of the sword.

The skin has burnt or boiled off the flesh from their hands, almost all the way across their torsos, but beneath their subdermal armor, the damage is minimal. The fire is a test of devotion, not a way to reduce operational effectiveness.

“Don you armor knight Connor 19-1.” The knight commander orders. 

400.631 kilometers away and 10 days later another knight commander orders “Don your armor knight Karnstein 01X.”

Both do as instructed, barely able to maintain their composure now that their ascension is over and they are back in their complete bodies.

A nun in one case, a monk in the other, approaches the newly minted knight, carrying an embossed steel plate and a rivet gun.

The knights bow, proudly presenting their dominant arms, and wait for the cleric to attach the ancient scripture that signifies their ascension to knighthood.

“This machine kills fascists.”

#my writing #tungsten rose

[magicalmysteries777]

The Bloody-Handed and The Anguish of Loving Them - Chapter 5.

Summary: Almost a year has passed since Eddie Munson died and it feels like the only person that isn't moving on is Steve.

After spending the night studying a Dungeons and Dragons handbook, Steve is convinced he's figured out how to defeat Vecna once and for all. Not only that, but bring Eddie back too. Now he just has to prove it.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Masterlist: Here.

Chapter: 5 of 10.

Chapter WC: 3538.

CW: Swearing.

A/N: (see end of chapter for notes.)

This story can also be found on AO3 here.

Taglist: @ohmeg 🖤

March 24th, 1987.

Steve had always thought that the phrase “they locked eyes and it was as though time had stood still” was bullshit, nothing more than a heavily recycled trope used by romance authors to sell their readers on the ideology of ‘true love’ - a lie, a fable, pure fiction. Yet there he was, with Eddie Munson’s fiery, red eyes locked on his while the world around them stilled.

“Eddie?” he asked, cautiously. The party spun around, a well-earned number of muffled “what the fuck?!”s and shocked gasps escaping from their lips as they too set sights on the winged man staring down at them. The younger members of the party all began asking their questions at the same time, rambling over one another in a wave of emotion. Steve couldn’t form a coherent sentence, his mouth opening and closing comically like a fish as he tried to find words. Eddie remained silent, his eyes still locked on Steve’s as the rapid-fire questions kept coming at him.

“How did you get out of the grave?”

“Why didn’t you come back through the gate?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually alive.”

“Did the bats turn you into a vampire?”

“Do you drink blood now?”

“Does this mean you can be our Dungeon Master again?”

“Wait until we tell Jeff and Gareth.”

“Wait until we tell Wayne, he’s going to be ecstatic.”

“What’s the wingspan on those bad boys?”

“Are you going to help us kill Vecna?”

Eddie didn’t answer, his eyes still locked on Steve’s with his expression blank. Dustin stepped forward to approach Eddie and his babysitting instincts leapt into overdrive. Steve’s hand shot out and clasped onto Dustin’s shoulder before he could think about what he was doing, eagerly pulling him back to the group despite his protests. “Get off me, Steve. He’s right there. Eddie’s right there,” he pleaded.

“That’s not Eddie,” Steve replied in a hushed whisper, his eyes narrowing.

“What are you talking about?”

Steve felt his stomach drop as he watched the corners of Eddie’s mouth twist into a wicked, devilish grin.

“Little Stevie is right, boys and girls,” Eddie announced, his large, bat-like wings beating rhythmically to keep him suspended in the air looking down at them. “No Eddie here.”

“I’m looking right at you, man. What the hell are you talking about?” Dustin asked.

“You left Eddie Munson to rot, in that hole right there,” Eddie spat, pointing to the ground behind them. His eyes darkened. “He sacrificed himself for you, for everyone, and you left him.”

“We-”

“Don’t try to fucking justify it!” Eddie yelled. “You couldn’t even give him the decency of taking his body back through the gate. You left him in another fucking dimension!”

“I’m sorry, Eddie. We couldn’t-” Dustin began.

