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elizaisthetruehero · 3 years

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Stranger with my Sister's Face Chapter 1

Someone at the DOD has a cruel sense of humor. That’s the only explanation Jo can think of for why her brother Tony is standing in front of her, being introduced as the new DOD liaison for Eureka and GD. Tony takes in his new assignment in stride as well as he can, though he has some trouble reconciling the person in front of him with his little sister. She just seems to have a little too much practice keeping secrets from him, starting with the boyfriend.

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Sunlight came streaming in through the windows and was glinting off of the data pad Zane was pushing in front of Jo. "Come on, one more problem, and then we'll take a quick break. You've got orbital and flight mechanics down, and you know the ship inside and out. I know you can do this. Let's just make sure everyone else knows it too."

Jo leaned back in her chair, where she was sitting at Zane's kitchen table, with more data pads and textbooks spread out in front of them. "And what were you thinking of for a break?"

"Well," Zane placed his hand on her arm, gently caressing up towards her shoulder, "you should probably have a snack, feed that brain. I've got the stuff for smoothies if that sounds good. Then", he leaned in and pressed a kiss to where her jaw met her ear, "I should probably make sure you get nice and relaxed. Studying while all tense can't be good for memory retention, I'm sure there's a study on it." He continued to press his lips along her jawline, marking a trail to her chin and back to her ear.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, someone in educational psychology has probably done studies on the length of the cramming session" another kiss was pressed to her jaw, "the proper environment" his nose nuzzled at the side of her face, "and what mental state the student should be in." He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and drew back, smirking. "I think a snack and a few minutes away from the books will be just what the doctor ordered."

Jo raised her brow and tried not to smile at his familiar antics. "I think you want an excuse to get me out of my clothes."

"Now Miss Lupo, who said anything about taking off your clothes? Besides, that dress looks so nice on you. It'd be a shame to take it off." Zane said while looking up and down her body, grinning appreciatively, his eyes lingering.

"I had church before I came to see you."

"I'm not complaining JoJo, just complimenting."

Jo's PDA buzzed, and she pulled it out to check it. They've got to be kidding me. "Shit, I gotta run."

"What happened?"

"The new liaison from the DOD came early. They sent someone active duty military, and I have to give their briefing and finish their clearance."

"How long is that going to take?"

She stood from the table and started looking through the papers for her wallet and keys. Where the hell did I put those? "Probably about an hour or so, I'll make Larry settle them into housing and everything else, I just have to handle the security aspect. It would have gone faster if they'd given me their information beforehand like I asked, but the DOD keeps to their own schedule. If it takes much longer than that I'll grab dinner from Café Diem for us on my way back. Does Thai sound good if I have to do that?"

"You don't want to make them sweat while you finish this last problem?"

She smiled at Zane's pouting face softly. "I'll finish up with this guy as quickly as I can and then I'm all yours to torture with orbital mechanics and rocket ship engineering for the rest of the weekend." Jo kissed him slowly, bringing a hand around the back of his neck. Zane pulled her to him, both arms slipping around her waist, a tongue licking into her mouth. She smiled against him then pulled away. "I'll text you when I get out of GD."

"Fine, go, do your job. Make sure that the DOD didn't send a complete moron our way."

"Or a Consortium spy."

Zane furrowed his brow in confusion. "Shouldn't they have already checked that?"

"Yeah, but my background checks are more thorough. Even if the DOD objects to them. Apparently, it's rude to request those records for a sitting Senator. But some lowly grunt is fair game." Jo grabbed her keys from the dish on the table beside Zane's front door and tried not to think of how she'd automatically tossed them there when she'd gotten there a few hours ago, how easily she'd slipped back into the habits built from two years together.

She drove off to GD, parked, grabbed the extra blazer she kept hanging in the backseat of her car, putting it on to look a little more professional and pulling her hair into a ponytail, now grateful that she hadn't changed after church. Her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the conference room off to the side of the rotunda.

Jo saw Daisy Lowell, one of her overnight and weekend security guards standing outside the conference room and nodded in greeting. "New liaison get in okay?"

"Uh, yeah, he just got here. His files are all here, and I ran the checks you like when he showed up, as soon as I got the name. No security concerns, no red flags." Jo heard a slight shuffle, looked down and saw Daisy's left leg shuffling, a tell that something was off with her.

"Is there something else you'd like to tell me?" Jo kept her tone light, but her eyes on the shifting leg.

Daisy kept her gaze forward but avoiding Jo's face. "One thing you should know Ma'am. When I saw his record, I noticed that it was someone who, well, uh, would be familiar to you."

Jo turned her eyes upwards to Daisy's face. "Someone I served with in the Rangers?"

"He was a Ranger." Her voice was tight, clearly taking care not to betray anything.

"Lowell..."

"Look, I didn't say you were the Chief of Security, and he didn't say anything, so I think he'll be just as surprised as you. Just go in there, do the briefing, and maybe schedule in time to catch up." Daisy handed her the file, moved out of the way of the door, and Jo pushed it open.

She first saw Senator Wen sitting at the head of the table, and the back of the new liaison. Crew cut, tan skin, the muscles obvious through the army dress uniform, but not particularly broad, though from what she could tell while sitting, fairly tall, at least six feet. She began cycling through the men she'd served with, trying to place him without the face or voice. Maybe Matteo Garcia, or Joey Pesci. Hell, if Adam Johnson had been serving somewhere sunny before coming here, he might be tan enough to fit the bill.

Senator Wen noticed her enter the room. "Ah, Ms. Lupo, glad you could join us." The new liaison's head swiveled around, and he almost toppled out of his chair getting up. Jo realized that all of her guesses were wrong, that while this man had been a Ranger, he hadn't served with her.

"Hi, Tony." She did her best to act blasé, though she was sure he would be able to recognize the surprise on her face.

Tony just blinked at her, looking just as he had when they'd been caught trying to sneak out to go to a concert years ago, "I, uh, Jo? What are you doing here?"

"You have a security briefing. I'm the Chief of Security here. Do the math, you're going to have to do a lot of it here."

"I thought you said you were working private security for some tiny tech company."

Jo drew her shoulders back and tried not to sound too smug. "You are familiar with the concept of top-secret and need to know, right? Cover stories? I do hope so, or else I'm going to have a hard time approving your clearance."

"Ah-hem." Jo and Tony turned to Senator Wen who had a slight upturn to her lips, almost a smile. "Evidently you two don’t need me to introduce you to each other."

Jo smiled, "No, that won't be necessary. That was taken care of a long time ago."

"You were irritating and loud from the moment we met," Tony smirked.

Jo chose not to respond verbally and simply backhanded him in the gut. "Senator, with all due respect, how long have you known my brother was coming to Eureka?"

Senator Wen did smile now. "Oh, a few days now. I thought it would be a nice surprise for the two of you." She walked around the table. "I'll let you get to work now. He already got an overview briefing in DC, he just needs the details of what's going on right now and security procedures."

"I'll take care of it." Jo and Tony each shook the Senator's hand before she left.

"Pleasure meeting you Major Lupo. Oh, and it goes without saying, but he will not have any say in the selection of Astraeus candidates. Washington was very clear about that." The senator left, and Jo tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach, the one that said that her brother's placement in Eureka had something to do with her.

"Well?"

Jo turned back to her brother. "Right, let's get this started. So, what were you told? I just want to make sure we don't miss anything."

Tony looked at her incredulously. "No no no, back up, let's take a minute. When one goes months without seeing one's siblings, it's customary to express some form of affection. Acknowledgment that we're not complete strangers. That sort of thing." He held his arms out and cocked his head.

She rolled her eyes and hugged him. "It's good to see you too Tony."

He chuckled. "Why did that sound like it hurt a little?" He squeezed her tighter, and Jo pushed her face into his neck smiling, taking in the familiar smell of the god-awful musky cologne he'd always worn. She hadn't smelled it since before 1947.

"Don't be a jackass."

"There's only so much I can do about that." They separated from the hug and sat down at the table. "We should probably get started."

Jo opened his file on the table and checked which briefing and checks he had gotten in DC and what Daisy had already taken care of. "Okay, so you know the basics. Eureka was founded as a place for the greatest scientific minds in the US to gather, collaborate and redefine the cutting edge. We get funded by the DOD, and they get military projects and inventions. You're the military liaison, so you're going to be focused on the projects with military applications and finding military applications for others, mostly weapons projects, but also infrastructure, energy alternatives, medical advancement, etc.

You'll have meetings with department and lab heads, but you should schedule those. These scientists are very busy, and their experiments often have delicate timetables. They can't drop everything to chat with you. I do not want one of their pet projects blowing up because you forgot how to work a phone. Is that clear?" Jo fixed her brother with a look that made it clear she was not making a suggestion.

"Yeah, crystal."

"I also see you were told about the Astraeus mission."

"Yeah, they mentioned the 20 Billion dollar space project. I'm still confused as to how it travels, but apparently, it's been tested and works, and last I checked, understanding how these things work wasn't my job."

"Yeah, it's a 6 month mission to one of Jupiter's moons, Titan. I'm sure the DOD will find some use for the research done on it. And no, no one expects you to understand the details of the science and the experiments done here, though you will probably pick some things up. The people here like to talk about their work, and you're going to be pressed for company that doesn't already have multiple PhDs."

"Okay," Tony looked over the paperwork he still had to sign and then asked, "What did Wen mean when she said I obviously wouldn't have any say over the candidates. I figured the DOD would want a little more say over who goes on this thing."

"You'd get accusations of bias." Jo drew her attention to the papers in front of her, looking for the different disaster procedure outlines for him to sign. If Larry lost them again, she'd kill him for real.

"Why would I get accused of bias? I don't know any of the geniuses trying to get off the planet."

"Tony," she drew her shoulders back and sat straighter, the way that she'd been drilled to in Basic training, the same way her brother had been drilled too, "I'm one of the candidates for the Astraeus mission."

He blinked. "That's very funny Josefina."

"I'm not kidding."

"Seriously." He paused, staring at her in shock. "You want to go into a never tested spaceship, that has a barely tested, still experimental engine that travels through creating wormholes, and hang out on another planet for six months doing what exactly?"

"First of all, I just told you, Titan is a moon, not a planet. Second, the researchers are going to be doing their experiments around Titan and out of the atmosphere at various points and will need an experienced pilot to handle the mission shuttle. Third, in case you forgot, I went to West Point for Mechanical Engineering, and since coming to Eureka, have gotten a more thorough practical education. I know what I'm doing, I know how the ship works, and am damn good at wrangling those geniuses when something goes wrong, which it inevitably will. And for the love of God, it's the opportunity to go to space! This is what everyone dreams about! I'm not turning that down."

Tony shook his head. "This is Uncle Ralph's fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"If he hadn't gotten you those books on space when you were a kid, this wouldn't be happening."

Jo couldn't believe what he was saying. "Oh come on."

"Nicky always told us the space phase would come back to bite us in the ass. We didn't believe him, but what do you know, crazy shit happens."

"I know what I'm doing. This is what I want, and I'm good at it." Jo tried not to be annoyed at Tony, but he was making it difficult. "Look, can we have this conversation later? We have a lot to get through."

"Fine." She knew that she wasn't going to be able to avoid this conversation for very long, and Tony would probably try to talk her out of the Astraeus mission at least a few more times. Stubbornness was a shared Lupo trait after all. "After we finish the government's business, is there somewhere around here to get take out? My briefing in DC mentioned an apartment, but to be honest, after the flight, I don't feel like cooking. And it would be nice to catch up."

"Yeah, I can grab us something from Café Diem while Larry gets you settled." Jo's gut twisted. She wasn't going to be in and out of this like she thought. She took out her PDA and messaged Zane and turned the non-emergency ringer off. Briefing going to be taking longer than I said. Won't be available until after dinner, later tonight. Sorry.

"Everything okay?" he nodded toward her PDA.

"Yeah, I just had plans. Going over stuff for the written science background test for Astraeus with a friend. I was just letting him know I had to cancel."

"Uh-huh. And uh, did these plans have anything to do with why you're wearing a dress?"

That got him a glare. "I had church this morning and I didn't bother changing afterward. Do you want to finish this after midnight, or do you want food at some point?"

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, then thought better of it, "I would like food at some point."

"Then shut up."

Paperwork was completed, Larry showed up, and Jo handed off Tony to him, noting the wide eyes as Larry processed who the DOD had sent. She quickly ordered some pizzas and salad (ignoring Vince's eyebrow-waggling, since he probably thought she was bringing them somewhere else) and brought them back to the one bedroom apartment that the DOD had arranged for Tony while Larry was leaving with the completed paperwork. He unpacked his bags, which had been brought when he arrived. Jo and Tony spent the rest of the afternoon and evening catching up, Jo retelling some of the stories she had already told him over the years with the details filled in, now that he had clearance.

She excused herself around 8, saying she had work in the morning, and still needed to take care of things, and drove over to Zane's apartment. Jo knocked on the door and forced herself to keep calm while waiting. It's not the end of the world. It's just Tony and Zane living in the same town. Working in the same building.

Oh God. The end of the world would probably be less explosive.

Zane opened the door and waved her in. "How long did it take to sign in some DOD bureaucrat?"

"Signing him in didn't take very long. Catching up is what took up most of the afternoon." She wrung her hands together and turned to face him, her skirt swishing against her knees. Zane closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

"They send someone you served with?"

"I wish," Jo scoffed, then ducked her head. "Someone at the DOD has a sense of humor, and decided to give my brother Tony the job".

Zane stiffened, then cracked a strained smile. "Big Brother sent big brother?"

"God, I'm going to be hearing that one for weeks aren't I?"

"Oh yeah." Zane came closer, and wrapped an arm around Jo's back, pulling her to him. "So what does he know?"

"Tony has access to all labs but will need prior authorization from myself or Fargo before entering Section 5. He does not get to harass the scientists, and we're trying to make sure he doesn't disturb the work done."

"Jo…"

"He knows about the Astraeus, and that I'm a candidate, and let me tell you, he is not happy about that, thinks I'm an adrenaline seeking idiot for going to space, and he doesn't want to have to tell"

"What does he know about us?"

Jo paused. "What, that his little sister is screwing the town felon? Funnily enough, that question didn't come up."

Zane ducked his head down to meet her eyes. "He's going to hear about it. Your brother is going to be here until at least the launch, if not longer, and people in this town talk. Zoe heard about us while she was on the other side of the country. How long do you think we have until someone mentions me to him?"

"Carter didn't find out for over a month."

"Yeah, and once it got out, it spread. Everyone knows, and everyone's a gossip. He's going to find out we're sleeping together some way or another."

"Look, I just need you to behave yourself around him, okay? Tone down the flirting, don't blatantly discuss the fact that we're sleeping together in front of him and try not to stare at my ass. Or my chest."

"Why should I?"

Jo stilled when she heard him, not understanding what he was saying. "What?"

"What motivation do I have for behaving? You're insistent that we're just friends, so why should either of us care what your brother thinks of me?" Zane ran his hand up and down her spine softly, trying to get her to relax. "I don't know what the Zane Donovan you knew was like, but I have a reputation for spitting in the face of authority. If I start sucking up to some DOD schmuck for no reason, well, someone's going to think I'm up to something."

"Or maybe they just think you're turning over a new leaf. You know, becoming an actual grownup."

Zane leaned back from Jo, and pulled one arm away from her, propping it up on the counter. "Maybe, but maybe he wouldn't."

Jo raised an eyebrow "You realize it sounds like you're asking me to introduce you to my brother at my boyfriend, right?"

He shrugged, "If that's what you want to call it, fine by me. If you want to tell him we're just having meaningless sex, which, need I remind you, has been your call, that's your choice. If you want to look your big brother in the eye and use the phrase Friends with Benefits, go for it, I will back you up. But you and I both know that's not the only thing that's going on here.

We have dinner together most days. I spend most of my free time with you. You spend most of your nights in my bed. Honestly, you really should start keeping clothes here at this point, there's going to be a Eureka disaster at some point. Do you want to show up in yesterdays' clothes or better yet, mine?"

"Zane,"

"I have no intention of going out or being with anyone else right now, and I don't think you do either. What's the harm in telling your brother what he's going to hear anyway? At least this way I'll see it coming when he tries to shoot me."

She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her chest, looking away from Zane, not knowing how to explain the relationship between herself and her brothers. "The last time I would have introduced a guy to my family in this timeline, would have been my junior prom date. They were so overbearing and overprotective and just awful that I told them the next time I introduced them to someone I was dating would be when I was handing out wedding invitations."

"In this timeline?"

"I'm assuming so anyway. Based on conversations I've had with them, they never met anyone I dated."

"What about the other timeline?"

Jo turned her gaze toward the floor, away from his bright blue eyes. "In the other timeline, we had been dating for two years before you met my dad and my brother Nicky. You- He, never met Rico or Tony." She felt him staring at her.

"Tony's the one who the DOD sent, right?" She nodded. "Two years, popped the question, I never met two of your brothers?"

"You'd talked to them on the phone, skyped a couple times, but not in person. You were supposed to come with me to meet Rico and his family when he was home on leave, but you were stuck in the Arctic on a project."

"So I still got my ass frozen off in that timeline too? Good to know some things stayed the same."

"Yeah." Jo tried to look anywhere that wasn't Zane. I almost lost him both times then.

Zane crossed his arms over his chest, and Jo tried not to notice his shirt pulling at his biceps. "So, what are we telling your brother?"

Jo slipped off her blazer and draped it over the couch. "Well, if he asks, I guess we're telling him you're my boyfriend. But only if he asks."

Zane smiled, and unbuckled his belt, slipping it off before shoving down his jeans. "Of course. I'm not looking to get a bullet in my head if I don’t have to."

#Stranger with My Sister's Face #Jo Lupo #Zane Donovan #a town called eureka #my fic

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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

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A Softer Side Part 7

The computer pinged with each frantic bid in the dying minutes, and all out war between Petrov and user BaishunpuSureiya, which in a literal translation meant Whore Slayer, otherwise known as first lieutenant to the Yakuza clan Moriyama. “Only thing worse than the Russian mob, the Japanese Yakuza.” Strand sighed.

”Damn I’m glad we got the girl out of this one.” Jerry muttered quietly.

Ayla was frantically digging into these guys as they watched the bidding war play out. A different ping had their attention snap to Ayla’s screen. “Oh you clever sweet girl.” Karl breathed. “You hacked the sites mainframe.”

“Told you she was good.” Jerry elbowed him with his murmured.

As the auction timed out the bids stopped at 6.5 million, Petrov waiting until the last second to out bid his closest rival. Karl kept a hand on Jerry’s shoulder as he breathed out very slowly. “Not celebrating until we bag him.” He said finally, wrangling his emotions under control. “We’re not done, he’s not in our care yet.”

“One step at a time kid.” Karl murmured and watched as Ayla’s hand squeezed Jerry’s. The ping of money being transferred to their dummy account brought them back to reality. “Wainwright will be getting a call soon.” As if he’d dialed the number himself, the call came through, Steve answering. With the drop location agreed on Davis and his team headed out to cast the net wide, they had a few hours to burn beforehand which was ample time to secure all access roads.

As Karl studied the takedown, he could see Ayla was busy pulling those digital threads to finesse the data she was searching for. With a frantic hand tapping his she pointed at the screen and then to Davis’s feed.

“Davis.” He snapped through the coms. “They’re already at the drop site, preplanned in the event they won the auction.”

“Copy that boss. We’ll cast wider see what we come up with.”

“I’ll forward this intel to you, it just came in. North side heavily guarded, best choke point along the south east ridge. You can bottle neck them in if you have a team at the choke point.”

“Mia?” Strand asked.

“Already leaving.” She said. Karl knew she had a helicopter stashed away, there wasn’t much she didn’t have in the way of equipment.

“Archangel is on the way.” Strand snapped out grinding his teeth, shit was about to get real.

“Copy that boss.”

Karl paced and saw Jerry blanch. “We’ll get him kid.”

“I know, his luck’s run out.” He shrugged. “I gotta gut feeling this is his last auction, whether we catch him or kill him it’s his fucking last.”

“Davis?” Strand called.

“Yeah?”

“Capture not kill, do you understand? Not unless he gives you no other option. We want Petrov alive and to at least be able to talk coherently.” Karl thought for a moment. “I don’t care about the rest, society will be much better without them.”

“Copy that. With Archangel, we’ll clean house.” Karl knew Davis understood his command. Take everyone out, leave Petrov alive, it was that fucking simple.

The randevu inched closer, the seconds ticking by in silence as Strand let Davis and Wainwright do their jobs. He had absolute confidence in their ability, he just didn’t want to let Jerry down, they’d come too far now.

“Why Mia?” Hunt asked as he paced, his restless energy making him on edge.

“That woman can shoot the hair off a gnats ass at two miles. She’ll find a nest and pick them off, effectively clearing the way for Davis and company to move in.”

“She is so much more than she seems.” Jerry said

“You have no idea kid.”

“Did you guys ever... you know?” Jerry asked quietly.

“Nope and never will. It would be like fucking my little sister.” Strand said disgustedly, even the thought of it put a bad taste in his mouth.

“Fair enough.” Jerry chuckled.

“You looking to start something with her?” He asked as he watched Davis’s team come online.

“Maybe. I like her.” He shrugged.

“Tread carefully and slowly, she’s been through hell.” Was all Strand would say on the matter and Jerry wisely shut his mouth. Karl didn’t want to get into it, he had enough relationship troubles at the moment without diving into someone else’s love life woes. Is that what this was, he thought, was he in love with her, was this a relationship?”

“In position.” Davis’s voice crackled over coms. “Waiting for Archangel.”

“Copy that, she’s en route. ETA, thirty minutes or so.” Strand said taking a seat again, his own nervous energy starting to make his skin crawl. He should be out there with the team, not cooped up inside watching it go down. In that regard he was impatient, preferring to be in the thick of it not on the sidelines.

“Get my drone up in the air Davis, I’ll need to have eyes.” Mia’s voice was clipped as it came over the coms unit.

“Copy that Archangel.” Karl could hear the smirk in Davis’s voice and smiled, he had a good team.

“Pull it up Jerry.” He said quietly and Hunt activated the drone feed. “We may need to be her eyes as well, the team on the ground will have enough to do.” They settled in with a little over an hour to analyse, strategize, and tighten the net.

******

“Archangel in position.” Mia’s voice was barely a whisper.

“You close?” Strand asked.

“Hostiles 100 yards.” She said shortly barely breathing, though the hostiles in question weren’t exactly being quiet and would mask any noise she made.

“Copy.” Karl said softly.

******

“Approaching now.” Wainwright said as they pulled up just outside the containment line.

“As soon as you set foot on the ground Archangel will clear the outer perimeter, Davis will clean up and move the containment line in.”

“Copy.”

“You ready Burke?” Strand asked.

“Asshole won’t know what hit him.” She snarked.

“We need him alive.” He said.

“I got the memo. He’ll be breathing and conscious.”

“Pulling up.” Steve cut in, now it was down to business.

“Copy.” Strand said.

The feed came into view and Karl saw Petrov waiting, surrounded by his entourage trying to look important more than watching for any real threat, that would be their fatal mistake. “Jerry, paint our good friend Ivan so Mia can leave that asshole alive.” He growled and Hunt did as requested using the drone to fix a red glow to the man, only Mia would be able to see the glow through her scope.”

“Stepping out now Archangel.” Wainwright said softly.

“Copy.” Came Mia’s feminine whisper.

******

No sooner had Steve’s foot met gravel, Petrov’s men started dropping like flies. In less than a minute she had the outer security down.

“Davis move in.” She said quietly. “North side.”

“Copy.” She would keep them safe.

Strand watched Steve take his time, the customary small talk between buyer and seller, giving Mia as much time as possible to plow the road. With an ear on their conversation he glanced to see Davis’s team secure the heavily armed North side.

“Ametures.” Mia snorted. “Never leave the high ground unattended.” Her soft mumble had Karl chuckling. “May as well have presented your asses with a flashing neon sign that said shoot me.”

“It’s just the inner circle left now.” Strand said gruffly as Wainwright hauled Burke out of his car. She swayed as if she was drugged, Karl knowing full well she was stone cold sober.

“Is she armed?” Jerry asked, a worried edge to his voice. “If this goes south she’s fucked.”

Strand snorted before he laughed. “She doesn’t need a weapon Jerry, she is the weapon.” He looked at the rookie and smiled. “Watch and learn, Petrov’s about to get his ass handed to him by a girl.” Strand looked back to watch the takedown unfold, like fucking poetry.

Like a well choreographed dance Burke reached Petrov and his hands closed around her bicep. As soon as skin met skin, Mia reduced his entourage down to just him and his first lieutenant. By the time Mia had taken down the first lieutenant, Burke had Petrov on the ground, balls in his hands, pain plastered across his face, in less than three minutes he was crying like a baby and screaming like a stuck pig.

“Not so tough now are you Ivan.” Burke purred as she circled him.

“What do you want?” He blubbered.

“Funny you should ask.” She grinned and got in his face. “Know this girl?” She held up her phone with a photo of Jerry’s sister Eva. “Before you answer let me remind you, lying or anything other than the whereabouts of this girl will end with you being shipped off to Hades 6, where we have a very nice welcome party waiting for you.” Even on the shitty feed Strand saw his face pale. “Take your time and think real hard because you purchased her, cheaper than a prime piece but you bought her, you have three minutes Ivan, then I’m handing you over to those on Hades 6 to extract the data out of you.” She let him cower at her feet, Hunt was chewing his nails, the wait unbearable.

No one spoke for the entire three minutes, the silence palpable. Crouching again before him she flicked his nose and he trembled, fucking pussy, Strand thought. “Where is she Petrov?”

“Outside San Francisco, at our US compound.” His voice choked and quavered, Karl wouldn’t be surprised if this sniveling asshole had peed his pants.

“You’re going to make a call, in English or the same fate will be in your future.” She growled. “One person drives her to this location.” She held up the address for him to see. Only the girl gets out of the car, I see anyone else I’ll pack you off to Hades 6 so fast your head will spin. Understand?” He nodded furiously.

With shaking hands Ivan dialed the number. As it was ringing Ayla traced it. He rattled off instructions for the girl, where to drive her to. The ping from the computer Ayla was working from made a sly smile spread across Karl’s face.

“Got you now you fuckers.” He growled. “We have what we need. Secure and transport Petrov, collect the girl and take her to the outcrop safe house, I’ll have her brother meet her there.”

“I’m closer.” Mia said quickly. “I’ll bring her home, she’ll be more comfortable there.”

“Sounds good, let us know when you’re heading our way.”

“Copy that, Archangel out.”

Strand turned to Jerry, the rookie pale and in shock. “Mia will bring her home here.” He said placing an understanding hand on the kids shoulder. “You need to brace yourself Jerry, she’s not going to be the same sister.”

“I know. How do I help her?” He asked quietly.

“Just be her brother, that’s all you can do. She’s not going to want to be around anyone for a while.”

“Much like Ayla was.” Jerry breathed and looked at her, that slight nod the only answer he’d get. “You guys go ahead and sleep, I’ll wait up for Mia and my sister.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. She’s going to terrified out of her mind, the less of an audience the better. I just need to lay eyes on her, know that she’s here, safe.”

Strand watched as Ayla stood and padded over to Jerry. Her tentative hug was a huge step, a silent gesture to let him know she was here for him, for his sister.

“Thanks Ayla, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have found her.” The rookie was almost in tears. She smiled softly and nodded. Jerry headed out to brew what would probably be his tenth coffee for the evening, leaving Ayla staring at Wainwright.

“It’s not him sweet girl.” Karl reassured. Reaching over he clicked Wainwright’s com on to open a channel. “Steve do me a favor and lose the face.” He said quietly. “On camera, she needs to see it.”

“Sure.” He pulled the camera around so Ayla had a good view and she pulled back, almost dissolving against Karl, his arms wrapping around her protectively.

“It’s not him, watch.” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face and she watched as his fingers disappeared. “It’s a holographic image projected over his face to make him look like Raven. If he touches his face it disrupts the signal.” Wainwright pressed a spot by his ear and half the holographic mask disappeared to reveal Steve’s thirty something face. “Pretty cool huh?” Strand murmured as she reached out a hand to touch the screen, a barely there nod her only answer. “Thanks Steve.”

