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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years

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Twisted 15 - Playing with Fire [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 3800

Summary: Good intentions can lead to bad consequences.

Your first night with Spencer was different than any other time with anyone else you had ever been with, and you were one hundred percent sure that he would have some scientific explanation for it, but for you, the reason behind that was very simple.

Even if you couldn’t even admit it to yourself yet.

But for the first time in a very long time, your nightmares left you alone. Your sleep wasn’t disturbed, not by anything unpleasant anyway and you were almost sure that the small movement beside you in bed followed by a soft kiss into your neck was a part of your dreams.

The fuzzy feeling spread through you as the haze of the sleep slowly withdrew from your body and you snuggled closer into the covers, not ready to leave the warmth yet but as soon as you turned and felt the empty spot next to you, you opened your eyes, frowning. You sat up in bed, rubbing at your eyes and grabbed the folded paper lying on the pillow beside yours.

Beatrice;

She is the sum of nature’s universe,

To her perfection all of beauty tends.

Dante.

You smiled and your eyes skimmed the next lines under the quote.

New case in Ohio, they called in the whole team.

You heaved a sigh, falling back to bed again, pulling the silk sheets over your head and letting out a groan. The sunshine that seemed to fill your veins had disappeared already, leaving its place to coldness and you kicked off the sheets to walk to the bathroom.

After taking a long hot shower, you got dressed and blow dried your hair, humming a song to yourself, the memory of last night flashing in your mind, sending a spark through your whole system. You turned off the blow drier, stealing a look at your phone to see whether Spencer had texted you yet but there was nothing, so you grabbed it and left the bathroom.

As soon as you stepped into the kitchen, a shriek left your lips, making your mother turn around.

“Y/N!”

“Jesus Christ mom!” you pressed a hand over your chest, “How many times do I have to tell you not to break into my apartment?”

“It’s not breaking in if I have a key.”

“That key is for emergencies,” you let out a breath, “There’s a copycat killer sending me flowers, remember? Now is not the time for surprises.”

She tilted her head, “Speaking of, I heard you let the security I fixed you go.”

“I’m not going to walk around with bodyguards,” you said as you approached the coffee maker, “There’s security at my office already, I can’t have it in my building too.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“As long as you don’t give me a heart attack, I think we will be fine,” you checked your wristwatch, “Damn it, I need to leave in five.”

“Well, I won’t take much of your time,” she said and put a file on the kitchen island, making you look up from the cup you were pouring your coffee into.

“What’s that?”

“I took the liberty of contacting Philip.”

“Your P.I?” you asked, “Why?”

“To look into your boyfriend of course.”

You blinked a couple of times and put the coffee cup down, “Mom, no.”

“Relax, I didn’t read it.”

“No,” you insisted, “No way. Throw that away.”

“Y/N, don’t you want to know if there’s anything in his past that might be—”

“I’m not going to dig into his past!” you interrupted her, your heartbeat getting faster, “Anything he wants to tell me, he can tell me himself, I’m not going to learn it from a freaking P.I file.”

She heaved a sigh, “You don’t know what he might be hiding from you.”

“He’s not hiding anything from me,” you said, “Also, I know his father isn’t a serial killer, which is more than I can say for myself. I’m the last person to judge someone for their past.”

“What your father has done has nothing to do with you,” she said, “I didn’t tell Philip to look into his parents sweetheart, just him.”

“Throw that away.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N.”

“I’m not going to read it,” you told her as you put your coffee down and grabbed your purse from the counter, “I gotta go, but lock the door behind you when you leave okay?”

“Y/N, we need to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you turned around to look at her, “Mom, for the first time in my life I actually feel—“ you paused for a moment, “He makes me happier than you could imagine, okay? I’m not going to betray his trust, not like that. Ever.”

She shot you a look and you walked out of the apartment, your phone already buzzing in your hand.

“Erica?” you greeted your assistant as you answered the phone, “I’m on my way.”

***

You definitely had not imagined the next two days going like this.

For starters, you had thought you would get to wake up next to Spencer. That didn’t happen.

You had thought you would have a peaceful morning. That didn’t happen.

You had assumed Spencer would call you, at least text you sometime in these two days, but that didn’t happen either. Between meetings and clients and running from venues to pastry shops to flower shops, you kept checking your phone but there was nothing. Even after you had texted him good morning, it was radio silent.

You tried to convince yourself that it was because of his job. You were busy during the day yes, but he was dealing with actual serial killers and their victims, so it was more than normal that he couldn’t find….five seconds to text you.

Maybe.

On second day though, you were getting way too restless.

“Nothing?” Mina asked as she came back from the bathroom and you put your phone down, taking a sip of your rosé and averting your glances to the other people in the restaurant.

“No,” you murmured, “It’s—it’s fine.”

“Is it though?”

You clicked your tongue and pushed at your salad with your fork, “No,” you admitted, “It’s not fine.”

“Thought so.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a sigh, “Maybe— I don’t know, maybe I misunderstood what this was?”

“Or maybe he’s an idiot.”

“He has an IQ of 187, Mina.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not an idiot,” she pointed at you with her fork, “Listen, you know what kind of a job he has. Every second counts when you’re hunting down killers.”

“A text takes like five seconds to type,” you reminded her and bit inside your cheek, “What if—“

“No,” Mina said, “Whatever you’re thinking right now, that’s not what’s happening here. You just decided to date a guy who has the worst work hours, that’s it,” she tilted her head, “Speaking of, did mom seriously get Philip to look into him?”

“Oh my God yes!” you looked up at her, finally able to focus on something else, “Can you believe that?”

“Yes I can. I one hundred percent saw that coming,” she sipped her drink, “I didn’t think she would tell you though, not after what happened the last time.”

You frowned, but then a look of realization dawned on your face, “Right,” you said, “She did the same when you and Kenzie started dating. I almost forgot.”

“Kenzie broke up with me when she found out,” she reminded you, shaking her head, “It was the worst week of my life. I had to beg her to at least listen to me.”

“I mean I get that she was angry, but breaking up?”

“I don’t know how I would react if she did the same thing to me,” Mina stated, “I can’t blame her, not really. It was way out of line.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t read it.”

“You shouldn’t read it,” Mina said, “Did you get rid of it?”

“I told mom to throw it away as I was leaving,” you said, “I didn’t see it on the counter when I came back, so I guess she did throw it away. Or took it with her, I don’t know.”

“You do realize none of this would be happening if you didn’t walk around announcing you’re in love—”

Your eyes widened, “Mina!”

“What? Just because you didn’t tell him doesn’t mean it’s not crystal clear to the rest of us.”

“I didn’t announce anything!”

“You might as well have,” she said, “Now that you got laid, there’s no excuse to that behavior.”

“At least I’m not calling him my love,” you pointed out and Mina scrunched up her nose.

“Don’t remind me,” she murmured, “I don’t know what mom is thinking. Also, apparently, there’s this auction for charity and all of us are supposed to be there. You, me, Kenzie…. Do you want to guess who the sponsor is?”

“Mom’s boyfriend.”

“Mom’s boyfriend,” she repeated, clinking her glass with yours, “Trust me, that’s gonna be a disaster.”

For the rest of the day, Spencer made no contact with you, and it was becoming more nerve-wrecking than you had thought it would be. Every hour your mind came up with some theory that was even more ridiculous than the other.

You had started with the theory of that night before not being as good for him as it was for you and somehow reached the theory of him lying dead in a ditch because a serial killer had gotten to him. Your fingers were practically itching for you to call him but you managed to control yourself, pouring yourself a glass of whiskey and trying to focus on the emails your assistant had sent you.

But the buzz of your phone was more than enough to make you sit up straight and snatch your phone off the coffee table. You touched the screen, your eyes skimming the text.

Sorry I couldn’t call, the case was chaotic and we just landed. Can I drop by? I missed you.

You stared at the screen, trying to repress the fury bubbling inside of you but managed to reply with just one word.

Sure.

Two days of complete silence, and then I missed you.

Lovely.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to focus on the screen of your laptop instead of the anger filling you, because if you didn’t calm yourself down you were pretty damn sure that tonight would end in a huge argument.

And you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to let yourself play that messed up pushing and pulling game with him, because you knew where that would end.

It took more than an hour and a couple of glasses of whiskey, but when you heard the knock on your door, you pushed the cashmere throw off of you and walked to the door to open it.

Damn it, even the sight of him at your door was more than enough to make you want to rush into his arms, but you managed to hold your ground, leaning sideways to the door to take a look at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in these two days and he was clearly exhausted, if not physically then mentally. The thought tugged at your heartstrings and you pressed your lips together.

“Welcome back,” you managed to say, not moving an inch to kiss or hug him and of course that didn’t escape his notice. Even when he was tired, he knew exactly how to read you.

You opened the door wider and walked back into the living room, listening to him close the door behind him and follow you.

“Tough case?”

“Yeah- is everything okay?”

His question made you turn around to look at him and you crossed your arms, frowning slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Hm?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I guess I’m surprised to hear from you, that’s all.”

A look of realization flashed over his handsome face, “I wanted to call you,” he said quickly, “I really did, but as soon as we landed in Ohio they took us into the crime scene, and the whole night I tried to crack the case but it turned out the killer had already committed—“

“A text would’ve been fine,” you pointed out, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, “You didn’t get five seconds to yourself, professor?”

“Will you believe me if I say no?”

“No,” you stated, “Not really. It’s fine, I just misunderstood what this was,” you motioned at him,”It’s—like I said, it’s fine. I just didn’t know it before so I got confused, that’s all.”

“What did you misunderstand?” he asked you and you shrugged your shoulders again like a petulant child, keeping silent. He watched you, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening before he pulled back slightly.

“You thought—“ he started, his voice soft, “You thought I’d leave you like that?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Don’t fucking say—

“What do I care if you left?”

Anthony, -your ex you had broken up with months and months ago- had once told you that during the arguments, especially if you were mad at the person in front of you, it was like you were possessed by the devil himself.

“I have no idea what the fuck you want,” he had yelled at you, “I don’t think you know either.”

Now to think of it, you were beginning to agree with him about you being possessed because you knew it was illogical, you knew you were being petty and nonsense, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“You don’t care.” Spencer repeated, his aura changing completely, his tone calm and collected.

You supposed that was normal. You had already trespassed into his area of expertise voluntarily, and yes you could push and pull someone until they broke, but Spencer could play these mind games and come out on top no matter how much you tried to beat him at that.

The thought of him taking a peek into all these defenses you had spent years building was so intimidating that for a moment you felt almost naked and blinked a couple of times, your nose in the air.

Walking away when you were at your own goddamn apartment was a challenge but your pettiness knew no limits.

“You know what, I’m gonna take a shower, it’s really late.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah listen, like I said, it’s fine. You missed me, you saw me and we’re clearly both very happy right now, so do you mind closing the door behind you when you leave?” you said, your voice cold as ice and took a step to walk past him but he grabbed your arm before you could do that, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know I can see through that, right?” his voice was low as your heart started pacing in your chest, the fire shooting through you despite anger, “Try to run away from it, lie to me all you want, but I’m not one of those clueless idiots around you. We both know you do care.”

It was as if there was an invisible electric wire crackling between your bodies, getting stronger and stronger with each second passing. Your eyes narrowed as you stood still for a moment, like a snake ready to strike, your mind going overdrive with where to attack him first.

“Then it’s a good thing one of us does,” you managed to say, your voice like a hiss, “Because we both know that you don’t.”

Something behind his eyes shifted but before you could even question what it was he had already pulled you into a kiss, his fingers buried into your hair while he walked you back until your back collided with the wall. You pushed his jacket off of him, not caring where it ended up and your fingers nimbly tried to get rid of his tie, a whine escaping from your lips when you had to break the kiss so that he could pull the oversized shirt you were wearing over your head. He pulled back for a moment, his fiery gaze focused on you and that was when you understood why he had stopped.

He was making sure he would remember this.

You pushed yourself off the wall, flinging yourself into his arms once again. It was nearly impossible to fight the urge of being closer to him, so you gave in as his hand tugged at the roots of your hair while both of you blindly tried to find the nearest flat surface, knocking over a vase and the floor lamp in process before he finally pushed you back to the couch. A squeal escaped from your lips when you landed on the soft cushions, but it soon turned into a moan when his body covered yours, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Well,” he murmured, his low voice in your ear giving you shivers, “Let’s test that theory then.”

***

Of course he woke up before you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he hadn’t slept at all but he looked better rested than when he first had got there, so you figured he at least got a couple of hours. He had put his pants and white button up on, but his tie and jacket were still scattered along the room. He was sitting by the edge of couch, his files all over the coffee table as his eyes darted between them and he dragged his fingertips over the papers, but when he felt you watching him, he turned his head to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips, mirroring yours.

“Good morning,” he said and your smile widened before he leaned in to kiss you.

“Hi,” you murmured as you reached out to touch his curls, “Why does your hair look prettier than mine in the morning?”

He chuckled against your lips, “You’re seeing things,” he said, stealing another kiss from you before pulling back, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone.

“What time is it?” you rasped out and he checked his wristwatch.

“7,” he said and you scrunched up your nose,

“How much time do you have?”

“Less than half an hour,” he sighed, “How much time do you have?”

“Perks of being the boss,” you wiggled your brows, “I don’t have any meetings before ten o’clock today.”

“Lucky.”

“Incredibly lucky,” you winked at him as you pecked him on the lips and grabbed your bra and underwear off the floor, painfully aware of his gaze on you sending fire underneath your cheeks. You got into your shirt, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s rude to stare professor, where are your manners?” you asked, making him chuckle before he snapped his fingers as if he just thought of something.

“I almost forgot,” he said, pulling away to grab his satchel and he dug into it to pull out a small magnet, making you gasp and snatch it out of his hand.

“You remembered!” you said with a smile, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll put it on the fridge. Coffee?”

He raised his brows and nodded his head, “Yes please.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m becoming a profiler,” you grinned at him and fixed your hair before jumping over the back of the couch. You had every intention to walk to the kitchen but you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned over to rest your chin on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, making him smile. He entwined his fingers with you, pressing his lips on the back of your hand, the warmth spreading from that spot through your whole body.

“Thank you,” you said softly and he turned his head to look at you,

“Of course, it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s… it’s not nothing.” You shook your head, “It makes me happy.”

The light in his eyes was so warm that you thought you would melt.

“Good, because I want—“ he swallowed thickly, “I need you to be happy.”

You nibbled on your lip before you stole a kiss from him,

“I am,” you murmured, not lying for the first time in your life. You rushed to the kitchen, putting the magnet on the fridge carefully before you turned the coffee machine on.

“So I was thinking,” you said, “About this 7 hour long conference.”

“You lost that bet, you have to attend it with me.”

“Ah no, I’m not trying to skip it,” you leaned on the kitchen island, “I just have a question.”

He looked over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

“There are bathrooms there right?”

“Of course.”

“And everyone will be pretty busy during and after the sessions?”

“Yeah because the Q and A sometimes goes longer than planned.”