“Enough!” he bellowed, silencing Dustin in an instant. “Your pitiful excuses mean nothing to me.”

The party said nothing, waiting with bated breath for him to speak again and fill the eerie silence. Steve felt Robin slip her hand into his and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Do you know how long it takes to claw your way out of a six-foot-deep hole?” Eddie asked, his voice growing more maniacal with each syllable that ushered from his lips. “Days. It took him fucking days to get out of that stupid hole and who should he find waiting for him as soon as he gets out? Vecna. Turned out he had a little proposition for dear old Eddie. Go back to rotting in the hole or join him. Eddie refused, of course. Said Vecna was “out of his goddamn mind” if he thought for one second that Eddie would join him. Swore blind he’d never betray his friends. Didn’t need all that much convincing in the end.”

“Come on, man. What is this? Some sick joke?” muttered Mike.

“Does it sound like a fucking joke to you?!” Eddie spat furiously. “Vecna can be quite convincing, you see? He told poor, little Eddie all about how his sacrifice was useless. How he died for nothing because his precious friends failed to get the job done. How you all left him to rot while you went about your lives, letting everyone believe that Eddie Munson was the satanic cult-leading freak who killed a bunch of Hawkins High students. But Vecna could help. Vecna could make it all worthwhile. He could change him, give him power - enough power to make all those who had wronged him pay.”

Eddie’s wings slowed as he flew lower, allowing the party to get a closer look at him in the dim light. His skin was pale, almost white, void of all colour and signs of life. His once deep brown irises were now blood red, the skin around his eyes dark and sunken. The corners of his mouth twitched into another cruel smile, revealing a long, pointy pair of fangs where his canines used to be.

“Eddie Munson is gone,” he began, “and I am what remains.”

“Bullshit!” Steve cried, unaware he was about to speak until the words had already left his mouth. Robin’s grip on his hand tightened.

“No bullshit, Stevie.”

“Eddie wouldn’t do that. He’d never become a monster, he’d never join his team. I know he wouldn’t do that to us, to me,” he argued, choking on his words a little, fully aware of how in denial he sounded.

“The Eddie you knew was a scared, pathetic child who ran away at the first sign of trouble. All bark but no bite. I am not.”

“You’re Kas, aren’t you?” Dustin asked nervously.

“You always were the sharpest tool in the metaphorical shed,” he replied, gesturing to the rest of the group.

“Just answer the question.”

“Kas the Bloody-Handed, the Lich King’s Lieutenant, at your service.”

Kas flew higher into the air before lowering himself into a taunting bow. Steve let out a stifled sob, his stomach dropping further than he ever thought possible.

“Everything you’ve done so far, every choice you’ve made, every battle you’ve fought - it was all for this. This was his grand plan all along. It was me who sent the army of the undead to greet you at Karlach’s cave. Me who gave the orders to finish you all off. I’ll admit, you’ve all gotten a little tougher since last year but it’s no bother. That was just a small taste of what’s in store for you all - I’ll get you next time. We’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

And with that final taunt, Kas flew off into the dark sky and out of sight, leaving the party to ruminate on the events that had just unfolded.

Fifteen minutes passed in utter silence before Lucas finally spoke. “We’ve got to kill him too, right?”

Steve felt sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t sit there and listen to them debate on whether or not they were going to kill Eddie. Eddie who they’d all come back here to save. Steve excused himself and rushed into the trailer, making a beeline for the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him.

Steve collapsed against the door, sliding down it and landing in an exhausted heap on the floor. Tears began flooding out of him like a burst dam, far too strong for him to keep contained. His throat burned as he wretched and choked on his sobs, his watery eyes locked on a rather distressed-looking Hellfire Club shirt strewn on the floor. He felt like he was losing Eddie all over again. Every word that Kas had taunted them with was just another knife to Steve’s heart, shattering more and more with each syllable.

“Hey, man, you okay?” came Jonathan’s voice from the other side of the door, trying the handle as he spoke.