“No problem boss.” Even his voice was back to normal.

“It has a voice chip in there too which makes him sound like Raven.” Karl explained as he cut the feed. She turned in his arms, buried her face in his chest and wept, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt. “You’re ok sweet girl.” He soothed as Jerry came back in and sat at the computer ignoring them as if they weren’t in the room. With a reassuring squeeze of the rookie’s shoulder he scooped Ayla up into his arms and carried her to her room.

It had been a rough evening for her mentally and emotionally, seeing and hearing a likeness of Raven rocking her to her core. “You’re safe Ayla.” He murmured as he climbed into bed with her, there was no way she was letting go of him tonight. He soothed her to sleep, his body cradling hers. Could he really be this stability she was looking for, he wondered? That one thought pounded through his head as he drifted, was he in love with her?

Her nightmare was more a night terror, visceral, all consuming. It was the first sound other than her whimper he’d heard from her, the terrified scream tearing from her throat, hands frantically pushing him away, fighting whatever had appeared in her mind to torment her. Waking her was difficult, his soft commands to wake up were a glancing blow, it held her under deeply. In the end, as much as he hated himself for it, he grabbed her by the biceps tightly, pined her to the mattress and barked at her.

“AYLA, WAKE UP!” He barked, a tone that left no room for interpretation. She woke sharply, eyes suddenly forced wide open at his voice, the grip on her probably hurting. That keening half scream half sob was wrenched from deep within her and she froze in his hands.

Loosening his grip he let her go and put his hands up in front of him. “You’re ok sweet girl, just a nightmare, you’re safe.” She continued to stare at him, her shuddering breath heaving in and out. “Just a really bad dream.” He repeated. Her eyes searched the room frantically, that whimper gutting him. “He’s not here Ayla, he’s on Hades 6 remember?” The urge to pull her into his arms and cradle her against him was overwhelming, the need to soothe. “You’re safe with me sweet girl, I won’t hurt you.” He murmured and held out his hands for her to come to him, to seek comfort, shelter, protection. Her choice, he thought, it had to be her choice as much as this was killing him it would only exacerbate her fear if he forced it.

He clicked on the lamp, the soft glow chasing the shadows into the night where they belonged, not that there was much of the night left. “It’s just you and me sweet girl.” He said softly, her breathing calmer now the light was on, her body still trembling. “I’m here when you’re ready Ayla, no rush.” The look of absolute terror in her eyes destroyed him as he rested his hand on his knee and let her process what she’d dreamt and the scene in front of her.

Eventually her hand reached out, fingertips brushing his. He curled them gently, urging her to come closer, to seek the safety she desperately needed. She inched closer, tentative fingers shaking toward him before they snatched back as if they’d been struck.

“You can touch me sweet girl, you’re safe with me.” He said calmly. “You’re ok.” When in the world had he become so fucking patient, he thought? Since you became her world, that little voice in his head smirked. As her mind settled she curled into him, the quiet weeping of an overwhelmed soul. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He sighed, holding her tighter and slowly leaning back against the headboard. As her tears subsided her finger grazed his scruff, the gentle touch igniting that fire within him. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she pressed her face to his chest and breathed. “Get some more sleep sweet girl, I’m right here ok?” She nodded and he heard the shuddered sigh, willing her body to relax knowing he’d keep her safe while she slept. He squeezed her tightly and shifted to lay flat, her tiny form cradled against his gigantic frame.

He felt her drift under, not so lucky himself as he stared at the ceiling. She slept for another few hours, he was content to just hold her in his arms while he thought about the next op in a few days time. He was pulled from the quiet doze he’d fallen into by her lips on his.

“You feeling better sweet girl?” He rasped as his mind coming back from wherever it had wandered off to. Opening his eyes sea green looked back, clear and full of love, her slight nod settling him. I don’t deserve you, he said silently, I’m no good for you I’m so many ways. No matter how many times he thought it and then banished it from his mind, he still craved her. She’d gotten under his guard and sucker punched him, stealing whatever was left of his black heart for herself. She kissed him again, the primal animal inside him surging forward as he deepened it, taking what he desperately wanted, giving her whatever it was she needed. He lost himself to the taste of her, those soft lips he suddenly had the urge to have around his cock.

Her hands wandering down his chest and along his torso snapped him back to some semblance of reality before her mouth claimed his. “Ayla.” He breathed, he was drowning in her. Shivering slightly as her hand grazed his shaft, his body betrayed his resolve. The press of her body against his elicited a groan as she palmed him, the sensual stroke of his erection causing a low growl to rumble from within him. God he wanted her, every cell in his body wanted her. “Stop.” He murmured gently as he took her hands and brought them to rest on his chest. Pressing his forehead against hers he regained his control, the slim margin of space suddenly between them giving his brain time to think before he acted and did something monumentally stupid. “I want to.” He whispered. “But the way I want you isn’t what you need.” No, he thought, pinning her to the bed and taking her how he pleased was not what she needed, to plunge inside her, to feel her wrapped around his cock as he fucked her hard. No, she needed tender, and he wasn’t sure he could give that to her. He felt her nod slightly, her head bowing until it rested on his chest tucked under his chin. Her tears slipped over his hand and he felt like an even bigger asshole. “I need time Ayla. I’m not sure being intimate with you is best for either of us.” He felt her nod again before she pulled away, rolling over quickly, and moving to the bathroom. “Ayla.” He said gently, but the quiet snick of the door ended his sentence before it had begun. Staring at the ceiling he let his frustration simmer. He was trying to take it slow with her, ease her into sex, did she not see that? Did she not understand that if he hurt her it would destroy him?

Ripping the covers off he dressed in jeans and a sweater and grabbed his Glock out of nightstand drawer. He stomped out to the kitchen, grabbed a coffee in a to go thermos and headed out to Mia’s range. He needed distance, he needed violence, and he needed to get her scent out of his fucking system. They had days to prepare for the last of the three auctions and hopefully put and end to all of it, he needed to focus.

Round after round went into the targets, the action soothing the edges of his unease, cathartic violence for his soul. He wasn’t husband material, relationship material, he worked hard, and played harder. His next shot faltered as Sarah popped into his mind, he’d loved her, still loved her, or what was his version of love. Was that why it felt wrong with Ayla, he wondered? No, not wrong, because he did feel something for her, it was just different to what he felt with Sarah.

Loading a new clip he emptied it into the target.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Mia said as the echo of the last round faded.

“Needed to clear my head.” He snarled, slamming another clip in and fired.

“I figured when you weren’t anywhere to be found.” She said as he let the empty clip fall and placed an egg and bacon sandwich on the table for him. “Thought you could use a bite.”

“Thanks.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He loaded and fired, the smooth action one of years of repetition.

“All right then, I’ll leave you to it.” Mia sighed and turned to walk away.

“I’m in love with her Mia and it fucking terrifies me.” He blurted out. “All I keep thinking about is how I’m not the right person for her, I want to push her so far away from me to protect her yet my body wants her, I want her. How do I give her what she needs when I don’t even know what that is or how to give it to her. I’m not the loving gentle soul she needs.”

“Maybe not to the rest of us but to her you are.” Mia said gently. “Karl, she brings out a softer side of you I’ve never seen before, and it’s only with her.”

“I love Sarah, loved Sarah and I don’t know if I can take that kind of a beating again emotionally.”

“I know you did, but this isn’t the same.” Mia said softly.

“It’s so different.” He sighed, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Ayla is happy with you Strand and that’s a good thing for her, positive in her healing, but don’t lead her on.” She put her hands up as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not doing that, I’m just saying if you’re not serious about her you need to tell her.”

“I don’t even know what this is Mia.” He huffed.

“Then you need to figure it out, because if you keep pushing her away she’ll eventually stop coming to you, stop vying for your affection.”

“She had a nightmare last night.”

“And she’ll have many more.” Mia shot back. Damn it, Strand thought, she was going to make him deal with it all.

“She wanted sex.” He said flatly.

“Then give it to her.” Mia shrugged.

“It’s not that simple.”

Mia laughed. “God men are so clueless sometimes, I have to spell it out.” Her sigh making Strand bristle.

“Was it like that with you and Peter?” He sniped, the mention of his old partner bringing a mournful look into her eyes. He wished he could take back those words the second they were out.

“That was a low blow even for you Karl, but to answer your question, yes. After you brought me home it was Peter that tended me much like you’re doing with Ayla. There came a point where I needed sex, I needed to feel what it was like to be in control of what was taken from me. The only difference between me and Ayla is I knew what sex was like before Syria, she’s had nothing but rape and torture her entire life.” She studied him. “She trusts you Karl, she wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t.”

“She hasn’t asked, she hasn’t said a fucking word.” His growl was more a snarl.

“Her actions ask. She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t want you to, it’s her choice.” He chewed it over and felt his gut sink, had he pushed her away too much already? “Finish up here.” Mia said seeing him start to think on her words. “Burgers tonight out on the patio, we earned them after last night.”

“You loved him didn’t you?” He said gently.

“Very much.” Her words held such grief, a deep longing as she walked back to the pickup.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.” She snorted.

******

The long walk back to the house cleared his head about Sarah, she was not who he thought she was, their relationship tenuous at best. If he was being honest with himself they were using each other for sex and that was, and always had been their relationship, even when he’d thought he’d been in love with her. The way he felt about Ayla however was as clear as mud. There was a deeper pull to her, as if her soul spoke to his, a softness and calm he’d never experienced before. Her soul soothed his own.

Coming into the kitchen he glanced into the rec room and found Ayla and Jerry at the computers working hard to set up their next op for tomorrow. He should have been here helping instead of having his own existential crisis. At least she hadn’t withdrawn or shut down.

“Hey boss.” Jerry said quietly and he saw Ayla’s hands still on the keyboard before resuming their rapid beat.

“How’s your sister?” He asked taking a seat between them.

“Doing ok considering, we talked some.” Jerry shrugged.

“That’s a start.” Karl said softly. Hunt brought him up to speed with their progress. The report from Burke on the delivery of Petrov to Hades 6. “We all set for tonight’s pickup?”

“Wainwright and Burke are set, Davis is regrouping with his team.”

“Good.”

“Do you think our old CO will bid tonight?” Hunt asked hopeful.

“God I fucking hope so.” Karl growled. “He’s the middle man, there’s someone above him pulling the strings and I want to know who.” Because that was who Raven supplied on a regular basis and would bring this entire syndicate down.

“Raven’s the supplier and distributer.”

“Yes, but who’s running the show? Who does he answer to? Raven makes millions off these auctions yet look at the house and neighborhood he lived in. If he had access to all this money where are the fancy cars, the mansions, the carefree lifestyle one had with that about of money?” Karl mused. “Were missing something.” And he’d noticed that even Ayla didn’t have the answer, maybe she doesn’t know.

******

When it came time for burgers Jerry left Strand and Ayla to go see if his sister would join them. He watched as Ayla stood and went to help Mia in the kitchen. There was a tension between them that wasn’t there last night and he was kicking himself for putting it there.

“Great, now she doesn’t want to be in the same room alone with me.” He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose before scrubbing a hand over his face.

They all took some down time, walked away from the case for a few hours to devour a burger and fries, laugh, and boost each other’s moral.

“Did you like the burger?” Karl asked Ayla before she could get up and leave, the two of them alone for the moment as Jerry and Mia cleared and washed dishes. Jerry taking something in for his sister. She nodded and he could feel the distance between them growing exponentially. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you, I’m just terrified I’ll hurt you.” He blurted out. “I’m a mess Ayla.” He sighed and looked at her, those intense sea green eyes looking back. “I’ve never felt like this about someone, even with Sarah it wasn’t like this and I don’t know how to handle it.” His hand hesitated before he brushed his knuckles along her arm, that jolt to his system something he could no longer ignore or pass off as fleeting arousal. “I feel it every time I touch you, or you touch me.” He said, his voice husky. “That unmistakable yearning for you.” He looked at her. “I crave you, and sure we could just have sex, but it’s more than that, and I’m not sure that’s what you need, or what I need.” Was it love, he wondered? “I wish you’d talk to me sweet girl, tell me what you want, what you need from me.” He murmured.

She stood slowly and Karl thought he’d blown it, but she took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. Her knee brushed his and he opened his legs for her to stand closer as she deepened the kiss. He looked up at her as she pulled away, her fingers caressing every angle of his face. The urge to slide his hands along her body made his fingers ache, but he kept them still, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Do you really want this with me?” He asked quietly and her nod made his breath hitch. “You know you could do much better.” He scoffed softly and a slight smirk touched her lips before she shook her head. “You don’t think so?” She shook her head again. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against her lips as they claimed his again. Her fingers wandered his chest and shoulders, feeling every contour and defined muscle.

He wanted to take it further, but time, once again, wasn’t on their side. “We have an op to run sweet girl.” He sighed as he broke the kiss, her nod one of understanding. Resting his forehead against hers he regained control of his system. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.” He whispered. Her hand cupped his cheek and she kissed him sweetly before stepping back.

Making their way back inside, the heat between them making him itch to touch her, maybe he’d scratch that itch after the auction was online and the pickup had been made. Sitting down they got to the business end of the evening. The pickup went as planned, the auction was live and the bidding war had begun. Jerry decided to monitor the auction while the rest of the team get some sleep.

“See you at one ish?” Hunt asked Karl as he and Ayla rose from their chairs, Mia had already gone to crash out.

“Come tap on the door, wake me if anything strange goes down.”

“Will do boss.” Jerry nodded and went back to reading through the mountain of information they were still wading through.

******

He hesitated on her threshold, it was needless, the invitation clear from the tug of her hand in his. It was like any other night they’d slept together, her choice to have him here with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed he watched as she shut the door, her tentative steps toward him had him question himself. “There’s no rush Ayla, we don’t have to do this right now.” He said softly, her hand reaching for his chest. Opening his legs she stood between them much like she had out on the patio. “Talk to me sweet girl.” He whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

Her hand lightly tapped his chest, her mouth opening and then closing a few times as she fought for the words. “I want you.” She whispered, her words barely audible, her hand trembling.

“I’m all yours.” He breathed, a little in awe of her, a little startled at her voice. As a hand wandered the other joined it as she leaned in and kissed him.

He’d forgotten how arousing it was to have a woman touch him so tenderly, each stroke of a finger igniting a trail of searing heat over him. Her eyes met his as they found the hem of his shirt and lifted it, the slight nod telling her it was ok. He shivered as her fingers brushed his bare chest. Pulling his shirt up he felt that tightness in his belly as he lifted his arms so she could take it all the way off, she excited something in him. Her touch became bolder as time went on, her kiss hungrier for him. “Can I touch you?” He asked quietly against her mouth, her gaze uncertain. “I want you to feel good too sweet girl.” His fingers toying with the wisps of hair framing her face. “To show you how good it can feel.” He breathed as she kissed him again. “No ones done that for you have they? They just took what they wanted.” Her embarrassed nod broke his heart. “Do you trust me to make you feel good, make this feel good?” She bowed her head and he hooked a finger under it asking her to look at him. When she did he kissed her tenderly, the barely there brush off his lips against hers. “Nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about sweet girl. Sex should be mutually beneficial and enjoyed.” Threading his fingers into her hair he kissed her, keeping it gentle and loving, something new for him and it felt foreign. He couldn’t just take what he wanted, not like Sarah, he had to go at her speed, let her get comfortable knowing he wasn’t going to pin her down against her will.

He deepened the kiss, tongue toying with her lip, requesting, asking for her to come and play. The soft tremble of her body when he devoured her mouth made him continue, sweeping her up in the arousal a good kiss could give. She swayed on her feet when he pulled away and chuckled softly. “I think you liked that.” He murmured nuzzling her cheek, her blush flushing her cheeks confirming it.

“Can I touch you?” He asked again gently, she nodded hesitating slightly as his finger trailed her jaw, down to brush her collarbone. “You can stop me at anytime.” Her eyes looked up and found his. “Mutually beneficial, if something hurts or makes you uncomfortable you need to tell me ok?” She nodded and nibbled on her bottom lip. “I want to make you feel good sweet girl, not hurt you.” With both hands splayed out over his chest she leaned in and kissed him. He felt the fire inside her, the passion and desire skittering below the surface waiting to be unlocked.

Keeping her mouth occupied with his own he rested his fingers at her hips, the slow gentle patterns he stroked her with hopefully desensitizing her. Hugging and holding her was one thing, this was on completely different level. She jumped slightly as fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt to graze the skin at her waist, the low sweep of her ribs. He gave her a moment to process and when she didn’t stop him he continued. His hands drifted under her shirt, the softness of her skin, the scent of her already making him hard. As he dragged his hands up her ribs she raised her arms above her head, a bold enough signal to tell him to remove her shirt.

The weeks of good food and freedom had filled her out. Gone was the bony waif with sharp angles and a pained look, a lush curvy woman stood in her wake. “God you’re beautiful.” He choked, his emotions gaining the upper hand momentarily. His kiss was barely restrained, the hunger for her almost too much to contain. Leaning his head against hers he breathed deeply, reeling it in for her sake. Kissing his way down her neck she shivered as he kissed her shoulder, a finger easing her bra strap off, his lips teasing the swell of her cleavage as he peeled the lace cup down. As his mouth claimed her nipple her hands cupped his head. At first he thought she would push him away, until the soft moan escaped as he rolled the hardened bud over his tongue. “I like hearing those sounds from your lips.” He purred as he kissed his way to the other breast to do the exact same thing. As he aroused her further he unclipped the bra and helped her remove it, her hands cupping his face to bring his mouth to hers.

Wordlessly he looked at her, those sea green eyes full of desire before he slowly kissed his way down her body. Falling to his knees he burrowed his face into her belly as his hands slipped between skin and the waistband of her leggings. He heard her breath hitch and took it slow, giving her enough time to process where his hands were and what she was feeling at his touch before he inched them down along with her panties. Taking his time he was content to taste every inch of her skin giving her the time she needed. Her scent was driving him insane, the hot heady mix of lust and arousal making his cock throb. Kissing his way down further she flinched and stepped back as his tongue licked along her wet folds.

“You didn’t like that?” He asked gently, releasing her immediately. She stood for a moment trying to process what her body felt, that tell tale tremble stopping him cold. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked and she shook her head.

“No.” She breathed, her chest heaving a little with uncertainty.

“You liked it?” Her shy nod made him smile. “Makes you feel good?” He asked as he trailed his finger up her legs from ankle to ass, kissing her hips, tongue trailing over her, he couldn’t taste her enough.

Resting his chin on her belly he looked up at her as a thought occurred to him. “Have you had oral before? Received not give?” He asked quietly, the small shake of her head confirmed his suspicions. “An orgasm?” She bowed her head and shied away, the bright red flush to her face causing her to try and hide from him. “I’ll take that as a no.” He breathed and reached up to stroke his knuckles down her cheek.

She’d simply been something to fuck, no emotions, no foreplay, no enjoyment, just a thing that Allen Raven could fuck and abuse on his every whim.

He could see she was embarrassed and he had to take things carefully now. “Would you like to try?” He looked up into that beautiful face, her hair a curtain around her bowed head, her hands had clasped in front of her mound. Kissing her hands he gave her time to think. “Or we can stop? It’s up to you Ayla.”

Her fingers eventually unclasped and touched his face, they shook slightly. “You’re a little nervous?” She nodded. “We’ll take it slow. Oral for you is better laying down when you’re ready, if you want to try it.” He left it at that and continued to kiss her, the gentle strokes of his fingers easing her jitters. Every so often his tongue would swipe through her slick folds, the pleasurable jolt of something so new it had her breathing hitch, a frantic scramble to process what she was feeling. As she warmed up to the new sensations he was freely giving her she started to relax, her hands and fingers gripping at him urging him to take more, give more. “Sit on the edge of the bed sweet girl.” He said and only let her go long enough for her to sit.

She shivered as he kissed her knees the tender request to open them. As she did he kissed along her inner thighs until she relaxed further. “Lay back.” He said softly as he rose up on his knees and kissed her, tongue darting in to flick hers playfully. “Let me make you feel good.” Lowering herself back he followed, his eyes not leaving hers. “You can stop me at anytime ok? You’re in control. You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” He kissed her until that soft moan filled the room, hoping there were more it in their future.

Traveling the length of her body he kissed and teased her until he was on his knees between her legs. One ankle at a time he sat them on his shoulders and ran his hands the length of her inner thighs to spread her wide open for him. “Relax your legs.” He purred and trailed a finger along her thighs until she did, they shook the entire way, nerves getting the better of her. Trailing his hands up her torso he cupped her breasts and gently pinched the nipples, rolling the buds between his fingers. God he wanted to taste her and then feast, her scent was hypnotic.

He sampled her, tongue softly grazing her entrance, building her arousal, her confidence. Her hips started to move with him, urging him to take more, to go faster. With one hand on her breast he skated the other down her body, finger gently teasing her entrance. As he circled a finger a soft whimper came from her, arousal not fear. “Let it come sweet girl.” He murmured as his finger slipped just inside her before stroking her clit. “This will feel so good, I promise.” It would also prime her body to take him fully without hurting her. As her whimpers grew stronger he added a second finger and teased her opening, not ready for him to plunge them in just yet. Fingers circled as his tongue stroked her clit, drawing out as much pleasure for her as possible, slow and gentle. He felt her peak, her body writhing against his mouth, her hands grasping at him desperately. As her body tensed for release he slipped his fingers into her, the long digits stroking her core as his lips suctioned around her clit, tongue flicking. She bucked against his fingers as they took her apart slowly, coaxing her orgasm out and letting it linger as it rolled through her. The soft cry of his name as she came hadn’t been what he’d expected.

He brought her back to reality with soothing strokes and tender kisses, letting her brain process what he’d just done to her, given her. Placing her legs back down he kissed his way up her torso to claim her mouth. “You liked that.” He grinned and her nod had him chuckling. “I hope to give you a few more of those tonight.” She trailed a finger along his scruff and kissed him, that sweet tenderness his undoing.

She kissed him until she was sitting and urged him to stand up, he stopped her as she went to kneel. “You don’t have to, Ayla.” He said knowing she would have been forced to suck cock regularly, and not very pleasantly. She kissed his chest and looked up at him before sinking to her knees, this was her choice. Raking his fingers through her hair she slipped his jeans off, taking his briefs with them and freeing his thick erection. Once he’d stepped free of the denim her fingers wandered, taking her time exploring his body, his reactions to her touch. He groaned as she stroked him, those slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, the feel of them igniting all his dark fantasies. He hissed as she took him into her mouth and he had to resist the urge to grab her hair and thrust deep. She felt glorious, that soft sweet mouth sucking him into oblivion. He pulled back as she went to take him deep, the hesitation stopping her.

“If you take me like that it’ll be all over, I won’t last.” He said huskily, chest heaving as he struggled for control. Holding out his hand for hers he helped her to stand. He kissed her, long and deep. “Another day maybe, but tonight I want to be inside you when I come. I want to feel you.” She went to bow her head, but he stopped her with a gentle finger under her chin. “I liked it Ayla, you did nothing wrong, I just want to last a little longer.” He sat on the bed and urged her to stand between his legs again, his erection spearing upward. His lips played with hers, the soft nibble relaxing her, showing her that this was how sex was supposed to be, fun, sensual. Hooking a hand behind her knee he guided her to straddle him, her petite figure pressing against him. He let the moment build taking the subtle hints when she gave them to move forward, that she was nearly ready to take him in.

She watched him as she sank down on her knees, her hand stroking him along her heat. His eyes never left hers as she lowered and took in his mushroom tip, the girth stretching her open. Her heat wrapping around him nearly sent him over the edge as she inched her way down, impaling herself on his cock. When he was fully seated he held her ass cheeks so she couldn’t move and groaned as she kissed him. So unbelievably tight and wet, he could feel her throbbing for him. “Fuck Ayla you’re so tight.” He mumbled into her shoulder as he nipped her neck. “Stay still a moment.” He urged as his hands held her on him as she tried to rock, he was teetering on the edge. Her kiss was tender as she sat, his cock buried deep, her arms wrapped around his neck. “Go slow sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” He said softly and guided her hips as she started to rock. Enjoying the ride he watched her take her pleasure, the way he moved with her, the tiny gasps when he hit that one spot inside her she didn’t know existed. He felt her orgasm build, the tremble of her body as it started to spiral out of control, the soft whimpers that made his cock twitch. “Let me feel you come sweet girl.” He kissed her. “Just like before, let it take you.” Reaching between them he circled her clit with his thumb and watched her eyes widen at the sensation. “Relax and let it come.” Keeping the same rhythm she peaked, her body going taught before the euphoria swamped her. Writhing and bucking he guided her hips as she came, keeping the rhythm going to prolong her pleasure and build another.

“Can I lay you down?” He asked as she collapsed into him.

“Yes.” Her breath ragged. Flipping them he wrapped her legs around him and gently thrust in until he was buried to his hilt. With long slow strokes he took her, deeply and gently, he would pull this climax from deep within her. Busy fingers and the plunging strokes had them both on the edge. “Let me watch you come sweet girl.” He whispered as he slipped his hand between them, finger circling her clit, her cry one he hoped to hear again and again. As she threw her head back and came, his name on her lips, he dipped down to suck at her pulse, his hips pistoning a little faster before he groaned his pleasure and emptied himself inside her.

They lay there sated and pleasurably wrecked, and Karl had to admit he’d enjoyed the slow burn more than he’d anticipated. “I like it when you say my name.” He mumbled into her neck as he nibbled the tender flesh there. Lifting his head he looked down to see tears streaking her cheeks. “Ayla?” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. “Did I hurt you?” He asked gently, mind reeling, cursing himself for even entertaining the idea of sex with her. The vehement shake of her head was a strong indication she was ok. Pulling out of her he rolled and curled her into him, pulling the covers over them both. “A little overwhelming?” Her nod set him at ease. “Did you like it?” That nod made him smile. “Me too.” Shifting down a little he kissed her, long and tender, wrapping her up tightly in his arms. He’d never been one for post coital snuggling but this, with her, this he liked.

“Karl?” Came her soft voice, husky from disuse.

“Mmmm.” He couldn’t deny he loved how his name sounded on her lips.

“I love you.” It was simply said, her face buried in his chest as if she was expecting a blow, verbal or physical. He had no response other than to hold her tightly and kiss her head. For the first time in a long time, he was speechless. She had a right to voice her feelings, he just didn’t know how to voice his to her.

“Sleep now.” He murmured, reaching over to turn off the lamp. She snuggled in closer as if the darkness had pushed her against him. “You’re safe sweet girl. He can’t touch you ever again.” He dropped into sleep like a stone once Ayla was out cold, sex a sure fire way to give him the release he needed to clear his head.

******

They slept until six and he only woke because of Ayla’s pretty mouth around his cock. He had no chance of holding off as the cobwebs of deep sleep muddled his brain. Lightly fisting his hand into her hair he thrust up, fucking that beautiful mouth until he emptied himself, body still jerking as he released his grip on her. She kissed her way up his body and lay flat against him. “I’ve never had such a nice wake up call.” He growled softly, fingers trailing her skin. “Shall I return the favor?” He asked and kissed the top of her head. “Shall I give you an orgasm to start your day sweet girl?” She lifted her head and looked at him slightly unsure. Keeping his gaze on hers he rolled slowly so she was under him and felt her tense. Kissing her softly she relaxed, her hands flexing over his chest, he gave her a moment. “Just like last night.” He breathed, her face already flush with arousal, and traveled south, kissing every inch of her.

She was already wet for him and although he took a slow and steady approach like last night he added a third digit and filled her. The gentle come hither motion rubbing her g spot, his mouth on her clit, her hand gripped his forearm and the cry of his name from her lips as she came made him smile. That, he decided, was his new favorite sound.