“Great, so we can hook up in the bathroom?”

He blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

“Come again?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “What? No one ever does anything fun in these conferences?”

“I don’t—“ he stammered, “They’re highly academic, so I don’t think… I don’t think anyone—um—”

“You okay there, professor?” you grinned, aware of your effect of your words “You’re telling me you keep attending these conferences and then you end up not hooking up with anyone?”

He shook his head, still confused and you winked at him.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you said, “You’re going to be late if you just keep sitting there and gawking at me by the way, IQ of 187.”

He tried to pull himself together, gathering his files as you turned around to get the cups out of the cabinet.

“For the record, I think people are having fun in a non-academic way in these things, you just don’t know it yet,” you said, pouring the coffee into the cups “In one of the conferences we had to attend during college, me and my friend got these flasks of whiskey, then we—“ you stopped talking when you turned around and saw him standing there, completely frozen as he skimmed the papers in one of his files.

“What?” you asked when his eyes snapped up to yours, but there was something behind his gaze, completely void of the affection you were used to seeing. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenched and he threw the file onto the kitchen island, making you frown.

Then a shudder ran down your spine.

Your mom’s file on Spencer. The one she had told her P.I to prepare when she paid him to look into Spencer’s past. You had just assumed your mother threw it away when you couldn’t see it after you came home that day, but apparently you should’ve looked harder.

“Y/N,” his voice sounded way too distant, way too cold, “What the hell is this?”

Chapter 16

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themaribatpit · 3 years

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Jasonette July Day 15: Night

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event Prompt: Night Rated: T

A/N: A continuation "Game On” and “Pixie” Marinette had been in Gotham for a little over a year now, having left behind her life in Paris to attend Gotham University. It all started when she got involved with Catwoman, who saved her one night when she was in trouble. Then she got roped into a little game between Catwoman and Batman, and that was how she met Jason and Roy, Red Hood and Arsenal respectively. While with Jason and Roy, they had their ups and downs. Initially she felt that the two were overprotective, but they were able to reconcile after a fateful encounter in the Iceberg Lounge. Ever since that fateful encounter, what started as a harmless little crush began to grow over time. For once, she got to know people who understood both the real her and her superheroine persona. They knew her as a quick thinker in battle, and a civilian with a tendency to catastrophize things. While she was sitting in the car with Jason and Roy, driving back from Star City. The only sounds that could be heard were the scratching of pencil on paper, and the hum of the engine as they drove. She tried to throw herself into her upcoming design assignments that weren’t due for another few weeks, doing anything to avoid thinking about Jason sleeping peacefully in the front seat of the car. Tikki was nestled in her bag nibbling on a cookie and only Roy seemed to notice how quiet the drive back to Gotham was. She had developed a close friendship with the three of them, one which wasn’t complicated by secret and civilian identities. They had each other’s backs in combat, and they worked well as a team together. Marinette cursed herself, for the first time in a long time, she had relationships that weren’t complicated by secrets and secret identities. Now she was going to ruin everything just because she could not keep her heart and her feelings under control, it was pathetic. It was easier to think that Jason was a stubborn, sarcastic brute who couldn’t possibly understand her. He could still be stubborn and sarcastic at times, but then he had to go and have another side to him. A side of him that cared deeply for those close to him, a group of people that now included Marinette. It wasn’t fair. Marinette shook her head and turned her attention back to her design work, these patterns weren’t going to sketch themselves. It was also one of the few times she got to work with more delicate fabrics. Jason was pretending to be asleep on the drive from Star City back to Gotham, not unlike the one that happened a few months ago. It seemed like yesterday they first heard about a new superheroine who managed to take on two of his younger brothers. Marinette was certainly a girl with many contradictions, even when they first met her on that rooftop that fateful night. She could be very creative with her magic yo-yo, and in a fight she was usually a level-headed and quick thinker. That much was clear to anyone who saw her in action, which was probably for the best, given that Jason had a very short fuse and a tendency to brute force his way through situations. By the same token, the same person was prone to flying off the handle in much more mundane situations. One time she woke up early for a test that wasn’t for another two days, and flew into a panicked stream of consciousness that made it sound like she was going to be shipped back to her home city in a matchbox if she was late. Jason didn’t dare turn around to look at her in the backseat, but he could just about imagine what she looked like. The scratching of pencil on paper told him that she was probably designing something that had more in common with a ball gown than body armour. Her skills as a seamstress came in handy when their body armour needed upgrades or adjustments, not everyone could be gifted with the power of a magic body suit. Even Hal Jordan was a test pilot long before he became a Green Lantern, Marinette was just a teenager when she got given magic jewelry. Secret identities and personas aside, at her core Marinette was still the same person. She was kind, forgiving, but most of all she trusted him, something very few people did. At first he wrote it off as all of them having each other’s backs in a fight. While that was true it wasn’t the whole story, he knew because he could say the same thing about Roy. He considered maybe it was because she managed to calm his pit madness, but that was because she had the very creatures who created them by her side. Jason still called her “Pixie '' from time to time, really out of affection more than anything. He only used her name when he was being absolutely dead serious. It was a lot more than that and he knew it, he knew that she was worming her way past all the walls he had put up, seemingly without even trying. He convinced himself that it was dangerous for all involved, that it would just leave him vulnerable in the end. She was getting closer and closer to his heart, at which point he would be completely and utterly vulnerable. He wanted to hold her close to him, but was afraid that she would hold his heart in her tiny delicate hands and squeeze.

Roy was exhausted, not just from the mission, but from being caught right in the middle of two of his friends pining after each other. In the car ride back to Gotham, he could easily tell that Marinette was busying herself with design work while Jason was pretending to be asleep. It would be cute if it wasn’t a sign that these two were actively avoiding talking to each other. Possibly because they were worried they might slip up and reveal their very obvious feelings for the other person. He overheard Marinette confiding in the Kwamis late one night, when she thought both of them were out. Jason by contrast was a little less expressive, but Roy could still tell that he was also pining after her, in his own little way. He had tried to gently coax it out of them, and even though they refused to admit it Roy could tell. Marinette was an open book whenever he even suggested the idea that she might be slightly attracted to Jason. At the slightest suggestion that there was something between her and Jason, her face would go tomato red and she would deny it. Jason was a much tougher nut to crack, but Roy already knew that from the get-go. If Marinette wore her heart on her sleeve, then Jason kept his heart guarded with steel and lead. He tried to ask him about it on a mission, when Marinette was out of earshot. Instead he took a leaf out of Dick’s book and asked if it was really the time and place for a “man chat”. The three of them could be compared to The Three Musketeers, but Jason and Marinette were more like Beatrice and Benedict from Much Ado About Nothing. He was cursing Jason’s detective training, because it meant he would see right past a forged love note, while making things worse for Marinette. If Roy was still drinking, he would have probably told them that they should just screw and get it over with. He was starting to understand why Lian would smush her doll’s faces together and get them to ‘kiss’. That gave him an idea...

Marinette and Jason were calmly watching TV together one night. It was Valentine's Day, but neither of them really had any plans with anyone. Staying in and waiting for chocolate prices to crater seemed like a much better idea. Tikki was perched on Marinette’s shoulder, while Plagg was about to inhale a very large piece of camembert. The two of them were a comfortable distance apart, neither of them were willing to make the first move. Suddenly, Roy busts in through the front door. Dressed up as Arsenal with a few extra accessories, a tutu and a pair of fairy wings he likely borrowed from Lian. He came in wide grin, wielding his bow with an odd heart shaped arrow.

“Happy Valentine's Day bitches!” he yelled out, taking aim at Marinette and Jason. The grappling arrow wrapping around the two, tightly binding them together on the sofa. Just as Marinette and Jason realise what just happened, Roy runs back out the door, slamming it on his way out.

An awkward silence hung in the air as Jason and Marinette were tied together, their faces mere inches apart. Marinette blushing a storm, while Jason tried to keep his composure and looked away from her. That said, he could feel her deep blue eyes watching him, and he was fairly certain she could hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest. Their arms were clamped firmly to their sides, and both of them thought that Roy had done this as a stupid prank. “Did Roy tell you he was going to…” Marinette began. “...put on a tutu and fairy wings and tie us up on the couch?” Jason finished, he swallowed, she already looked embarrassed by the whole situation. “No, did he tell you?” he asked. Marinette shook her head, “No, but he seems to have got it into his head that you’re interested in me.” she said as she tried to wriggle free, “as if that would ever happen.” “I mean...” the conversations he wrote off as late night man-chats were starting to make sense to him. “...is that really so hard to believe?” he asked quietly. There was no keeping her at arm’s length at that moment, physically or otherwise. He noticed that she had stopped trying to wriggle free of the cord wrapped tightly around him. “A little,” she said, “It just seemed too good to be true,” she muttered. “You’re one of the few people who knows about both Marinette and Ladybug, you know that they’re the same person.” she explained, “the idea that you would be interested in me on top of all that just felt like it was too good to be true, like something will do horribly wrong sooner or later. Like there was no way the universe was going to let me be that happy.” Jason was surprised to hear that, but also he understood what she meant. It was funny how on paper, they were two completely different people, and in some way they were. It was moments like these that reminded them there were still similarities that kept them together. For the first time since Roy had tied them up, he looked at her. “Marinette, take it from someone who’s a literal dead man walking. Trust me, that is not the most impossible thing out there, not even close.” he tried to say, Marinette looked up at him, trying to make sense of the meaning in his words. “If anyone’s going to get slapped around by the universe, and feel as if they don’t deserve to have someone who’s seen different sides of them and still cares about them, it’s probably me,” he explained.

Both of them finally knew what Roy was trying to do, after all he had been painfully obvious. Jason himself tries to get a sharp batarang from his pocket, he assures Marinette, “Don’t worry Pixie, I’ll get us out of here and we can forget this ever happened.”

Marinette remains silent as Jason struggles against the wire tying them together, Tikki floats to her side and whispers into her ear. “Marinette, it's now or never.” Marinette looks back to see all the Plagg cheering her with a grunt. If lifting the piece of camembert with little enthusiasm counts as cheering.

Marinette takes a deep breath, and gathers her courage. “Jason?” she asks, and Jason pauses to look back at her. Her face had a rosy pink glow as she leaned forward to give Jason a kiss. Jason pauses in shock at first before, and slowly melts to return the kiss. As the two kiss, Tikki helps untie the two. Just as Tikki finishes untying, Marinette and Jason hold each other in a tight embrace, eagerly savouring their newfound relationship.

Roy peeked his head through the window watching Marinette and Jason finally confess to each other. “About time you two got together” he cheered from the fire escape, giving the two a thumbs up and a big grin. This breaks Marinette and Jason from their affectionate moment together, embarrassing Marinette and annoying Jason.

Jason stomps over to the fire escape, Roy nervously greets Jason “Hey buddy, how’s it going?”

Jason grabs Roy by the ankle, dangling him off the edge of the fire escape. “Pixie, why don't you give him a taste of his own medicine?” Marinete nods and walks over with the grappling arrow Roy shot at the two.

Roy pleaded, “Come guys, you two had it bad for each other it was obvious.” Marinette begins to tie Roy to the fire escape with the grappling wire. Roy attempts to struggle but Jason holds him down.

As Marinette progresses further in tying Roy up, his pleas become more and more desperate.

“I did you two a favour.” Roy begs, “Come on, is this how you two repay me? Help! Somebody! Batman! BATMAAAN!” Roy wailed.

Marinette and Jason ignore Roy’s begging. Once they were finished they both left, hand in hand, leaving Roy tied upside down to do some self-reflection.

BONUS

Cupid: What's this I hear about you playing Cupid?

Roy: Sorry, it was for two people who were actually in love.

Cupid: Why you little-

Roy: Cupid, it's been YEARS, you're a very attractive woman. It can't be that hard to find someone who loves you back, someone who doesn’t have a goatee.

#jasonette #jasonettejuly2021 #ml x dc #maribat

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squidproquoclarice · 3 years

Text

Yeehawgust Day 26: Vultures Circling

August 1870

Gerhardt’s Pass, Oregon

Beatrice wasn’t sure whether it had been one day or two since the doctor had come. She’d seen the look in his eyes, heard the hushed tones with which he murmured to Lyle over in the corner, and with Lyle cursing as he left the wagon and the pallet where she lay, she’d known what she already felt deep in her bones.

The fever and the pain that had once consumed her had faded, felt now at some peculiar remove like hearing music from another room. It would all be over soon, and that was a relief. The vultures might be circling, so to speak, and she’d seen so many of them in the five years since they’d arrived in America. She felt them watching her now just at the edge of her vision, not certain whether they were real or phantoms, and not certain whether it mattered. Exhausted as she was, she could only accept it. This was her end.

A part of her wondered whether she had caused this by her thoughts. The nervousness and sometimes despair over being pregnant again, worrying what she would do. David and Arthur both had readily crossed Lyle’s temper, for all David had been just a baby yet when he died. Having lost two already, she knew the signs. But this time, the bleeding hadn’t stopped. Maybe it was being four months along this time that had done it.

We go together then, you and me, she thought towards that child that would never be, now finally able to offer them nothing but love and tenderness rather than having it mingled so heavily with trepidation and fear. Perhaps we shall see David, and your other brothers or sisters.

But peaceful as that notion was, that still left Arthur. He’d be alone with Lyle after this. Lyle had gone to town hours ago, awkwardly grunting something about getting supplies. She suspected it was only that he couldn’t sit here and watch her die, and that he’d be at the saloon nursing his sorrow. Hard-handed and angry as he sometimes was, there was a peculiar vulnerable and tender streak in him all the same. She was only thankful Lyle had taken Arthur with him. He’d chased Arthur off most of the time since Beatrice took to bed, growling for him to go find something useful to do. Sparing him the experience of it, she supposed. She thanked him for that.

She’d managed to talk to Arthur last night, though, when he’d crept in after Lyle went to sleep. Given him the portrait of her taken earlier that year in Wyoming, and showed him the papers she’d hidden behind it. Papers neither of them could read, but papers that would hopefully be the key to a better future all the same. The ones that officially made him an American boy, not just another immigrant child. He would belong here. He already sounded far more American than Welsh, and she was grateful for that. She could only hope he’d have the chances she’d wanted for him, even if she wouldn’t be here to see it.

In the end, that was all she could do for him. It seemed so little, and she was afraid for him all the same.

Hearing the creak of someone climbing in the wagon, she couldn’t help her surprise. Lyle had come back so soon? No, that couldn’t be. But she heard footsteps approaching, and she heard the scrape of glass and the hiss of a match, saw the brightening behind her closed eyes as someone lit the lantern that had gone out awhile ago. It hadn’t mattered to her, but now that there was light again, she opened her eyes to look at who had come to call.

She didn’t know either of them by sight, fair-haired and well past her own twenty-eight years. Neighbors? No, they were far from anyone. Lyle had made certain of it. Who else would simply climb up into the wagon like this? KInd strangers, perhaps. “Are you looking for Lyle?” It always seemed to come down to that. She closed her eyes again. “He isn’t here just now, and I’m sorry for whatever he’s done, but I’m afraid we don’t have much for the taking.” Money ran through her man’s fingers like water, fast as his quicksilver dreams of riches.