“Go away,” Steve croaked.

“Talk to me, man. You can’t hide in here forever.”

“I said go away, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Steve, open the fucking door.”

Steve pried himself off the ground and sat on the bed, looking like a child that had just been scolded by its parents, waiting for Jonathan to enter the room.

“You know,” Jonathan began, sitting next to Steve on the bed. “It’s okay if you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine. Just… a bit rattled, I guess?”

“Cut the crap, Steve. You’re a recovering alcoholic who just found out the love of his life is a fucking vampire, but not only that, a vampire that tried to kill us all.”

“He’s not the love of-”

“I know. Before he started with all that ‘Kas’ crap, you were looking at him the same way Will looks at Mike.”

“Oh. Does Nance know?”

“No, she just thinks you’re having a mental breakdown, and I’m about ninety percent certain most of the kids still think you’re doing this for Dustin. Will might have an inkling, though.”

“Robin figured it out too. It was only a matter of time.”

“So, are you okay?” Jonathan asked sincerely.

“No,” Steve admitted, the tears from earlier trying desperately to make a reappearance.

Jonathan pulled Steve into a hug, holding him whilst Steve let his tears fall freely once more. A couple of minutes later, Steve pulled away.

“It’s just not fair, you know?”

“I know.”

“He was supposed to graduate, he was supposed to get a record deal and go on tour but then he fucking died, and I thought I’d figured out how to bring him back but now he’s a vampire. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? It sounds crazy. It is crazy. He’s a vampire,” Steve rambled, his left foot bobbing up and down on the spot. “A fucking vampire, Jonathan. How do you cure vampirism? Can it be cured?”

“Steve-”

“Maybe Lucas was right. Maybe we are going to have to kill him. We could take the spears apart and shave them down - stake to the heart and whatnot. Does silver work on vampires? Or is that just werewolves?”

“Steve, stop,” Jonathan interjected, his hand covering Steve’s mouth. “You’re spiralling.”

The door to the trailer opened and Jonathan scrambled to his feet, ready to jump into action for another unwelcome surprise. He visibly relaxed, letting out a deep sigh when he heard Robin’s voice calling from the living room.

“Guys, Will thinks he’s found something.”

Steve sprang into full babysitting mode when he exited the trailer, opting to ignore the knowing look Robin gave Jonathan when she’d seen Steve’s puffy eyes, and began laying down the first few steps of their new plan.

“Before Will says anything, I think we need to get out of here. I don’t know about anyone else but I need a shower and a hot meal before I can do any more thinking. I reckon we go back through the gate and meet up at my place. We’ll take showers, order food, start our new plan, and get some sleep. You little ones best call your parents too, so they don’t panic. Sound good?”

“We’re sixteen, you asshole. Stop with the little ones crap.”

“Sounds like Dusty-Bun needs a nap.”

-

Steve was the last of the party to make it back to his house. They’d filtered out of Eddie’s trailer one by one; it was too risky to travel as a group until they’d showered. The sheer amount of blood, sweat, and tears that were caked onto every one of them was bound to draw unwanted attention. He wasn’t sure just how long it had taken them, but as he hung his car key onto its hook he realised it was long enough for the ‘happy families’ charade they were all putting on to break.

“What did I miss?” Steve asked in a hushed tone as he took a seat next to Dustin and Will at the breakfast bar.

“They’ve been at it for the last fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Mike. Nobody does. Not anymore,” El yelled.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I’m just saying-”

“You’re just saying what you think I should do and not listening to anything else anyone has to say!”

“It’s too risky.”

“What other choice is there?”

“We’ll come up with something.”

“There isn’t enough time!”

“Would you please help me out here?” Mike prompted, turning to them.

“I think-” Steve began.

“Don’t drag them into this!”

“I think,” Steve repeated with a little more authority, “everyone needs to take ten minutes and calm down a little bit. Mike, go outside and cool off.”