They curled up, he the bigger spoon, and she plummeted into sleep again. Laying there he kissed her hair and breathed in the scent of her, fingers trailing bare skin. “I think I’m in love with you sweet girl.” He whispered. “And that should terrify you. It should make you want to run. I’m no good for you.” He raked his fingers through her hair and kissed her temple. “I’m no good for you but I’m willing to try to be the man you believe I am.” With her on his mind and in his arms, he drifted to sleep and dreamt of uncertainty.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck

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cynicalclassicist · 3 years

Text

Education, Education, Education

Set between The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords

Written by FELIX O’KELLY

The Year that Never Was

The Valiant

The Master sat in the Valiant, looking out across the world he ruled supreme. He smiled. Construction on the ships were on schedule. His remodelling of the Lincoln Memorial had gone well, despite some resistance his forces had entered the Capitol and established his rule. Construction at Rushmore was going perfectly, after he’d had a few public executions. There had been a few rebellions in Scotland, helped by friends of the previous Prime Minister, but a short sharp shock had put those down. Despite that trouble with the Loch Ness Monster. The Norwegian resistance was giving him some trouble, spray-painting Quislings onto the local security offices and disappearing into the woods. But the woods were being chopped down to fuel his industry and soon there would be nowhere left to hide.

And meanwhile, as Earth groaned under his rule, he ripped it up, its plains, its valleys, opening its hills with spacious wounds, digging out masses of minerals to fuel his fleet. The Earth Reptile bases occasionally found as the Earth was torn apart were an utter joy. The Master could sometimes get so tired of only oppressing humans, killing a few Earth Reptiles could add real spice to otherwise dull weeks. Sometimes they even made good slaves! And some new weapons for his fleet as well…

The Master glanced at a map of his world. The Doctor did like those lovely crinkly edges of Norway. Maybe it was time for a bit of remodelling.

There was a cough behind him, and he turned. “And what can I do for you!”

Captain Ironside, who the Master had given the role to partially because he liked the name, saluted. “Master. We’ve brought him.”

“Splendid!” smiled the Master. He glided gleefully down the rail as a figure was dragged in, beaten and bloody.

“Nicholas Clough, I presume!” said the Master.

He recognised the man of course. Nicholas Clough had been one of the rising stars of politics only recently, being promoted to Education Secretary by Harriet Jones. Yet when the fall of Harriet Jones happened, he had left the Cabinet with her. In the election in which Harold Saxon had finally risen to Prime Minister, Clough had announced he was stepping down as MP for Hazelhurst East, a position he had held since the 9th of April 1992. It was the first time Saxon had seen him since then.

The man looked up, through a black eye. “Saxon.”

“Oh, that was the name I used, but you know I am the Master!” sneered the Time Lord. He whipped out his laser screwdriver at which the guards stepped back. But the Master laughed. “Not yet! Haven’t had a good chin-wag since I had that Shaw brought here. Though she was a tad disappointing… not even killing her was exciting.” He turned and grinned horribly at the Doctor, who sat there in his wheelchair. “But the look on your face made it all worthwhile! Just like when I told you about Miss Grant and the grandchildren she… had.”

The Doctor’s face burned with hatred at this.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” asked Nicholas.

The man he had known as Harold Saxon pirouetted round like a ballerina. “Well, you have been spreading some very hurtful things about me” he replied. “And I heard that you met a certain… Martha.” He savoured the word a moment, then spat it out, trying to stay composed.

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. We talked a bit about the Doctor. I’d been wondering who that fellow was ever since Harriet Jones made that broadcast on Christmas.”

“Well, here he is!” The Master pulled the Doctor out of the wheelchair. “Here you are, Mr Clough! Here is the wonderful Doctor!” He flung him back in, the Doctor remaining silent, with the aura of one used to this humiliation.

Nicholas looked worried but composed himself. “Well, there are plenty who resist you still.”

“Yes… Harriet is proving a bit elusive herself” said the Master, his face turning ugly again. “But of course, you were close to her!”

“I left when she did,” replied Nicholas.

“Loyalty… an unusual trait in a politician” replied Saxon. “I should know! Plenty were happy to flock to my banner!” He laughed. “Remember that loathsome Oscar Sudders? Harriet’s Health Secretary? Jumped at the chance to become my Defence Secretary! And that idiot from Richfield South. And of course, the old fool Dumfries! The look on their faces when I made the reshuffle…”

“I’m certainly glad I didn’t take the chance to be your Education Secretary!” said Nicholas.

“So much for wanting to educate!” laughed the Master. “I know how much you politicians talk about education, education, education!”

“Well, I was leaving politics anyway,” said Nicholas. “And I am happy to keep educating people.”

“Oh, what would you need to educate them about!” asked the Master. He pointed upwards. “I have my network, broadcasting the right ideas into their minds! I even have a few loudspeakers set up if I want to give a message!”

He pushed some buttons as if playing a piano, pulled a lever and yelled down the receiver. “PEOPLES OF EARTH! THIS IS YOUR MASTER! JUST TESTING!” He smiled at Nicholas. “It’s 1:15 in that part of the world, it should make the people jump!” He gave a laugh. “Not that it’s too dissimilar to many politicians in the days before my rule, this sort of propaganda! The sheer amount of awful Parties I had to go to to get Ru…” He paused and looked sullen at this memory, then brightened.

“But enough of that! I recall a piece you wrote about me, just before the election! It was called Why I will not be voting Saxon!”

“I think there are a lot of people who regret voting for you now” replied Nicholas.

“Well they should have thought of that beforehand. Not that they ever read your magnum opus. It got pulled due to a word from his Lordship the Paper’s owner, but he was kind enough to send me a copy!”

Like a conjurer the Master produced a paper. He smirked at the Doctor. “I’ve been teaching myself magic! I recall you liked those when you were that little man with the umbrella! Travelling with that… what was it… Dorothy?”

“Ace” said the Doctor. “Her name was Ace.”

“Oh yes! Ace! I remember telling you about her last stand with the Nitro-9… excellent chemical, I’m bottling a bit of it myself for a rainy day! Where was I… ah, the article!”

The Master began reading.

“Let’s see… Clough calls me the most dangerous man in Britain.”

“I was too kind, you’re the most dangerous man in the world” replied Nicholas.

“Oh, still too kind, the Universe!” The Master continued. “Brings up… oh yes, that little car accident which meant I just happened to be elected an MP! Poor old Charles Lichen!” He chuckled horribly. “Talks about dubious businessmen… Well, Salamander is doing some good work for me. And Van Statten’s collection has all sorts of lovely weapons for mass-production!” He commenced skimming the article. “Badmouths me, surprisingly nice about the Shadow Attorney General, badmouths Brian Green… Brings up Lazarus…” The Master was practically blushing as he read of his sinister deeds and scheming. “You’re too kind! I almost wish I could give you a job!”

“Well there will always be people like me, ready to educate against people like you!” said Nicholas. “And that’s what Martha is doing! Giving people hope!”

“Your pathetic people haven’t got a hope!” spat the Master.

“Doesn’t matter how many times you say that, it doesn’t make it true!” replied Nicholas, standing defiantly. “I kept telling people what Martha told me and I’m happy to have done so!”

A smile formed on the Doctor’s face, the first proper one in weeks. The Master glanced around, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to Nicholas.

“Perhaps.” He took out his laser screwdriver and fired it, blasting Clough to the ground.

“Leave it wherever you found it,” he laughed to Ironside. “I’ll tell the people it’s an education!”

“You didn’t need to do that” said the Doctor angrily.

“No. But it’s fun!”

The Master turned to his transmitters. “Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully.” He winked at the Doctor. “I always love saying that.” He continued. “I had a meeting with Nicholas Clough. A most educating experience. Just thought I’d let Miss Jones know that! And that I look forward to meeting her!”

But far away Martha continued telling her stories, telling the people of someone who fought against evil. Of giant crabs, of Daleks, of atmosphere-cleaning whales intended to destroy humanity, time-travelling assassins and more. And eventually the stories she told grew in the minds of the people and ended the tyranny of the Master.

And on that day, time snapped back a year. The Toclafane decimation vanished and few remembered the rule of the Master. Instead they watched as the Prime Minister was shot and died.

But they moved on and life went on. The papers about Saxon were covered up by the Lord High Chancellor Brian Green, including Clough’s Why I will not be Voting Saxon, citing security concerns.

Though with plenty more troubles and tricksters like the Master the world was not yet safe…

28th February 2021

England

Nicholas Clough glanced at his article, Why I will not be voting Saxon, written all those years ago. After some lobbying, he had finally been able to get it released for the memoirs he was writing, probably helped by the fact Brian Green was no longer in Parliament. Not many people seemed interested now in history. He sometimes wondered if the country would ever learn, especially as they kept making the same mistakes, falling for the same tricks. Not just in this country even!

But he had to keep trying. And maybe, one day, people would learn. Maybe they would see through the lies that the powerful told. Where there was life, there was hope. Even in the darkest of times.

#doctor who lockdown #fanfic #doctor who

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pomnavi · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 3/?

Fandom: 血界戦線 | Kekkai Sensen | Blood Blockade Battlefront

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Klaus von Reinherz/Leonardo Watch

Characters: Leonardo Watch, Klaus von Reinherz, K.K. (Kekkai Sensen),

Tags: Christmas Presents, Sweaters, Knitting

Summary:

Leo wants to get Klaus a present for Christmas, but he’s not sure what to get him (and he’s woefully low on funds). Plus, would getting your (super hot) boss (that you may have a crush on) a present be coming on too strong? He’s not sure what to do, until K.K. gives him a great idea >:)

Chapter 1: Inception of a Bad Idea

Chapter 2: An Attempt was Made

Chapter 3: The Final Result

Leo stared at the work in his hands with worry. He had initially planned on making a sweater, and had even gone to the trouble of getting Klaus’s measurements from Gilbert secretly after explaining the situation to him.

There were only a couple days left till Christmas though, and he had messed up a few times and needed to undo and redo project at least twice. So far, he only had about 6 inches of the bottom of the sweater done, and hadn’t even started on the sleeves. Leo thought back on the past month; there just wasn’t enough time between Libra and his part-time job, especially when he couldn’t use the downtime at the office because Klaus was there.

It was clear to Leo that it was too late to try and finish it with the time he had left. He thought about scrapping the idea all-together and using what little money he had left to try and buy Klaus a present, but once he deducted Michella’s allowance, and his food and living costs, he only had about twenty dollars.

But he didn’t want to go that route. He really wanted this present to be special, and to maybe try confessing his feelings at the party. Even if he went Christmas shopping now, Leo didn’t have any good ideas about what he could get Klaus that would be special and within budget.

Also, what did you get a man that was so rich he had a private butler?

He groaned, rolling over in bed with the knitting supplies strewn about. The pattern book fell out of the supply bag, right next to Leo’s head.

Leo grabbed the book with one hand, and leafed through again, looking for ideas. Maybe he could turn it into something else?

+++

Leo stayed up late right before the day of the party, putting the finishing touches on his present. He wrapped it carefully with a goofy wrapping paper design that had cartoon reindeer and tiny santas all over it. He then sharpied on “To Klaus” on the little card attached to a red ribbon with the nicest handwriting he could muster, before setting it aside with his suit and passing out for the night.

Christmas day had arrived, and Libra’s hard work securing the city had paid off. There was little chance of a catastrophe big enough to interrupt the party happening, Steven made sure of that. Leo wasn’t needed at the office today, so he spent the rest of the day in a mild panic, going over what he would say to Klaus over and over again.

About an hour before the party started, Leo was mostly dressed and ready, but he was seriously debating just not showing up when he heard a firm knock at the door. Leo used his all-seeing-eyes and saw Zed, standing there patiently in custom formal wear, holding a discreet gold paper bag with tissue. He quickly opened the door.

“Zed? What are you doing here?” Leo asked. Zed gave a small smile before entering Leo’s tiny apartment.

“K.K told me to come get you for some reason. She didn’t say why, but I figured we could share the taxi to the party hall.”

Leo groaned but closed the door behind his friend. Zed walked in, and calmly sat on Leo’s only sitting area in his apartment, his bed. He motioned for Leo to come join him. Leo knew that Zed wasn’t stupid, and that the rest of the office had an idea of what his problem was. He sat next to his friend and buried his head in his hands. Zed patted him on the back.

“Today is going to be an important day for you right?��

Leo nodded.

“I don’t know how it’ll turn out, but as Huma say, ‘Sometimes you just have to man up and go for it’” Zed said with humor.

Leo smiled a little at that. “That’s something you definitely heard from Zapp!”

“Right, and sometimes that idiot has a point.” Zed sighed. Leo looked up at Zed and saw his face soften as he kept speaking. “Between the two of us, I thought I was going to be the one to make the first move. But that idiot knows just how to mess up my plans. He told me while we were walking to lunch one day, like he was talking about the weather! No preamble, no indication of any feelings beforehand, just the most ridiculous confession in Huma existence.”

Leo grinned. “That does sound like Zapp. What did he say?”

“He said, and I quote,” Zed put on his best Zapp impression. “Hey Zed, wanna date? I’ve got a movie and wine at my place, let’s hang out tonight.”

Leo laughed. “That’s literally the worst thing I’ve ever heard. But I guess it’s tame for him”

“Yeah, I know. But it was fun.” Zed readjusted his tie. “And I got my revenge later anyways.” Zed checked the time and then stood up. “Leo-kun, we really must get moving if we don’t want to be late. I know telling you not to worry won’t mean much, but it’ll be fine. The rest of Libra will have your back if you feel like drinking to forget later.”

Leo brightened at Zed’s words. “That’s right, the drinks are free tonight!”

Zed rolled his eyes and gathered both his and Leo’s presents. Leo stood up and put on his jacket, finally fully dressed and ready to tackle the ordeal ahead of him. They locked up his apartment and headed downstairs.

A/N: I totally missed the holidays as the deadline for this fic, but I'm still hoping to finish it lol.

#fanfiction #Sweater Curse #Klaus von Reinherz #Leonardo Watch #Kekkai Sensen #Blood Blockade Battlefront #otp: kuraleo #navi writes

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crystalessenceswrites · 4 years

Text

You’re Enchanting -- Chapter Six

Been sitting on this lovely commission from @strzygon-x of Delphine and Elazar, felt it fit perfectly with the chapter so I just had to share it.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: mentions of blood in this chapter (2 mentions, nothing graphic, just plot points) and some canon typical templar violence towards mages (just fair warning in case the dynamic is uncomfy)

Can also be read on AO3

[Masterlist] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

Chapter Six- Ghost

War room meetings tended to leave Delphine feeling significantly more downtrodden than she was beforehand. There did not seem to be much good news to go around these days. Reports of rifts continued to flow in along with rising tolls between the templars and the apostates in the valley and elsewhere. Elazar had returned from the Hinterlands with the Inquisition’s new horse master but his arrival was overshadowed by the introduction of one Warden Blackwall, who did not come bearing any helpful information. He was just as unaware to the status of the Grey Wardens as the rest of them. It was all rather disconcerting. Del could tell Elazar was struggling to remain optimistic as they departed the chapel. She hoped Varric wasn’t busy tonight, El was in serious need of a strong drink at the bar and some outlandish stories to keep his mind off this newfound responsibility for a bit.

“Excuse me!” The pair stopped rather abruptly, not at all expecting the soldier loitering at the doorway to address them. They both looked to the man, wide eyed. “I’ve got a message for the Inquisition but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

Del was surprised one of Leliana’s agents hadn’t spoken with him yet, normally they were on top of situations like these.

El titled his head to the side, taking a rather obvious curiosity in the man, “who are you?”

“Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company. We mostly work out of Orlais and Nevarra.”

The merc had quiet the name, definitely not Orlesian or Ferelden.

“We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.”

A mercenary company? Was the Inquisition looking to hire more muscle right now? Del couldn’t remember Cullen expressing a need for more troops in any of the recent meetings. Did the more the merrier apply in situations like these?

El beat Del to all the questions though, “why did your commander send us this information?”

“Iron Bull wants to work for Inquisition. He thinks you’re doing good work.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer the either of them had been expecting. El did look pleased though. Maybe this day wouldn’t be all bad.

“We’ll consider your offer.”

“I appreciate it. We’re the best you’ll find. Come to the Storm Coast and you can see us in action.”

As many questions as Delphine had on the situation, she had no real desire to go to the Storm Coast and find the answers. El didn’t give her much of a choice in the matter, informing the advisors of their departure promptly after speaking with Cremisius. She was going to have to find some way to get back at the elf because the whole trip had gone from bad to worse. It was one thing to be soaked to the bone from the constant rain, but now she was coated in Tevinter mercenary blood after their party had joined in with the attack on the Vints. El and Varric looked more than pleased with her displeasure.

“Fuck you.” Del spat at Elazar, “I’m never letting you drag me out to this Maker forsaken place again.”

El laughed at her as the Qunari merc captain approached with Cremisius.

“Krem! How’d we do?”

“Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead.”

The one-eyed Qunari grins, “that’s what I like to hear. Let the throat cutters finish up, then break out the casks.” He turns to the pair, taking a quick moment to take in their sopping forms. “So, you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

El grinned back at the Qunari, “Iron Bull, I presume.”

“Yeah the horns usually give it away.”

Well, it was a rather apt name, considering.

“I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

The mercenary lieutenant gives them a nod and a short smile in greeting, “good to see you again. Throat cutters are done, Chief.”

“Already?” The Qunari looked out over the beach scattered with bodies with suspicion, “have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.”

Krem rolls his eyes, much to El’s delight. “None taken. Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?”

Iron Bull barks out a laugh as Krem returns to directing the other mercenaries. El’s obviously amused at the odd comradery between the two; if he wasn’t sold on the Chargers before Del could assume he was now.

“So… you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it… and I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

Del quirked an eyebrow at that. They weren’t exactly rolling in it back at Haven.

“How much is this going to cost me exactly?”

Elazar had been slowly coming into his position – what that position was, neither of them exactly knew but- he was more confident of himself, in the war room and in the field, more willing to make decisions. Del was proud, El had always drawn people to him, their friends had looked to him when the rebellion grew, after all. Yet he never assumed he deserved to be the one making decisions. Ever humble in that regard, he argued with Del whenever she dared to say otherwise. Now the reluctance seemed to be slowly slipping away.

“It won’t cost you anything personally; unless you wanna buy drinks later.”

Oh, they definitely didn’t have enough coin for that.

“Your Ambassador- what’s her name- Josephine? We’d go through her and get payments set up. The gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.”

Iron Bull was sure of his company and their prowess.

“The Chargers seem like an excellent company.”

Del knew for a fact El had no idea what made a good mercenary company- neither of them did.

“They are. But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard. I’m you’re man. Whatever it is- demons, dragons? The bigger the better. And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off. Ever heard of the Ben-Hassrath?”

Delphine, like most folks in southern Thedas, knew next to nothing about the Qunari. What she did know was, she could safely assume was mostly propaganda and stupidly exaggerated rumors. She’d never heard of any groups within the Qunari, definitely not the Ben-Hassrath. The Qunari, the Qun, that wasn’t something she’d ever discussed with Elazar. It certainly wasn’t a topic that came up in the Circle. The wide-eyed look El gave her led her to believe the Dalish didn’t know much more than the rest of them. “We’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a Qunari order. They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. Or, well, we’re spies.”

He’s a spy and was just telling them? Why was he working as a mercenary in the south if he’s a spy? Wouldn’t he be more effective elsewhere? Del’s mind was swimming with the implications.

“The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports on what’s happening. But I also get reports from Ben-Hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, I’ll share them with your people.”

That sounded right up Leliana’s alley but was a spy a trustworthy source of information?

Elazar’s wide eyes were telltale enough of his own surprise. “You’re a Qunari spy, and you just… told us?”

Iron Bull shrugs, “whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it’s bad. Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So, whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

Was he though?

“You still could have hidden what you are.” It wasn’t like they would have known any better. She and Elazar had no idea the Ben-Hassrath even existed before today.

“From something called the Inquisition?” Iron Bull chuckles, “I’d’ve been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.”

“So…what would you send home in these reports of yours?”

“Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that’ll compromise your operations. The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

Del wasn’t fond of the idea of any information making it back to the Qunari- especially anything about Elazar. If there was any kernel of truth to what she’d heard about how the Qunari treat their mages, she was terrified to think of what they’d do if they knew more about Elazar’s “condition.” Though if Iron Bull was telling the truth, and this kept an invasion at bay, wasn’t that a risk worth taking?

“What’s in these Ben-Hassrath reports you’re offering to share?”

“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything. Alone, they’re not much. But if your spymaster is worth a damn, she’ll put ‘em to good use.”

“She?”

“I did a little research.”

Del wondered what exactly qualified as a “little” research.

“Plus I’ve always had a weakness for red heads”

Elazar snickered, proving that even when faced with a Qunari spy he still had the humor of a teenage boy. If El was one thing he was at least consistent. A swift elbow to the gut from Del was enough to get the elf back on track.

“You would run your reports past Leliana before sending them. You send nothing she doesn’t approve. If this turns out to be a trick, Cassandra will eat you alive.”

That’s an understatement.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” The grin splitting across his face made Del believe him. “Krem, tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!”

Krem pouts as the Qunari’s voice cuts across the beach, “what about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes.”

“Find some way to seal them. You’re Tevinter, right? Try blood magic.”

Krem threw his arms up, though his frustration was more for show than anything, it seemed.

Elazar was going to be fond of this group for sure.

“How’s it going Krem de la crème?”

The merc lieutenant rolled his eyes, not even bothering to turn and greet the Qunari as he approached. “I’m so glad he has more people to hit with that joke now.”

“Are you telling me Tiny can’t come up with new material?” Varric scoffs, “I had higher hopes for him.”

Krem quirked an eyebrow, “Tiny?”

The hulking Qunari warrior was anything but small, seemed a rather backwards nickname.

“He’s already got a nickname?” El sounded rather insulted at the realization.

“Dwarf calling a Qunari tiny, that’s rich.” Iron Bull grumbles, single-eyed glare pointed at Varric.

“Some just come easier, Herald.” The author shrugs at El who is not satisfied with Varric’s obvious dodge.

“Nicknames, is that his thing?”

Del wasn’t sure. Varric was usually out traveling with Elazar so she hadn’t spoken with him nearly as much El. She had noticed the dwarf only referred to Cassandra as Seeker, but she figured it was a way of bothering her, considering Cassandra rolled her eyes nearly every time he did it.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Krem.”

“Oh, has the Herald not shared yours with you yet?” The shit eating grin plastered across Varric’s face leads Del to the conclusion she doesn’t want to know. Whatever names Varric and El were coming up with when she wasn’t around, she didn’t want to know.

“Del works just fine, I’ll stick with that.”

“That’s no fun.” Iron Bull chides, “lay it on us, dwarf.”

“Ghostie.”

“Ghostie?” Varric thought of her as a ghost? Or had she become sickeningly pale again without realizing it?

Iron Bull rubs his chin for a moment, his eye trained on Del. She fights the urge to fidget under his stare. “I see where you’re coming from with that.”

El snickers. Del has to restrain herself from zapping him.

“Right?” Varric puffs his chest out, “all in the details.”

“What details?”

“Well, you’re quiet, avoid attention. You’ve obviously mastered fading into the background, and best of all, I’ve seen you sneak up on and startle not just Seeker but Leliana too.”

“Those were on accident!” Leliana was the last person in Haven she would want to shock on purpose.

“Even better! Naturally as quiet as a ghost.”

This wouldn’t be going away anytime soon.

If he’d already come up with one for her, Varric must have decided on Elazar’s by now. “So, what’s El’s then?”

“Apparently I’m not nickname worthy.” El pouts, putting on his best kicked puppy face.

“Oh, that’s borderline manipulative, Herald.” Varric chuckles, not at all fazed by the elf’s big doe eyes. “You just gotta wait for it to develop naturally. Some just take time.”

“No need to look glum, boss,” Iron Bull smacks Elazar in the back, nearly knocking him out of his seat, “embrace the air of mystery!”

Elazar? Mysterious? Delphine had never known Elazar as anything but straightforward, occasionally unwilling to talk about his emotions, yes, but never untruthful or purposefully shady.

Del rolled her eyes as the group descended into bickering. Despite being mercenaries Bull’s Chargers were all easy enough to get along with. Delphine could have never imagined they would be camping out, drinking and laughing with a merc band, yet here they sat, Elazar truly smiling and carrying on with hired blades.

“You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you keep worrying over him so much.”

For such a large warrior, Iron Bull managed to move rather quietly, sneaking up at Del’s side at the edge of the group.

“The life we’ve lived up till now made it a strong habit.” That and El’s sometimes flippant attitude towards authority.

“Constantly looking over your shoulder in the Circle.” Delphine hadn’t mentioned it, and El avoided the topic when possible, but Iron Bull had proved to be more than observant in the few days they’d traveled together.

They’d both been looking over their shoulders most of their lives, for varying reasons, and that shapes a child. “For both our sakes.”

Iron Bull nods, “especially for the sake of the rebel.”

There was no way he’s just a spy.

“He’s always had a penchant for trouble.”

“And you’re the one to get him out of it.”

“When I can.” Del could talk their way out of pranks and whatever general ruckus El caused in the Circle. But Del didn’t have any weight to throw around now; she couldn’t just bat her eyelashes and get the night patrol to look the other way now.

“You don’t share his penchant for rebellion, but you’re dedicated and stick around anyways.” It almost sounded like admiration Del heard in his voice. “He’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Although it wasn’t something she would admit out loud, Del was almost proud of the fact she’d kept him out of trouble all these years. Mostly. Nothing she said would have changed Elazar’s mind once he started planning his rebellion. There was no way to talk him out of that trouble with the Knight-Commander.

“How did you know I didn’t rebel with him?” Here she was, living the life of an apostate, same as El. They’d ended up lumped together despite their differing opinions.

Iron Bull chuckles, a gravelly sound deep in his chest that nearly startles Del. “As if the dwarfs nickname wasn’t clue enough? The fact that you’re alive and not dead at the Conclave tells me you weren’t sympathetic to the rebellion.”

Not sympathetic? Del can feel a dark expression slip into place. “Just because I didn’t rebel doesn’t mean I’m not sympathetic to their cause. I know where they are coming from, I’ve felt many of the same hurts, I long for change and freedom just as much.”

The Qunari looks surprised at her candid admission and sharp tongue. At least she was able to prove him wrong on one point of his profile.

“So, too prim and proper to join a rebellion?”

Del rolls her eyes, she’d joined the Inquisition, that alone should have proved she was not worried about such things. Or, at least she wasn’t now. “You know that’s not it.”

“Then what motivates you, little lady. Or in this case, doesn’t.”

She almost prefers Ghostie to little lady.

“I have…differing views on violence than the rest of the rebels…”

That lie was so weak it wouldn’t have convinced Cullen. Iron Bull scoffs, “violence against templars, you mean.”

Del gapes at the Qunari- incredibly perceptive for someone with one eye.

“You’re torn- you contradict yourself- makes it obvious enough.”

“I… as much as I hate what was done to us… what we went through… I just don’t have the same hate towards templars that El and the others do, because then I’d have to hate some people very important to me. And I can’t…I just can’t.” Not when Ralf was the one person to always protect her.

He’s solemn for a long moment. Del wonders if he has any sympathy for mages, after all the Circles must be significantly better than whatever the Qunari mages had. Yet, there was Dalish, who despite all her instance on being an archer, was living openly as an apostate within the band and Iron Bull had no apparent issues with it.

“Just because you hate the system doesn’t mean you have to abhor each individual in it… it’s too much work to hate them individually anyways.”

The system. It sounded like Iron Bull spoke from experience.

Elazar wasn’t going to be the only one fond of this group.

Upon their return to Haven Delphine decided she much preferred the chill of the mountain air over the bone soaking cold of the Storm Coast- she’d made it abundantly clear that she would not be returning to the region with him again. No matter the business. El had rolled his eyes but agreed anyways, promising to not bring her along should they venture back to the coast. Del thanked the Maker before making a beeline for their shared cabin, all she wanted was a war bath and a warm bed. It was so closed now. She’d leave the war council to El for today.

Instead of finding Del soaking the chill from her bones, Elazar returned to find her curled up next to the hearth of the fireplace poring over a large leather-bound tome, two more study volumes spread across the floor next to her. It reminded him so clearly of the young girl he’d stumbled across in the Circle library all those years ago, stormy green eyes consuming the contents of library as if her life depended on it.