“Should we...” The woman spoke, her voice soft.

She was too tired for this. “Are you missionaries, then? I suppose the saving of a soul becomes even more important at the very end. There’s no need of that. I’ve made what peace I might with my God, I assure you.” Even if she’d come so far from the girl who’d attended chapel so faithfully back in Aberdare.

The man finally spoke up, his deep voice low and gentle. “No. You don’t need to worry about missionaries.” The words in Welsh, no less, and the familiar lilt of it lifted her spirits in spite of herself. “Mam, it’s me. It’s Arthur.”

Now that snapped her to attention, and she opened her eyes, finding she had some fury to spare yet for someone who’d tease her like this as she lay there dying. But she saw those eyes looking at her with a sad, knowing tenderness--that familiar blue-tinted green, the eyes she saw whenever she chanced to have a mirror. The ones she saw too every day in her boy, her Arthur. His hair--it was dusted with grey, yes, but the same dark blond as hers. Lyle’s brows for certain, and something of the cast of his cheekbones.

Her boy had just turned seven last month, and yet she’d swear he also sat here beside her now, a man of at least forty, perhaps fifty. She looked at him, and something in her knew him, something deeper than blood and bone, an echo within the soul. “So you are.” She didn’t know how it could be so, only that it was. She drank in the sight of him. Such a large man, tall and broad. He hadn’t gotten that from Lyle, perhaps instead from her own father Dylan, such a large man he’d been permanently stooped long before he died from working in the cramped mine tunnels. Seeing the marks of age on him, the lines etched into his face, and the scars--the small nick on the bridge of his nose, another on his right cheek, and a large one on his chin only somewhat hidden by a short-cropped beard. Child-Arthur was healing a similar cut on his nose even now, earned by tumbling off the wagon while playing out a week ago, and by the look of it she’d known it would scar, just as it had on this man. She glanced past him to the woman. Tawny hair, a riot of freckles, amber eyes, a large scar on her right brow. Watching Beatrice just as carefully as she was watched. She asked, speaking in Welsh and managing some good humor, “Well, my boy, who is this you’ve brought with you?” But she already suspected.

If she hadn’t already believed, that shy smile, that half-lowering of his gaze, would have told her. “This is my wife. Sadie.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Her Welsh was less polished, her accent more obvious to Beatrice’s ear, but it surprised her all the same to hear it. Had Arthur taught her? There were a thousand other questions.

But she licked her lips, needing now to ask the important question: “Why have you come? And...how?” She switched back to English for it. He was an American, her boy, and she would have him be so to her at the end. She’d fought hard for that. It was good he hadn’t forgotten his Welshness entirely, but some things needed to be kept close and secret. She knew that full well.

“How? I don’t know for sure. There’s some red-headed fella named Sinclair who’s gonna have some explanations for this.” He leaned in, and reached out to take his hand in hers. A large hand, work-roughened, so unlike the small hand she still took sometimes to hold onto him in crowds and the like. “Why? That’s a question that’s got more answers than I know what to do with, really. Cause I...” He sighed, shook his head, and the aching look in his eyes told her too much.

“I know there’s no return from this, <i>fy ngwash i</i>. It’ll be soon enough. I knew it last night when I gave you those papers. Did you have the use of them?”

“Sort of. We ended up in Canada, so uh, proving I was born in Wales actually helped us there.”

“Not America, then?”

“There was better land in Canada.”

“So you’re a farmer?” She couldn’t help but brighten at that. She’d wanted something like that for him. Something peaceful, gentle, nothing like Lyle’s life.

“Horses, mostly. Some sheep, cattle, and the like. It’s a good place. A pretty good life. And the rest, well…”

“You’d best tell her, Arthur,” Sadie said, her voice full of the twanging accent she’d heard in New Austin and some parts of Texas. “She’ll see it eventually anyhow.”

He sighed, shoulders sagging. “I reckon you will at that. It weren’t...all what you hoped for me, Momma. Daddy ain’t gonna live but another four years past this. Gets hanged for horse theft in San Francisco just after Christmas. After that, a lot happened. And it took me a long time to get things right.”

“Then tell me how it was, son.” She heard the tone of both inflexible command and gentle invitation in her words, and knew it for the way she spoke to him sometimes as a mother, asking to know the truth of something. Usually when he’d done some petty mischief or theft that she knew was Lyle’s influence on him. You must tell me, and perhaps I’ll tell you that it was wrong and why, but I won’t hate you for it. Because I love you enough to want you to know what’s right. She saw that conflict in him already, a boy who could steal candy from the store and shrug about it, but who’d come home the next day taking a beating to save a stray cat from being kicked to death by some older boys.

So he told her. And perhaps it wasn’t the worst she could imagine after hearing Lyle was dead when Arthur was eleven. But it made for no pretty picture. Hearing he’d been taken in by criminals, and ones far better and more sophisticated than Lyle could ever be, something broke within her heart. She’d wanted so much better for him. But even as he didn’t quite look at her, he kept talking.

He told her of the gang he’d been in, of seeing no other life or future for himself. Told her of a little boy named Isaac, her first grandchild. You’ll meet him someday, long before you should. He’s such a good kid. I know you’ll love him, and he’ll love you. Told her of nearly three decades of mistakes and failures after this. She might have thought it was a life of only regrets, but then he told her of a new life he’d made, of Sadie, of Canada and the children who had lived, grandchildren she would never see: Beatrice, named for her. Matthew. Susanna. Andrew.

She felt that pull, as if being summoned. Light fading, like a fire dimmed now beyond embers. Arthur must have seen it as well, because he stopped telling her about little things, and reached out to take her hand. Beatrice felt someone else take her other hand--Sadie, then. “I don’t exactly know how we got here,” he said quietly. “But I know how it was that day. I came back with Daddy and you was gone already. And...that always stayed with me. That I wasn’t there. And I know how it is. Nobody ought to die alone like that.” There was some kind of knowing weariness to his voice at that, a question she would never be able to ask and he would never be able to answer for her. “So here we are.” So much that would be left unsaid, but no matter. She would see in time. She would see all of it, and there was comfort to it, because now she knew her boy would be all right in the end. That he would remember her too, that he loved her. That put her fear to rest, and so now she could rest. There were no vultures now, only the final words of love and farewell spoken, and the reassurance of the hands holding hers as everything faded into peace.

#yeehawgust #yeehawgust 2021 #rdr2 #beatrice morgan #arthur morgan #sadie adler #sadithur #cw: miscarriage #writing #fic from the parking lot

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dirtyhelen · 3 years

Text

i’ve got the girl on my mind (all the time)

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Featuring: Smut; Humour; Light D/S; Vaginal Fingering; Oral Sex

Words: 4299

Summary: Carol’s wearing a suit. Black, tailored to perfection, but not feminine. The top two buttons of her stark white shirt are undone and her tie is loose around her neck. Her eyes scan the room absently until her gaze lands on you and she’s smiling even wider, lifting her glass and giving you a wink.

“Oh my God, Bucky, she’s coming over here. Go away.”

“What—why?”

“Because I’m either about to embarrass myself or get seduced and I don’t want you here for either.”

(Spoiler alert: it’s the second one.)

A/N: Woman Cozily Cupping Mug Secretly Thinking About Getting Absolutely Railed by Carol Danvers. This is just a silly little smutfic that I had way too much fun writing. Hope you enjoy! Title from Girls by Beatrice Eli.

“Hey.”

You look up from your computer screen to find Carol Danvers standing in your office doorway, still in her suit from the mission you’re currently writing your report on. She’s looking at you with the confident little half-smile you’ve become very familiar with over the past few weeks. It’s a look that never fails to bring a heat to your cheeks. And other places.

“Uh, hi,” you manage. You can see Bucky smirking at you from his spot lounging on your office sofa, his broken arm resting in a sling against his chest.

“Thanks for your help back there,” Carol says. “You too, Barnes,” she adds, with a nod in his direction. Bucky’s “help” in this case was mostly leaning over your shoulder offering unsolicited opinions on your work and avoiding the many elbow jabs you attempted to land to his ribcage.

It’s not easy being the Avengers’ favourite analyst.

“No problem. Anytime,” you reply.

Carol nods, says a quick, “See ya,” and then she’s gone, striding off down the corridor.

“Bye,” you sigh wistfully.

Bucky chuckles and your eyes snap to him. “You alright there, doll?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. You glare at him and he only grins wider. “You just seem a little flustered is all. Heart’s beating a little fast.”

“Oh, fuck off, Bucky—you blush like a schoolgirl every time Thor looks at you.”

He squawks but can’t deny it. “Whatever,” he mutters, standing up and heading for the door. “Enjoy filling out your mission report and pining. I’ve got my own cocky blond captain to welcome home.” He winks, graciously letting the pen you throw hit him in the chest before he leaves.

You turn back to your computer and try to focus on your work, but your thoughts keep straying to Carol.

Bucky’s wrong; you do not pine. You only think about her when she’s around. And even then, only once or twice a day. Just casually wondering what she’s doing and if she might stop by your office.

Four or five times, max. Thinking about what she’s wearing, or if she’s done something different with her hair.

Okay, ten times total, on a bad day. Imagining how that easy confidence might translate to the bedroom. If her powers mean her fingers never cramp up, or if her jaw never gets sore.

Bucky’s right; you do pine.

You can’t help it! There’s just something about Carol that has you reverting to the heady infatuations of your teen years every time she’s around. She’s just so fucking cool. To the nerdy teenager you once were, she’s the coolest girl in school whose attention and approval you’re desperate for. To the nerdy adult you currently are, she’s the coolest girl in the universe whose attention and approval you’re desperate for and whose pussy you’d absolutely kill to eat like a five-course meal.

Luckily for your sanity (and your dominant hand), Carol’s not actually around that often. You only met her after the Snap was reversed, having been one of the Capital-D-Dusted, but she seems to spend most of her time checking in on the gazillion other planets in the universe.

At least, she used to. Apparently in the last few months she’s decided to reconnect with her birthplace, because suddenly she’s spending more time on-planet than off. This means the chances of her stopping by your office or running into you on the new-new compound have gone way up. Once every few months has become once a week or more.

Today’s little exchange is the second time she’s found you this week. She stops by, stands in your doorway in ripped jeans or a leather jacket, smirking like a fucking female James Dean, while she casually compliments your outfit or your work or the music playing from your computer. Which would be great—if you had any idea what it means.

You know what you want it to mean, but you and Carol have been doing this little dance for weeks now and she hasn’t so much as asked you if you like coffee, let alone invited you to drink some with her sometime.

Sure, you could ask her out, but you’re not about to risk getting rejected by Captain fucking Marvel and then having to guide her through some villain’s lair over comms the next day.

Shaking your head to try and physically dislodge all thoughts of Carol from your brain, you settle back into your mission report, determined to prove Bucky wrong for at least another hour or two so you can finish up and get home to your empty, lonely apartment.

+++

A couple of weeks and a handful of run-ins with Carol later, you’re standing in a ballroom on the compound in your nicest dress, taking a night off from thinking about Carol. Or trying to, anyway.

The Stark Foundation is hosting a charity gala, raising money for relief efforts for those impacted by the reversal of the Snap. It’s not really your thing, but the Avengers are required to attend and you never pass up an opportunity to watch Steve try to withhold his deep annoyance at having to interact with the richest members of American society.

“Look at his hand, Buck,” you point out. “We’ve reached the clenched fists portion of the evening.”

Bucky nods, taking a sip of his champagne. “Next up—the jaw muscle.”

“Poor guy,” you sigh. “He looks great, though.”

“That he does,” Bucky agrees, eyes scanning the room. “Speaking of looking great—” He lets out a low whistle, nodding his head toward the bar. You follow his gaze and your jaw drops.

“Oh my God.”

“Yep.”

“Look at her.”

It’s Carol, because of course it’s Carol. You weren’t expecting her to be here tonight—she’s not an Avenger in any official capacity and she doesn’t seem the type to enjoy a fancy party—but there she is, standing at the bar talking to Nat and surrounded by a handful of the One Percent.

And she’s wearing a suit. Black, tailored to perfection, but not feminine. The top two buttons of her stark white shirt are undone and her tie hangs loose around her neck.

You watch her laugh at something Natasha says, as she surveys the room absently, completely ignoring all the people clamouring for her attention. Then her gaze lands on you and she’s smiling even wider, lifting her glass and winking at you from the bar.

You manage a little wave back to her as your heart races and Bucky starts to laugh next to you. Carol leans down to say something in Nat’s ear that has her smirking and then she’s walking toward you and your heart stops entirely.

“Oh my God, Bucky, she’s coming over here. Go away,” you hiss.

“What—why?”

“Because I’m either about to embarrass myself or get seduced and I don’t want you to here for either. Go rescue your boyfriend.”

Bucky scoffs but does as you ask, snatching another glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and heading toward Steve.

You have just enough time to swig back the last of your own glass and set it on a table before Carol’s standing in front of you, looking even better up close.

“Hey.” She greets you with a smile.

“Hi.”

“Love the dress,” she says, eyes sweeping down your body. She pinches a fold of your skirt between her finger and thumb, tugs at it lightly. “This colour looks great on you.”

“Oh, um, thank you. You look great too. Very James Bond,” you note and Carol grins. “How are you enjoying your first Avengers party?”

She rolls her eyes. “If one more man tries to tell me about his very cool job managing hedge funds I’m gonna blow a hole in the ceiling and fly out of here.”

“That is, unfortunately, one of the hallmarks of these things. The finance guys, not the ceiling holes,” you clarify. “Though actually, that’s not unheard of either.”

She laughs, about to say something else when her eyes drift over your shoulder. “The vultures are circling again,” she whispers. You turn your head to see a handful of men in expensive suits lingering a few feet away, obviously waiting for an opportunity to introduce themselves to Carol. “You wanna get out of here?” she asks. “Maybe go somewhere a little quieter?”

For a second your brain is frozen solid. You’ve never actually heard that phrase outside of movies and TV, and in movies and TV it usually only means one thing. But this is Carol Danvers and real life and you have no idea if she wants to fuck you or if she really does want to continue your conversation somewhere she’s not at risk of being interrupted by Elon Musk or a random politician.

“My office is just upstairs?” you offer once your brain thaws. There’s a part of you that wants to say, “Or how about we go to your room?” But that’s about ten times more suggestive than you’re comfortable being. Plus, the residences are on the other side of the compound so it’s also not that practical.

“Sounds great,” Carol says with a grin, and then she’s leading you out of the ballroom, a strong hand pressed to the small of your back.

+++

Carol leans against the wall while you fumble with your key card, hands in her pockets and looking so fucking good you want to fall to your knees and beg her to fuck your face right there in the hallway.

Neither of you said much during the short walk to your office but there was an almost palpable tension that has you keyed up and leaking into your panties even though Carol hasn’t so much as touched you beyond a guiding hand on your back.