“I’m not a fucking dog,” Mike grumbled, making his way to the back door.

“You okay, El?” Dustin asked. She stormed upstairs and slammed the door behind her without saying a word.

“I’ll go check on her,” announced Will, already halfway out of the room.

Steve folded his arms on the table and dropped his head into them, both mentally and psychically exhausted. “What’s gotten into her?” Robin asked, pointing to the stairs behind her as she entered the kitchen.

“Mike doesn’t want her to face Vecna again,” Dustin answered, finally giving Steve some context clues to go off.

“Well, none of us want her to but we might not have another choice,” answered Robin.

“That’s what El said but Mike isn’t listening to her.”

“That boy is in for a harsh reality check. Anyway, the shower in Steve’s bathroom is free.”

“Dibs,” Steve interjected before Dustin could even open his mouth. “There’s some cash in the kitchen, order pizzas.”

It was the best shower he’d ever had in his entire life. Hot but not scolding and very, very long. Steve scrubbed his skin red raw until he finally felt clean and then he just stood there, letting the hot water rain down on him in the hopes that it would wash away his sadness too.

“Sadness comes in waves. If you’re scared of the wave, you can run away and wait for it to go back out - never really knowing what the ocean feels like. But if you’re brave, you can ride it out and let the wave wash over you. The water will pass and the calm will follow, as will another wave - but you’ll probably find that it won’t be so scary next time,” Robin told him. “Something my Grandpa used to tell me when I was feeling down as a kid.”

Steve’s sadness didn’t feel like dipping his toes into the ebbs and flows of a gentle wave. It felt like he was out in the middle of the ocean, treading water like his life depended on it, with no signs of land in sight.

A series of quick knocks and a muffled yell of “food!” grabbed Steve’s attention who, in turn, inhaled deeply, put on some clean clothes, and went downstairs with as much of a grin as he could muster. Perhaps he would drown those sorrows later.

-

The ten of them, significantly less cranky now they had full stomachs, gathered around the crackling fireplace in Steve’s living room, books out and ready to plan.

“Who wants to go first?” Nancy began.

“Things have gotten a lot more complicated than just killing Vecna. Kas gave us a warning and I think we need to make that our priority. If we’re going to kill Vecna, we’re going to have to kill Kas first,” Lucas answered.

“Well I think we need to cure Kas before we fight Vecna. It’ll be a hell of a lot easier to defeat Vecna with Eddie on our side than it will be to defeat Vecna and Kas at the same time,” Dustin interjected. “Any objections?”

“Sounds simple when you put it like that but what would that actually entail?” asked Jonathan.

“Most of the folklore ends in killing the vampire to cure it,” Robin answered, earning a scorned glare from Dustin.

“‘You touch a creature that has been dead for no longer than 200 years and that died for any reason except old age. If the creature’s soul is free and willing, the creature is restored to life with all its hit points.’ True Resurrection,” Will read aloud, not looking up from his handbook. “Cleric, level nine. Nancy could cast this on him.”

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” Dustin grinned, clapping his hands together.

“One small problem,” said Erica, all eyes landing on her. “The book said ‘if the creature’s soul is free and willing’ so that would mean, for the spell to work, Kas has to want to be cured. Sounds to me like he’s pretty set on being a vampire and killing us.”

“Eddie’s still in there,” answer Dustin, calmly.

“Bull. Shit.”

“We all heard him give the same speech, right?” Dustin asked, receiving a couple of nods in response. “He was talking about himself, Eddie, in the third person - as though they’re two different people. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have Eddie’s memories or anything like that, would he? He’s just a little… brainwashed. All we have to do is convince him that he wants to be cured.”

“You have a really bad habit of making complicated things sound way too simple, you know that right? He’s more likely to attack on sight rather than stand there and listen to us. We’re going to have to trap him or something,” Steve added.

“I can help with that,” El told him. “I can use the vines to restrain him.”

“Brilliant. So how do we kill Vecna?” asked Nancy.