Nabbing a blanket from his cot, El silently settles on the floor next to her, throwing the blanket over their shoulders. He knows once she’s absorbed in her reading, Del will forget or forgo taking care of herself. The blanket breaks her concentration, grinning she leans over, bumping shoulders, and whispering her thanks.

“What’d you find, Del.”

“Someone left these on my bed, nothing but my name on the note. A proper surprise.”

El hadn’t heard excitement like this in her voice in years, it warmed his heart to see the curious spark in her eyes she’d had back from when they were both still apprentices. “They’re all on combat magic, El, spells, theory, practical technique. They’ve got everything!”

He can’t help but grin back, “never thought I’d see the day Delphine Trevelyan gets excited over banned literature.”

“Oh hush, is it really banned when there’s no Circles left to ban it?”

“Sneaking by on a technicality, Del.” He chuckles, “who left them for you?”

She shakes her head, “I told you, total surprise. I have no idea. I didn’t ask anyone for them either.”

Curious, “who knows you’re studying combat magic.”

“Well, I’ve talked about it with Josephine and Vivienne a few times over tea. Cullen and I talked about it when he asked for help training the recruits… maybe his lieutenants, Joshua, once.”

That seemed about right, he knew she’d kept her practice so herself, acted as if she was more confident in her abilities than she was. Del was a decent enough actress to have most folks fooled.

“Josie or Vivienne would have left a note though or given it to me in person, telling me all about where they managed to find it and how rare the print is. They’re not the type for surprises like this.”

“True,” El nods, “Vivienne would probably talk your ear off about it.”

Del rolls her eyes, “probably… but I don’t know why Cullen or Joshua would get them for me. Joshua and I are friendly but not that close.”

“Cullen does seem like the type to be too shy to leave a note with them.”

Her eyes go wide, “you think so? But why would he, off all people, be getting me books on combat magic?”

True, why would a templar willingly supply a mage with books on combat magic? This was giving Del everything the Order had worked to deny her all these years.

“I’m sure Leliana knows, though. I’ll ask her about it tomorrow.”

Del smiles, settling in so her head is resting on his shoulder, “thanks, El.”

“You’re looking much more comfortable out there.”

Delphine tries to mask the surprise that washed over her with the sudden compliment. Although Cullen always thanked her for her help, comments on her magic were few and far between.

“Well the recruits seem to be catching on quick- makes my job a bit easier.” It was easier to focus on her execution when she knew the recruits were able to as least defend themselves from her standard attacks. She’d also gotten enough “practice” in after the trip to the Storm Coast to begin working on refining her casting, something she was rather proud of.

Cullen nods “it’s reassuring to see the progression.”

He deserved to be proud, Cullen was turning farmers and pilgrims into a formidable military force with very minimal support. Del had overheard Iron Bull dishing out compliments on the former templar to Elazar recently as well, which she was sure were well earned.

“I was wondering if you could spare someone to spar with me a short while. I’ve been reading up on some new techniques I’d like to practice.” She was trying to be nonchalant about it, but it was so difficult once Leliana had confirmed Elazar’s suspicions.

Cullen clears his throat, glancing away from her rather hurriedly. “I believe I can spare Ser Rosche for the time being.”

He calls the soldier over as Del gathers up her staff. She didn’t recognize the man, though she could hardly claim to be familiar with most of Cullen’s troops. Rosche’s face was set with deep lines and a furrowed brow- an expression that rang familiar. His armor confirmed it, despite wearing the trappings of the Inquisition, the man’s chest plate still bore the emblem of the Order. He must have been one of the templars to leave the Order with Cullen after Kirkwall, Del figured.

Rosche nods as Cullen finishes explaining the task, the grim expression never changing. He pointedly looks her up and down as Cullen introduced her.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Cullen shot her a small smile as he returned to his post scrutinizing the recruits as they continued to drill in formation.

The templar before her didn’t utter a word before falling into a defensive stance, his stare directed at the staff clutched in her hands.

Well then, down to business.

Delphine plants herself, reaching into the Veil around them, slowing her breathing as she channels that swirling energy through her staff. Rosche easily blocks the flames she summons- a testament to his training no doubt- before beginning to push forward.

An aggressor. He must prefer the blade to the shield. Del aims low, hoping to slow him momentarily while she casts a simplified chain lighting attach. Nothing strong enough to do any real harm, just a stun spell really. The jolt of electricity does little to slow Rosche’s advance, however. Sword drawn, he lunges, Del sidesteps and counters setting an ice mine between them. That proves enough to get the man to jump back, putting a more comfortable amount of space between them.

Del’s blood roars in her ears. This man was not one to go easy on her. Eyes narrowed; his gaze never leaves her. Del tries to match his stare but she’s well aware she’s less than intimidating.

Slowly, he begins to circle again, Del tries to keep the mine in between, to delay any more lunges but Rosche has already taken the lead in the fight, something Del was hoping to avoid. She needed to learn to take control in fights, to maintain the upper-hand against her opponents.

She tries to regain control but Rosche continues to hold the lead. He blocks everything she throws at him, even a fireball sent hurling at him full strength, all while he steadily inches closer. The air crackles around her as Del focuses a lighting spell on the blade of her staff, swingling wide at the templar. He parries her blade with ease, the spell quickly dissipating.

Del staggers back as she realizes he’s been dispelling her magic; no wonder her fireball didn’t even faze him. A shiver runs down her spine as a grin breaks out across his face, vaguely manic. It takes near all her will to tamp down the panic clutching at her chest.

“Is that the best you can do, little mage?”

Del barely manages to block his blade as he rushes forward, taunting grin still painted across his features. She throws up a barrier in response, giving her enough time and space to throw a few shots towards his head and shoulders. It’s quick enough he has to duck out of the way instead of block and dispel. Her pride is short lived as he regroups and presses up against her barrier.

Rosche’s grin has disappeared, lips set into a snarl as he shoves against the barrier again. Del is thrown back as it snaps, air rushing from her lungs as her back meets hard packed ground. Panic washes over her as the man stalks towards her, sword still held high. She casts on instinct, feeling the fire flow through her like it did when she first came into her magic, throwing as much heat at her attacker as she can. The flames never leave her hands.

Del cries out as an invisible weight forces down against her chest and her magic explodes against her palms. Her magic has never rebounded before- at least not of her own volition.

Desperate she reaches out again, chest heaving, for the Veil only to realize she can’t find it. Its as if the world around her had suddenly gone silent. The constant hum of energy around her gone.

“No-” her voice croaks at the realization the man looming above her now is suppressing her magic, keeping her from defending herself.

“Yes,” he sneers down at her, eyes cold.

Staff. She needs her staff. Her fingers graze of the shaft for a brief moment before its gone. Still struggling to catch her breath, Del watches as Rosche kicks it away.

He’s still looming over her, taunting her, as she struggles. Every time she reaches back out for the Veil he pushes back twice as hard, pushing her further and further from her magic. Del’s head is spinning as she stares up at him, wide eyed. She didn’t know magic suppression could physically hurt.

“Too bad, little mage.”

Del doesn’t remember how to move as he raises his sword to strike.

This wasn’t a sparring match.

“Chargers!”

The world around them springs into action as Iron Bull’s voice cuts through the roaring in Delphine’s ears. Something explodes above her, near Rosche’s shoulder, throwing him back. Bull and Krem rush by in her peripheral, weapons drawn. A crowd of Chargers quickly follows after.

Their elven mage, Dalish, suddenly appears above her, worry etched across her brow. “You alright?” Del can vaguely make out the feeling of Dalish’s fingers ghosting over her, checking for injuries. She can’t even find it in her to nod back until Del finds her breath.

“Hit…hit my head.”

“Aye you did.” Dalish chuckles a bit but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes, “we saw you go flying.”

Well that explained the pounding.

The elven woman’s hands continue to investigate, poking and prodding across her torso. “Well, doesn’t look like anythin’s broken.”

Del coughs out a sorry excuse for a chuckle in response.

“Oh, that’s going to take more than elfroot.” Dalish hisses, slowly taking Del’s hands in her own.

The burning rushes in all at once, across her palms and fingertips. She must have roasted her own hands when Rosche caused her magic to rebound. Fuck.

“Let’s get you up, yeah?”

With a few curses between the two of them Dalish helps Del to her feet, a hand at her back keeping her steady as the world swayed around her.

A few yards off Iron Bull stood over Rosche, disarmed and face down in the dirt, one of the Qunari mercenary’s boots pressed into the man’s back. Krem and the others stood by, faces dower as Cullen stalked towards them, fuming.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Del groaned as the Commander’s shouting mixed with the pounding against her skull.

“He attacked Delphine, ser.” Krem answered, face stern and hands on his hips.

Del didn’t think Cullen’s scowl could get any deeper but she was quickly proven wrong. “They were sparring!”

“He wasn’t.” Bull’s voice was level as he stared down the blond. “He had her cornered and disarmed but ready to land a deadly blow.”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up as he looked her way. She must have looked a mess, covered in dirt and melting snow, hands bloody and burned. Messy strands of hair fell in her face, Del figured her braid must have come undone upon impact. She didn’t care much to check; she was still barely holding herself upright with Dalish’s help.

“He was suppressing her magic, Commander-” Bull continued, voice dark- “she was down.”

Cullen’s expression darkened; his hard gaze pinned on the downed templar. “What is the meaning of this Rosche?”

“What’s all the fuss?” He spat, still struggling against Bull’s boot. “It’s just a mage!”

Delphine’s heart stopped. She wasn’t even a person to this man. He had meant to hurt her this way.

“Just a mage?” Cullen seethed.

Cullen could be riled up from time to time in meetings, he could be stern with the soldiers, and there had been moments when Del could see the anger swirling behind his eyes but he never appeared to act on it. Not as long as she’d known him. He stood, shoulders squared, one hand clenched around the hilt of his sword as if he meant to draw it against the disarmed man. If looks could kill Rosche would be long dead.

“Bull, please escort ser Rosche to the cells. I’ll need to inform the Herald and the others of what has happened.”

“Sounds good, Boss.”

Elazar.

“No!” Del’s knees crumple as she tries to rush forward. Dalish manages to catch her before she falls, hauling her back to her feet.

All eyes turn to Delphine.

“Don’t tell Elazar, Cullen, please.”

If Cullen was the one to deliver the news to Elazar, Del knew he would bite Cullen’s head off. El was still upset with Cullen over his comments about the rebellion and the templars, even after finding out Cullen had been the one to gift her with the books. He was never the kind to hold grudges but this, this was going to piss him off and if Cullen delivered the news, El would be sure to place the blame solely on him.

“The Herald needs to know, Delphine.” Cullen’s voice softened a bit but the deep frown did not seem to be disappearing anytime soon.

Elazar would know. There was no way with how small Haven was Elazar wouldn’t know soon, but none of this would end well if he heard it from Cullen’s mouth.

“Dalish, Stiches, take Delphine to Adan.” Iron Bull cuts in, voice booming over growing crowd. “Krem will go find the Herald, bring him to her. Cullen can inform Red and Josephine of what’s happened.”

Thank the Maker for the eagle eyed Qunari. Even in his short time with the Inquisition he already had a solid handle on the dynamics here.

Dalish wraps an arm around Del’s waist, supporting most of her weight. “Got it, Boss.”

Cullen doesn’t look particularly pleased but agrees with the Qunari.

Rosche groans and curses as Bull pressed down on his back. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Del doesn’t doubt it.

12 notes · View notes

janicho88 · 4 years

Text

In This Together Part 2

Pairing- Dean x Wife Reader

Word count-6317

Summary-Picks up right where part 1 left off. What’s the readers outcome from surgery, time in the hospital and what happens over the next few months. AU

Warnings- Sick reader, hospital, Little bit of language, A little angst, and fluff, mentions of sex and implied smut, brief talk of loss of pet.

Possible triggers talk of surgeries some are a little descriptive, talk of possible infertility, female problems.

Part 1

The members of your surgical team that came to wheel you off to surgery could tell you were nervous. They were talking and joking all the way to the operating room. Once they got you to the room you were moved from the bed to the table, a blood pressure cuff put on and both of your arms stretched out and secured down. This was so you didn’t move them during surgery.

The head anesthesiologist was talking through and quizzing one of the younger members on your team. One of the nurses told you he was still learning. Someone was holding an oxygen mask above your face, they blood pressure cuff started running, and they were talking about putting something in you IV next. The second medication they put in your IV burned while going in and then your whole hand, you were told it was because of your abused veins. You guessed that was from so many surgeries and previous IVs. Things got to be a little much for you and you were unable to stop the tears, one nurse saw this and grabbed your hand so you could squeeze it to try and take your mind off the pain in your other hand and your nerves with the impending surgery. The oxygen that was hovering over your face was now pressed down, you were told to take deep breathes to get the oxygen into your lungs.

Darkness and noise were the two things you registered. The noises changed into people’s voices and you couldn’t figure out what was going on in this dream. You just wanted everyone to let you sleep. The voices kept talking and wouldn’t leave you alone, this went on for a few minutes until you finally remembered you had had surgery. By now you were slowly starting to realize you were in recovery, there was a pain in your lower abdomen, and you were freezing. It was a challenge for you to open your eyes, let alone keep them open for more than a few seconds. Someone was trying to tell you their name and that it was okay. They asked you your pain level, but you were unable to get any words out yet, so you held up 7 fingers. She gave you some medicine to try and bring that down. When you finally could get your mouth to function you kept repeating ‘cold.’ They got you another blanket and you continued to struggle to open your eyes. You were slowly becoming a little more aware, you wanted Dean, and some ice chips for your extremely dry throat. ‘Ice’ and ‘Dean’ became your next repeated phrases. The recovery nurse got a cup of ice chips for you, and by now you were able to sit up a little and keep your eyes open, but they still wouldn’t bring Dean back.

Suddenly, you had tears running down your face you couldn’t stop. For some reason you always tended to cry when you were waking up from anesthesia. The nurse kept telling you everything was fine, you wanted to know how fine. Fine as in they were able to leave the uterus, or fine like everything had to come out, but you were doing fine? You were with it enough to decide to wait and ask Dean because you wanted him with you when you heard. You had to wait a bit longer for them to bring Dean back. As he finally walked past the curtain, he could see the tears on your face. He walked to your side took the ice cup from your hand and gave you the best hug he could with all your wires still attached. The nurse stepped away for a minute and left you two alone.

“Hey Sweetheart, how are you doing, why all the tears?”

“Always do… don’t know” you weren’t able to talk in complete sentences yet.

“I know, you can’t help the tears when you wake up. How are you doing? You seem a little more out of it than usual.” This was the fifth surgery you had had that Dean was around for, and you never took this long to get your wits back in recovery.

“Hurts,… what he take?”

Dean started to feed you ice chips as he explained what the doctor did. “When they opened you up, they found a second fibroid. The doctor got them both out, he was able to leave the uterus. He checked the ovary you still have and said that looked good, everything went really well, Sweetheart.”

“Awesome” you said as you let out the breath you had been holding and tried to give Dean another hug. This news calming you down some.

Your nurse came back and asked if the pain had decreased, it hadn’t so they gave you something else. You told Dean the pain was worse with this than everything they did to your foot. Someone else came and helped disconnect your IV and the other monitors you were attached to. You asked Dean what time it was to give you an idea of how long surgery was.

“It’s just after 2.”

“Long surgery?” When you mentally timed everything beforehand you figured you would be heading to a room by 2.

“No, surgery went quicker than anticipated, it was only an hour and twenty minutes. You have been in recovery for over an hour and a half. You wouldn’t wake up.”

“That why I’m having so much trouble now?”

“Probably, you also didn’t sleep last night, and they must have given you something good to knock you out.”

Dean stood by your side holding your hand and feeding you ice chips until a nurse came to tell him he had to leave. The thought of Dean leaving and not seeing him, or any other family for three days had drugged you starting to cry again. He gave you a hug and told you to call him when you went to you room, everything was going to be fine.

A short time later they put a mask on you and took you to your room, which was on the maternity floor. This would be your second time staying on this floor after a surgery. Hopefully, the next time here you and Dean would be welcoming a baby. Your new nurses got you situated in your room and an IV hooked back up. One went to get you and ice pack and folded up blanket to hold against your stomach. While taking to your nurse Laurie, you realized you had a fat lip and a cut on the inside from where they incubated you. They said your mask only had to be worn when you went to walk in the halls or if someone was coming in your room. That was a relief, you weren’t looking forward to wearing it the whole time. When they left you took the bag you had taken out of your duffel which had your phone, tablet, chargers and magazine keep you occupied over the next few days along with a small travel case with Chapstick, lotion, an eyeglass cleaner, cough drops and a few other things you had learned you would need in the hospital and hung it over one of the bed rails within reach. You knew you weren’t going to be allowed out of bed that day, so you had wanted to make sure anything you would need was easy to get to. With that all set, you called Dean like he asked you to.

“Hi Honey, in your room?”

“Yes, all set up. Scooby and I have a great view of the parking garage and traffic light.”

“I can’t believe you took a stuff animal with you, such a goof.”

“Hey now! No one else can be here with me, and Scooby has been with me for every hospital stay.” Scooby was a stuffed Chocolate Lab your dad had gotten you in high school when your real Lab named Scooby died unexpectedly. Dean knew how upset you had been to lose him but would occasionally tease you about the stuffed animal.

“Fair point, I’m glad you have company and are all settled. Get some rest, I’ll talk to you later. Love you Y/N.”

“Thank you for everything. Love you Dean.”

You hung up from Dean and turned on T.V. for a little background noise. It didn’t take long for your machines to start beeping. They had compression cuffs on your legs to prevent blood clots, but because of your recent surgery in your right leg today’s surgery team didn’t want it on that leg. The machine didn’t like that, so it kept shutting itself off and beeping. The IV on your hand was in a slightly odd position and if your hand moved a certain way it shut off and started beeping. Things were off to a great start!

Your nurse Leslie showed you how to restart the IV when it went off on you. Both her and Laurie tried various ways to get the compression machine to keep working on just one leg, but it kept shutting off so they just took it off and you would need to move your feet around while in bed. Someone from respiratory came up and gave you an incentive spirometer, which is a plastic thing you hold and take deep breathes with trying to get the piece inside to whatever number they tell you. It is good to help clear your lungs, but it also had you coughing more. Laurie came in and had you sitting up and dangling your feet over the side, you had started to notice the pain was lower than you thought it would be. For some reason you had thought the doctor said the incision would be just below your belly button. You mentioned being surprised at where it hurt to Laurie, and she told you the incision was down over your pelvic area. If you had really thought about it, you would have known it before. This was when you realized you had a tube connected to your incision that went to little pump. It was a Negative Pressure Wound Therapy System, it was supposed to draw fluid away from the surgery area and promote healing, you just kept calling it a pump or drain.

At one point you made the mistake of lifting both arms above your head to pull your hair into a ponytail. Oh, that hurt, you were going to need to move nice and slow next time you did that. Everything you moved pulled your stomach, and coughing was awful. The night nurses had you sitting on the side of the bed again and this time also standing in place, the more you move the easier it’s supposed to get. Usually the first night after surgery they need your vitals every hour, but you only saw your nurses twice that night, it wasn’t a great night. You got a little bit of sleep that night waking up at least once an hour till you gave up at five. Sleeping in hospitals had never been easy for you.

It was six am when the doctor came in. He told you surgery, a myomectomy, went well. There had been a new fibroid, both were taken out and sent for a biopsy. You needed to see him the following week to your pump removed instead of the two-week checkup they had you scheduled for. He might send you home the next day, but he wouldn’t know till tomorrow.

You had two new day nurses on Tuesday, Courtney and Kim, you remembered Kim from your surgery two years ago when you had been one of her patients. Both were super sweet and in and out of your room all day. They encouraged you to get up and move around your room, leaving your crutches close to the bed so you could reach them. Even though you didn’t need them all the time there were times you still did. You had brought them to help balance you since you would be a little groggy with the pain meds and didn’t need to risk a fall when you were walking. Late afternoon you started to develop a fever they needed to watch. Courtney had you walking the halls with her to get you moving more. You talked to Dean, your parents, Jess and Donna throughout the day. Your mom and Dean were both struggling not being able to come up and see or help you. You looked through your magazine and tried to read fanfiction on your tablet, but you kept beginning to doze off then jerk yourself awake never fulling reaching sleep. Your nurse Laurie, from the day before was working a different hall today but came in to see how you were doing and tell you goodbye before she left.

Dean called once more before he went to sleep. “Hey Baby. How is it going tonight? Same nurses?”

“Hi Honey. Nope, different nurses tonight, they are very nice. Only been a few hours and I have already seen them more than I saw last nights. Fever is down, back into normal range. Been getting up and moving walked the hall again. Pretty sore, but I know I will be for awhile.”

“I wish I could be up there with you. I am so glad tonight is going better for you. I was half tempted to call up there and complain this morning when you told me what was going on last night.”

“Thanks, I wish you were up here too. I miss you! It helps that tonight is going better though. I appreciate that you were going to call, but please don’t. I know you worry, but that wouldn’t have done anything they were already gone.”

“Will see. I miss you too, hope you come home tomorrow. Bed is lonely without you.”

“I know you are hoping for that. I want to be home with you, but in away being in the hospital is a little easier on me. Like earlier when they were worried about the fever, you know I usually move in my sleep and this bed doesn’t give me the room to. Although Nurse Dean does an amazing job when he’s on duty.

“Haha, thanks, well nurse Dean is ready to report for duty. I do my best for my favorite patient.

“Yes, you do! Hey, the nurse is coming in for vitals and with pain meds. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too, I’ll call you on my way to work. Sleep well Sweetheart”

Lindsey, one of your night nurses took your vitals, gave you your pills and even brought a fresh glass of water. Shortly after she left you decided to try and get some sleep. It was harder to come by tonight and you gave up by 4:30. Lindsie your second nurse of the night, yes they had the same name just different spellings, did you vitals again before she left and checked if you needed anything else.

It was just before six before your doctor came in for his rounds. He said eveything still looked good and he was letting you go this afternoon. Dean called on his drive into work to see how you were doing.

“Morning Sweetheart, how did last night go?”

“It was alright, not much sleep, yours?”

“Lonely, but fine.”

“Sorry, you were lonely, but maybe I can help with that tonight. I’m free to go this afternoon as soon as I have a ride”

“Awesome! I’ll pick you up as soon as I can get out of the shop, do you want me to pick anything up dinner, pie?”

“No, I’m not eating much it hurts to swallow still, and there is a premade pie in the freezer all ready, you just have to bake it.”

“Seriously, you’re the best Baby! I just pulled into the shop I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good, have a great day at work. Love you, Dean.”

“Love you too, Y/N. Call you when I’m getting out.”

Courtney was back on duty as your day nurse, she caught up to you while you had gone to walk the halls, finishing the walk with you. When you went back to your room she informed you, you could shower and get dressed in your own clothes, no more hospital gown! Before she left she showed you how to disconnect the pump from the tubing and tape the tube to your side facing down so water didn’t run in it. When you got out you had to reconnect it and restart the pump. You walked the hall a few more times but didn’t do much else beside listen to the television. Staying awake was proving difficult today. When it was close to four you grabbed your crutches and started to gather all your things and repack your bag so you would be ready when Dean called.

Dean called you just after four to tell you he finished early and was on his way to “break you out.” Being tired of sitting you walked out to the nurses station to let Courtney know he was on his way, she had just finished printing your release papers and you both headed back to your room to go over them. You were unable to lift anything more than a gallon of milk for the next six week, the only exercise you could do was walking, going up and down stairs was limited, you had to be careful of the pump and had an appointment the following Tuesday to have it taken out. You took one last look around and made sure you had all your things in your bag, and she went to grab a wheelchair and you were on your way out.

Another nurse joined your trip down inquiring about the crutches, you told you had had surgery on your foot and ankle a few months prior, you weren’t completely off them yet. She asked what you had done, and like your other nurses had when you explained the surgery, gave you a wide eyed ‘wow’. Courtney laughed and told her she thought that was everyone’s response.

Dean had brought your Equinox since it would be easier for you than sitting down in Baby. He took your things from the nurses, and you thanked them for all their help. Dean helped you in the car after giving you a hug and you were off.

It was a fairly quiet ride home, your throat was still bothering you, you were just happy to be out. When you arrived home, Dean grabbed your bag and helped you in. It was the first time you had gone up any stairs and was slightly painful. Once inside you headed to your room to change and then back to the living room to lay on the couch. Dean helped you get comfortable before changing and joining you. You laid on the couch with your head on Dean’s lap and his feet on the ottoman, he got up later to make a lite dinner and cook his pie, for the most part you two were enjoying having each other close.

Laying in bed that night you had to sleep on your back and Dean was laying as close as he could when a noise got his attention.

“Do you hear something buzzing? What is that?”

“Me, well the pump buzzes when it’s having trouble and trying to get butter suction. It doesn’t run all the time and you must not have heard it with the T.V. on early. It also has a light that flashes occasionally, that surprised me the first night in the hospital when I could see a light from under the gown. I’ve gotten used to it; do you want me to sleep in the other room? That way I don’t keep you up?”

“Not a chance Sweetheart, bed’s been to empty without you. No way am I letting you leave.”

“Okay if your sure, goodnight Babe. Love you.”

“Love you too, Sweetheart.”

You woke up a few times during the night but didn’t get out of bed for two reasons. One you didn’t want to move, and two, you didn’t want to wake Dean. As much as you were up you still slept better than the hospital, you had missed Dean and your bed.

Dean had offered to stay home with you Thursday, but you told him you would be fine and sent him off to work. You knew they were still trying to get everything ready for Monday when the store could allow people back in and didn’t want to cause extra work for the others. Jess was still working from home and called and asked if you were up for company. She and Jake came over around noon with a pizza. Little guy was getting so big, he was one month away from his first birthday. You were unable to pick him up, so Jess set him down next to you on the couch, while she got plates and drinks for you two. Dean had bought a baby activity walker he saw online, he said it was for Jake when he was over, but you knew he was hoping one day you would have a child to use it. It was a racecar and so very Dean. Jess got it out of the guest room after you were done eating and put Jake in it to play. He loved playing with the steering wheel and horn.

While watching him play you and Jess turned on turned on T.V., settling on reruns of Bridezilla. Both of you cringing at the crazy antics and behaviors of the brides and others on the show. This led you both to talking about your own weddings. Jess and Sam had been college sweethearts, meeting at Stanford. Jess was full of energy, but pretty levelheaded, there wasn’t much drama with their wedding planning.

Dean and you had been high school sweethearts dating since sophomore year, and friends since grade school, you married after college. You had secretly been planning your wedding since your senior year of high school, but you would never tell Dean that. The biggest disagreement planning your wedding being what you were leaving the church in. You wanted to leave with your Bridal party in a limo, or bus, while Dean wanted Baby. When Sam said something to Dean about painting ‘Just Married’ on the back window and tying cans behind her, Dean came up with a compromise pretty quick. You would rent a party bus to go to the reception with your bridal party and leave the reception in Baby, and no one would touch his precious car.

Jess headed home with Jake after nap and you read until Dean came home, the two of you spending another quiet evening in.

When Dean left for work Friday, you were back on the couch. You spent much of the morning fighting to keep your eyes open. When Dean came home to check on you during his lunch break, he found you had crawled back in bed. Jess had told him the day before you kept almost dozing off while she had been over. You woke up before he went back to work, but you still weren’t fully awake. While sleeping you had missed taking some of your medications, and you were starting to wake up more. You had looked over you pill bottles and realized that while you had taken these meds before you had never had them prescribed at this high a dose. You decided to take some generic medication during the day and the prescriptions for before bed so you could sleep. If the over the counter Tylenol could have handled you pain it may have been a good idea, but it wasn’t strong enough and you were miserable by the time you took your pills before bed. You figured you would just spread out the time you took them slightly.

It was a nice early summer weekend, you and Dean enjoyed at home, spending some time both inside and out on your deck. Both of your parents stopped over to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. Although a big downside to summer surgery, you were unable to enjoy your parents pool for the next 6 weeks.