In the next sixty seconds, as your pass your key card over the pad on the wall and reach down to open the door, it becomes very clear Carol meant “somewhere quieter” exactly the way they do in the movies.

As soon as the door is open she’s pushing you through, kicking it shut with her heel as she pushes you against the wall, hands pressing firm on your shoulders. You gasp when your back hits the wall.

She leans in and your eyes slip shut, waiting for her lips on yours, desperate to finally know how she tastes. But the kiss doesn’t come. She stops with her lips just inches from yours—you can feel the warmth of her breath against your face—and waits. You open your eyes and find her smirking, watching you burn for her and you nearly whimper, another rush of wetness flooding your underwear.

“Please,” you breathe, unable to stop yourself. You’ve wanted this for so long you think you might cry if she doesn’t at least kiss you.

“Please what?” she asks, voice calm and low like she isn’t standing between your spread legs. Like she isn’t affected at all.

“Kiss me. Please.” You can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed by how easy you are for her.

“Good girl,” she says softly and finally closes the distance between you. Her first kiss is sweet—a gentle press of lips, a soft hello—but it quickly turns deep and devouring. She licks along the seam of your mouth then sweeps her tongue inside until you’re gasping for air.

Jesus, it’s even better than you could have ever imagined. You don’t think you’ve ever been kissed like this, so thorough and greedy. Carol tastes like chapstick and rum and you’re drunk on her in moments.

One of her hands rests on your waist, while the other grips the back of your neck, holding you in place for her. She sets the pace, giving you time to breathe with teasing kisses along your jaw and neck before pressing her lips to yours, again and again.

She nudges her thigh between yours, pushing up against your cunt through layers of fabric and you grind down against her, moaning into her mouth at the pressure on your throbbing clit. Carol’s hands start to work at the hem of your dress, rucking it up your legs in fistfuls until she’s stopped by the barrier of her own body. She shifts her leg back, chuckling as you whine at the loss, and tugs your dress up so you’re exposed from the waist down.

She takes a moment to look at you, trailing her eyes from ankle to bellybutton and back, stopping at the space between your legs.

“Hold this,” she says, passing you a handful of your dress, and freeing up her own hand. She taps two fingers on your panties, just over your clit, and even that is enough to have you gasping. “Cute,” she comments, and then she’s sliding under the waistband and her fingers are on your bare skin.

She wastes no time, pressing her fingers between your folds. She quirks an eyebrow at the sopping mess of you, almost shamefully wet for so little contact. “I told you,” you stutter through shallow breaths, “you look good in a suit.”

Carol grins, dipping two fingers into your pussy. You roll your hips to try and coax them inside you. “I must look really good if you’re this easy already,” she teases.

She drags slick up to your clit, circling it as she kisses your neck, sucking occasionally then dragging her teeth over the tender flesh. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming, cunt pulsing as you moan her name. Before you can catch your breath she’s pulling you away from the wall, gripping you by the shoulders and turning you around. She marches you the handful of steps to your desk, leaning in until her lips are next to your ear. “Hands on the desk,” she orders.

You eagerly comply, resting the heels of your palms on the sharp edge of your desk. Carol unzips your dress, then pushes the straps off your shoulders and down your arms, pulling them over your hands one at time. The dress falls to your feet, followed by your panties, and suddenly you’re completely naked even as Carol stands fully clothed behind you.

She takes your hands in hers, gripping your wrists, and moves them to the other side of the desk, before pressing a palm to the small of your back with just the slightest hint of her power. She bends you over until your breasts press against the cool surface and your back is forced to arch, ass tilted on display for her.

Her hands stroke down the skin of your back and you shiver.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll warm you up,” she says, even though your trembling has nothing to do with the temperature of the room and you think she knows that.

She nudges her foot against one of yours and you widen your stance, spreading your legs wide. Her hand follows the curve of your ass to where you’re still wet and dripping for her, fingertips teasing at your opening.

It hits you suddenly that anyone could walk by and catch you in here. They’d take one look through the glass walls of your office and know. You didn’t even think to flip the switch to opaque the walls and now it’s too late; the panel is next to the door and you wouldn’t move now if flames were licking at your heels. Anyone passing by would see your dress on the floor, see your legs stretched wide around Carol’s figure and they’d know.

To your surprise, the idea of getting caught only adds to your excitement. You don’t have time to ponder your newly discovered kink because two of Carol’s fingers press into your pussy and immediately start thrusting fast and hard, working you back up so quickly your head spins.

The room is soon filled with the sound of her fingers moving inside you and the wet slap of her palm hitting your ass as she fucks you. Your whimpers and moans rise to join the chorus.

Carol presses close to your body, her front against your back, and the coarse fabric of her suit on your overheated skin adds to the fire building inside you. The vulnerability of being completely bare while she’s fully clothed and holding all the power has you melting against the desk, boneless and soft, there to take whatever she gives you.

Her lips press against your cheek in chaste kisses and she licks into your open mouth but you can’t keep up, so overwhelmed with the pleasure of her fingers inside you. She’s up to three now, filling and stretching you, fucking you faster than any normal human could.

She stands up straight again and brings her other hand around your hip to stroke at your clit, matching the speed of her thrusting fingers. You’re coming in seconds, even harder than before, clamping down on her fingers in vice-grip pulses as your hips stutter and jerk.

Carol brings you down gently this time, letting you hold her fingers inside as her other hand circles your clit slowly, giving you every aftershock of pleasure she can. She bends over you again, pressing gentle kisses to the sweat-slick skin of your neck and shoulders as you come down, only sliding her fingers from you when the last pulses are gone.

You manage to turn over, leaning back against the desk on boneless legs, just in time to see Carol licking at her fingers with a pleased-sounding hum. She winks at the hitch in your breath. “That was amazing, baby. Thank you,” she says.

You gape at her. “Thank me? Thank you. I’ll never be able to work here again,” you muse, breathless and hazy. “I’m only going to be thinking about that.”

She laughs and leans in for a kiss, trading the hint of your taste on her tongue.

“Can I go down on you? Please,” you blurt when she pulls away.

Her eyes widen slightly, like maybe she wasn’t expecting you to return the favour, but her lips curl in a teasing smile. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” She trades places with you so you’re standing in front of her as she leans against the desk. “On your knees,” she commands, and you follow, sinking to the floor on top of your discarded dress.

She undresses, but only as much as she has to, slouching off her jacket and leaving her shirt and tie. She undoes her belt buckle with deliberate slowness, then the button and fly of her pants. Finally, she toes off her shoes and removes her pants with surprising grace, and of course, she isn’t wearing underwear so you’re inches away from dark blond curls and pink folds. Your mouth waters with anticipation. You glance up for permission and Carol nods, spreading her legs. “Go ahead.”

God, you want this to be good for her. You settle in, resting your hands on the hard muscle of her thighs, feeling the soft hairs there against your palms. You spread her open with your tongue and take a few exploratory licks, getting her taste in your mouth, earthy and sharp, before you focus on her clit.

As expected, Carol takes charge of this too. She grinds against your lips, fists her hands in your hair to guide you, and keeps up a steady stream of praise. All, good girl; right there; doing so well for me, baby.

Other than the words spilling from her lips she’s quiet mostly, heavy breathing and the occasional gasp, but you know you must be doing something right because there’s no shortage of slick wetness seeping from her cunt to coat your tongue. You feel a distinct rush of pride whenever you manage to make her moan.

You pull out every trick you’ve got as you work, needing to make this good; you can’t bear the thought that this might be the only time you get to do this.

You lap at her clit in long, firm strokes, not sure how she feels about penetration and unwilling to take your lips away from her clit to ask. You keep your focus there, encouraged by the way her hips buck and her breaths get shorter and sharper like they’re being forced from her lungs in time with your tongue.

“Right there,” Carol gasps. “Don’t stop—fuck.” Your jaw aches but you hold steady, flicking over her clit as quickly as your tongue allows as her thighs tense and her breathing stops entirely. Then, with a long, low moan, all the tension leaves her at once as she comes, hips stuttering against your face. You slow down but keep up the motion until she twitches away.

Licking your lips, you sit back on your heels, face turned up to look at her. Her hair is messy, her cheeks and lips flushed deep pink, and her brown eyes seem even darker. She’s undone even more buttons on her shirt at some point and it gapes open, revealing a plain white bralette and an appealing strip of pale skin.

She smiles warmly down at you. “You look good on your knees,” she says, and your face burns as she studies you. Her eyes flit from your face, where you feel your mouth and chin still soaked with her slick, down your naked body, to your hands clasped in your lap. She reaches down, swipes a thumb across the mess on your face and presses it between your lips. Automatically you suck, pulling the taste of her into your mouth again until she takes her hand back.

There’s a moment or two of silence, and as you become aware of the soreness in your jaw and knees, and the fact that you’re kneeling naked on your office floor, you can’t help but start laughing, giggling uncontrollably as you flop down to sit on the floor completely. Carol laughs too, though less hysterically and seemingly in reaction to you more than any humour she finds in the situation.

“Oh my God,” you gasp through peals of laughter. “We just had sex. In my office. Where I work. This is not at all how I imagined this would go.”

Carol’s eyebrows raise at your accidental admission. “How exactly did you imagine it?” she asks. “And how often?” she adds, quirking her brows playfully.

You cover your face with your hands and groan as heat rushes to your cheeks yet again. Luckily, Carol rescues you from your embarrassment, effortlessly pulling you up from the floor for a kiss before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Wanna get a pizza or something? I’m starving.”

+++

Thirty minutes later you’re sitting in a booth at the only pizza place in town, the two of you the only diners in the restaurant. Carol’s telling you a story about a brawl she got into at a bar on some planet called Argor while you both devour greasy slices of cheap pizza. Her feet nudge against yours occasionally under the table and she touches you casually as she talks.

You’re surprised at how comfortable it is between you. Even as you got dressed, handing each other articles of clothing you picked up off the floor and walking to the garage for your car. Carol’s easy charm and confidence keep the conversation running smoothly, and something about her demeanour must rub off on you because you don’t feel awkward at all.

You revel in the way she can be so dominant and poised but such a snarky dork at the same time, and you find her wide, genuine smiles just as charming as those cheeky little smirks.

As you’re nearing the end of your meal, with no mention of going out or even hooking up again, you decide you have to ask. You’re stupid enough (and infatuated enough) to agree to whatever arrangement Carol is looking for here, even though you know casual sex will only end in heartbreak for you, but you have to at least know, at the risk of spoiling the entire evening.

“So,” you start, gathering your courage. “Was this just—I mean, are you only looking for something casual right now, or?” you trail off.

Carol blinks at you over her coke. “Are you asking if I’m only interested in sex?”

You nod.

“Um, no,” she admits, shrugging. “The plan was actually to ask you out tonight. I was gonna show up, flirt with you a little—did you know you’re very cute when you’re flustered?” she teases, tapping your shin with her foot before continuing. “Then I was going to ask you out. But then you were wearing that dress and I got kinda carried away, I guess.”

“Oh. Wow.” Somehow, even after having her interest in you very must confirmed (at least physically) you still weren’t expecting that.

She nods. “Yep. I mean, I’ll be honest, I definitely would have tried to fuck you on the first date” she says, grinning at you over her drink, “but I did plan on there being a first date. Not that I have much experience with those on Earth, in this century.” She pauses, considering. “Is karaoke still cool?”

“Was karaoke ever cool?”

Carol’s lips twitch but she holds back her smile, quirking an eyebrow at you. “You should watch that attitude, baby, or I might have to punish you,” she says, pitching her voice low and smirking when your breath catches.

If you thought having a conclusive answer to the question, “Is Carol Danvers into me?” would keep her from dominating your thoughts, you were dead wrong. You’re pretty sure you’re going to be thinking about her even more now.

Bucky is going to be unbearably smug about it.

+++

A/N: Do I have a whole backstory of how Reader and Bucky became friends even though it has no relevance to this fic? Yes, yes I do.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed 😊 (Also, if you notice any typos or grammar mistakes, feel free to let me know!) Text divider courtesy of writeyourmindaway!

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu #marvel #carol danvers #femslash february

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

a date with destiny

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: fate brings you to a... questionable man more than a few times.

warnings: lots of fluff, enemies/strangers to lovers, kind of cringe

a/n: i swear my new thing is poorly writing every played out fanfic trope on the planet, i'm so sorry guys. maybe hallmark can hire me to write a few movies for them

You definitely could’ve avoided this situation if you didn’t wait for the weekend before Christmas to go shopping for your family’s presents.

You had no idea why your time management had to be so bad, but in the midst of working way too many hours in an effort to get promoted, you had completely forgotten about the fact that Christmas was literally right around the corner. And to make it worse, you had a flight tomorrow that you’d also forgotten about.

You sulked to yourself while walking around Nordstrom, waiting for inspiration to strike you for a semi-decent gift for your mother. The whole world seemed to be out that day, and you watched a plethora of shoppers pass you by, with their sour faces and unruly children. After eventually deciding on a black winter sweater for your mom, you went on your way to the candle section, knowing exactly the brand and scent that your sister would love.

This candle was the definition of a non-negotiable for you, and had been the reason you came to a Nordstrom in the first place, and when you found it sitting on a shelf by itself in all of its glory, you had simply become transfixed.

As you walked toward the candle, you didn’t notice that another customer was going for it as well, leading both of your hands to land on the candle, the absurdity of the situation making you blush. This was just your luck.

“Oh, this is awkward,” you played off the encounter, then attempted to subtly pull the candle your way, and away from the man.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” The man whose hand was also placed on the candle said shortly, before attempting to pull the candle his way.

“Hey man, I’m kinda on a tight schedule, and I really need to get this like… right now. I have a flight in like.. An hour,” you exaggerated.

“That’s too bad, ‘cause I really need this candle too.”

You took a deep breath, only you would find yourself in this kind of situation. “To be fair, I definitely saw this candle first. I’m its rightful buyer,” You attempted.

“Mmm, I definitely had my eyes on it first, so with your logic, I deserve this candle.” The man narrowed his baby blue eyes, and put a hand on his hip.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hoping that maybe if you acted dramatic enough, he’d leave you and your candle alone.

“Sweetheart, can you even afford this kind of thing? I’m sure your friends or family, or whoever the fuck you’re getting this for, would rather you not go into debt over a candle. Just let me have it,” he responded cooly, as if he hadn’t just called you poor to your face.

You looked at him with an open-mouthed expression, completely shocked at the nerve this man had. “Fuck you, you asshole!” You attempted to yank the candle out from his grip, and you could begin to tell that the man’s resolve was beginning to fall.

“Fine. Take the damn candle. But maybe you could give me a little gift in exchange, and go out with me sometime,” he offered, slipping his now free hand into the pocket of his tan peacoat.

You were honestly shocked by this whole exchange. How did he go from insulting you and calling you poor, to asking you on a date? Men are so weird, you thought to yourself. He really isn’t that bad looking, you also considered. “Eat shit, guy,” you told him before flipping him off, and walking away.