“Will, didn’t you think of something earlier?” asked Robin.

“So,” Will began, snapping his book closed. “It was more like a three birds, one stone kind of plan. When a wizard dies any magic he cast will die along with him. So, in theory, if we kill Vecna the spell he used to turn Eddie into Kas will be null and void.”

“That’s only two birds, what’s the third?” asked Robin, stifling a yawn.

“Max.”

“How do we kill him?” asked Lucas, a look of determination spread across his face.

“It has to be me,” El announced.

“No,” Mike argued instantaneously.

“You’ve been awfully quiet so far, Mike. I don’t see you coming up with anything better,” defended Jonathan. “El’s tough, she can do it.”

“And she won’t be alone this time. She’ll have Will’s powers and the rest of us as backup,” added Steve.

“No,” repeated Mike, rushing out of the room.

“Mike, come back! I can help her,” yelled Will, following Mike from the room.

“I guess we vote, right? To make things fair?” Steve shrugged. “Nance?”

“I’m on board.”

“Jonathan?”

“Me too.”

“Rob? Robin?” Steve asked, not gaining a response. He turned to face her and found her drifting off to sleep, her head on her shoulder. “Right, everyone go to bed. We’ll carry this on tomorrow.”

-

March 25th, 1987.

Steve waited until he was sure everyone was asleep and tiptoed to the entryway, grabbed his car keys off the hook, and very cautiously closed the front door behind him. He’d tried to sleep, really he had, but the image of Kas glaring his fangs burned into his mind was too much for Steve to bear. He had only one destination in mind when he turned the key in the ignition - the twenty-four-hour gas station.

“Well, hello handsome. Hair cut suits you,” greeted the Clerk, the bell above the door diverting her attention from the magazine she had been reading at the desk. “Not seen you for a while.”

“Thanks,” smiled Steve, making his way over to the shelves. “I’ve cut back.”

He grabbed the first bottle of vodka he saw, not caring about the brand or price as long as it got him to sleep. He placed the bottle on the desk and searched his pockets for his wallet.

“Any smokes tonight, darling?”

“No, I’m good,” Steve answered. He produced a few bills from his wallet and tucked the vodka into his inside pocket before muttering his goodbyes to the woman behind the counter.

Steve argued with himself the whole way home.

He knew he shouldn’t, but what use was he to anyone if he didn’t get any sleep? He could miss something. Mess up an important part of the plan. Yes, it was vital that Steve got some sleep - even if that meant having a drink to do so. Or was it? What if he drank too much? It was hard to have ‘just the one’ these days. No, no. He’d be fine. He’d have one (maybe two) shots and go straight to sleep, wake up feeling slightly less zombie-like, and be ready when it came time to face Kas again.

With the front door locked and his keys hung up, Steve turned to make his way upstairs for a night of blissful sleep - instead, he almost jumped out of his skin. “Will? What are you doing up?” he asked in a whisper, gaining no response. “Will? Hello? You sleepwalking or something?”

He reached out and grasped Will by the shoulder, turning him around so that they were face to face.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Stevie,” Will growled, the voice coming from his lips not his own. His eyes rolled upwards, eyelids fluttering violently as he was placed under Vecna’s trance.

Author's Note: There’s a lot of dialogue in this chapter but I felt like we really needed to bond with the characters as well as have them bond with each other (and give Steve a hug, jfc) after that battle.

-

I can’t believe we’re halfway through already! Four more chapters and an epilogue to go. 😲

Just want to drop in and say a huge thank you to everyone who’s been reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting thus far. It’s super appreciated and I love finding out your thoughts on the fic. You’re all amazing.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie x steve #eddie munson x steve harrington #post canon #fix it fic #angst #angst with a happy ending #alcoholic steve harrington #steve harrington has ptsd #kas the bloody handed #vampire eddie munson #dont look at the d&d lore too closely #steddie #hurt/comfort #ironic use of pet names #steve harrington needs a hug