Tuesday Dean left work early to take you to your appointment, you weren’t allowed to drive for another week. The doctor told you everything looked good, he took out your pump. Not going to lie, you were so glad to see it go between the buzzing and the tubing that would get tangled up. The stitches were inside, and they would dissolve so you didn’t have to come back to have those taken out. Since it was summer and so hot out, he wanted you to keep guaze on the incision to keep any sweat from seeping in and causing an infection. The biopsy of the fibroids came back and they were both cancer free! For now, he was leaving you on the birth control. You still had your lifting, and stair restrictions, also no sex for 5 weeks. You saw Dean’s face over the doctor’s shoulder, it was utter disbelief. As soon as the two of you got in the car Dean voiced his displeasure.

“Five weeks, isn’t that a little excessive? He said a horizontal incision wouldn’t be as bad as a vertical. Your surgery earlier this year we only had to wait a few weeks.”

“One, my last surgery was on my foot and ankle, completely different areas. Yes, the vertical incision has a higher chance of bursting open, but it’s still fairly big cut on my stomach that needs to heal. Oh! and in case you forgot, they also cut my uterus!”

“I know that I”

“Dean, I can’t cough, laugh or blow my noise without pain right now. Sex, with your not so little Dean, isn’t going to go well. I’m so sorry my recovery is inconveniencing you.”

“Sweetheart, no that’s”

“Please, just drop it. I don’t want to talk right now.” The rest of your car ride home was silent.

When you got home you went to your room and left Dean on his own. He found you laying on your bed with tears on your face when he went to check on you.

Gif by homeofthenutty

“I’m sorry, I hadn’t really thought about not having sex, and then the doctor said that I was a little surprised. I had meant to tease, but it didn’t come out that way. All I had really thought about regarding the surgery was the surgery itself and what could happen. I wasn’t trying to force you to do anything you aren’t ready for, or that’s going to hurt you. You could never be an inconvenience. I was surprised and I didn’t think about what came out of my mouth. I’m sorry I was an ass.”

“I feel like I’ve been a burden on you, and you have to keep sacrificing for me. Today was just one more thing you found out you had to give up for me because of these surgeries. I feel like I have been asking so much of you with all my problems. There is a good chance the fibroids will come back. We know it might be harder for me to conceive because of the other surgery. I knew I was going to start crying and I didn’t want to, which is why I didn’t want to keep talking in the car.”

Dean laid down next to you pulling you back in his arms as best he could. “You have never been and will never be a burden to me. We are in this together. I want you to understand that right now. None of the things that have happened to you were in your control. You were born with high arches, not your fault. Those foot surgeries weren’t for the fun of it. You didn’t ask for the cyst to turn into a mass on your ovary, or those fibroids to grow. There was nothing you could do to prevent any of this. I’m not worried about us not being able to have sex right now. Hey, you made me wait two years after we started dating. I can wait a few weeks to have some fun in the sheets. Right now, I just want my girl healthy. Until then I am happy to hold you just like this. As for a baby, one thing at a time, we can always look into adoption. As long as I have you, I’m happy.”

“These last few months I haven’t been able to do a lot on my own and you have had to take on more work around the house. I couldn’t drive and you had to drive me ev”

“Stop right there. I like driving, that’s no problem. Whatever you need I’m here for. Just like I know you are there for me. For better or worse, we are in this together. Remember in college I broke my wrist in that Championship game for football senior year? You were typing both of our assignments for a month because it was in a sling and cast and I couldn’t. They wouldn’t let me drive for a few weeks either. You drove, ran the errands, kept the apartment clean. We support each other always.”

“That was one month this is almost five.”

“Time doesn’t matter. In this together, always. Okay? Honey, I never want you to feel like you can’t cry in front of me, that was never a problem before.”

“I know, it wasn’t that, it was more it was going to hurt, and I didn’t want to.”

Dean tried to hide a chuckle, “That’s understandable right now too.”

“I’m also fairly certain my period is starting so..”

“So, that always makes you a little crazier,” Dean leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I love you, I’m sorry I’m an insensitive ass.”

“I love you too, I’m sorry I’m crazy and blow things out of proportion.” You turned your head toward Dean for a kiss.

Sure enough you were absolutely miserable the next day. When the pump was removed so were the coverings on your incision, it had gauze over it, but it still kept rubbing uncomfortably. The therapy from the pump had also been easing the pain some when it was pulling everything together. Throw cramps on top of the pain you still had from surgery and as of today only taking over the counter pain meds instead of prescription, it was a rough day.

That weekend Dean walked into your room where you were folding laundry.

“Hey, what would you like to do Thursday.”

“I don’t know, what’s Thursday?”

“Um… your birthday?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot we were this far in June already. I really don’t care. We can have dinner here and pick up something, that work for you?”

“Your day, whatever you want, Sweetheart.”

Thursday came around and Dean woke you with a kiss before he left for work. You enjoyed a lazy morning, Donna and Jess came over around lunch time. They brought lunch and you three headed out to lounge in the sun. Jess headed out a few hours later to pick up Jake from Mary, and get ready to come back with Sam. Donna left shortly after needing to go pick up Jody’s daughter Alex. Dean came home from work early bringing you flowers and having picked up a cake. You like to bake, but store-bought cakes were still your favorite. Both of your parents, Sam with his family, and your brother came for dinner. Dean ordered pizza and bread, which your parents picked up and he bought things to make a salad. This way there wasn’t much clean up which is what you wanted. You all spent the evening enjoying each other’s company talking and laughing. When the house cleared out, Dean and you watched a movie before heading to bed.

The following week was your first time going to work since you had your foot surgery in February. To be honest you were a little nervous about being back, even though you grew up in this business. It was going to be your first time running this location. Both of your doctors had you limited on what you could do. Three days being the most you could be in there and not back to back the hours you were allowed to be there in a day only between 4-5. You still couldn’t lift more than a gallon of milk for another month. With everything going on with Covid, this was the third week restaurants could be open for dine-in, and new regulations were in place. Things were going to be different for a while, and who knew what the new normal would be.

You drove yourself to your next doctors’ appointment four weeks after your last one. He was pleased with how it was healing. You doctor knew kids were something you and Dean wanted. He was keeping you on birth control till October to give the uterus time to heal. After a myomectomy, most doctors would say to wait 3-6 months before trying to conceive, this would put you four months out. Your restrictions other than how much you could lift were rescinded. The weight limit you could carry was now at twenty pounds for a few more weeks before you didn’t have one at all. He would see you back end of September.

Summer went fast for both of you. The two of you had spent time at your parent’s pool, gone to the lake with Sam, Jess, and Jake, Dean’s parents often coming. It was mid-July before you could actually get in and enjoy the water. The two of you had a few weekend bonfires at your house with friends and family coming to hang out. Fourth of July weekend Cas brought some fireworks, oh were you were thankful your neighbors’ houses weren’t too close. He went to throw what he thought was just paper from the box in the fire pit. Cas had picked up an unopen box of firecrackers from the case and threw it in the fire with the garbage, that had everyone running back from the pit. Thankfully, no damage done, but you were sure Dean and Benny weren’t going to let him forget it.

Gif by bringmesomepie56

Jess, Donna, her sister Jody and you, had spent a girls’ day at an outlet mall an hour away, trying to take advantage of the summer sales. Jake had his first birthday. Dean had tried to get Jess to do a clown theme party, but she wouldn’t do that to Sam. Instead going with a jungle theme. The boy didn’t just grab for his mini cake Jess got him; he smashed his whole face in it! Dean made you promise when you had a kid that he could hire a clown at least once, and not tell Sam it was coming, brothers.

September was here before you knew it. You were back to working 5 or 6 days a week, Dean doing the same. Both of you were home by 7 most evenings and spent most of them together either just the two of you or with your friends. You two tried to match up at least one day off a week to spend just the two of you.

October was growing closer and you and Dean needed to talk. You could either continue on the birth control longer or go off next month and see what happened. You would run a chance of a fibroid coming back either way. Nothing said one would come back quick or get big enough to cause you problems again though. You were praying it would be awhile, if ever before that happened.

It was one of the last Saturdays in September, you and Dean were enjoying a bonfire just the two of you in your back yard. Both sitting on the swing, you curled into his side.

“I’ve got that appointment this week,” you reminded Dean

“We haven’t talked about it in a while, what are your thoughts? Are you leaning a certain way?”

“I know what I’m thinking, but honestly I’d like to hear what’s on your mind first.”

Dean was quiet for a minute before answering “Honestly, I always thought we would have a couple of kids, part of me thought we would have already had at least one by now. If your ready now, I say let’s try, Y/N.”

“I always thought we would have had one or two by now, too. If you were ready, I was leaning toward telling him I want to go off birth control. Not so much trying though, as seeing what happens. We tried before, and when the tests were negative or my period started, both of us were frustrated. I want kids with you, but know I have to be realistic, and as much as I don’t want to think about, it may not happen.”

Dean stood up and was walking around the fire pit, instead of working the flames to keep the fire going, he let it continue to fade. He walked back to stand in front of you before speaking again. “Valid points Mrs. Winchester. How about we will see what happens but not, not try either, just more relaxed than last time. No tracking ovulation, No matter the outcome, we are in it together.” Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the swing, then suddenly picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder heading for the house. “On that note, I think we should practice not trying, Sweetheart.”

Part 3

#supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester

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nicnacsnonsense · 4 years

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The full thoughts on the Good Omens Wicked AU are still (probably) forthcoming, but puzzling that out gave me a galaxy-sized brainwave and now I’ve got a new hot take/headcanon for canon!Aziraphale and Crowley.

The thing about the Wicked AU (Wicked the musical, not the book, just to be clear) is Act 2 is pretty easy. Crowley is Elphaba and Aziraphale is mostly Fiyero with a little bit of Glinda thrown in. But Act 1 is tricky. First of all you’re definitely going to want to use Glinda, not Fiyero, but that’s not too difficult a fix. You can pretty easily shift the Glinda character from Act 1 to the role of the Fiyero character in Act 2, especially if you move a few of Fiyero’s actions in Act 1 to Glinda as well, like helping to save the Lion Cub. Which makes it sound like it’s all sorted, Aziraphale is Glinda, Crowley is Elphaba, done. How are you gonna argue when those aesthetics are so on point?

The trouble is, as good as the aesthetics may be, the personalities don’t line up at all. Elphaba in Act 1 is bookish and obedient and while she has her own ideas of Right and Wrong that she will act on when the situation is put in front of her (like the Lion Cub), she ultimately has faith in the powers that be and thinks that if she can just make the problems known to the right people at the top, they’ll take care of it. That’s Aziraphale all the way.

Meanwhile Crowley is a closer match for Fiyero’s personality. He doesn’t believe in or wish to engage with the system, but isn’t up for trying to fight or fix it in any meaningful way. He does the bare minimum of what he has to get by, but beyond that he’s skating through just trying to enjoy himself as best he can. But despite his apathy, when something truly heinous happens in front of him, he can’t help but to react (like with the Lion-- look, it was an important moment, okay?)

So now even if you’re willing to abandon the Ineffable Wives Elphaba/Glinda angle -- which, I mean, no, I’m not willing to do that -- you still have a set up where between Act 1 and Act 2, Aziraphale and Crowley completely switch characters. How does that even happen? How do you get these character’s personalities changing so much? And that’s where the brainwave hit: Act 1 takes place before the Fall. Defying Gravity, in a turn that is as painful as it is appropriate, represents the Fall itself, and Act 2 is then after the Fall.

Which brings me to the headcanon about canon!Aziraphale and Crowley. The first time we meet them, the Fall has already happened, so we have no official canon as to what was going on before then. Pretty much every interpretation I’ve ever seen (and wrote) assumes that the both of them were mostly pretty similar to how they are as we see them in the show. But if you watch how Elphaba and Glinda’s personalities change between the two Acts suggests a different possibility. (Point of clarification: while Aziraphale mostly aligns with Fiyero in Act 2, that’s all relating to Aziraphale after his break with Heaven; Glinda in the opening number “Thank Goodness” is pretty peak Aziraphale for his 6000 years on Earth prior).

Before the Fall, gavotte!Aziraphale was now a moment of unusual joy, but his baseline level of happiness. I doubt he had Glinda’s mean/superiority streak, but like her he was confident and social and always in the know about the latest thing. And he was like that because he felt secure -- his faith was absolute and unquestioned because there was never anything that would give him cause to question it. And then the Fall happened and his entire foundation was ripped out from under him. He tried to hold onto that faith he felt beforehand, but the questions and doubts were there now, and he couldn’t get rid of them or reclaim his former happiness. He became resistant to change because he was scared to loose anything else. He drifted away from the other angels, because on a subconscious level he couldn’t trust them any longer. Anyone he made friends with might Fall and become his enemy. Or he might Fall and then all the other angels would turn their backs on him without a moment’s hesitation -- they did it to all the others, after all. That’s probably partially why he so much more comfortable with humans and Crowley. Humans exist completely outside the whole angel-demon thing, so they’re safe. And Crowley is already Fallen; he can’t Fall again and won’t spurn Aziraphale if he Falls.

Meanwhile Crowley before the Fall was a little bit odd maybe, but he didn’t really pay it any mind. He was mostly quiet and kept to himself and his work. He did notice a dew thing here and there that he maybe felt weren’t right, but he still had faith in Heaven and the Almighty that it would all work out like it should. Then there was the day when he happened upon “Lucifer and the guys”. He didn’t really know them -- he wasn’t really all that close to anyone -- but he recognized some of them and Lucifer was an Archangel, so he assumed it was all fine. And the questions they were asking were the things he’d been wondering about himself. He thought they they were just going to bring these matters to God’s attention. He didn’t really know anyone there. He didn’t really know what he was getting into. Then the Fall. After that he’d lost all faith in Heaven and what little trust he might have had for his compatriots from before the Fall completely evaporated once he realized what they’d gotten him into. And from that point forward, Crowley didn’t dare to keep to himself and his work anymore. He had to keep moving, changing, always making sure he was on top of what was going on, always knew who was who doing what. He refused to be caught off guard and unaware like that again. That’s probably why he slithered up to talk to Aziraphale in the garden even knowing it was probably a stupidly dangerous thing to do; he had to make sure he knew who this angel was and what he was up to and what his angle was.

Anyway, now I want a post-canon South Downs cottage fic where Crowley settles down at home, being an introvert. He enjoys going out with his husband occasionally of course, but prefers to spend most of his time at home making things, gardening and painting and carpentry and sewing, until the only things in their house he didn’t have a hand in are the old sentimental things they would never get rid of. Meanwhile Aziraphale throws himself into all sorts of different clubs and groups and social events. He quickly catches up to the current year in terms of technology and pop culture not intentionally, but just by sheer osmosis and no longer seeing any reason not to. The intervening 6000 years didn’t leave them completely unchanged -- the Aziraphale from before the Fall probably never could have found the joy in a quiet evening by the fire rereading a favorite book, and the old Crowley never would have dragged Aziraphale to dance lessons and made friends with everyone else there -- but they can finally let themselves relax back into themselves again. Because they finally feel safe and have learned how to trust again.

#good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #azcrow #wicked #long post

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songfell-ut · 4 years

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Chapter 10, one month in!

Man, I might actually finish this. Link here and @lostmypotatoes remains great.

This one mostly features Frisk having enough of everyone’s shit.

When Sans had composed himself enough to leave the wallpaper behind, he found Dr. Serif double-checking the paperwork while Frisk rustled around in her dressing room. As soon as she emerged in her black dress, the doctor said, "I have a request, Sans. When you escort Snowdrake home, I'd like you to stay in human form. Two monsters going anywhere without an owner will attract too much attention, especially near the border, and we should see whether your disguise can fool another monster. Do you think you can masquerade as a human who is using Sans' magic?"

Sans didn't like the idea – in fact, he completely hated it – but he was in the mood to think before he spoke, and the more he did, the more it made sense. "Yeah, I guess. If I told 'im who I was, he'd probably think I'd been brainwashed or somethin'. Everyone would be weird about it when I got home."

"Exactly." The royal sorcerer rolled the papers back up and placed the scroll on the edge of the table. "Does Sans need to bring the deed to the house with him in case he's questioned, my lady?"

"No, I've written a note and put my seal on it. Here's a map with the house marked, and I also have an insignia he can carry." The priestess went to a little nook by the fireplace, glanced at herself in the mirror, and opened a drawer full of odds and ends. "Where is...ah." Frisk pulled out a leather armband. "This will identify you as the High Priestess' personal agent. I don't use it often, but anyone you speak to should recognize it."

Sans had retrieved his silver chain from the bedroom. He looped it around his neck, put the smaller items in his overcoat, and accepted the armband, admiring the patterns of tiny white and red crystals worked into the leather. "Spiffy. So, if anyone asks me who I am an' where I'm takin' Snowdrake, I can tell 'em to shove it?"

"You will not tell anyone to shove it." He winced at her tone—yep, she was still mad at him. "Furthermore, please remember your fortune. No matter what happens, unless it is absolutely the only way to keep yourself and Snowdrake safe, I don't want you to kill anyone." She swept an errant lock of hair behind her ear, voice softening. "Please, Sans."

The boss monster's SOUL fluttered. He looked down at the armband, which was more of a wristband at his human size. "Fine," he said, trying to sound careless. "I'll talk first, only kill 'em if they really, really bug me."

"Sans!" He'd forgotten that Frisk had the lungs to roar like a miniature hurricane. "Do you care about anything but yourself and what you want to do? If you kill anyone and you cannot come back here and look me in the eye to tell me why it was necessary, I don't want you to come back at all! Do you understand?!"

Sans was speechless. As her echoes bounced off the corners of the room, he not only couldn't think of what to say, it felt like the magic comprising his vocal cords had evaporated.

Into the silence fell the sound of someone rapping on the double doors. Frisk whipped on her veil and headdress, allowing the bemused Dr. Serif to get up and admit two armed guards.

Between the men drooped a birdlike, half-grown monster roughly four feet tall, ice forming on the chains around its neck and feet. Without preamble, the priestess snapped her fingers at the guards and said, "Remove his bonds. Now."

The shorter guard coughed as Snowdrake shrank further back. "He is secured with the commonest type of lock. Your Ladyship will doubtless possess the key already," the guard mumbled.

Though her features were obscured by the veil, the High Priestess' body language was so expressive of absolute wrath that the men swallowed and gripped their weapons tighter. Without turning her head, she said to Sans in measured, glacial tones, "Get rid of those chains."

"As milady wishes," Sans said cheerfully, raising his left hand. The guards didn't notice the red mist surrounding the collar or shackles, but they did see the metal burst into fragments; the men nearly wet themselves as the rest of the chains fell off the startled drake.

"Leave us," ordered Frisk, and they were happy to obey, one pausing to grab the scroll and the other nearly running out the doors ahead of him.

Snowdrake's beak fluttered open, but he shut it and cringed as Frisk reached for his neck. "That's Sans' magic," whispered the young monster. "How'd you get him?"

Frisk placed her hand on his head, feeling him tremble. "He's unharmed, and he's given us his magic in order to help return you to the Underground." She brushed the last few links off his feathery neck, trying to avoid the half-healed scabs where the collar had rubbed him raw. "I am not your new owner, Snowdrake. You're going to be free."

The ice monster's eyes darted between her and the two men. "Yes, my lady," he said woodenly.

The poor kid. Sans knew exactly what it was like to be at a human witch's mercy and having to hear that kind of crap. Only the knowledge that she wasn't lying and Snowdrake would be home soon kept Sans from dropping the disguise right then and there.

"My guard will escort you as close as he can to the entrance to the Underground," Frisk told Snowdrake, then looked at Sans. "You shouldn't have trouble, but if you run into poachers, I'm giving you full authority to protect yourselves through non-lethal means. Is that understood?"

Sans nodded. To his surprise, Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "I think you had better take this as well. Consider it repayment." He produced yet another brooch from his robe, this one large and faintly pink. Sans wondered irritably how many of them he still had. "If you use this to supplement the magic you already possess, you can make the journey in a few easy stages. Pace yourself, and do not hurry back." He sat down as Sans put the brooch away. "Several people in the plot against Her Eminence have already been detained. We will maintain a watch in case anyone else involved decides to strike before they're discovered, and I will personally check on her throughout the day."

"Indeed," said Frisk. "Please take your time."

Holy shit, that hurt. The boss monster plunged his hands into his pockets to avoid breaking anything. "Breakfast should be here in a moment," the priestess went on, "and as soon as you've—" Right on cue, there was another knock at the door. "—both eaten, we'll pack something for you to take with you."

Sans tried to catch her eye, but she went back to the office as the servant unloaded the trolley. Snowdrake made no move to eat until Sans put a plate down and told him, "Go for it," at which the ice monster almost literally dove in. There was no telling the last time he'd had enough to eat, so Sans didn't ask, letting Snowdrake devour nearly everything and gulp down all the milk.

Fortunately, there was a bundle of apples and sandwiches sitting on the bottom of the trolley, along with three flasks of water and one of cider. "I ordered extra provisions. You'll need to keep your strength up," said Dr. Serif, waving away Sans' muttered thanks. He checked that Snowdrake was done, then called, "They're leaving, my lady."

Frisk reemerged, still veiled. "The best of luck to you both," she said.

Sans picked up the bundle, tucking it under his arm. "Sure, boss. See you when I get back." He jerked his head at Snowdrake, who was peering up at him, eyes half closed. "C'mon." Sans shouldered the doors open for the smaller monster to trudge through; a second later, the guard outside made a squeaky sound that indicated Sans had teleported them away.

The priestess sank into a chair, shoulders slumping as she pulled off her headdress. Dr. Serif cleared his throat. "You look as though you need more rest, Your Eminence. Unless, of course, you'd like to talk about your—"

"No. Thank you," she said, loud and sharp. Frisk picked up a fresh stack of letters, sorting them into different piles according to the wax seals or lack thereof. "I have a great deal of correspondence to catch up on, and I'll be very dull company for the next several hours. I'm sure you also have a great deal of work to do—have you started drafting your proposed specifications for the first set of solar arrays?"

"Yes, my lady. In fact, I've scheduled a meeting later this morning with several of my colleagues to discuss the matter. I'll be back this afternoon, but if you need anything at all in the meantime..."

"Thank you," she said again, a little more calmly. "I also must thank you for your help earlier with Sans. Did you figure out why he was acting so strange? I can't believe he grabbed me like that! I don't know what he could have been thinking."

The doctor made a wry face at her back. "I'm not sure how it happened, my lady. I don't believe he intended to become inebriated, but that is certainly what he was." He paused. "I will also keep you apprised of developments in Fernand's interrogation. Your Eminence will be glad to know that Lord Owen has been cleared of suspicion, more than adequately."

Frisk looked daggers at him. "Has he?"

"Indeed," he said gravely. "The moment his friend was arrested, Lord Owen volunteered to answer questions under hypnosis. He was tested beforehand for any magic with which he might have resisted or subverted the procedure, which ensured his answers were completely truthful. He is guiltless, and can offer no further information."

She nodded, returning to the next stack of letters. Why did she feel just the tiniest bit disappointed?

It was no use pretending. In her too-honest, very tired mind, she knew exactly why: it would've been the ideal excuse to reject him and find another suitor for her "adequate" future. It wasn't at all nice, but facts were facts. No matter how much she wanted to be married, having Luke as a husband would be like sleeping with her brother!

So, that just left...who?

The doctor coughed theatrically. "Before I go, my lady..."

Something made Frisk look up at him. Dr. Serif gave her a brief smile, and said with unusual delicacy, "With no intrusion intended or opinion attached, I beg that you inform me if and when you wish to safely dispose of your box. Whatever may be inside it, I assume there is magic involved, and throwing it away without the proper precautions may have consequences."

Frisk picked up an envelope and hissed between her teeth as she felt the paper slice her thumb. "I understand, Doctor. Good day to you."

He half-smiled. "And to you, my lady." When she looked up a moment later, he was already gone.

If Frisk had ever had a more miserable day as High Priestess, she didn't want to remember when. She hadn't just been trying to get rid of the royal sorcerer; she really did have a pile of mail to get through. The only attention she paid to the proposals was to make a stack of rejects, maybes, and actual prospects. Then she threw the maybes into the reject pile. Then she had to literally grab her own wrist to keep from dumping the entire basket into the fireplace—if she was destined to either marry Lord Owen or hop right into bed with someone unmarriageable, why bother wading through any of these?

A small, flat package at the bottom of the stack puzzled her until she opened it and several bookmarks fell out. Right: she'd ordered them when Sans got after her one time too many for her uncouth reading habits. She could fold all the pages she wanted today, Frisk tried to tell herself, but it just made her wish he was here to tell her to leaf them alone or mark his words. When she got another paper cut, she started to ask him to heal it for her, only to realize she was speaking to an empty room. She had to make do by washing her hands and applying tiny bits of ointment that came right off when she picked up more envelopes.

Just before lunch, Frisk told herself she'd earned a break and went in to flop on the enormous bed. Would Sans be back tonight? If he wasn't back by evening, should she go ahead and sleep in here, knowing he could come back inexplicably drunk and try to cuddle her again?

...She couldn't shake the idea. Technically, she should be scared at the idea of a ten-foot monster with no inhibitions invading her space when she was most vulnerable, but...she wasn't. Not remotely. In fact, her imagination was running with it so fast that she couldn't catch up, much less stop it. Frisk actually had to remind herself that Sans was a skeleton, only for her self to remind her that there were approximately two hundred creative ways around that particular deficit. Ah, well. It was all stupid, harmless tired-brain fantasy about someone she was comfortable with, not as if she was going to marry him or anything...

This was ridiculous. It had only been a few hours, and she was still furious with him, but she missed Sans so much that she could barely function.

There was another knock, and the priestess scowled as she got up to put on her veil and answer the outside door. To her surprise, it was Luke, holding a tiny velvet jewelry pouch out to her. "Good morning, Your Eminence," he said as she pasted on a smile. "Forgive my intrusion, but I came to return this in person."

Frisk opened the drawstrings and pulled out her pearl bracelet, the one he'd removed so the parrot wouldn't destroy it. "Oh. Thank you," she said automatically. Luke waited for more, and she glanced behind her. "I am sorry, Lord Owen, but you've caught me in the middle of decanting. The fumes will be potentially harmful once the mixture has heated, so..."

"It's quite all right. I didn't intend a long visit," he assured her. "I wanted to ask if you've had a chance to look over the contact information I forwarded to you."

Thank God she had found his note in her mail, or else she wouldn't have remembered the farmland at all. "Yes, I have, thank you," she replied. "I'll send your broker an inquiry with the name of my banker. Shall I inform you when I hear back from her?"

"If it's quite convenient, yes, please." The young lord shuffled his feet, as if he was suddenly uncomfortable about something. "Fr—Your Eminence, may I ask if any of the rumors about the All Souls festival are accurate?"

The guard at her door had been doubled, and she couldn't help noticing how both of them were waiting to hear her answer. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Owen, but I don't know what you're talking about. I have no time for ridiculous gossip," she almost snapped.

"Yes, of course, of course. I'm the one who must beg forgiveness. I'm sure you would never..." Her stare intensified, and he hastened to say, "The last reason I've trespassed on your time is that I am preparing to visit St. Brigid's. I'll be leaving early tomorrow. May I tell Mathilda that you've been well?"

"Absolutely!" Frisk knew this was where she was supposed to ask how his sister was doing in general, how her studies were going, etc. etc., and pass along all sorts of loving messages. But somehow, with her blood still humming and her potential husband right in front of her, and Sans not there to see, she had just one thought: "Could you give her something from me?"

"Yes, of course," he said pleasantly. "What is it?"

Frisk nodded, stepped forward and gave him a quick, decisive hug, careful to get her arms all the way around him before she stepped back. "Please excuse me," she said, "but I haven't seen Mathilda since Christmas, and I miss her very much. I hope you understand."

"Uh..." Luke blinked hard. "Yes, my lady. I'll see her and give her...that. Thank very much, and a good day to you." He bowed vigorously and turned on his heel, speed-walking down the hall in flustered elation.