-----

Imagine your surprise when you saw the same man from the store sitting in a local Massachusetts restaurant, with whom you assumed were his family. With your sister sitting across from you, you couldn’t help but be gossipy and point him out.

You scoffed and leaned over to your sister once you saw him, “See that guy over there?” You whispered to her, gesturing your head in his general direction.

“Which one?” she asked. “There are like five guys. Are you talking about the dude with the goatee? That old dude with the grey hair? Y/N! I didn’t know you were a grave robber!” she giggled and poked your side while you rolled your eyes, “Or, are you talking about that sexy beast in the white sweater?”

“The se- the dude in the sweater-”

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty hot. You should go talk to him,” she began to scoot out of her seat.

“No, you idiot!” You whisper shouted to her. “That guy basically attacked me in the store the other day. And then, he had the nerve to ask me out on a date!”

He must’ve felt the two of you’s stare, as he turned around and gave you a brief surprised look, then a twisted smirk.

“Oh my god, Bea, act natural,” You whispered before turning your head so fast that you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

You brought a hand up to your face and rubbed your browline in a fit of embarrassment. You looked down, then began to shovel pasta into your mouth at an ungodly fast rate.

“Oh come on, Y/N, he’s cute. What did he say to you that was so bad that you turned down his hot ass?” She asked, glancing back over at the man who was still occasionally looking over at your table.

“It’s kinda a long story. I’ll tell you later,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat steadily growing on your cheeks.

Beatrice shrugged, and a waiter approached your table.

“Ma’am, the man over there wanted me to give this to you,” he said before awkwardly placing a glass of white wine in front of you, along with a ripped napkin with a note and number.

We started off on the wrong foot, give me a call sometime?

Ransom

XXX-XXX-XXXX

-----

You looked at the note for so long, that it would’ve been better off being tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Just text him, Y/N,” your sister told you, her sentence a bit muffled by the toothbrush dangling from her mouth.

“He really seems like a dick,” you groaned, before rolling onto your back and throwing an arm over your eyes. Your sister rinsed out her mouth in the ensuite before returning with some advice.

“Well, he’s hot. Maybe you can bring him as a date to the Holiday party or something,” she stated before sitting down on the foot of your bed. “What’s the worst that could happen, Y/N? If he hurts your feelings, you can throw a hot drink at him and walk away. At best, you get a hot piece of ass to be your boyfriend.” she squeezed your calf reassuringly.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll text him tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl!” Beatrice cheered, then placed a kiss on your forehead. “‘Night, Y/N,”

“Goodnight,” you mumbled before attempting to fall asleep.

-----

The funny thing about you, is that you were a master procrastinator. So after a day and a half, you’d put Ransom’s number into your phone, but had contemplated so many different opening texts, that you’d just completely given up. Besides, you had your parents’ holiday party to be attending and to be caring about.

You did some final touch ups of your makeup, before heading downstairs, and watching guests arrive from a safe spot in the kitchen.

Sometime after talking to about seven of your childhood friends, you felt a large hand press against the satin material of your short, red, tie-waisted dress.

“No way, girl I see everywhere?” The man who you know knew was Ransom, asked.

“It’s Y/N. Hi, Ransom,” you bit the inside of your cheek to hold back your laugh at the absurdity of it all, the fact that he was standing in your parents’ home, the fact that he was literally everywhere you went, and because you’d never in your life been called ‘The girl I see everywhere.’

“Why didn’t you ever call me? I mean, not even a text? Also, why are you following me everywhere?” He inquired, moving to stand in front of you.

“Well, I uh.. I forgot. Sorry, I’m a super busy woman. And I also live here... sometimes.. so if anyone is following anyone else, it’s you following me,” you tried to say this confidently, but something about Ransom really threw you off your game.

“You live here? No way. Is this like your family home?” He asked, and you nodded. “So our parents have been friends this whole time, and we had no idea.” He gestured to a doorway, where your mother and his were talking with flutes of champagne in hand.

“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” you said quietly, mostly to yourself.

“Maybe, this is just fate. We’re meant to be together, and that’s why we keep seeing each other everywhere,” you raised an eyebrow and tilted your head when he said that to you, genuinely confused at why those words would come out of his mouth. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just kidding,” he said with a bemused smile.

“You have a weird sense of humor, Ransom.” You told him plainly, trying to act disinterested, though you were rather endeared. He definitely saw right through you, as he gave you a little grin before he began to speak again.

“So tell me about yourself.”

-----

After a few too many drinks, you were walking down the sidewalk, hand and hand with Ransom as you searched for any sort of restaurant that could be open at that hour.

Finally, you found a quaint and rather empty 24-hour diner with its lights on. The two of you sat down in a booth, and struggled to contain giggles as you sipped from mugs of stale, lukewarm coffee. Why you were giggling, you weren’t completely sure.

“You know what, Ransom, once you get over the asshole-ness, you’re not that bad,” you reached out a hand, and set it on top of Ransom’s, that was idly sitting on the table.

“Wow, thanks,” he chuckled, a dark pink dusting his cheeks.

“Why did we even come here?” You groaned, “No offense, but this coffee tastes like ass,” you whined,

“And how do you know what ass tastes like?” Ransom burst out giggling at this.

“Shut up. Are you twelve?” You pretended to be annoyed with him, before giving in and laughing along with him. “Can you take me home?” You asked with puppy dog eyes.

Apparently, one for the dramatics, Ransom tossed a $50 bill onto the table, then stood up from his seat at the booth to swoop you up in a bridal style.

“Ohhh my god,” you slurred as he carried you out the door, then eventually set you back down on the pavement once he became tired.

-----

While you walked up to your doorstep, Ransom stood on the sidewalk, watching you contentedly. As you got to your door and turned around, he gave you a big, goofy smile and a wave.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come in with me,” you invited. It was safe to say, Ransom happily obliged.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom thrombey x you #ransom thrombey x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #knives out fanfic #fluff #hey i wrote that lol

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nelllraiser · 3 years

Text

hell’s true north | adam & nell

TIMING: current. LOCATION: hellscape number ??. PARTIES: @walker-journal & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: adam follows his compass home. CONTAINS: sibling death (brief references to the bea plot), mass poisoning (from inhospitable domain), parental death mentions.

Vines with the texture of withered leather fingers writhed under Adam’s feet as he stumbled out of a brackish puddle of ichor. Disaster response boots that’d been designed to weather fire, acid, and radiation had eventually yielded before the onslaught of otherworldly environs. Now the ragged soles barely clung to his feet, wrapped tight with bloody strips of bloody demon hide. The most cutting edge kevlar, environment-resistant tactical gear, breathing apparatuses, and deadly military firearms had been gradually ravaged into uselessness by universes full of chemicals and alternative laws of physics that Earthly science had never imagined. As the tactics, preparation, and martial science Adam had once relied on was stripped away in the nonstop battles with demonic flora and fauna, the title of Hunter had become brutally literal.

Adam spelunked through caverns that formed from the innards of sleeping elder things, scaled cliff sides made of solidified light and shadow, jumped across archipelagos of bone islands floating in stormy skies, climbed up trees the size of skyscrapers whose fruits were embryonic sacks in which monsters gestated, hiked across the savannahs with rolling plains of scalpel-sharp obsidian grass, and tightroped across worlds that were just spider webs of tentacles stretched across abyssal gyres.

Adam was now a ragged figure where a dauntless soldier had once been, the shreds of his tactical uniform stitched together with leather and pieces of chitin. Once the olympics-ready peak of health, the footballer’s veins were stained with dark lines across his skin and he stumbled across the landscape of grasping roots and tide pools of black blood. His breathing was shallow treks through world after world had wracked the Hunter’s body with alien toxins that even the mutant’s regeneration was failing to fight off. Adam’s vision was blurred with the edges and everything muscle in his battered body begged to just lay down in darkness.

But the compass in Adam’s hand pointed the way across the hellscape of fire, floating islands of tentacled flesh, and geometric monoliths to old gods that's already sunk into dreaming torpor long before humankind had discovered fire. Adam fought back agony and followed the compass needles across the poisoned land.

Everything had blurred together by now. Nell couldn’t even clearly remember how she’d gotten to this realm, just that she’d fallen through far too many holes in the ground, off cliff sides, or out of sky-hanging oceans to even begin to remember what world this was. The red skies she’d originally arrived under were long gone, barely a memory after all the worlds that had followed, and all the attacks she'd scrambled to come out of in one piece. Though perhaps calling herself one piece was being generous when she’d resorted to packing the missing chunks of her flesh with whatever she could find that didn’t instantly sting and burn at her open wounds. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d slept, time still immeasurable in places like these— just that she hadn’t done it since the baykok’s attack. The lack of sleep meant she hadn’t been able to replenish a single shining grain of her magic after she’d been quite literally drained and fed from, her body having nothing but sheer determination to keep her wavering feet from falling out beneath her.

Something was the very definition of fundamentally wrong with this world in terms of survivability. Nell could feel it in the way each breath felt sharper than the last, and the ugly coughs that had her spitting up black specks on the palms of her hands. None of the places she’d seen could have been described as friendly, but this one felt like it was digging her foot deeper into the grave with every second she stayed. She needed to find a way out if she wanted to make it another hour. Nell was far past the point of finding a way back to White Crest, ready to settle for a hellscape that wasn’t killing the witch with every inhale of her lungs, and go from there if she could manage to last that long. How long had she lasted already? How much longer could she last? She’d always been a fighter, refusing to go down without taking at least a part of her attacker with her. But how could she carve out a piece of a world? How was she meant to rage against an entire realm? Maybe sometimes there was simply nothing to fight against, the hand of Fate snuffing out her life whether she liked it or not.

And yet she kept walking, limping along as the injury on her leg oozed with some otherworldly infection that promised to kill her if this air didn’t. There was no direction, no plan, just the foolish hope that she’d stumble into a place where she could properly breathe. She walked until she could barely make out a figure on the horizon, squinting her eyes against the bright green and dingy brown of this place while she wondered if this would be the final creature to kill her. But the figure grew closer, and despite her best judgement an uncontrollable wave of hope flooded her chest. “Adam?” she dared to utter, even though she knew it was far too good to be true. Nell and the hellscape had done this before in the form of a tikbalang sending her astray with the perfect illusion of her hunter. “We’re doing this again?” she asked the air in a tone that was resigned to the disappointment of finding another falsehood, the high instantly giving way to a low. “What is it? Another tikbalang?” But this Adam was different. He looked sickly, and past the point of battered— like he’d already knocked on death’s door only for death to tell him to come back in ten or so minutes. They’d call him when they were ready. Why would an illusion-caster show her this?

Hallucinations had become ever more common as toxic environs and constant otherworldly stimuli wore down Adam’s nervous system.

Sometimes it was dad, gently reminding him of past lessons as Adam fought his way through nightmarish creatures and tried to find his way through landscapes only possible in other realities. Other times it was James or Terry, come to chat idly about football and girls as Adam trekked across wastelands whose sloping yet flat contours didn’t obey the rules of time and space. Dave gruffly reminded him about knots and the perils of marine warfare as Adam journeyed through rivers that flowed up into the sky and seas of sentint poison. Regan gave pointers on splinting a broken arm with a demon’s bones all while primly reminding him she wasn’t that kind of doctor. Orion nervously recounted facts about obscure demon types as Adam ducked claws and spines while trying to find a weak point. Ariana punched Adam in the arm and reminded him to buck up and put on a tough grin when everything was just pain. Athena gave advice on slowing the poison’s spread through his body with her mixture of tenderness and steel. Kaden brusquely correctly Adam on his stances as the younger Hunter’s limbs trembled with neurological damage, before reminding him to stay alive. Mina kept him vigilant, pointing out dangerous movements and sounds even when every fiber of Adam’s body wanted to sink into oblivion. Morgan spoke gently to him when the horror became too much, her hand on his shaking shoulders when the mental strain of glimpsing elder things sent Adam into seizuring convulsions. Dani reminded him of duty and their ancestral oaths with a concerned smile when ancient deceivers whispered in Adam’s brain, offering easy miracles in his moments of weakness. Luce yelled at him to get the fuck back up and fight when Adam could barely stand and death’s release drew close. Beatrice demanded that Adam remember who he’d come her for, when poisoned dreams threatened to swallow reality entirely.

So this was not the first time Adam’d met Nell and had to hold back tears when stabbing yet another shapeshifter to death or felt crushing emptiness when it turned out he’d only embraced only empty air.

Adam looked down at the compass needle, pointing unerringly forward.

“Hey Nell,” Adam rasped through cracked lips, taking a green stone with a hole through its center from a cord around his neck. He held out the Adder Stone in one hand, gory knife clutched in the other. “When’d you give this to me?”

Nell looked to the Adder Stone held in Adam’s hand, her solemn resignation to the illusion disrupted by the flickering of uncertainty in her eyes. The compass was a new addition as well, though she recognized the daffodil bloom she’d carefully laid into the face of it, the magic and flowers they’d made together under a full moon. “But I didn’t- I was gonna give you that after the date,” she mumbled, already chiding herself for how easily a couple of emotional trinkets could sway her mind towards what the demon world wanted her to see. But the compass wasn’t what he was asking about. The Adder Stone. Of course she remembered when she’d given it to him- the first of many things she’d gifted in an attempt to keep him safe.

“After Bea- after we...brought her back.” Nell had masqueraded the gift as a thanks for Adam’s help in bringing her sister back from the ether, but the truth had gone deeper than that. “I said it was for helping protect my family. But I just- the carachs had just given you those visions, and the somnivore thing wasn’t that far off.” It’d been nearly a year ago that she’d delivered the stone, nearly five months after their first meeting at the Ring, and by then she’d already gotten soft for him. “You were hurting and- I didn’t want you to hurt.” Taking the Adder Stone between her fingers, she swallowed hard as she held it before her face, already dreading the moment he’d disappear before her eyes. The motion sent her into a brief coughing fit, the heaves long and loud as her lungs desperately tried to dispel the poison in her system. At the end of it she finally raised the stone’s center to her eye, knowing this vision and her willingness to linger with even a false Adam had already shaved precious moments off the stopwatch that was ticking down the seconds until the poison got the best of her. “Let’s just- let’s get this over with.” It was silly, and she shouldn’t have said it knowing he was nothing more than an exhaustion or demon induced delusion. But she couldn’t help herself as the next words whispered from her lips, trying to find a moment of peace in a land that had never known it. “I miss you. I’ll miss you.”

Finally Nell looked through the stone’s center, still surprised at how solid it felt in her hands, wondering if that was another lie to be chalked up to feeling dead on her feet. Except Adam didn’t fade from view, didn’t disappear into nothingness as she locked her gaze onto his familiar and brown eyes. She gasped, still hardly believing it but reaching out nonetheless, letting the Adder Stone thump unceremoniously against his chest while its cord slackened and her hand found a gentle resting place alongside his cheek. Warmth. Perhaps a little too warm, as if he were running a fever. But there was the unmistakable feeling of life beneath her fingertips, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer to close the space between them, slipping her other hand into his. Her knees grew even more unsteady, either from shock, barely having the energy to hold herself upright, or both— and for a moment she rested a little more weight against him than she probably should have considering his state. But it was impossible for her not to sink into the first safe place she’d found since the onychorror had snatched her. She’d finally found a place where she was safe in the hellhole. A place where she’d always been safe to crumble, to relieve her walls of their nearly ever-present duties. A place where she knew it was safe to fall because he’d never once stumbled when it came to catching her. “How- How did you- you’re real? Please- either this is a really good mindfuck or-” Or Tate had made good on his deal, and managed to get her hastily doctored sigil back to White Crest. Was it possible something had actually gone right? Had gone so right as to bring the man she loved to her side?

Adam let the knife fall from his hand onto the writhing ground and put his arms around Nell. There was a moment of tenseness, of resigned expectation. But she didn’t turn to mist, slip right through him, or boil up into some hungry thing. Tidal waves of relief and shock at something too impossibly good to be true collided in Adam’s chest. Nell was solid, real. Just a moment Adam couldn’t feel the heat of the burning sky or the poisons of alien worlds killing him cell by cell.

“I’m real,” Adam assured holding her tight with what strength was left in him. “I’m really here.” He entwined the fingers of their free hands. “I don’t want any other life except one with you in it,” the Hunter confessed, wasting precious water as the tears slid down his bloody and battered face.

“So uh...here I am.”

Nell could feel her own tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, an avalanche of relief washing over her near-ravaged spirit, almost still waiting for this moment to break in a way that left her spinning. But the moment never came, and Adam was breathtakingly solid within her arms. For a long breath she savored the peace he brought, like a salve over an open wound. She wanted to bury herself against him, to hide from the world around them and pretend like it didn’t exist, but the fear that he’d disappear if she so much as looked away from his gaze was too great, afraid to even blink lest the break in their eye contact be the blip of time needed for him to dissipate from under her hands.

She could feel her pulse gain a few extra beats while Adam made his declaration, heart in her throat while she ran his words on repeat through her mind. It was wrong. So wrong that such beautiful words should have to be uttered in a world as ugly as this one, spoken between the gasping breaths of a dying pair. Nell had always known that loving Adam wouldn’t be easy between his constant brushes with death, and the conditioning that often made him feel the need to put humanity’s welfare before anything else in his life. She’d done it nevertheless, having made peace with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t ever wholly be her’s, a part of him always belonging only to his mission. The pieces of him she’d been given had been more than enough. But that didn’t mean his admission didn’t tug at her heart, didn’t make it soar in a way that made a fluttering bloom in chest that had nothing to do with the poisonous air slowly killing her.

“Here you are,” Nell finally managed to repeat in wonder. Hadn’t he been the one trying to convince her to leave him behind should the demon apocalypse commence? He'd told her that she was a part of humanity’s hope for survival, that she should abandon him for the sake of the world. It was his own words that made her know the gravity of him choosing to come for her, to potentially sacrifice one of humanity’s hopes in the form of himself by searching for her in the endless worlds. And that was enough to keep her voice steady and sincere while she spoke. “I don’t want a life without you either.”

Part of Nell wanted to be upset with him, to scold him for being so foolish with his own life by following her into the portal, but she couldn’t manage to speak the words through the temporary moment of solace they’d found in the middle of hell— unwilling to break it. Unfortunately there was something else that needed to be said that would do just as good a job at shattering their moment of quiet. Something she couldn’t ignore. “There’s...something else I need to tell you.” Let her hold onto this shining feeling for just a few more seconds before she brought them back to reality.

Adam had grown up with the knowledge that his life wasn’t his own. It belonged to humanity’s destiny, a merciless idol that generations upon generations of his family had been sacrificed to appease. The abnegation of the self had been soothing in a way, it’d made him brave in a way. It doesn’t hurt to suffer and risk your life again and again if it isn’t truly yours to lose. He tried to never deceive the women in his life. Nobody deserved to be given only part of someone to love.

Mom and dad had loved each other intensely, and Adam had seen the aftermath after the needs of humanity had demanded yet another sacrifice. At the time he’d thought he’d learned a lesson from Esther Walker’s sorrow, and was determined to never hurt someone the way his father had.

But after three years of complete radio silence, Adam had spoken with mom and learned too late that he'd gotten it all wrong. As he’d grown, so had she, and neither mother or son were the same broken people that’d parted at Gehena 19.

Penelope was a person he shouldn’t have loved. She practiced demonology, the very art that’d fucked up the world in the first place. She’d participated in human trafficking and slavery. She’d performed ritual human sacrifice. She’d hunted down bounties without any concern for morality or a higher cause. She aided and abetted supernatural criminals simply because of her personal feelings. When these actions reaped consequences, Nell responded with personal wrath and revenge rather than seeking resolution, splintering tragedy into ever more fractals of repercussion.

Basically, by every standard he’d been raised to believe in, Penelope Vural was evil, and if she hadn’t been born human Adam would’ve been obligated to kill her.

But that’s not what happened. At first it’d just been that she was a useful ally. Next it'd just been typical horndog Adam, thinking with the head in his trousers rather than one on his shoulders again. Physical attraction and wary partnership had explained things for only so long however. She was brave, self-sacrificing, vivacious, and free to act according to passion and her free will in a way Adam had never dared to be. Eventually Adam was sharing things with her that he’d never dreamed of telling anyone else.

He wasn’t supposed to care about someone like Nell, to give her so much of what belonged to the mission. Adam could only love someone also sworn to fight the same war, no one else could understand the sacrifices necessary and what’d inevitably come sooner rather than later. Adam had been introduced to Huntresses his age with the unspoken understanding that eventually he’d find someone to fight alongside and raise children with to pass the sacred charge onto the next generation.

Adam had drank, partied, and screwed his way into forgetting for a while. Until suddenly, he ended up loving the wrong person, someone who wanted Adam for just himself, war be damned.

It wasn’t the right thing.

But what if he just….did y’know?

What he just loved Nell like she deserved without holding back, fight for his own humanity for a change?

Adam just wished he'd had the courage to take that plunge earlier.

Adam looked parted the embrace slightly so that he could meet her gaze “What is it Nell?”

Nell hadn’t planned to fall for Adam Walker, hadn’t even entirely noticed how close she’d let him get until she’d felt like she was on the edge of losing him, delivering the news that August Thompson had died a death far from peaceful— that Adam’s hand had been directly involved in the spellcaster’s demise. Of course she’d known he was one of the people she’d trusted most, one of the only people she’d ever let see her stripped to the core while he’d held her after Bea’s death. It was why she’d asked him to help in the first place. But she hadn’t realized just how much there was to lose until she was standing on the precipice. She’d been convinced that it would be the end, that she’d managed to ruin something before even really letting it begin, and that he wouldn't come back. It turned out she didn't need to worry about him coming back, because he’d never left in the first place. And he kept not leaving, something that had been rare in the life of a witch who had an overzealous temper and a reckless streak a mile wide.

So when he’d done things others might condemn or draw the line at— killed a werewolf in cold blood, admitted his own bloodlust beneath a full moon, gone on a murder spree fueled by the same moon, considered a demon pact, left her on read in the middle of feeling as if she were about to lose him...there’d been no choice of whether or not she’d grant him the same loyalty, to stay with him just as he’d stayed with her. She’d just wanted him to come home. And he always had. Even now, after fighting his way through literal hell, he’d come home.

Selfishly putting off her bad news for one moment longer, she let months of feeling the sun on her face when he smiled fill her soul, holding onto that feeling as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say. What needed to be said if they didn’t make it out of this hellscape, and what she should have said much sooner despite being scared. She’d been worried about what he might say in reply, always thinking of that part of himself that she knew he felt he couldn’t give, not sure if she wanted to hear the ‘I’m sorry, but’ that she might get in response. But the man who’d dived into hell for her deserved to hear it, and she wasn’t scared anymore. “You know I love you, right?” He didn’t need to say it back, she’d finally realized that while he’d been walking towards her, knowing loving words could never speak as loudly as his actions had. “I just wanted you to know,” she assured him, letting him know she didn’t need to hear it in return. It wouldn’t change anything.

Now for the less charming of her news. “Not to...instantly bring the mood down but...the other thing I needed to tell you…” Nell glanced over her shoulder, as if the soul-snatching creature would be there even now as she divulged news of it. “There’s a...slaugh. I think it’s been following me.” Adam would know what it meant, that such creatures only went after those who were generally mere hours from dying, waiting to devour their souls. Nell had glimpsed it as she kept rubbing elbows with death in the hellscape, the being momentarily coming into focus while she’d barely escaped a demon encounter with her life still intact. The creatures were nearly as good at predicting death as banshees were.

Adam followed her gaze towards the burning horizon where plasma storms corrustated in lightning rainbows over living plains of crawling flesh. Slaugh were vultures of the spirit world. As a kid he’d been terrified of the invisible presences that set off his Hunter senses whenever there was a clash between militia forces around the Levant. It’d felt like a blizzard of dark wings, choking him with claustrophobia on empty arid plains covered in bodies shredded by shrapnel.

Mom had assured her son he wasn’t crazy. He could just feel the demons glutted humanity’s senseless wars against itself.

Adam‘s mind went back to Regan’s prophecy and felt an iron dread settle in his stomach, adding bittersweetness to the joy and relief coursing through his enervated body.

Adam let the future go and drew Nell close against him again, just letting this moment exist for as long as hell allowed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth ,” he murmured.

The tension in Nell’s shoulders melted as Adam pulled her back, savoring their togetherness for as long as she could, feeling true hope for the first time since...she wasn’t actually certain how long it had been, not even knowing how many days she’d been stuck in these hell-worlds. She drew a long breath while she was pressed against him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was still here- still real even though it seemed impossible that he was. When they got back to Earth. It seemed like a far off hope, like shooting for the moon without any of that bullshit optimism of landing among the stars. “Then you can tell me the plan when we find a place that’s not suffocating us.” He wouldn’t have come without one, right? It was one thing to condemn himself to death, and she wouldn’t be entirely surprised given his generally self-sacrificing nature, whether that had been taught, was natural, or a combination of the two. But it was another entirely to forfeit the life of her as well by diving in without an extraction plan. He wouldn’t have risked the person he was saving.

The slaugh was worrisome enough as an omen of death, but there’d been more to consider when it’s eating of souls was brought into play. Nell still wasn’t all that sure whether she’d want to be raised from the dead in the first place should she perish in the next twenty-four hours, but if the slaugh ate her soul...she wouldn’t have a choice to begin with. You couldn’t raise a body without a soul.

Again Nell fell silent while she drank in as much as this as she could, the dread in her stomach a constant reminder of how far there still was to go. But with Adam- at least she stood a chance. With Adam they could at least sleep, taking varied watches. And then maybe some of her magic would come back and Adam could heal, and then...well then they’d at least have a fighting chance together, always stronger together. Nell used her fragile strength to bring herself to the tips of her toes, trying to press a gentle kiss to his black-veined cheek before feathering across his lips. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth,” she echoed, recognizing it as another promise they could hold between them. They’d go back to Earth together in the same way they’d fought the dolorphage, the way they’d faced an unknown future beneath the full moon all those months ago, and the same way they’d taken on a demon cult and lived to tell the tale— always together.

#// DON'T LOOK AT ME IM EMOTIONAL #as alwAYS tapir just gives me a GIFT of a chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:adam #hell's true north #sibling death tw #mass poisoning tw #parental death tw

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bookandcranny · 3 years

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Beatrice - Chapter One

“What’s that garden over there?” she asked the landlady.

“Oh, so you spotted it,” she replied. “It’s a funny thing to see around here, isn’t it? How’s the saying go? ‘Like a sore thumb.’”

“Or a green one,” Gianna agreed.

“It’s a bit small.”

The landlady nodded and gave Gianna a sympathetic smile. She was a stout, older woman with drooping features behind wide-framed glasses that dominated her face. Gianna’s more generous first impression of her was that she looked kind, and the way she spoke reminded her faintly of her mother, though the landlady’s accent was thicker and her voice crackled and dragged with age like a damaged film reel.

It was due in no small part to this assessment that she’d chosen this apartment in the first place. That and the low price of rent. Although it was a decent neighborhood the building was fairly run-down and the long winding staircase leading up to her floor was creaky and narrow.

The unit she was supposed to be living in when she’d first made to move in had suddenly had to undergo renovations after a pipe burst behind one of the walls. Gianna couldn’t wait for the repairs or for another cheap space to miraculously open up in New York City, so she agreed to move from the second floor to the only other available unit, which was on the sixth floor.

It was little more than a single room with a bathroom and kitchenette attached and-- she could not emphasize this enough-- it was on the sixth floor in a building with no elevator. Thankfully, the rent was also considerably cheaper, and the landlady had offered her a discount for the inconvenience as well. Even if she’d stuck her on a cot in the basement for twice the amount she would have had little choice but to take it. It was either that or take the long, shameful train ride back to her parents’ house, tail between her legs.

Living with her parents after college had been fine for a while, but only just fine, and she wasn’t willing to settle for fine any longer. She wanted a life, a career, maybe a girlfriend? No, no, probably not that. Not yet. Being trapped in a town where every eligible bachelorette was somebody she’d gone to highschool with-- no thanks-- had left Gianna touch-starved and sexless, but that wasn’t enough to make her lose track of her priorities. She’d start her new job on Monday, focus on saving up enough for a marginally nicer place, then she could think about getting laid.

“Be careful about the light in the kitchen,” the landlady warned. “The wiring is old so if you leave it on for too long at a time in the summer it’ll start to spark.”

“Oh great,” she deadpanned.

“Tsh. You won’t miss it. On a sunny day like today you don’t even need the extra light.”

That was one thing she did like about the apartment. There was indeed a lot of natural light that came in through the windows along the east wall. She walked over and opened one, hoping to air the place out before she finished bringing up what little she’d brought with her. Despite the recent heatwave, the breeze that afternoon was cool and sweet, only smelling very faintly of car exhaust and asphalt. She sorely missed the sea-salted winds that had blown in from the shore when she had been traveling abroad, and reminded herself again that this was a temporary arrangement.

As she admired the view-- one of the few true perks of her new living arrangement-- a splash of green amongst the brown and gray colored landscape caught her eye. She pulled up the mesh screen and leaned her head out, one hand braced on the windowsill, expecting to see maybe a stubborn curl of ivy that had climbed its way up the neighboring brownstone. Instead, she was surprised to see a lustrous garden growing out of a terrace a couple floors below. If she took a good running leap, she mused, she could jump right onto that ledge from here, providing she didn’t miss and end up splattered all over the alleyway.

The elevated garden was too high and too hidden to be seen from the street, but from above she could get close enough to count the leaves on the shrubbery. It was quite an impressive collection, particularly the many-colored array of flowers. Gianna wasn’t exactly a florist, but they looked exotic, unlike anything she’d seen before.