Ignoring the guards' smirks, the High Priestess went back inside and slammed the doors, removing her veil again. She knew she should be embarrassed or at least care what they were going to say about her, but really, half the city was probably placing bets on who she'd be sleeping with in however many days or hours, so what was one brief embrace?

It was nothing. That was what she'd felt, anyway. Part of her was surprised at her own cold-heartedness, but Frisk knew what had happened when she hugged Sans, and she was certain that no matter how long she snuggled up to Luke, it wouldn't feel remotely similar; if he had put his arm around her, it would've just annoyed her. At least she had eliminated any remaining doubt: Luke could offer her pleasant company, and that was all. Not warmth, or real companionship, or gentleness, laughter, intellectual stimulation, literal attraction...

There went her imagination again. The workroom was still cold from however long Sans had had the windows open, but she had to pick up some papers to fan herself. It was quite a relief when lunch arrived and she could eat Sans' portion to make up for missing breakfast, then retire to the bedroom.

Having spent so much of her early life on her own, Frisk had been shocked when she came to St. Brigid's and discovered that even in a convent, the primary occupation of adolescent girls seemed to be talking about boys, or sex, or any combination thereof. She understood now that they had had very little else to talk or think about, and that being in a strict religious environment meant that there were no other outlets for their perfectly normal teenage curiosity, but those first few months had been eye-opening, to say the least.

To their credit, the sisters were aware of this and knew very well that after the lights went out in the dormitory, the girls would stuff their pillows under their covers to create a laughable illusion of being in bed, crawl to the center of the floor, and whisper to each other until they forgot themselves and laughed too loud at something, which was the cue for the proctor on duty to shout "BED" and send them flying back to their cots. It was probably also why everyone had to undergo a comprehensive sexual education course when they turned fourteen, and of course, the girls who could tell penis jokes for literal hours on end felt quite differently about the matter when an eighty-year-old priestess was passing out textbooks with full-color drawings and scientific labels.

In short, Frisk knew exactly what she was feeling and why. She'd never had the nerve to try anything when she was sleeping in an open room with dozens of other girls and young women, but once she moved into these chambers and found she had nearly unlimited privacy, she had finally availed herself of the opportunity to ignore the Church's teachings on self-exploration. Then she had availed herself of the opportunity a lot, figuring that it was harming no one whatsoever, and that she wouldn't have been given those parts if she wasn't meant to use them. But she hadn't done it since Sans arrived, especially not when they were in the same bed.

Sans was not here now, and she wasted no time, pausing only to throw a quilt over herself before she moved her skirt aside and worked her hand into place. She'd never done this in the middle of the day before, but that added a little excitement; what if she was to take down the barrier against teleportation, and he happened to get back right as she was in the middle of it? That would be just awful. Would he even recognize what she was doing, or would he just—

Another knock. Another fecking knock on the outside door as she was getting this close, and she wanted to burn down the entire castle. Frisk kicked the quilt off, pulled her clothes back into place, and stomped over to her veil and circlet before she threw the doors open. This had better be worth the interruption!

Over an hour later, she came back to her rooms with her cluster of guards and, given the general trajectory of the day thus far, was not surprised to find Dr. Serif waiting next to a stack of crates. "Good afternoon," he said. "It seems as if the items you've ordered for your apprenticeship have arrived. Would you like some assistance putting them away?"

Frisk looked at them, and at him, but she could barely speak. "I am overtired, Doctor," she mumbled. "I would appreciate your help, and then I need to rest."

"Of course." The royal scientist opened the double doors and directed the guards to bring the boxes inside while she went to the bathroom to remove her veil and compose herself for a few minutes. It didn't work, but it was long enough for the guards to put everything away and leave, so she only had to worry about the doctor when she emerged.

One look at her was enough. He didn't ask if she was all right, just moved aside a respectful distance as she sat down to check the inventory sheet. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"No, thank you," she said, voice cracking.

"I understand." The doctor removed the lid from a long box of seedlings and began filling a vial at the sink. "They've found the guard responsible for leaving your door unattended and allowing the assassin into your room. It seems he is affiliated with a local group pushing to decriminalize the retrieval of monsters from the no-man's-land. It should be a valuable link in uncovering more conspirators."

"Excellent. I'm glad to hear it," Frisk said politely, mind still buzzing.

Dr. Serif tipped some water into each seed-bed. "If he avoids detours or anything else he is not supposed to do, Sans should be back late this evening. Don't be alarmed if he takes longer, though. I could easily see him deciding to rush back and overextending himself. He can sleep at your house tonight if need be."

The only sound was water running into the vial and being trickled onto the tiny plants. The doctor glanced at her over his shoulder. "If I may, High Priestess. Please don't go there to wait for him or try to meet him. He should—"

"Get out!"

When the doctor had obediently made himself scarce, Frisk threw her veil on the floor, stormed into the bedroom, and flung herself on the bed for a good, long cry, or at least a long one. It wasn't Dr. Serif's fault that he'd happened to visit right as she was returning from a talk with her father. She hadn't been so angry or humiliated in a long time—of all the people to drag her away from her private time to lecture her about maintaining a good reputation and not sleeping around, why the hell did he think he had the right to do it, especially based on a single stupid rumor? It'd been all she could do not to scream at him that he'd spent his youth screwing his way through most of the kingdom, left her to be neglected almost to death for ten years, and only taken an interest in any of his damn-near-orphans when his second wife died in childbirth and the midwives told him the baby might not survive! How dare he?!

The final nail in the coffin came a few hours later, when she'd finally pulled herself together enough to start writing replies to everything that needed replying to. After many more paper cuts, Frisk was almost done when she heard a knock that she hoped, for the other person's sake, was her dinner.

It was, but it was also another messenger. At least this one wasn't there to take her anywhere, merely to tell her that His Holiness had furnished the records she requested, handing over a folder roughly two inches thick.

Frisk probably should have been glad she could peruse the list of enslaved monsters without Sans hovering over her shoulder, and she was; it was just hard to be happy about much of anything when she was reading all the names and descriptions—she'd felt strongly enough about it when she wasn't remembering how completely beaten Snowdrake had looked, and wondering how many other monsters must be in similar or worse circumstances at that very moment. Her duty now was to go through the list of owners and judge which were probably the absolute worst, and organize inspections as quickly and stealthily as possible.

It all went back to her stupid fortunes. She'd half-purposely led Luke on, and her father had made it very clear that he expected her to make the respectable choice, the hypocritical old goat. The problem was that it was what everyone would expect of her; in the wee hours of the morning, it had felt daring and romantic to contemplate a future where she had a child with a not-husband, but the reality was that it would probably ruin her life, just like her mother's. Frisk was more confused than ever: how could she change the world and free monsters if she did something so socially unacceptable that no one would probably ever speak to her again? But she'd also have new parents and a huge family...how?!

Even if Sans had been a complete idiot at the fortune-teller's table, she wished more than ever that he was here to talk to. Damn Dr. Serif for reading her thoughts so easily. There was still the brooch he'd given her a couple nights ago, but she wanted to save it for a real emergency; besides, it wasn't as if she could do much to help Sans if he simply needed to rest before coming back to the castle...assuming he was coming back.

Frisk shook herself. There was no reason to believe that at all! She had to think more constructively. Wasn't there some way to communicate w—ah, yes, he was able to speak to Papyrus in dreams. She had joined him fairly easily the time she'd tried it. If she took down that barrier again...

...then the child could get in. But Sans wasn't here. Could it make her hurt him in a dream?

That was when Frisk officially gave up on thinking, or working, or doing anything else for the day. It was already after sunset, so she folded up the registry, instructed the guards not to let anyone disturb her unless something was actively on fire, and went to run a bath. Her mind didn't clear much, but it did help relax her, even if she was still too tense to pick up where she'd left off with herself. She put on her fuzziest nightgown, whisked the barrier away and built up a fire in the bedroom, then made a warm nest of blankets and settled herself to sleep, leaving her mind cautiously open.

She woke a little as the bed creaked beside her. She grumbled under her breath and turned away from him, pulling the covers up.

Undeterred, he ducked beneath the covers and draped himself over her side. His hard, smooth fingers caught on her hair as he pushed it out of the way to nuzzle her neck. It was a good start, but he must have been tipsy: she yelped as his nasal bone jabbed her. "sorry," he murmured.

That should've been that; she graciously permitted him to stroke her hair as an apology, and settled back down to sleep.

She should have known better when he started petting her back and down her side, and then rubbed her leg, knowing very well that she'd sleepily turn toward him so he could pet the other one, too. Then came a soft, warm touch on her neck, his hands sliding under her nightshirt, and her nightshirt creeping up as he eased his weight onto her.

"Really?" she tried to ask, but his mouth was in the way, and he easily caught the hand she brought up to push him off, spreading his fingers to interlace them with hers.

He would have stopped if she'd insisted. She didn't. She—

Someone was in her office.

Frisk was not afraid. She was done. She got out of bed with an ache in her groin and murderous resolve in her heart, moving silently through the bedroom and the dark workroom. There was no light showing under the office door, but she could feel ripples through the barrier over her safe as someone dug into the floor around it. With no restraint or remorse, she yanked open the doors and slammed a multi-layered barrier into the room, catching the would-be thief by surprise.

Whoever it was, they were unnaturally strong and agile, nearly catching the edge to squeeze through as it sealed itself off. But it was no use: fueled by angry determination, the barrier snapped shut into a golden sphere, trapping the person inside. The intruder struck at it several times with terrific force, but Frisk held firm until the figure staggered, then fell to its knees, wheezing.

Only then did Frisk click her tongue, dropping the layer that prevented air from getting in, and strengthening the layer that suppressed magic. "Whoever you are, you have ten seconds to explain yourself," she snarled.

A gulping breath. "Please, my lady—"

Frisk was so startled that her concentration wavered. The figure took the opportunity to hit the barrier again, and she promptly cut its air off, waiting several seconds before she allowed any back in. The priestess came forward and peered inside. "...Doctor?"

In the barrier's glow, she could see quite well, and though she knew she had him contained, Frisk felt a twinge of fear. It had sounded exactly like the royal sorcerer, but this was not Dr. Serif. It was a monster, a skeleton with a long, eerie face, much more smooth and hollow-looking than Sans or Papyrus. As it straightened, its arms stayed hidden in the folds of its long, ragged black coat, and several disembodied skeletal hands floated over its shoulders. "The man who speaks in hands," she said to herself. No wonder they were supposed to beware him!

The monster's brow creased. "The man who speaks in hands?" he repeated in Dr. Serif's whispery voice. "How very poetic." Cough. "May I ask where you—"

"You may not!" The barrier constricted, nearly brushing the top of his skull. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The skeleton visibly struggled to answer, and finally croaked, "My name is W.D. Gaster. I am a monster who has been posing as a human in order to maintain my post as the royal sorcerer." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Young lady, what...what is this?"

Frisk sat down on the couch, which had been moved aside to expose the safe. "I assume you mean the fact that you can't lie to me while you're in there. I'm not much good at truth spells, but I figured out how to incorporate one into a barrier, which I am very good at. I just don't use it very often." On some level, she wasn't surprised that Dr. Serif had been hiding something like this, but she was still afraid—had any of his help or kindness been real, or was it all for some unknown, sinister purpose? Would he try to eliminate her now that she knew what he was?

Gaster was staring at her. Above him, both pairs of hands started a slow clap. "I am extremely impressed, Your Eminence. I am also very apprehensive. As a monster, I cannot match your determination, which means you have me at a complete disadvantage. I must commend you."

The priestess was gratified, but knew better than to drop her guard; she could feel him subtly testing the weave and span of the barrier with unseen hands. "Stop that," she snapped, and he did, tilting his head to concede defeat. "Were you trying to steal my box?"

"Of course," he said. "I infer that it contains your memories, and it is now common knowledge that the future of this world hinges on what you do with it."

Frisk controlled another stab of anger, though she couldn't stop the barrier from popping and snapping like a bonfire. "And you thought you would...what? Dispose of it without asking me?"

"I don't know exactly what I was thinking," Gaster confessed. "I succumbed to intellectual curiosity as to what distilled memories look like, and whether I could view them without disturbing the physical medium. What I would do with them would depend on their contents."

The barrier was now eye-wateringly bright. "You broke into my rooms when Sans wasn't here, damaged my property, and woke me up from a very good dream because you thought you knew better than me what I should do with my life?! How dare you! How dare all of you try to decide this for me?"

"You are completely correct, my lady, and I apologize wholeheartedly." The monster placed his hand on his chest and bowed from the waist. "I swear that I will not presume to meddle any further."

It sounded sincere, but the old priestess who'd helped her develop this technique had been very emphatic: if someone promised something while under a truth spell, there was nothing to stop them from breaking it once the spell ended. "Why are you here?" she asked. "What are your intentions?"

He managed a chuckle. "As I truthfully told your apprentice earlier today, that is a large question." The monster's hands folded into pairs. "I do not believe you will derive any benefit from my entire story, and that most of it will unnecessarily disturb you. May I tell you as much as I sincerely believe will benefit you, and omit that which is not necessary?"

Frisk bit her lip. "I'd prefer to be the judge of that. Answer me, please: what are your intentions towards me, and Sans, and this kingdom in general?"

Gaster didn't reply. Frisk felt him trying to use some kind of magic similar to Sans' to slip out of the barrier, and she gave one sharp whistle; the skeleton's hand went to his throat as his magic dissolved and the air started to thin again. "Please, stop!" he rasped.

The priestess did so, feeling a tiny bit guilty. That rush of anger was starting to fade, but she knew she couldn't let him manipulate her into letting him go before she was ready. The fact that he had been manipulating her up till now was more than enough to steady her resolve. She crossed her arms and stared him down in silence.

A hand came up to massage Gaster's temple. "All right. I...do not intend to harm anyone. I came here solely as an observer, and have only remained for this length of time in order to rectify my errors." He sighed. "As is so often the case, every attempt I make only compounds the problem, and yet I cannot seem to stop."

Frisk shook her head. "I don't want vagueness or lies by omission, Dr. Gaster. Where did you come from, and on whose behalf are you observing us?"

"I came from a place similar to this one. I lived inside Mt. Ebott, which contained the Underground, home to monsters such as Sans, Papyrus, King Asgore, Queen Toriel...to my knowledge, every living monster I knew currently resides here as well."

The priestess' mouth fell open. "How...?"

He made an impatient sound. "As I said, the majority of this information is not necessary to impart. You can do nothing with the knowledge of another Underground, except for the one or two details that are relevant to you and Sans, which I will tell you if you agree to trust me that you do not need the rest. Do we have a deal?"

She exhaled. "Fine. What are you doing here now? Are you gathering information to bring back to your Underground?"

"I dearly wish that this was the case, young lady, but no. I was expelled from my home in an accident, and I no longer exist there. I have been wandering ever since, looking for another place I might settle into." Another sigh. "I know now that it was not only a vain hope, but a dangerous one."

"Dangerous? How so?"

He grimaced. "I found out the hard way, of course. I thought I was doing the right thing when I transplanted a certain monster from a dangerous environment to a safer one where he was needed. I did not know that the danger would follow."

Frisk's skin prickled. "What do you mean? Please start making more sense."

"Very well. To start at the beginning, I must tell you I am not the first W.D. Gaster to have lived in this kingdom or its Underground. Many, many years ago, when I happened upon this place, I went looking for the first item on my checklist: myself. Unfortunately, when I found him, I discovered that your Gaster was easily one of the cruelest I have seen. He conducted horrific experiments on defenseless subjects, both humans and monsters, and he created new life purely to torment it."

The chill increased as Gaster's face darkened. "I was skilled enough to observe him unseen, and his actions disgusted me. I should have left, but when I saw him murder one of his 'sons,' I grew so angry that I could not stop myself. I killed this world's Gaster, and I tried to save his other creation, but it was too late. I broke my policy of noninterference without any real benefit to anyone." He sat down inside the barrier. "Imagine my surprise when I checked the rest of the laboratory and discovered one copy of the younger skeleton ready to awaken, hardly more than a baby. There was no sign that any other creations had survived. I now had a decision to make."

"The 'younger' skeleton? You don't mean—"

"Yes. He created Sans and Papyrus, and he killed them, knowing he could replace them at any time."

The priestess had to fight the urge to be sick all over the office floor. "Couldn't you have taken his place and tried to undo the damage he caused?"

"That was a definite option, and I was tempted. But this is not my home, and I did not want to stay for much longer. I believe I made the correct choice in that respect."

Now she understood why he hadn't wanted to tell her this. Too late; she had to hear the rest of the story.

"It was quite the dilemma. I could not leave Papyrus on his own, nor could I stay here to raise him, or take him with me. He was too young, and I did not know what might happen if I brought him into another place with another Papyrus. But there was no Sans here to care for him. So..." He closed his eyes, pulling the slashes taut. "I made another well-intentioned mistake."

There was a very long pause. "There are certain variations of time and place that I have seen more frequently than others," he said slowly. "The most tragic is where a very sorrowful and angry SOUL becomes warped into a force of absolute destruction, essentially a demon, and it finds a vessel to connect it to the physical world." His eyes opened. "It kills everything, Frisk. Every monster in the Underground, every human above, until there is nothing left. But the force itself does not die. It finds another place to destroy. And another. And another. The child you have seen in your nightmares is here because it cannot bear the fact that in one place, at one time, there was one monster it failed to exterminate. It has come here looking for him."

All the hairs on Frisk's body were standing straight up. "What exactly happened?"

"I found a place where a Sans stood ready to meet the child on its way to murder Asgore and leave the Underground. He had made a promise not to harm any fallen humans, and that promise bound him until it was too late. As always, he was still going to fight it, knowing that it was futile." Gaster looked at his hands, studying the holes in the palms. "I did not speak to him, or even let him see me. I approached him from behind, rendered him unconscious, and transported him here. I had checked Snowdin and saw that the house in which they usually reside was empty, so I brought them both there, left a supply of food and money, and allowed them to live as usual."

"...But...but doesn't he—"

"This world's practice of memory excision is not a good one, in my opinion, but it gave me the idea to try to...adjust him. I did not remove his memories to save for later if he chose to revisit them: I destroyed them entirely. As far as he or anyone else knows, he has always lived here with his little brother." Gaster looked back up at her. "I wanted to give him a second chance in a place where the demon did not exist, and where circumstances were not likely to replicate its creation. I knew that he might have nightmares as echoes of his past experiences, or even glimpses of other lives, but I had no conception that the child itself would stalk him all the way here."

The barrier wavered. Gaster did not move as Frisk shook herself and hummed it back to full strength. She'd have to process all of this information properly later. For now, next question... "Why did you become the royal sorcerer? Didn't you want to leave as soon as you knew they'd be safe?"

"I did, but I came back periodically to check on them. All seemed well until one visit where I discovered that a group of humans had just visited on a diplomatic mission that ended in violent catastrophe. Imagine my surprise when I examined Dr. Alphys' records and discovered that the Sans I rescued had become a boss monster through imperfectly understood means. It was one of the most anomalous variations in his growth that I have ever observed, and it absolutely fascinated me."

His tone was a little too rapturous for her tastes. "You disguised yourself as a human and became the royal sorcerer to keep a closer eye on Sans?" she asked warily.

"Oh, no, my dear young lady. I did so in order to keep a closer eye on you." Frisk started as the skeleton slowly got to his feet. "In order to affect physical matter, even something as tenuous as a monster's body, the demon must find a host. In the course of observing Sans and his brother, I became convinced that the child was trying to reach him, but it could not attach itself to any of the monsters. Through various means, I eventually tracked it to you, just as you were being considered as a replacement for the murdered High Priestess. Not only did I feel the need to protect Sans from a danger he no longer recalled, I became curious about you."

"In what way?" Frisk couldn't help rubbing her eyes. "Why did it choose me?"

Gaster smiled thinly. "At the risk of threatening you or, even worse, stating the obvious," he said in a different tone, "I would guess that a barrier of this strength and complexity requires a great deal of power, and you are not going to be able to maintain it much longer. I will only be at your mercy for another few minutes at most, after which I could make a serious attempt to break out and potentially injure one or both of us." He took a step forward. "I propose instead that I tell you more about Sans while you still know I am being truthful, and then you release me."

He was right. "If I release you, will you attack me or take any other malicious action against me, now or in the future?" Frisk asked carefully.

"I do not intend you or Sans any type of harm whatsoever, Frisk, now or in the future. I bear you no malice, though I admittedly find being caught in this fashion very irksome."

Frisk would have to be content with that. "Done. What do you want to tell me?"

"That you did not give Sans the opportunity to apologize for his conduct at the festival or the morning after, and you said something fairly cruel before he left. I thought I made it clear that he is not stable and you must be careful how you handle him."

It took a second to recall how she'd told Sans to take his time, and his expression after she did. "I'm not his mother," she argued. "I'm sorry I hurt his feelings, and I'll apologize when he gets back, but even you said I shouldn't be held responsible for his behavior. He's been fairly good at keeping his temper, all things considered."

"He's been good at keeping his temper around you," Gaster said severely. "Did you know that monsters can see the condition of a living monster or human SOUL? I have been monitoring Sans for a long time, as you now know, and soon after he became a boss monster, his SOUL began to darken at a remarkable rate. It was natural for him to accrue EXP as he fought humans to protect his kin, but it is extremely unusual for a single monster to develop such a taste for violence when the rest of the Underground remains unaffected."

Frisk didn't know what EXP was, but she could guess, and time was running short. "What are you saying, Doctor?" she snapped.

"I am saying that I do not know exactly why he is the way he is, and I don't only mean his metamorphosis into a boss monster. No matter what kind of magic he was subjected to, and however his LV grows, it cannot explain why Sans is so very angry. It's so ingrained that it feels deliberate, which I don't understand. Is it vestigial regret from his first life? A heretofore unknown side effect of the accident that spurred his transformation? All I know is that when he was listening to your song yesterday morning, I saw him let go of his accumulated rage for the very first time. When I took another look, it seemed as though several layers of that filth have been sloughed off his SOUL since he came here, though far more remains."

The priestess flushed. It was flattering to think she could affect him that much, but...

Gaster must have seen her skepticism. He sighed so mightily that his entire body settled to the floor, as if he simply couldn't keep himself upright. "You can't seriously—you can." He drew himself back up to his full height. "You may still be hurt by having been previously abandoned by those you cared for, young lady, but what do you need to hear before you understand the current situation? That Sans is deeply in love with you? That he behaved so stupidly at the fortune-teller because he was beside himself with jealousy? That any apprehensions you may have about him deciding not to come back here are laughable at best, and you are the only one who can make him want to return to a happier state of mind and avert the possibility of him hurting innocent people?"

Frisk had specifically been taught not to do what she did next: spring to her feet and bring her fist straight down on the barrier, shattering it like paper-thin glass. "However you got in here without alerting the guards, or waking them," she added darkly, "please see yourself out the same way. Good night, Dr. Gaster!"

In the sudden blackness, his eyes showed as two tiny pinpricks, one yellow and one blue. Frisk made herself meet his terrible gaze and point at the door, and he chuckled appreciatively. "Good night, High Priestess," he murmured. There was a rush of shadow, then an empty room.

The priestess could barely move or think. She felt her knees bend and her hand grope around the space where Gaster had been tunneling into the safe. She removed the barrier, picked up the box, put the barrier back up, got to her feet. Back to the bedroom, another barrier up on the door, and a collapse into bed, pulling the blankets around her. Too tired and too troubled to remember where she had left off...what would she see the next time she dreamed?

More importantly, where was Sans?

She was walking over an expanse of sand and scrubby trees that she had never seen before but somehow knew was the no-man's-land, closer to the Underground than to human territory. Her head turned at the sound of men screaming, far off to her left. In the fading light, she saw flickers of magic, a bigger flash, and a sound more awful than screams: silence.

Not total silence. As she approached, Frisk heard a familiar chuckle, but not in a familiar way. This was not a skeleton pleased with his own stupid puns or laughing at her rage when he beat her at chess five times in a row. This was someone standing amidst a pile of broken human corpses, surveying his handiwork and enjoying it.

For a terrified moment, Frisk thought Sans was doing this in the present, or had just done it, and she wanted to scream at him—but no, he was wearing the ragged canvas garments she'd first seen him in, not the wool and linen ones she had given him. If this had ever happened – which felt likely – then he was dreaming of a time more distant than the past twenty-four hours.

She was only about fifty yards away, but he didn't seem to notice her. She tried to call out to him, only for her voice to get stuck as she looked again at the human bodies he was stepping over like rocks in his path. Gaster had been right. Sans really was capable of this, wasn't he? He wasn't the gentle, protective, sometimes-somewhat-sweet-natured skeleton she'd grown fond of. He was a killer.

No. He was gentle and sometimes somewhat sweet, and he was a killer. Frisk couldn't fall into the trap of believing that only one side of him existed, or that only one was "real"; people didn't work that way. She had to talk to the one she knew—he was there, too!

Sans was trudging away. Remembering what Gaster had said, Frisk took a big breath and whistled at him over the empty expanse, using a few bars from this morning's song—she'd often seen him stop what he was doing to listen to it.

Sure enough, he paused. He turned, and his orange eyes focused on her. The flames dimmed just a little. "Frisk?" Sans came closer, skirting the pile of bodies. "'sat really you?"

The priestess held out her hands. Sans reached out to touch her fingers, then recoiled—his hand was spattered with blood. "What are you doin' here?" he asked, voice rougher than usual. "Ya don't wanna see this!"

"No, I don't. But I wanted to see you," she said.

Sans blinked at her. He jerked his head for her to follow him, moving until the grim scene was out of her line of sight. Then he sat down, plunging his hands into the sand to scrub the blood off. "Yer an idiot. Why'd you come after me? I thought ya wanted me t'take my time gettin' back."

Frisk winced. She really had hurt his feelings. "I'm so sorry I said that. I missed you today."

The boss monster swallowed hard. "Fine. Ya saw me." He shook sand off his metacarpals, aiming it away from her. "Look, 'm sorry, too. I embarrassed the crap outta ya at the stupid festival, and I..." He shrugged elaborately. "I dunno what the hell I was doin' yesterday mornin', but whatever happened, I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Sans." Frisk folded her hands behind her back. "Did Snowdrake arrive safely?"

"Yeah. I only saw one nosy neighbor lady at the house, an' I played nice 'n let 'er see the note. She left us alone after that. Didn't see anyone else till we got close enough to the Underground t'let 'im go. Poor little bastard kept thinkin' it was some kinda trick." The skeleton brushed more sand off his femur. "I ran inta some poachers on my way back t'the city, but they didn' have any monsters with 'em, an' they just told me to get lost, so I did."

Frisk smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."

Sans made his usual noises, which just made her smile wider. "How was yer first day off from babysittin' me?" he asked crossly. "Good?"

"It sucked," she said, deadpan, and he snorted. "Seriously, Sans, it was awful. Everyone's heard of my fortunes already, and my father, who has had at least fifteen children that we're aware of, gave me a talking-to about my sexual mores."

The skeleton's eyes were fully alight. "Yer kiddin'. Ya haven't even done anythin'!"

There was the tiniest pause, and lest he add "...Right?" and force her to kill him, Frisk said, "Right. It just reminded me that if I open the box and end up having a child on my own, I'll be an unwed mother. Among humans, that makes you a complete outcast. I wish we were more like monsters, I really do."

Sans was very quiet, in a way that put Frisk on edge. "But, of course," she said with forced optimism, "if I don't open it, I'll get married and be completely boring and respectable for another fifty or sixty years, and just have to live with the fact that I chose not to let monsters go free." Her throat was closing up yet again, and she shook her head. "Why do I have to decide this, Sans? I'm used to being under pressure, but not like this! What am I supposed to do?!"

The boss monster edged closer as she sniffled. "Ya know what you should do?" he asked.

"What?!" It came out nearly as a shriek. "What should I do, Sans? Tell me!"

Sans remained sitting, watching her quietly as she scrubbed her face on her sleeve. "I think you should make a decision an' go for it insteada tormentin' yerself like this. Whatever ya wanna do, it'll turn out t'be the right thing. An' fer what it's worth..." He fidgeted, scowling at the ground. "Whether ya pick the bird guy or...someone else, if ya ever need help, I'll do whatever I can. Heavy lifting, beatin' people up, dumb jokes, whatever. So...quit whinin' and pick somethin'. Flip a coin if ya need to. Just stop hurtin' yerself. Okay?"