“What’s that garden over there?” she asked the landlady.

“Oh, so you spotted it,” she replied. “It’s a funny thing to see around here, isn’t it? How’s the saying go? ‘Like a sore thumb.’”

“Or a green one,” Gianna agreed.

“Honestly I almost forgot about it. You can’t see it so well from the other apartments. The man who lives there is a… what’s the word? A stay-inside man. You know, someone who doesn’t go out much-- a shut-in! He likes his privacy. I remember once he called the office phone one day in a terrible mood, saying if I got in the habit of housing peeping toms he’d have to inform the police. Horrible old man.”

She tutted disapprovingly.

“Geez, all that over someone looking at his plants?”

“Well, he didn’t say it outright, but I got the feeling it was more about the girl. His daughter, I think, or granddaughter maybe. I never met either of them in person, and for that I thank God.” She blew a kiss towards the ceiling and chuckled raspingly. “Now come this way, I need to show you what to do if the sink gives you trouble.”

With no small effort Gianna pulled her gaze away from the window. The richly colored blooms just across the way captured both her attention and imagination in a way that made her wish she hadn’t given up painting. When the last of the paperwork was settled and she was alone in her-- her!-- apartment, she returned to the spot and stared.

At the center of that mass of plantlife, that color swatch of eden, there was a big ceramic fountain with even more flowers filling up its basin, taking root who knows where. Delicate vines dotted with purple and yellow flowers spiralled up the center statue, a broken, half-eroded thing which must have once depicted a human figure, though now all that remained was an offwhite pair of naked legs and the beginning of a torso.

After a few minutes of languishing by the sunlit sill like some lazy housecat, a door slid open and Gianna saw a figure enter into the garden. She took one look and knew this must be the man that the landlady spoke of. He was wearing a dark dressing gown over his clothes, which hung loosely from his bony frame, and moved as though he were ankle-deep in quicksand, plodding through the mass of green at a snail’s pace. As he came more into view, Gianna began to glean why. The man’s face was sallow, sunken, with an unscrupulous smattering of pure white stubble on his chin. Even from a distance, he was unmistakably ill.

Just like the beauty of the terrace garden had caught and cradled her attention, so too did the ugliness of its master. She felt bad for spying, but it was like a car crash on the highway or a particularly inane online argument; she couldn’t look away.

The man pulled on a heavy pair of gardening gloves and a paper mask and began to prune and pluck at certain growths. He gathered and sorted the clippings into little plastic bags. If he had some sort of system driving his path, it was an inscrutable one. After a while of picking through the garden seemingly at random, he retreated back inside.

However, just as he was shuffling through the sliding door-- the phrase, “back from whence he came” came to mind-- he paused with his hand on the glass and raised his head. He turned and, as if guided by some preternatural intuition, stared directly into Gianna’s window.

Their eyes met and Gianna withdrew with a gasp. Of course after the moment had passed, she laughed at herself for her reaction. There was no way he’d been looking at her. Coincidence paired with a chronically overactive imagination had made her see something where there was nothing. He was a sick old man with a perfectly normal hobby, not some sinister ghoul.

Nevertheless, she lowered the blinds and kept them lowered for the rest of the day.

-----

By Monday, Gianna had more or less forgotten about the creepy old man and his garden. There was unpacking to do, furniture to acquire and then spray with bedbug killer, and most importantly, a fancy new job to buy some fancy second-hand clothes for.

That was maybe overstating things a bit. She was hired on to work with a small team restoring and preserving a local university’s art collection. The reality of the occupation wasn’t glamorous, but it was dignified. It was something Gianna could and did take pride in, undoing the damage wrought by the passing years one cotton swab at a time, revealing the beauty underneath.

Being back in the city, she nostalgically recalled a field trip to the Metropolitan back at the age when the nude sculptures made her classmates giggle, earning rolled eyes from the chaperone, and made young Gianna deeply uneasy in a way she didn’t yet have the words to explain. But it was the women with the flowing finery and piercing painted stares that caused her insides to flutter with something like hope. Billowing skirts caught in suspended animation mid-twirl, whether staged in the dramatic light-vs-shadow games of the baroque period or abstracted by a million tiny brushstrokes in a more impressionistic style. They had changed something in her.

But in spite of her love of the arts, she could never seem to sum up the same confidence when the brush was in her own hands. After long struggling on her own, she reluctantly accepted her dad’s offer to put a word in for her with connections at Fordham. Once upon a time the idea of returning to her dad’s alma mater would’ve warmed her with pride. Now she was just thankful the surname Alexander was common enough that the chances of anyone recognizing her was slim. The last thing she wanted was to start her first day with people already thinking she was only here by the grace of her family connections.

In spite of all her apprehensions, her first day went by without a hitch, save for the belated realization that she’d forgotten to tear the tag off her new blouse. She didn’t think anyone noticed. By the time she stepped on the subway that evening she was practically vibrating with a frantic, ecstatic energy that didn’t abate into exhaustion until she was home and sweating off her six-story hike. That, more than anything, was going to take some getting used to, she mused.

She shed her good-first-impression suit in favor of a cropped halter top and sweatpants. The setting sun cast beams of golden light through the slats in the blinds and over the back of her neck, the curve of one freckled shoulder. It wobbled iridescent through the glass and on a whim Gianna got up to open the window. There was that sweetish scent on the wind again, overpowering even the smoke that wafted up from the tenant below as he ground his cigarette butt against the masonry. Innocently, almost incidentally, she cast her gaze upon the little eden. There was someone new in the garden today.

The woman in the violet dress was opposite to the old man in every way. Dancing through the garden, touching every bloom and bud as if it were the hand of a treasured friend, Gianna had never seen anyone more alive. Short, dark curls like fiddleheads bobbed around her plum-flushed cheeks. In the pink twilight, she almost seemed to glow.

It wasn’t like Gianna to start waxing romantic over a stranger. She hadn’t felt that sort of blind infatuation since her first year of college, when she left home for the first time and a whole new world of opportunity suddenly opened to her the way it never could have with her passionately Catholic mother looking over her shoulder. This, she reasoned, must be something like that. She was just getting high on that feeling of possibility and freedom again.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, Gianna had opened the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. She climbed from platform to platform until the neighboring terrace was only a stone’s throw away, until she could hear the young woman’s voice as she murmured fawning nonsense to the flowers. In her distraction, Gianna’s foot slipped on the last rung of the ladder. She caught herself, though not gracefully and not before making a notable clamor on the way down.

The woman’s head shot up. Her eyes were the same color as her dress, and there was a leaf caught in her hair.

“Hey,” Gianna said, trying and failing to recover smoothly.

“...Hi.”

She swallowed. “I live up there.” She pointed. “I’m not, like, a burglar.”

“You wouldn’t be a very good one,” the woman said with a timid, uncertain smile.

She stepped away from the ledge and started to walk away. As Gianna’s heart sunk, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“I just need a refill.” She held up an empty plant mister. “I’m coming back.”

“Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” she said under her breath, hands covering her face from the embarrassment. What is wrong with me?

“Are you the new tenant? My father said there was someone new. He hated the last person who lived in that apartment.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “But, I mean, I’m sure he’ll like you.”

She huffed a laugh, taking some comfort from the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one so utterly awkward at introductions.

“I’m Gianna.” She put out her hand, although it was obvious she couldn’t reach to shake it.

The other mirrored the motion. “Beatrice. It’s a pleasure to meet you, new neighbor, and a relief.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

Beatrice fiddled absently with her dress, twisting one thin strap around her finger. “None of the other neighbors ever come to say hey. It’s been boring.” She smiled. “You don’t seem boring.”

That fluttery feeling returned, the tender thrill of standing before a piece of artwork. Here like there, now like then, something just clicked.

Insects filled the silence with their buzzing hums of contentment. A butterfly alighted onto Beatrice’s shoulder as she settled on the garden wall and a faint woozy feeling overcame Gianna as its wings slowed, spasmed, then went rigid as it fell motionless to the ground.

next chapter

#my writing #project: beatrice #writeblr #chapter story #gothic #horror romance #lgbt #rappaccini's daughter

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years

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Good morning/night/afternoon/evening/day/time hello!

So after seeing how many friends mc have, like wait let me count-----

26! in the friendlist not including, the unofficial friend like Corey,...

With how many friends there are, are there any friends that you would delete in favor of flashing out the other characters or would you like to keep it that way?

I have some ideas on who to delete in favor of flashing out the more main characters, but i fear that this might be a bit... yikess.. I understand that people like this characters and me saying that they "should not exist" might get people mad, i hope this does not give you to much problem.

1. Tulip to Penny ( thks one is still debateable)

I know we have too much Penny especially at year 5/6, sidequest and all tht, but I feel like Tulip doesn't have to exist because her existance can be taken by Penny which flashes her character more.

Hear me out, Tulip is great. But after year 3 or maybe 4 her existence is uneeded anymore. In year 3 we can instead use Penny, Penny is a popular person with many friends. It wouldn't be out of character for her to try to understand Merula maybe try to befriend her ( i mean she did befriended Talbot, who isn't exactly the nicest or the most approachable ) but later, on something happend and now there is more substance in Penny hating on Merula rather than yeah, she such a bully or smth.

2. Barnaby to Ben

Ben is really untouched at the early years ( 1 to 3) I feel like the whole ark of Barnaby can be dealt with Ben. Like imagine Ben was Merulas lab dog, but because of Jacob's sibling kindness and all that, he finally have the courage to stand up to Merula proving his Gryffindor side. This could also explain Rowan sudden suspicions of Ben in Year 4, (its quite mean of Rowan tbh) I mean like after year 3 aside from the dating tlsq, Barnaby doesnt really do much does he? I mean you can argue that he have some influence on the last curse vaults but nah-

3. Badeea Ali to Rowan

Simple, we need more Rowan! I think the thing Badeea did in year 5 can easily be done with Rowan, i mean she just disappears later on anyways.

4. Instead of Bea, Rowan should be in the potrait.

5. Talbot as Ben? I'm not so sure about this one but yeah, they could put aside Talbot so we can flash out Ben. The flying solo quest can be switch into Ben losing his Bear again but we get more background to what the Bear meant to him ( maybe about his muggle life?? ) the tlsq could be at around year 5 or 6 to help Jacob's Sibling understand more about whats going through Ben's mind.

6. Diego = Ben

Ben is told to be good at charms we never really get to see it until around year 4 with the red cloak shenanigans. I would like to see JC explore more of his charms ability by teaching mc.

Anyways im not here to bash on your favorite characters im just saying that a lot of the characters are wasted pottential. To much characters can kill a story, rather than adding more characters jc should focus on the current one.

Sadly, they never did

Year0 Rowan

Year 1 Ben, Penny, Merula, (Chiara)

Year 2 Bill, (Chiara)

Year 3 Barnaby, Ismelda, Tulip, Andre Tonks, Talbott. Year 3 is definitely the worse case of it.

Year 4 Charlie

Year 5 Bea, Jae, Badeea, Liz, Diego

Year 6 Alanza

Year 7 Corey

The problem is, the more jc adds the characters the more they just stack up in the background, clogging the story. Imagine the characters as dept and the currency is good writing.

Anyways love your content, keep it up!

Personally, I couldn't begin to imagine doing this.

Not that I'm saying it's a heartless idea, mind you. I've worked with this line of thinking before. I work in children's theatre, and when we adapt scripts for different sized casts, we have to often cut characters or absorb them into others. So this isn't unheard of, and I get it. Still, having grown emotionally attached to each and every one of these little misfits, and feeling like they all have potential in different ways...cutting them is not what I would do at this stage. I believe the TLSQ system should be completely overhauled, and in doing so, used to give screen-time to characters that don't always get a lot. Imagine if each character had a TLSQ that starred them at maybe LV 5, and then a sequel quest at LV 10. Might seem excessive, like too many quests...but again, this goes back to the idea of a revamp. Allow players to hit pause, and put a TLSQ on a "waiting list" so to speak. Allow them to reroll so they can skip one if they want to for whatever reason. Stop having TLSQs disappear forever if they're failed twice.

As far as your first suggestion...I realize that my status as a Tulip fan might be affecting my reaction, but absolutely not. I have no issue with Penny, but if it comes down to omitting one of these two...well, Penny does come with Beatrice, and that whole emotional arc during Years 5 and 6. But I'm not sure if keeping that is worth losing Tulip. Because her storyline with Merula is quite compelling, and it adds to the backstory of one of the mainstay characters. Plus...Tulip is kind of way more interesting than Penny, if I'm being honest. Actually, if I was to have anyone be "absorbed" into anyone else...I feel like Tulip could have easily been the "detention" character in Year 5? And that would have been a way to keep her relevant? Again though, I love Jae so much that I couldn't imagine doing this. But it's one example of how this idea could be done give more focus to fewer characters. You know who could be absorbed into Penny, though? Andre. Just, so long as we're actually thinking about this.

Barnaby is a character who sadly has not done much since his arc ended in Year 3, you're right about that. However, I feel like Ben is just too complicated and too tied to the main story for him to be shuffled with anyone. We still have unanswered questions about the gaps in his memory from Year 2. Did he cross paths with R? With Merula? Then there is the question of his time as the Red Cloak in Year 4. His transformation into "New" Ben, after going into the Portrait Vault with MC. I suppose these things could be transferred over to Barnaby, but that would leave the Year 2 stuff up in the air. And as for transferring it the opposite way, cutting Barnaby to give Ben more prominence...I mean, it could be done, but Ben already has plenty, if you ask me. And I don't see him being able to take on the role of Merula's lapdog, given their history from Year 1.

I'll never say no to getting more of Rowan, and this is something I could actually see working. The idea of Badeea being absorbed into Rowan and that screen time being given to them. I love Badeea, but it's definitely tempting. By in large, the Year 5 characters did feel at least a little gimmicky. They're all wonderful, but the fact that there were four of them, one for each House, and they all had a specific interest that was central to their character? The fact that all things considered, they didn't really matter to the story apart from perhaps Jae? Yeah, I would never want to lose any of them, but I can see why that might work. As for Rowan taking the place of Beatrice...well, that's an idea. For sure. It could give MC the same kind of immediate emotional context. Allow Rowan to be heavily relevant without them actually needing to have any lines. But their entire character would have to shift after that point. If they're absorbing Beatrice' character arc...I mean, the Forbidden Forest comes to mind. Does that still happen? Does Rowan's personality change? What becomes of them after Year 5?

I still believe Ben is doing just fine in terms of his relevance, but I'll admit there's definitely something to the idea of Diego being absorbed into him. And I've grown to truly like Diego. Ben having talent at dueling could show how far he's come. If they depicted it prior to the end of Year 4, it could be foreshadowing of him being the Red Cloak. If he still helps MC prepare to challenge Rakepick in Year 5, it could play into his fear of her. And I like what you're doing with the idea of Talbott being absorbed into Ben....but no, I can't endorse that one. It's just not needed for Ben's story, and Talbott is already so fascinating on his own. I dig the Ravenclaw representation, I dig the Animagus representation.