Frisk's heart stood still. She looked at him in such a way that he sat back warily. "What? What'd I say?"

"Don't say anything," she said, advancing on him. "And don't get up yet."

"Hey, hey, lady, this's a dream, remember? Ya can't touch m—"

Sans lapsed into stunned silence as Frisk's arms went around his neck and her cheek rested on his clavicle. She leaned her full weight on him and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry to ambush you again," she said into the space between his ribs. "I just needed to see something." It was the same as before, a wonderfully tingly feeling in her chest that spread through her body until she wondered what'd happen if she moved away too fast. Frisk sighed again, trying to work up the willpower to let go. Somehow, he wasn't as uncomfortable as she would've thought, as if there was a very thin layer of something padding his bony exterior. It just made it harder to—

Sans' arms came up to hold her against him, as he had the previous morning, and neither of them cared that they were so big, they overlapped over her back. His cheekbone rested against her head, careful not to be too heavy. "Whaddya do with yer hair?" he muttered.

It was...not what she'd expected him to say. "Can you elaborate, please?" she muttered back.

"I dunno what smells are what. I think the longer I stay human, the more human-ish stuff I can do, like smell, 'n feel stuff I touch." His phalanges moved softly through her hair. "This doesn't make any sense. Yer not s'posed to be able t'interact with anyone in a dream 'less ya went ta sleep in the same room or somethin'."

"I don't know about you, Sans, but I'm sick of thinking." Frisk stared at a spot of drying blood on the ground behind him. "In fact, you're right. I'm done thinking about this." She squeezed him gently, though she knew she could use all her strength and he'd barely feel it. "Let me go, please. It's time for me to get some real sleep."

"...Nuh-uh."

Frisk laughed. "It's vanilla," she said over his shoulder.

"Hm?" Sans was absently petting her hair again. "Wha's vanilla?"

It was so nice that she wanted to fall asleep right there, somehow. When was the last time she'd felt this secure? "It's...my hair. I don't use a lot of expensive lotions, but I'll splurge on anything scented with vanilla. Do you like it?"

"Mm. 'snot as bad as most of the stuff I've smelled so far."

The priestess smiled, then reached up to touch his skull. He tensed as her fingertips encountered the wide, smooth expanse of bone. It was warmer than she'd expected, almost velvety—probably from magic, she figured. "I'm very tired, Sans, and I've used almost all of my magic already. Can you please let me go now?"

He wouldn't. The last shred of doubt in her mind disappeared, and in a surge of determination, Frisk ducked free of his arms, moving out of his reach. "I'll see you soon," she told him. "Tomorrow?"

"Uh." Sans had the oddest look on his face. It reminded her of when she'd cleaned the fork for him at their first face-to-face meeting in the bedroom. "I dunno. I might be drunk again when I wake up. It kinda feels like it."

Frisk gave a long, theatric sigh. "If you are, please sleep it off before you come back. We've gotten in the supplies I ordered, and I don't need you eating the plants or something ridiculous." She stepped back further. "Good night, Sans."

"Night," he said inaudibly, and she left.

The guards outside Frisk's doors admitted Dr. Serif after breakfast, then settled in to wait for the royal sorcerer to leave, after which they could properly nap. His morning visits were usually an hour or so, in their experience.

This time, after only five or so minutes, the doors banged open, and one guard dropped his halberd. "I wish to be very clear, Doctor," the High Priestess said, voice pitched to carry down the hall. "Do not open it, do not attempt or allow anyone to attempt to open it, and do not keep it for any reason. I want it destroyed. Will you please do so as soon as possible?"

"Of course,Your Eminence." To the guards' astonishment, the normally imperturbable doctor was frowning, and took the little rosewood box with obvious reluctance. "Good day to you."

The priestess shut the doors without another word. The guards stared at Dr. Serif, who was now scowling full-force at the box. With a glance at the doors and none at all at the two men, the doctor tried to pry the lid open, only to drop it as the box sizzled at him. "How did she put a barrier inside it?" he said to no one.

The guards could barely wait till he was gone to whisper to each other, "She threw it away! I knew she wouldn't—" "Oh, bull shit, you said she'd get knocked up by this time next w—" "No I didn't! I—"

Slam went the doors. Frisk glared at one, then the other, and waited the count of five before she slowly pulled them shut.

#songfell whoo lemme at the next one

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dottiechan · 4 years

Text

Finders Keepers Pt. 1 (A SWTOR Imperial Agent story)

Part 1 / Part 2

Word count: 1633

Summary: SIS agent Dorathine Garza is left behind on Dromund Kaas after going undercover.

A/N: Thanks for kicking my writer’s block in the butt!!! I worked Dee’s story over a little, and gave it a good angsty twist in the end! Also, who needs proofreading, right?!

@catpella: does she ever get out? i still want to knowwwww

Warnings: anxiety, grief

It was supposed to be just another covert mission. Infiltrate Imperial Intelligence, gather information about Operation Krenth, get extracted by the SIS. She’s done it a thousand times before - her mother used to say that all Garzas are born with a blaster in hand, after all. Hutt Cartel, Exchange, Black Sun, blast, even the Sith Academy. She’s survived them all, her devotion to the Republic growing fiercer with every assignment. It was gruesome work, but she liked it. It made Dee feel invincible when she gambled with her life and won. Better than a night at the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa, she’d tell you.

This time, things are different. This time, the SIS went on radio silence after getting the necessary information out of her, leaving her stranded on the Imperial capital. That was 3 days ago. There will be no extraction. There will be no victory. Not this time.

Dee used to joke about her work, saying she took out the Republic’s trash for a living. She’d never imagined she’d live long enough to become the trash.

Dee counts the hours on the first day.

She knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s found out. In her shocked, panicked state, she does what she was always taught by the seasoned SIS agent who’d trained her – she reverted to the first undercover lesson beaten into her. Act inconspicuous. Cover your tracks. And above all, watch for any and all opportunities. Her chance of getting out thins with every passing second, and it’s painful to resist glancing at her chronometer as she uses up her last minutes. Stars, I never thought I’d go out in this blasted Imp armour and its stupid bucket of a helmet, she thinks as she walks across the Citadel towards the taxi pad, all forced tranquillity, casual steps and feigned respect when passing by a Sith. Dee’s seen loth cats with more discipline than some of these so called lords, but she won’t string a civilisation up for worshipping its apex predators. The Republic isn’t all that different, despite its claims.

The barracks are tidy but not exactly spacious, and a few glares are enough to make the other recruits shut up. She’s not here to make friends with Imperials, but... she doesn’t know why she’s here anymore. She repeats all she had to learn about Operation Krenth for the SIS over and over in her head until she can’t think straight anymore. Dee is homesick, utter desperation heavy on her chest as her panic melts into sadness. If the SIS wanted her dead, she would have preferred being lined up to a wall and shot. That is clean. That is fair. She won’t pretend to be a saint, won’t pretend to have followed every order to the letter, to have never worked for her own benefit on the side. But she did what the other agents couldn’t, and she did it well. Her stomach twists when she realises she’s just as expandable as the other agents, the ones she knew the SIS only employed until they outlived their usefulness, the ones she was tasked countless times to dispose of in creative ways. But when she thinks of her mother, she straight up becomes sick to the stomach.

General Garza was no doubt informed beforehand. And all she had to do to turn it around was to say no.

But she let it happen to her daughter anyway.

Dee stops looking over her shoulder after the first month. The only mistake the SIS did when they sent her on this suicide mission was giving her too good a cover. They should have known she’d use it. So when she catches the attention of Keeper, she only works harder. Edging slowly inside, earning their trust favour by favour, mission by mission. She’s too good an opportunity to be passed up, even though she knows the old man suspects something. They both have a nose for trouble, a keen sense of survival that has kept them both alive and going all this time.

When the mission to Hutta is outlined, an unspoken truce is made between the two. Friend or foe, honesty or lies, they need each other. Imperial Intelligence needs her to infiltrate a Hutt’s palace – child’s play for an agent of Dee’s calibre. In return, she needs them to trust her enough so she might get close to Operation Krenth from the Imperial side.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her it’s only so she could get home, to the Republic. That by ensuring a Republic victory, she’d be forgiven. But with every single day she spends in the heart of the Empire, she knows the inevitability of her revenge. She has the upper hand – she remembers all the SIS security codes, the secure channel decryptions, the standard operating procedures, the preferred tactics. In the Imperial helmet, Dee is just another infantryman, just another number, just another body to be dropped. Which is why she is in the perfect position to remind them why you must put down a rabid kath hound, why you must cauterise a wound before it festers.

“Welcome to Operation Krenth, Agent.”

Keeper’s voice is undecipherable. Dee wouldn’t put it past him to know. It would be the perfect test of loyalty. She clicks her heels together and stands at attention, the prospect of payback momentarily soothing the constant pain of betrayal in her chest. Betrayal and abandonment for a sin she wasn’t even deemed worthy to know by her old superiors.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

...

“Total mission failure, General. I’m telling you, they have a mole in our ranks! They knew every move we’d make before we did them!”

“Calm yourself, Lieutenant Jorgan,” Garza replies as she forces herself to be still and tranquil despite the catastrophic outcome of Operation Krenth. Instead of ensuring the Empire’s defeat, they only doubled their own by trying to stop an Imperial stealth mission on Ringo Vinda, losing a key Republic shipyard in the process. A devastating blow, considering the resource and material that went into cracking Operation Krenth.

“With all due respect, how can you say that, sir?” the Cathar seethes as he rounds the holotable, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Your own daughter died giving us intel on the Imps.”

“I don’t need to be reminded what we lost during our campaign, Lieutenant,” she barks, tone sharper than intended. Not a day passes without Garza thinking about Dee, and how the SIS was forced to abandon her on Dromund Kaas. It’s as good a fate as death for a spy, and to mount a rescue op of that scale would not be supported by the GAR. Her rationale knows this. But there are days when she just wants to commandeer a shuttle, sling a rifle over her shoulder and blast her way into the damned Dark Council chamber to demand her daughter back. Elin Garza knows Dee is dead, she can feel it in her bones. She knows her demands are empty, childish threats; her hopes naive and otherworldly. There’s not a thing she can do or say to undo the damage that’s already been caused.

It doesn’t mean she can forgive herself just yet.

“That... was out of line. I’m sorry, General,” Aric says, his head sinking between his shoulders in defeat, anger, anguish. “I just... keep going over the mission in my head, constantly. Thinking what I’ve done wrong, what piece of intel I might have misinterpreted.”

“It’s impossible to tell. Maybe we simply waited too long. Let the intel grow stale.”

“We did everything by the book. It was supposed to be one of the easy ops. Now, I’ve lost two Havoc men, more regulars than I could count, the second largest Rep shipyard on Ringo Vinda... Something doesn’t add up,” Jorgan sighs as he places his hands on the holotable and leans forward, letting his eyes search the holoimage of the destroyed shipyard as if his own failure was written in the debris.

“Rest, Lieutenant. Recharge. Fill the gaps in Havoc squad’s ranks.”

Garza is already behind her desk, eyes trained on the incoming reports on her datapad. Aric Jorgan knows his general better than to try and say anything more. Her attention is already elsewhere, far away from what she has been saying just minutes ago. So he mutters a “yes, sir” and grabs his helmet, fingers gripping the plastoid so hard he could snap it in half. Dee might have been an SIS agent when she disappeared, but she was a rookie under his leadership a few years before that, and such emotional ties are not easily broken. He might not have had anything to do with the mission that was her downfall, but that doesn’t mean he will not keep feeling responsible. Like it was his fault somehow. Like he could have prevented it in any way. And the fact that he cannot investigate without Garza’s blessing doesn’t exactly help soothe the Cathar’s nerves.

Just as he’s halfway through the door, Elin’s voice halts him. She does not look up, her concentration is not once broken. But her intentions have never been clearer.

“Once you do that, I want you to report back to me, Jorgan. You will take Havoc squad and unravel the real reasons behind this defeat. Learn all you can and keep HQ and the SIS updated on the situation. We must avoid incidents like this in the future. And more importantly, I won’t allow my daughter’s death to have been in vain.”

It’s been a long time since Aric stood at attention willingly, unironically, without being told to do so. He finds himself doing just that now anyway.

“I’ll make you proud, sir.”

#dottiechan writes #swtor #swtor imperial agent #oc:#dorathine garza #aric jorgan #general garza #swtor fanfiction #tw: anxiety #tw: grief

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Story about Joey being a vampire hunter and Sammy being a vampire. You can bring in Norman ((human or vampire))to to safe him

Summary: In which Sammy is sometimes a very ugly bat, and his boss might want to kill him. Normal workplace issues.

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[[MORE]]

Hypsignathus monstrosus. Commonly known as the hammer-headed bat (or big-lipped bat if you preferred a more unusual denominator), is a frugivorous species of megabat widely distributed in West and Central Africa. It's the only member of its genus, Hypsignathus, which in itself is part of the Epomophorimi tribe alongside other four unique genera.

The largest bat in continental Africa, with wingspans approaching 1 m (or about 3 ft), and the males being almost twice as heavy as the females. It's a sexually dimorphic bat species, with differences including several adaptations that help males produce and amplify vocalizations. Mainly the differing size of the males' larynges, which are about three times as large as those of females, and the large resonating chambers on their faces that give them such a distinct look.

The females in turn, appear more fox-like as is the norm of most megabat species.

All in all, information that really didn't help Sammy in the slightest, as he tried to make sense of three different books that, in theory, should give him a vague idea of what the hell was going on with his body this time...

To put it in simpler terms, he'd turned into a bat, as per say of those ye olde queer tales of vampires that were capable of shifting into those little chittering flying rats that flew out of caves and dreary old castles at night…

But then what he'd seen reflected (because most modern mirrors were not backed by silver or other such pure metals) had most definitely not looked like a squashed-nosed winged rat. It had looked truly like a freakish monster.

But that was getting a little ahead of himself really...

There were things one had to note beforehand to really comprehend what Sammy Lawrence was currently going through: Starting with the attack.

Two years ago he'd been assaulted by what he'd once assumed to be a creature of mere legend, although at the time he'd thought it was a random dog attack because what had taken a chunk off of him looked inhuman (more like a very warped looking pug-snoutted thing now that he really thought about it).

On awakening the next morning at the hospital, he'd been informed that he'd henceforth be barred from entering such facilities because he now suffered from vampirism, and that his name and records had been archived by some secret governmental agency that then directed him to a sub-civilization of non-humans.

Shocked and confused, he'd been quickly integrated into a coven that took no time to teach him the basics.

He was to live life as if nothing had changed, hidden among mere humans, yet he'd be judged as a pest by those that recognized specific documentation he now had to carry for "security reasons" (aka clearance for services to deny him due to his ailment).

Oh and he had to cope with the harrowing realization that food did nothing for him other than eliciting a form of pleasure (through stimulating his taste buds) and that he needed to instead find nourishment in human blood, otherwise he'd either die or go into an uncontrollable frenzied state (in which case he might end up dead anyway because if he so much as killed a person he'd be put down like a rabid dog).

No pressure right?

Funnily enough, Sammy had actually adapted to this drastic change. The poor man had to, otherwise he was screwed.

And then again it hadn't been all that difficult since the coven was less of what you'd assume from the olden tales of groups or communities of vampires living in the same roost, and more of a civil service in of itself.

It was like having a parole officer really. One that gave you some pointers in the right direction, and that reminded you of feeding schedules.

Feeding itself wasn't as bad either, twice every month in specially assigned locations where cattle would be provided to them by a few sponsored ranches.

What really bothered Sammy about all this was the maturing of his vampirical traits. Specifically the part when one night he found himself ripping out of his clothes and seeing his body grotesquely transform into a quadrupedal flying thing that he couldn't quite put a name to. Hence why he'd come to the library in search of answers.

Still the best description he got was for some African fruit bat that had a face that not even a mother could love.

How could a vampire seemingly become a herbivorous bat, when he knew for certain he'd slaughtered two horses the previous night?

"Found anything yet deary?"

Sammy startled slightly as Mrs. Harrison, bless her for being the supportive sweet old grandma figure that she was in his time of need (and one of the few humans who knew of his predicament and didn't judge him for it), joined him with a couple of books.

She'd taken them both, plus Abigail, to the library to help him figure out about his strange transformations.

She was also the one who took Abby on the nights he needed to feed because he couldn't trust himself not to attack her.

He was too akin to a wild animal on a frenzy when he felt the hunger calling, which Mrs. Harrison had stated was normal for fledgeling vampires like himself.

"Honestly, just this ugly looking thing… it's the closest I've found to what I saw in the mirror."

"Ah, the hammer-headed bat! They're quite unique I'd say… My dear husband, god rest his soul, used to stuff them back when he hunted in Africa. He thought they might bring him luck, the nutter." The old linguistics teacher smiled, the gaps where she was missing teeth making it look slightly crooked but no less endearing. "It isn't unusual for vampires to instinctively take on forms that don't quite match their dietary needs. Most who change become similar to a species that best suits their needs. This one I'd say has qualities befitting of you deary."

"That's… not very comforting." His nose had always been a sore spot. Turning into an animal whose face was 90% nose was just insulting to him.

"Don't take it so badly deary." Mrs. Harrison chuckled. "What I mean to say is these bats, specifically the males, are known to be quite vocal. You, my dear, are quite vocal, are you not?"

Well, when she put it like that…

"That's a yes in those pretty eyes of yours deary. And besides, not many new vampires can say they naturally became megabats. You're very well endowed in that aspect."

She took great joy in getting him to blush at such a comment. He could see the devilish glee in her kind old eyes, accentuated by crows feet and wrinkles.

They picked up a few books on the "specialized" area, Sammy vehemently ignoring Abby's questions of why his face was so red, and soon enough the trio was on their way back to the apartment.

Sick leave (which he took twice a month as mandated by the coven) would be over tomorrow, so Sammy needed to prepare.

Because working in an enclosed cartoon studio run by Joey Drew would definitely spell trouble for a vampire that had just earned their shifting ability.

There are a set of very specific rules for new vampires. Don't expose yourself, don't expose the community, don't expose the sponsors or patrons.

Sammy had gotten pretty lucky, Mrs. Harrison was a patron and one of the best at her job.

She provided rehoming possibilities to fledgeling vampires, and ensured their safety within the communities they'd been integrated in.

She also kept an eye on hunters.

So of course Sammy was quite aware that Joey Drew was a person he needed to watch out for.

Joey Drew, who was notorious for having at least 36 confirmed kills under his belt. Here's where things got tough: Joey knew Sammy was a vampire, so he tended to keep a pretty good eye on the music director as well.

It was a perpetual game of cat and mouse.

A very dangerous one that had just reached a new level.

Because Sammy's overall safety lay within what his coworkers thought of him vs what they thought of their boss's eccentricities.

No one was crazy enough to believe that their coworker was secretly a vampire, or that their boss was essentially the equivalent of a vampire poacher.

And that is what Sammy wanted to maintain. A veil of normalcy to keep himself safe. One that would be much harder to maintain now that he had matured out of the first two years of being a fledgeling and developed such a large and rather monstrous looking shift.

Hazel eyes locked with icy blue ones as the music director locked eyes with the founder of Joey Drew Studios. They drank coffee in the break room, surrounded by oblivious employees, and maintained this tense stare-down until Henry came by to drag Joey away.

Then Sammy would let out a quiet sigh of relief and go back to work ironing out the flaws in his current composition.

Jack would pass by his office to drop off a few new lyrics, he'd point out which needed a bit of tweaking, and then he'd be alone with his thoughts and his sheets up until he had to help Susie with recording.

Then he'd spend a good hour or two conducting the band, catching the brief glimpses of his ever watching boss in the corners of his eyes.

The staring contest would restart on every break, and Sammy would have to seek safety by mingling with coworkers (some of which he could not stand).

Norman was often his go to, as Joey never risked these sorts of behaviours with the larger southern man around.

The projectionist was a very bright man after all, and could dig up dirt on anyone that so much as rubbed him the wrong way.

It was a miracle he hadn't figured out Sammy's little secret thus far.

"Runnin' from the boss again?"

"That man is insane… I swear he's obsessed with me, Polk. It's creepy!" He'd replied after sneaking away to practically glue himself to Norman's side during another much needed coffee break. He desperately needed a smoke, his skin felt tight and uncomfortable.

"Drew don't know no boundaries. Yous should consider takin' it up to Henry." Norman suggested. "Only man ta boss will listen to."

"I wouldn't want to bother Henry because of Joey." Sammy huffed. "The poor man isn't his keeper."

"Sure coulda fooled me." Only three more hours of this. Three more hours and he could go home.

"Mr. Lawrence, a word." Speak of the devil… Joey Drew himself feeling bolder than ever as he moved over to address Sammy in Norman's company. "About the most recent composition."

"Devil's Swing. What of it?" He'd worked hard on it to act as a counterpart to Angel's Tango. One of his finer masterpieces if he did say so himself.

"I find it's going in the right direction… But it just lacks this… shine to it." Joey gestured vaguely "Like it's missing something that'd make it just right."

"Shine… you think it's missing some shine?" Sammy suppressed the need to growl. What was the man on about? Just this morning he'd been happy with it!

Lord forbid Mr. Drew could ever make up his mind.

Norman watched the exchange quietly, keeping a close eye on both of them as Joey gave one of his signature grins. The kind that'd make the little devil darling himself quite jealous with just how much tooth it showed.

"As we're on a tight schedule, I have to ask you to fix it by midnight tonight. Since you were on sick-leave recently, I'm sure you can compensate for setting us back with overtime." Oh, oh dear.

Sammy could now see what he was up to.

By midnight the studio would be virtually empty. Just him, the ever oblivious Wally Franks, and Joey Drew himself.

Oh he was in trouble… Unless he could do the alterations well before, but then if Joey wanted to trap him in the studio where he couldn't get help, who's to say he'd accept any of his corrections?

"I…"

"Well, on with it then! No time to waste!" Joey gave him an overly friendly pat on the shoulder, those icy blues glinting with manic glee as he walked off.

Norman wrinkled his nose.

"That man ain't right in the head… Yous just came back from the doc."

"You know how it is. Only thing Drew cares about is money." And Henry, to an obsessive degree actually. More so than following Sammy around now that he thought about it.

Either way, he had to get to work now, or he'd be screwed. "I'm going back into my office. There's no way I'm sticking around until midnight."

"Best o'luck. I'll be in my booth if ya need anythin' from me."

Sammy needed an escape from their boss, but he couldn't exactly tell Norman that. He was the last person that needed to find out one of his coworkers was a damn bat-shaped leech. The blackmail would be horrid!

The clock read 23:47 by the time Sammy had finished, and honestly the blond was ready to break.

One by one everyone in his department had packed up for the night and gone home. Susie had come by to give him a quick peck on the cheek before she'd saunters off humming a chipper tune.

Jack had come by to remind him not to stay too late and then been on his way as well. Wally himself was nowhere to be seen, probably cleaning that spill he'd heard about in Heavenly Toys, so the music director was completely and utterly alone.

And he was running out of time.

Joey was going to get him.

"Damn it… I've been good with this. I haven't even tasted human blood, and I'm still going to get put down by some crazy asshole…" he put his face in his hands and groaned. The tightness if his skin had only worsened as his stress piled up.

Stress-shifting was very much a thing and he really didn't want to chance transforming in the studio to release some of the tension.

With his luck Wally might walk in on him.

"What do I do…?" He could try scaring his boss into letting it go. That bat form of his was pretty ugly, it'd scare the devil right out of Drew himself.

Or it'd just make him step up to the challenge.

A knock startled him out of his thoughts.

"Y-yes?" He chastised himself for sounding so shaky, especially when it wasn't that grinning bastard who opened the door. "Norman?"

"Hey Sammy, I need a favour." The Louisianian greeted him. "I messed up my arm pretty bad while fixin' one o' them projectors. Yous wouldn't mind drivin' me to the hospital right?"

"I… No of course." He was surprised, noticing the makeshift dressings on Norman's arm. They were messy but he couldn't see or smell his injury so it was likely a burn of some kind. Those projectors tended to overheat and catch fire at times.

"Good, I'd ask Henry but he wents home early tonight… Strange really, Mr. Drew let a lot of folk go home early tonight..." Norman shrugged "And even if he could drive, I wouldn't bother ta boss t'do this for me."

"I'll drive, I was done anyway." He left the sheets out so that Joey would find them as they were with ease. "Nearly midnight too, so Drew can't get on my case for leaving a little earlier."

This was the escape he needed.

He owed Norman his life, even if the other man didn't realize it.

The two made their way outside at a leisurely pace before Norman motioned for Sammy to follow, much to the blond's confusion.

They ended up in an alleyway (not dodgy at all, nope) where Normal pulled off the bandages and revealed his arm was just fine. Sammy stared, eyebrows raised.

"I lied, I don't need to go to the doc, but I don't think that butcher needs to know that… Have a good night Sammy, and stay safe." The much taller man grinned cheekily before transforming before Sammy's very eyes, into a truly massive Mauritian flying fox.

"Oh you're kidding…" The larger vampire chittered, clearly amused by his reaction, before flying off into the night. "So much for having something over Polk…"

The music director huffed and began walking towards his car, stopping when it dawned on him. Norman would likely cash in this favour when he least expected it…

"Son of a bitch, that man better not ask for something impossible…"

You win some, you lose some.

As much as he hated to lose to Norman so often, Sammy was at least glad to win this despute with Joey.

For the time being at least.

#Eps Writes:#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence #Norman Polk #Joey Drew

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maggyme13 · 4 years

Text

Sugar (3/?)

AN: Here is my third chapter of my SugardaddyLoki AU:) I hope you like the Chapter for this week :)

Warnings: not really

Wordcount: around 1600

Masterlist

Sugar- Masterlist

Part 2

You had decided to bake some chocolate-apple-pie after your grandmothers recipe together with some Pasta and self made tomato-sauce, hoping the male would like the food.

The apartment had started to smell delicious, yourself nibbling on some bread Pietro had brought with him from his grocery shopping.

He had mentioned that Mr Laufeyson usually did not eat breakfast at the flat, but got something on his way. So you had needed to get your breakfast supplies, or your mornings would be hungry.

At least he had tea. A lot of tea and a lot of different kinds.

Now, the kitchen was stocked with every essential thing someone would need.

Food was finished around dinner time and you were just cleaning the kitchen of any evidence of your session, when the front-door opened.

You froze in anticipation and worry.

“Food is already here. Good. Please serve while I change into something different.”, the male called and not a second later you heard another door close.

Doing as asked, you plated your home-cooked meal and placed a dish where he had sat the day prior, you sitting down with your own serving in the same manor.

It did not take long for him to emerge again and join you at the large table.

“This looks quite good. Now it only has to taste as such.”, he mumbled, eyeing the food in front of him before taking a small bite.

You waited, anxious, for his reaction and could not suppress a smile when you saw him relax into the food.

He liked it.

“This – this is good. Where did you get it? I have to put it on Pietro´s list of shops to buy from.”, he asked you, already preparing the next bite.

“I made it.”, you whispered, awaiting his reaction.

You were not disappointed: His shewing stopped, his eyes wandering to look at you. He gulped the food he had in his mouth.

“You are telling me, that you cooked this meal yourself? How and Why?”

“I spoke with Pietro and he offered to get the ingredients, what he did. I found the utensils in the cupboards.”

“Well, that explains how, but not why.”

“I, I didn´t know what to get, and I like to cook. It is also cheaper-”, the last part was only a whisper, but he still heard it.

“I don´t think I need to have an eye on how much money I spend for food and take-outs.”

“I apologize Mr Laufeyson.”, you quickly added, averting your eyes.

“It is quite delicious.”, he continued, “Well done.”

Warmth spread through your veins upon hearing the males praise and you couldn´t suppress a shy smile.

“You may cook more often. Now, if you would excuse me, I have an early meeting tomorrow and therefore will go to bed now.”, he declared, already standing up.

“I- there is dessert.”, you quickly stated, “I mean- if you want. I can but it in the fridge. The pie might not taste as good as now, but still good.”

“You made pie?”, he mused, sitting down again, “What kind of pie.”

“Apple chocolate after my grandma´s recipe.”, you whispered.

He stayed silent and you took it as a sign to serve the desert. Gathering the used dishes, you placed them aside and got the pie out of the oven to plate it with some powdered sugar.

Mr Laufeyson looked at for a few second, before taking a very small piece onto his fork and eating it.

His face kept neutral, though he ate it all.

“As I said. I will be retreating for the night. Tomorrow morning the cleaning service will come to clean the apartment. Just as a heads-up. Have a good night.”

And with that, the man retreated to his quarters.

Well, better get the kitchen cleaned and then to bed.

Thanks to the fact that you had already cleaned most of the things after using them, the kitchen was spotless within ten minutes with the leftovers secured within the fridge. Labeled with the date you had cooked them.

It was nearly enough to feed one more person.

Shutting off the light, within the main area, you stepped into your bedroom, only to stop short; on your bed were four black boxes with silver ribbons.

Presents.

When did he get them in here? What is in there?

Slowly you approached your bed, letting your fingers brush over the soft fabric of the ribbons, once you were able to.

The boxes had the Ásgard´-logo imprinted into the top.

More clothes? But-

With gentle hands, you opened the first bow and then box.

Is that Lingerie? What does this mean?

Shocked, you lifted the first pair of clothes out of the box. It wasn´t lingerie as you first thought, it was a nightdress.

Does he expect me to wear this?

Quickly you opened the other boxes as well, and the next two contained a similar kind of clothing.

That was, until you opened the last box and a relieved sigh escaped your lungs. Your eyes fell onto some new shirts and boxer-shorts. First were made of extremely soft cotton, last were made of silk.

You just had to wear them, the leggings and shirt you had worn previously had been to warm for your liking and felt wrong to your skin beneath the covers.

Ready for bed, you placed the boxes into the walk-in. You would sort them away in the morning.

With your mobile phone charging and the alarm set for 6:30am, you closed your eyes to sleep.

You woke up with the alarm and decided it was a good day to start with a shower.

Dressed as casually as possible, you made your way to the kitchen area with still wet hair.

You were surprised to see Mr Laufeyson already sitting there. “Good morning.”, you mumbled.

“Good Morning. I did not thought I would see you this early.”, he greeted you in return, sipping on his tea.

“I am used to get up early to do work.”, you admitted, preparing your own breakfast with the stuff Pietro got you the day prior.

“I see. Pietro will drive me to work this morning. I have a conference call with some important people. After that he can drive you wherever you want. There is a credit card on the little table next to your door. It has an allowance of 10.000$ a week. I may allow you to use more, should I see it necessary and you ask me beforehand. You need to have your ID with you though. Otherwise the card will not be accepted.”

He spoke almost bored, like that sum of money were just peanuts.

“Ten-thousand a week?”,you stated with huge eyes.

“Not enough?”

“Too much. Tha- thats more than I made in four months working. Wha- what should I do with that much?”, you quickly explained.

“Buy what you want, as long as you don´t buy at the opponents shops. The cleaning crew will be working from 10 to 12am. See you sometime today.”, and with that, the sharp dressed man left.

Leaving you with no idea what you should do with your day.

Sighting, you grabbed the offered card and stared at it for a long time.

I could visit Bob and Monty, maybe get them some food or things they need. And then buy stuff for the shelter. At least I would do good with all this money.

You still did not want pity money and felt dirty accepting it.

Using your new phone (because you couldn´t find a pen and some paper to make notes), you wrote stuff you though you should get to not accidentally forget something.

It got rather long, and you hoped you would be able to get all this without renting a truck.

“And I need some reeeeeaally simple stuff to wear.”, you mumbled.

The ringing of your phone caught your attention. Pietro was calling you.

“Good Morning. How can I help you?”, you greeted him politely, just like you had done with your customers just a few days ago.

“(y/n), It´s Pietro. Boss said to call you once I am free. Soooo, I am free. Any idea what you want to do? I can drive you wherever you want.”, the young man´s voice came out of the speaker.

“Thank you, that would be nice. I have a few stops I would like to make- if that is not too much trouble.”, you smiled into the phone.

“Not at all, I would just be earning my money. I will be at the tower in the next ten minutes. If you want, you can wait in the lobby. I will come and get you.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No worries. See you in Ten.”, and with that the line went dead.

“Well .. then let´s get down there I guess.”, you mumbled, grabbing your phone and wallet, you got on your way down to the lobby.

It was rustling with live and you searched for a calmer area to wait for the blond young men.

You felt out of place and feared they would kick you out any second now, but instead, your phone rang again and you accepted Pietro´s call.

“I am up front. Are you ready to go?”

“I am coming out, give me a second.”

“Sure, it´s the black Dodge SUV.”

“Got it.”

Part 4

AN2.0 Well, Loki seemed to like her food. What do you think she will do with all the money?

REBLOGS and comments are appreciated, though any request of a SUGARDADDY looking for a Baby will be deleted… just like the last 30 in the first two parts…..

Thank you very much.

~MaggY

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey @thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine @buckycaptspideypool @markusstraya @graveyard-groupie @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81 @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666 @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna @nikkipea @alexakeyloveloki

I couldnt tag a few of you… sorry.

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

#sugardaddy!loki #sugardaddy Loki x Reader #reader #sugardaddy au #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #MCU #Marvel #Reader insert

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wordywarriorwrites · 5 years

Text

Chapter 7: Match

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Bucky had Steve locked up in one of their off-the-books houses, and though a big obstacle had been put out of commission, he hadn’t been able to breathe any easier.

They’d taken more than liberal shots across the bow at each other, and all they had to show for the eyebrow-raising, tongue-wagging spectacle was a crumpled-up plane ticket and a well-worn passport. The cellphone would’ve given them more, but the prisoner stubbornly refused to give up the password, and the encryption had proved impossible to crack.

Eventually, Bucky had been forced to accept that no amount of persuasion, gentle or otherwise, could break a man whose loyalty was unwavering, and now, he had a choice to make: either pursue reconciliation, release him, or put forward a motion to vote him out.

None of the options satisfied, because to Bucky, forgiveness felt like submission, letting him go looked like weakness, and banishment after the fact appeared petulant. What he really wanted to do was wash his hands of all of it and put Steve down like a rabid dog, but given the optics, Bucky knew such drastic measures wouldn’t have been well-received.

Conducting business often meant walking a fine line between discipline and diplomacy. Bucky’s ruthlessness may have gotten those who answered to him to straighten up and fall in line, but a Boss who always went for the jugular never stayed in power for long. Slitting Steve’s throat would give him peace of mind, but wouldn’t resolve the underlying problem, and therein lied the rub.

Since Steve had never once betrayed the Families confidences, his offenses, though frowned upon, had been viewed by the others as worthy of only a slap on the wrist. They wanted a conciliatory verdict and Bucky’s indecisiveness on the matter had been noticed.

With no end to the stalemate in sight, Natasha asked for permission to do what she did best – find the head of the snake and either cut it off or charm it. As there hadn’t been a suitable alternative, Bucky had granted her leave.

She’d had nothing but the plane ticket and passport to go on, but nevertheless, Natasha returned victorious a month later, and brought with her a proxy of the man Steve had been working for. The Families finally got their answers, and in addition, the representative for Nick Fury put forward a lucrative proposal – one that would merge their businesses and expand everyone’s horizons.

The Families had an unshakable foothold in the States. Nick’s team dominated the overseas market. Bucky and Fury would remain the respective leaders of their groups, but share territory, jobs, and information. Consolidation ensured survival, allowed them to expand their powerbases, and best of all, opened up untapped revenue streams.

Bucky had rather liked the idea, mostly because the possibilities seemed endless, but they wanted Steve released, and for him to be de-facto “ambassador” to both groups. To them, Steve was the optimal “bridge,” as he had a keen insight into both operations, and could be trusted to see to the best interest of both parties. Bucky hadn’t liked it, but since the proposal hinged upon certain concessions, they’d come to an arrangement.

The Families agreed to release Steve into the custody of the proxy, but to make sure nobody got any bright ideas, one of the cops they had on their payroll slapped an ankle monitor on him that tracked his every move. Both sides agreed it would be removed after the deal was done, and The Families would accept Steve’s new role in the organization so long as it proved beneficial.

A handshake put a temporary seal on things, and forty-eight hours later, Fury and his associates touched down in New York. The first gathering had been nothing more than a gracious, overtly formal meet-and-greet, and though it was clear neither party trusted the other, they were all looking toward the future, and wanted to make the arrangement work.

They broke bread later that evening, and after several days of negotiation, managed to reach an agreement that satisfied everyone. It had taken their lawyers almost a week, but they finally finished drawing up the paperwork, and it awaited their signatures.

When Bucky settled into bed the night before what would be the final sit down, he knew the next day would see him headed into uncharted territory, and the prospect both daunted and excited him. He didn’t open his eyes again until late afternoon, and if his cellphone hadn’t rung, he was sure he would have slept even longer.

Groggy and a bit disoriented, he rolled over, and retrieved his phone.

“Fury wants to chat before the dotted line is signed,” Natasha stated by way of greeting.

He sighed, tossed back the blankets, and got out of bed, “Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

Bucky frowned, stepped into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Speaking privately with a rival before a deal was done wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t exactly standard operating procedure, either, and if he refused, it could be misconstrued as an insult.

Unwilling to risk the payday, he set aside his apprehension, and told Natasha to make the arrangements. After he ended the call, Bucky discarded his boxers, and stepped beneath the spray. The hot water helped clear the bleariness, but it did little to settle his racing thoughts.

The last meet was supposed to take place later in the evening. A tenable location had been selected by a neutral third party and neither group would be given the address until an hour beforehand. Security, which had been carefully selected and pre-approved, would be on-hand to make sure nobody brought weapons or uninvited guests. Their attorneys would be present as witnesses, and though no court would ever see the paperwork, it would be legally binding nonetheless.

Everything had been painstakingly planned and he disliked this last-minute request for a chat. He was sure the impromptu discussion would not be a pleasant one, and a few hours later, he was proven right.

Fury showed up at his penthouse with both Steve and Natasha in tow. A stiff, albeit polite greeting; drinks served; seats taken on opposite sides of the dining room table. The tense silence was broken when Nick sat forward and pointed his index finger, first in Steve’s direction, and then, toward Bucky.

“Is this going to be a problem?” he asked.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“We’re about to build a bridge and I don’t want anyone to be apprehensive about crossing it,” Fury went on bluntly. “So, I need to know – can I trust you both to let it go?”

The question and what it insinuated was an affront, but not wholly inappropriate, and if the situation had been reversed, Bucky would’ve wondered the same. After all, he and Steve weren’t just two men on the outs who had found themselves on opposing sides. They had a lifetime of unspoken, unaddressed issues between them, but Bucky had chosen to set it aside because it was what was best for the Families and for business.

He’d traded personal animosity for profit, previously asserted the past would remain in the past, and conceded Steve was and would continue to be off-limits. He was poised to reiterate his position on the matter, but when he observed the cagey, hardened expression on Nick’s face, he suddenly understood why the man had wanted to meet at the eleventh hour. If Fury was inquiring about matters that had already put to rest, he wasn’t really on board, and the reason was so glaringly obvious that Bucky felt rather stupid for not seeing it sooner.

He’d done his homework and knew Fury was not a sentimental man. He had a history of plugging potential leaks with bullets and did so ruthlessly without qualm. The fact that his organization had gone through so much trouble to secure Steve’s release, instead of seeing him silenced, meant he was far more valuable than Bucky originally thought. He knew the two men weren’t sleeping together, which ruled out love as a reason, and that left Bucky with only one, viable conclusion.

The idea of a peaceful union most likely had not come from the man in charge; if that was the case, it meant Nick’s own people may have shifted their allegiance, and that explained why Steve hadn’t been present to provide his input during in their initial meetings. He’d been made a glorified babysitter because he had somehow threatened Nick’s authority; he knew too much, but was too well-liked to be eliminated, and therefore, needed to be kept out of sight and out of mind.

Given Steve’s propensity for honesty, he’d also likely disclosed that he and Bucky had been more than friends. Fury wanted them to be cordial, but didn’t want them to get too close, or rekindle the past. If they still had feelings for each other, or ever decided to rejoin forces, there would be a shift in the balance of power, and that would be disastrous for Fury.

The word coup sprang to mind and fuck if it didn’t make Bucky hard just thinking about it…

“Well?” Nick prompted impatiently.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Bucky cleared his throat, and leveled Fury with a hard stare.

“Steve Rogers is a business associate and nothing more,” he asserted lowly. “And I will not repeat myself on this matter ever again. Is that understood?”

Before Fury could offer up an agreement or speak another word, Bucky polished off his drink, pushed back his chair, and got to his feet. It was his way of silently declaring the conversation was over, and Fury had little choice but follow suit, or else risk being seen as issuing further insult.

Nick promptly stood and extended his hand, “I meant no disrespect.”

“I took no offense,” Bucky lied smoothly as they shook. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more things to attend to before this evening. Natasha will see you out.”

They parted ways, and just after sunset, they met again for what Bucky hoped would be the final time. Everyone put pen to paper, Steve included, and right afterward, Fury and the rest of his crew promptly departed for the airport. With the deal done, the ankle monitor was removed, and though Steve had been invited to celebrate with the Families, he’d declined, and that hadn’t surprised Bucky in the slightest.

Good food, top-shelf booze, and a windfall the likes of which the Families had never seen before had erased any and all doubts. Bucky was congratulated for the accomplishment and many hours of partying and back-slapping passed before he made it home again.

When he arrived back at the penthouse, Natasha was standing just outside his door, and had a bottle of Cristal in each hand. After the corks were popped, they settled down side-by-side on the couch, and enjoyed the obscenely expensive bubbly sans flutes.

“To a job well done,” Bucky toasted.

“I’ll drink to that,” Natasha sighed as she kicked off her heels,

“You need to take some time off,” he insisted. “And when you return, we’ll discuss the future.”

She giggled and shook her head, “The ink hasn’t even dried, and you’re already planning a takedown, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“You play a dangerous game, Boss.”

Bucky chuckled and tapped the neck of his champagne bottle lightly against hers, “Yes, and in this game, it’s winner-take-fuckin’-all.”

Chapter 8: The Fall

Everything: @jennmurawski13 @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard @lilliannaansalla

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stoopsbookstore · 5 years

Text

Highway to Heaven Hell (Part 3 - M)

Chapter Synopsis - The demons and Mark plot to get Jaehyun over to the light side for the upcoming ball to celebrate the coronation of a new heir. Mr. Siwon hosts a ballroom dance etiquette class and a surprise guest appears. Johnny and Y/N try to talk about their past, while she tries to keep him in the dark about Jaehyun. An ambush at a meeting causes Johnny to confess his desires.

Warning - Just a small bit of semi-sexual content in the beginning. Another scene of sexual content towards the end.

Every angel was running around, getting the ballroom ready for the guests, Prince Jun and Byeongkwan from the Ice Kingdom. Mr. Siwon invited them to be his assistants as he has heard of their dance skills from his friend, Shindong, a knight from the Ice Kingdom.

"Mark, may you go wake up Y/N? Make su-" Mr. Siwon was cut off by Johnny, hurling his box of napkins towards Mark, the boy almost toppling over.

"I'll do it. I mean, we have been friends for years, I know how to wake her up."

"Ok. Just make sure she is dressed in a suitable dress. The two gentlemen should be here in about two hours."

Johnny patted Mark on the back, running to Y/N's room, opening the door slowly. The girl was still asleep, curled up under her blanket and quilt, clinging to her pillow. Johnny tried shaking Y/N awake, the princess stirring in her sleep.

"Y/N, wakey wakey. Those two guys are going to be here soon and Mr. Siwon needs to talk to you beforehand."

Y/N threw her pillow at the tall male, knocking him down to the floor before covering her head with her quilt. Johnny sat up with a smirk, crawling towards the bed, Y/N completely oblivious to what the boy was doing. Johnny moved the blanket ever so slightly to not bother the sleeping princess. As he peeled the blanket back, he noticed Y/N was wearing a silk tank top with matching silk shorts.

"God, Y/N, you're going to be the death of me," Johnny whispered in hush tones, hoping Y/N didn't hear it.

Johnny stood up, reaching for her neck, tickling right under her ear. The shock of a touch woke Y/N up. She grabbed the boy's arm, yanking him as she turned around from him. Out of instinct, Johnny reached for Y/N's waist, pulling the girl towards his body. Y/N turned around in Johnny's arms as he pretended to sleep.

"You came to wake me up, only to fall asleep? Really?" Y/N bopped the top of Johnny's nose as he tried to hide a smile, running his fingers up and down her side.

"Mr. Siwon said they'll arrive in like two hours, so we have some time to spare," Johnny nuzzled into Y/N's neck more, pulling her impossibly close to him. He lingered there, basking in the silence and close proximity. He titled Y/N's head up to meet eye to eye. Both had the same thought running through their head.

'What if?'

Y/N closed the gap between each other, pulling Johnny so he's hovering over her. Johnny reached to pull her shirt, the silk sliding up her body, almost exposing her breasts until a knock at the door tore the two apart.

"You guys in there?" Mark's voice rang through the door.

Johnny ran to the bathroom, locking the door as Y/N ran to her computer desk, opening her notebook, pretending to write something. Mark entered the room with Jeno, surprised that the door was unlocked.

"Wow! You weren't locked in for the night? That's surprising," Jeno walked over to Y/N, staring over her shoulder, "Writing something for someone?" Jeno raised his eyebrows suggestively before Mark elbowed him in the stomach.

"He hasn-"

"Guys, hush. Johnny's in the bathroom," Y/N whispered to them, "now what's going on?"

"Mr. Siwon sent us up here to get you and Johnny. He felt Mr. Lanky Boy was taking too long, so he sent us to make sure you you two were okay," Jeno reached into the jar of candy Y/N kept on her desk, chewing a piece of caramel before spitting it out, "holy shit, this taste horrible."

"Dude! You're not supposed to cuss, Mark reprimanded the younger male, "Anyway, Mr. Siwon says to be down in the ballroom in about 20 minutes, wear one of your causal dresses and sensible heels."

"Ok."

Mark and Jeno left Y/N, shutting the door as Johnny opened his, the toilet just recently flushed. The two stood facing each other, waiting for one to make the first move.

"We'll talk later, Johnny. If Mr. Siwon is sending Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, I should probably get ready."

Johnny walked to Y/N, giving her a hug that almost felt like he was pleaded for her not to let go, "I have a meeting with Mr. Siwon and Mr. Changmin, but I'll be free around 9, okay?"

"Okay."

Johnny left the room, leaving Y/N alone to get ready for the lesson. Opting for a light blue knee-length dress, Y/N looked in the mirror, thinking about the past week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Introducing Prince Junhee and Byeongkwan from the Kingdom of Ice," Knight Suho announced as two boys walked in, an elegant air about them.

"Okay, I'm Junhee, this is Byeongkwan, Mr. Siwon offered to let us teach this class today for the upcoming coronation for the rising potential heir. We're going to have Ms. Hyoyeon and Mr. Siwon as well as his protege, Johnny, for help."

Byeongkwan took over the speech, "We're going to need people to pair up together. Girl-Boy, Boy-Boy, Girl-Girl, Genderfluid-Non-Binary, doesn't matter who you're with, just pair up."

Everyone started to mingle, pairing up as per Junhee's instructions. Y/N felt herself get tugged towards a hard chest.

"Hey, Princess."

Y/N whipped her head around to see Jaehyun, face hidden partially by his mask, hair covered up by a snapback.

"How did you get over here?" Y/N's voice gave away her shock.

"The boys came up with a plan. Let's just say Jaemin is being scolded by Heechul over on the dark side. And also," Jaehyun patted his jacket breast pocket, exposing a little corner of a note, "I'll give it to you later."

Y/N couldn't wipe the smile off her face as the lesson begin with little issue. Johnny and Ms. Hyoyeon, along with Junhee and Byeongkwan showed the proper hold of the dance. Ms. Hyoyeon broke her hold with Johnny, suspicious of Jaehyun and Y/N.

"Who is that boy? He seems not to know the rules. His hair looks dyed as well," Ms. Hyoyeon stepped towards the pair, suspicious of Jaehyun, "he looks familiar too."

Johnny followed behind, "maybe he's a knight from the Ice Kingdom."

"Young man, we don't allow hats in this class. Take it off." Ms. Hyoyeon, attempting to confirm her suspicions, ripped the head off of Jaehyun's head, revealing a natural dirty blonde, different from the lavender Y/N saw in prior days. Johnny handed the hat back to Jaehyun, who clipped the snaps onto his belt loop.

"Continue on," Ms. Hyoyeon turned on her heels, walking away.

"Remember 9 o'clock tonight," Johnny reminded Y/N before running to Mark and a girl named Mina who needed help with the dance, Jaehyun curious as to what was important about 9 o'clock.

"Wasn't your hair a totally different color yesterday?" Y/N whispered as Jaehyun stood at attention, Mr. Siwon telling one half of the class to position their hand on their partner's waist.

"Yeah. Mark told me that the lead angels hate when you all dye your hairs, said only demons dye their hair," the music begun and Jaehyun placed his hand on Y/N's hip, a little bit lower than her waist, "it took a while and I think my scalp is dying. Now time for my question."

Y/N feigned innocence, about to ask what he meant, until Ms. Hyoyeon grabbed Jaehyun's hand, forcibly putting it on Y/N's waist.

"One more strike and I'll have you thrown out of my kingdom, got it?" Ms. Hyoyeon spat at

"But it isn't your kingd-"

Y/N tugged on Jaehyun's sleeve, gaining his attention, giving him a look of 'please don't.' Ms. Hyoyeon stared at Jaehyun, a death glare to rival even Medusa.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again," Jaehyun bowed as Ms. Hyoyeon walked away. The class was in the final stages, each pair being tested by one of the four teachers. Mr. Siwon saw Y/N and Jaehyun, complementing them on their energy together.

"There's a natural chemistry between you two. I like it. Great job today, Y/N."

"You're going to get in trouble, Demon," Y/N sighed as Mr. Siwon left, the class coming to an end, "They're going find out and you're going to be locked up in the dungeon."

"As long as I'm closer to you and you can come visit me, maybe even be in the chains sometime," Jaehyun smirked, "I'll be okay, princess. So, what was that 9 o'clock thing that guy was talking about?"

"Oh, that's Johnny, one of my friends. He just wants to talk about some things."

Jaehyun gave a sad smile as Mark came up, nudging his shoulder, "we gotta go if you're not going to be busted."

Jaehyun handed the note to Y/N as he gave Y/N a kiss on the cheek, Mark pulling him away, slipping out of the class through one of the archways.

"Did you know that guy?" Johnny appeared behind Y/N, who slid the note in her bra, just out of Johnny's line of vision.

"I think he's from the Ice Kingdom, a bit flirty. His name may have been Taehyun."

"Hmm. Alright," Johnny shurgged, "I'll see you later tonight. Mr. Siwon is calling the meeting early, I guess. He said that Ms. Hyoyeon thinks there's a security breach, they may start to add more security to your room."

Y/N rolled her eyes before walking away in annoyance. Johnny tried chasing after her before he was stopped by the arm of Ms. Hyoyeon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N sat on her couch, changed into her tank top and pajama shorts mindlessly listening to the TV as she read Jaehyun's note.

To Y/N

My princess... that's nice, I like the sound of that. I hope I can be your demon soon. By the time you read this, you'll probably already know Mark and Jaemin got to sneak me into the dance class. Jaemin just has to throw a little girl's doll over the fence, as mean as that sounds, Yeoso knows how to fight, so she can get back at him. He'll be in trouble with Heechul, but that's nothing new. Mark's been telling me a few things about the light side. They keep you locked in your room? They don't let you do anything outside of lessons or something you can do in your room? You're not allowed to go anywhere unless you're being escorted? How can you live like that? You need to get out and live! That's going to change soon, I promise. I should get ready for the dance lessons, Haechan has to do my hair because I was told you're not allowed to have unnatural colors as it's surely a sign of the dark side. I'm starting to fall and I can't wait to see you and get to hug you for once.

Your demon, Jaehyun.

Y/N begun to write her note back to the boy when Johnny came into her room, panting and sweating, locking the door behind him.

"Ohmygod," Y/N put her notebook on the table, running to Johnny, "are you okay?!"

"We got ambushed by two demons, they had masks on, their horns were exposed, they were absolutely feral. They said something about a prophecy about the light side and dark side coming together and they can't let that happen, they were throwing this smoke stuff. Mr. Siwon sent me up here to make sure you're okay, make sure none of them got to you."

"I'm fine. What about you? Johnny, you look hurt," Y/N helped him to the couch, as he started to wave side to side.

"I got hit by some powder shit, but other than that, I'm fine. Is it hot in here? Why is it so fucking hot?" Johnny unbuttoned his uniform shirt, trying to circulate some air to his body, "get me a cold, wet towel."

Y/N was a bit put-off by Johnny's rude attitude, he was never one to cuss, but she ran to the bathroom anyway, "Yeah, sure I guess I can."

As Y/N was ringing out the towel, she felt Johnny grab her from behind, pushing her into the counter.

"God, Y/N. You don't know what you do to me. Seeing that guy with his hands all over you at the lesson, I wish I was a demon so I could kick his ass," Johnny rolled his hips into Y/N, "But no. I can't do that, I have to be a picture of perfection. We all do. There's times where I'm so done with being good. It fucking sucks having to make no mistakes, having to control your urges."

Y/N turned around, not noticing his normally dark brown eyes were now red. Johnny was biting his bottom lip, and the sweat hadn't gotten away.

'Was it that powder he said they threw at him?'

Johnny patted the counter, sliding the lotions, creams and oils in the sink. Johnny used his strength and put Y/N on the counter, nuzzling and nipping her neck as she starts to respond to the pleasure.

"Johnny. I thought we were going to talk first before doing this again," Y/N grabbed Johnny's face, making him face her, "Are we rea-"

Johnny kissed her before she could complete her sentence, "Give me one second."

Johnny locked the bathroom door, throwing his shirt off as he removed his pants, exposed his boxers and his erection pressing against the fabric.

"I'm not going to let Mark interrupt us again. He always comes in at the worst time," Johnny pushed against Y/N's pajama bottoms, causing a moan to sneak out, "I've wanted this for so long. Ever since we 'broke up' because of your fucking studies, I had to deal with seeing you look stunning, even more so than normal, in those ballgowns and short dresses. Wanted to bend you over and fuck in front of that cu-"

"What was that powder they threw in your face, Johnny?" Y/N tried to remain level-headed, even with the dirty talk turning her on. She would be lying if she said it didn't.

"It made me horny as fuck, Mr. Siwon started throwing chairs, one of the knights started swinging his sword, one of them yelled about heightened urges and secret desires, but let's not talk about that now," Johnny started rolling his hips again, dry humping Y/N, "please just let me fuck you, I'm giving you permisson to fuck me. Please, Y/N."

Y/N opened her legs more, giving Johnny access to more of her. He begun to bite her neck, Y/N extending her neck. He pulled down his boxers, kicking them to the side. Johnny looked at her, Y/N noticing the red eyes.

She couldn't get the red eyes out of her head, no matter how bad she wanted this. He's under a spell, a spell that made him go crazy. She hoped what she was about to do would help. Y/N hopped off the counter, pulling Johnny into the shower, "let's do it in here."

Johnny smirked as he reached for the shower handle. Y/N pushed him towards the wall, kissing his neck and moving his hand off the knob, placing it on her ass.

Johnny moaned out as Y/N started miciming his movements, allowing for both of their pleasures. Johnny stared at Y/N with his red eyes.

"You're mine now."

#nct #nct 127 #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun #nct reactions #jung jaehyun #nct Jaehyun #highway to hell #Johnny seo #nct johnny #i promise this is a Jaehyun fic #but johnny is a major side character who has impacts in Y/N's life throughout the story #this is a very johnny heavy chapter #my writings

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