Either way, it's an interesting topic to think about. Not to worry, I don't take offense at all. I get that people have different opinions and there are certainly valid critiques of this game's writing. I still enjoy it though, and I think the characters are the strongest suit. Their placement in the game, perhaps not quite so much. But it's because of this that I wish for all of them to be handled better, without having to lose any of them. Thank you for the kind words and I hope to hear from you again!

#Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #HPHM Analysis #Penny Haywood #Tulip Karasu #Ben Copper #Rowan Khanna #Barnaby Lee #Diego Caplan #Talbott Winger #Badeea Ali #Beatrice Haywood #Jae Kim

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juliandev0rak · 3 years

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what a night, what a crowd!

The night of the masquerade has arrived, and in the midst of its dazzling finery feelings come to light.

characters: Amaryllis Leroux (of @nvvermore), Beatrice Viano / Beamie

words: ~2100

Beatrice doesn’t care much for balls.

She doesn’t like crowds, she doesn’t like dancing, and she most certainly does not like being looked at. But she does like Amaryllis, so she’ll deal with the discomfort. There’s another L word that might be better suited for her feelings at this point, but she’ll stick with ‘like’ for now, thank you very much.

If the fact that a certain red haired court musician will be performing is an incentive to her ball attendance, nobody else needs to know.

And besides, this is no ordinary ball- it’s the masquerade, and it wasn’t as if she could refuse an invitation from the Countess herself. At least Beatrice can hide behind the relative anonymity of her rabbit masquerade mask and the fact that nearly every guest in attendance is already some degree of distracted or inebriated.

As she makes her way through the crush of people she finds herself looking for someone in particular, someone who she’s quite certain will be dressed in red. The golden dress Beatrice wears is a gift from Nadia, It’s something she might not have picked herself, but she has to admit it suits her. As she’d swished around in the full skirt in front of her mirror she’d admired the way the embroidered leaves on the dress seem to move as if by magic.

Beatrice weaves her way through the busy palace halls, her head whipping around whenever she sees a flash of red. The palace is completely decked out in lights and banners and all manner of decoration, she can scarcely take it all in as she wanders from room to room. There are so many things to explore, so many wonderful foods to try and forms of entertainment to watch, but all Beatrice wants is to see Amaryllis.

It’s been a few days since she last saw Amaryllis and she misses them, more than she probably should. At this point she won’t deny the depth of her feelings for them, and the hope she has that they might feel the same. It’s exhilarating to think that Amaryllis might be interested in her, but it’s equally terrifying. She doesn’t think she could take it if they turned her down, but she has to do something. She has to know, and curiosity has always driven Beatrice to boldness.

Distracted by her thoughts and the dazzling display of masquerade extravagance, Beatrice almost runs right into someone.

“Oh, my apologies!” Beatrice’s gaze flicks up to meet familiar amethyst eyes. “Asra! I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” “Hello to you too!” Asra smiles. He holds a very full glass of champagne and she’s glad she didn't knock it out of his hands. “You look a little distracted. Are you looking for someone?”

“Oh, nobody in particular.” She waves her hand in the air flippantly, her tone of voice gone just the slightest bit squeaky as it does when she’s being untruthful.

He raises an eyebrow in question, “Beatrice, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Alright fine, I’m looking for Amaryllis. Have you seen them anywhere?” Beatrice sighs and smooths down the skirt of her dress.

“They’re about to perform actually, in the ballroom.” Asra gives her another smirk and if she wasn't in such a hurry to find Amaryllis she might be annoyed.

“I’m glad I ran into you then! I’d better go, I’d hate to miss anything.”

“I’ll come with you, I want to see what they’ve got planned.” Asra weaves through the crowds with ease and Beatrice trails behind, glad she’d worn her own comfortable shoes for all of this walking rather than the tall death traps Nadia had sent for her.

They make their way into the ballroom where most of the guests seem to be congregating. The dance floor is packed full and countless more converse on the sides of the room. There’s a raised stage in the corner but there are far too many people for them to be able to make it through to stand any closer. Beatrice and Asra settle in an alcove on the side of the ballroom, a bubble of space away from the crowds that Beatrice is very grateful for.

“Here, you look like you could use this.” Asra hands her the glass of champagne he’d been holding, and she thanks him and takes a large sip.

Beatrice worries briefly that her lipstick will be smeared and before she can help it her mind wanders to the other ways her lipstick could be messed up this evening if she has her way. She snaps out of her fantasy as the band that had been playing abruptly stops and the ballroom is left with only the chatter of guests. The anticipation bubbles in her like the glass of champagne she’s holding.

Amaryllis is announced and then they’re on stage and Beatrice can’t look away.

She’s seen them perform many times but now that she’s been close to them, heard how sweet their voice sounds when it's next to her ear, felt their hands on her, it’s a different experience. Though the music is simply accompaniment for the dancing to most of the guests, Beatrice is a captive audience of one. The building could be on fire around her and she probably wouldn’t notice. All she can see and hear is Amaryllis, and though they’re across the room all she can smell is roses.

Beatrice hardly knows what they’re singing, and she takes a drink of cold champagne to clear her mind a little. When she tunes back in to her surroundings she realizes that Amaryllis is singing a love song, the one she’d heard them composing all those weeks ago when she’d been eavesdropping. Their eyes seem to search the crowd a bit more than usual, and she hopes they’re looking for her. Beatrice isn't in her usual cloak and she’s wearing a mask, so there's no way Amaryllis will see her, but the thought that they could be searching for her is nice.

She wonders briefly if she should wave to get their attention, but she would feel silly if they didn’t notice her. And besides, she shouldn't distract them while they're performing. Focus is very important, as she’d learned from Amaryllis’ lessons and the distinct lack of focus she has when they’re around.

She doesn’t know what she’d do if Amaryllis met her eyes looking like that. Their dress is red and gold and altogether perfect for them. Their mask only half covers their face and Beatrice sees a flash of their red lips pulled up into a smirk as they walk across the stage. Amaryllis commands attention, and Beatrice is happy to give it to them.

When the performance ends Asra turns to face Beatrice but she doesn’t notice, too busy tracking Amaryllis through the crowd. They disappear into the mass of people and she frowns, wondering if she’d be foolish to chase after them through the crowd of thousands. When Asra speaks she nearly jumps, she’d half forgotten he was there.

“You really like them, don’t you.” It isn’t a question.

“Yes,” Beatrice sighs, “I do.”

Asra smiles as he watches her reach for the clasp of her cloak, only to realize she’s not wearing it. Her hands move to fiddle with the ties on her mask instead. “Amaryllis likes you too, you know.”

Beatrice does know, or at least she thinks she does. There’s no other way to interpret their lingering glances, their appearance at the school, their eagerness to see her. But still, Beatrice worries. “I think they do, but how can you be sure?”

“Amaryllis doesn’t teach just anyone Beatrice, and they showed up to your school which is honestly a big favor considering how kids can act,” Asra laughs. “Hey! My students are very well behaved,” Beatrice huffs, frowning at him.

Asra puts a hand up in defense, smile still in place. He’d come to visit her once on a lunch break and had seen first hand how rowdy kids on a playground can be, but he chooses not to antagonize her further. “It’s still a pretty big favor to ask, considering how busy Amaryllis is, and they did it for you.”

He’s right of course. Beatrice thinks back to the lesson, the last time she’d seen Amaryllis. They’d worn a green dress, but the addition of a new color in their wardrobe wasn’t the most uncharacteristic thing about that day. Amaryllis had opened up to her, just a little, and the knowledge that they trust her enough to do so makes her feel warm inside. It makes her feel brave enough to talk to them honestly, like they’d done with her.

Beatrice’s hands move from her mask to her skirt, fingers picking at one of the applique leaves. “I just don’t know what to do Asra. We haven’t talked about how we feel, they haven’t expressed any interest.”

“Beatrice, they absolutely have. We’ve all noticed how Amaryllis acts around you, they’re always looking for you specifically, even in a crowd. And were you even listening to their performance just now? All of the songs were love songs and I’d be willing to bet Amaryllis was thinking of you when they wrote them.”

Beatrice stares down at her shoes, trying to hide the blush that just peaks out from beneath her mask. If other people have noticed their interest as well, she must not be imagining things. Her reticence to act is not because she doubts that Amaryllis could want her, it’s more that she's afraid to assume that they want her. If Amaryllis asked, she’d be theirs in a heartbeat, probably less than a heartbeat.

“What should I do then? I can’t just walk up to Amie and kiss them.” Beatrice’s blush returns as she imagines doing just that. She’s spent so long wanting to kiss them that she’s pretty sure the shock of actually doing so would short circuit her brain.

Asra snorts and Beatrice looks up to see his amused expression. “Well you could, but considering this is you we’re talking about, I think you should just talk to them.”

“I know I should, but what do I even say? What if they don’t actually like me and this is all some big misunderstanding?” Her tone must betray her worry and Asra reaches out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Beatrice, Amaryllis likes you.”

“Really?” Her lips pull into the hint of a smile, her brow unfurrowing.

“Yes really! Now stop arguing with me about it and go find them!” Asra gestures to the ballroom with a flourish and Beatrice laughs.

“Thank you, Asra.” Beatrice smiles at her friend and drains the last of her champagne.

“Good luck Beatrice, and don’t come back until you’ve kissed them!”

Beatrice rolls her eyes at Asra, “With all of the jokes you’re making you’d think you were the court fool.”

“I’m being serious, go kiss Amaryllis,” Asra laughs, giving her a gentle shove out of the corner they’re standing in.

“Perhaps I will!” Her tone is defiant and though she’s mostly joking, she wonders again what would happen if she did. Would their lipstick stain her lips red? She’d like to find out.

“Good!” Asra says.

“Fine!” Beatrice stifles a nervous laugh and turns to face the crowd.

She walks the perimeter of the room, eyes once again looking for any flash of red or any familiar face to point her in the right direction. It feels a bit like when she goes to the library searching for one particular book but with no idea how to find it. The library really needs a more organized system, she thinks, perhaps she should ask Nadia about it? It isn’t like she has enough free time to do the task herself, but would anyone else be able to organize it in a way that makes practical sense?

A flash of red in the corner of her eye brings her attention back to the task at hand- Amaryllis. Right, she’s looking for Amaryllis.

She turns back towards the dance floor and suddenly Amaryllis is right there, only a few feet away with their ruby eyes stuck on hers. Beneath their mask Beatrice watches their lips, the ones she’s been thinking so much about this evening, pull into a smile. She can’t help but beam at them in return. Amaryllis says something to the man they’d been dancing with and then they’re on the way to her, the crowd seeming to part around them.

All she can see is Amaryllis, red and gold and beautiful.

“I’ve been looking for you all night.”

#ahhh !#i loved writing this even though it took me 10000 years #and ophie's part 2 is fantastic so please read it after this 👀#beatrice is like *thinks really hard about books to avoid thinking about amaryllis*#amaryllis leroux #really no thoughts head beamie #beamie

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stargazing-dreamer-girl · 3 years

Text

Royalty

Fandom: The Irregulars

Pairing: Billy x female!OC, Leopold x Bea, unrequited Leopold x female!OC

WC: 17k (You can also find it on ao3 here)

Summary: Mary-Belle has always been like family to Leopold. The only one who stuck by his side and rather stayed inside with him than to go outside. That was, until he decided to leave the palace for an adventure and found new friends there, a new family. But, of course, Mary-Belle was still worrying about her friend, the one she had been in love with for years. She watched as he fell in love with Beatrice and still tried to keep him out of trouble, getting pulled into it herself by doing so. With the end of the world near she tries her best.

A/N: This has taken me so long to write and it's the longest one-shot I've ever written. I put a lot of work into this and I hope you guys like it as it is my little baby xD I also posted this on ao3 and linked it above since reading longer stuff on tumblr can be a pain. So, Enjoy!

Whenever she moved through the castle, Mary-Belle carried herself with grace. Her back straight, her head held high, so as to proclaim her status without uttering a single word. Nobody stopped her on her way to Prince Leopold’s room. Somebody knocked on the door for her when she came to a stop in front of it. It was opened right away for her to enter. She gave the servant a small nod in thanks. They knew not to enter after her, so as soon as she was in the room the door was closed behind her.

“You’re back,” she spoke the obvious. Leopold was standing in front of the mirror that looked just as expensive as anything else in the room. He met her gaze through the reflection. She had moved to the middle of the room, hands on her hips and eyes glued to him. He let out a sigh and gave up on arranging his clothes before turning around, feeling the whole weight of her disapproving stare. “You can’t keep disappearing on me. I don’t care if you run away from your family, but not me. You tell me where you go. I worry too, you know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” She had stepped closer, her hands on his coat, adjusting it to sit right with harsh movements.

“I know, Mary. I’m sorry.” Her touches got softer adjusting his collar before she took a step back when he looked presentable. “But you don’t have to worry. They probably hate me for leaving again and there’s no way I can go back with the soiree taking place tonight.”

She went to sit on the sofa by the foot of his bed, patting the spot next to her, so that he would sit down as well. “Tell me what happened since the last time we saw each other.” So, he sat next to her and told her about the woman who had stolen people’s teeth and tried to assassinate the duke of Winchester and about the mansion they were trapped in and the tarot cards. “If you were anyone else, I would not believe these stories at all,” she laughed softly. Stories about magic certainly were quite unbelievable. On the other hand, the danger Leopold seemed to be putting himself in was very real and believable. “Is there anything else?” She knew that there was. Having known him since childhood she had learned how to read him like an open book. All his mannerism and quirks, she knew about.

“I kissed Bea.” She ignored the way her way heart seemed to constrict at the statement. The way he smiled and the gleam in his eyes let her know everything she needed. The girl, who she had hoped would just be of short interest to him, had made its way into his heart and taken it over. There was no way now for her to find her place there. So instead, she smiled and placed her hand on his arm reassuringly. “But right after, I left. I heard the bells and was about to be late for the weekly breakfast with my mother. I did miss it actually and now Daimler is onto me. He’s the one who talked to my mother, so that I would be allowed to go to Louise’ birthday soiree. All that so he can keep an eye on me.”

“You are helpless, Leo,” announced Mary-Belle. “You cannot kiss a girl and then just leave. Imagine how she must feel.” His gaze moved to the floor. His thoughts had been about how he would make it back in time and not how Bea would be feeling in this moment. He wanted to hit his head for his ignorance. “But there is nothing you can do about it now. Let’s just enjoy the soiree. You might actually like it.” She stood and walked towards the door, not waiting for Leopold. He would need another moment to gather his thoughts before he would attend, so she made her way down to the room by herself where everyone already appeared to be having a good time. There were couples dancing and people talking. A lively atmosphere filled the room. A servant offered her a glass. She lifted it off the tray, her gloved fingers gently holding on to it. The sweetly bitter taste filled her mouth when she took a sip. It took some getting used to before she actually enjoyed the drink.

Rather quickly she was able to find Louise between all these people and made her way over to the girl to wish her a happy birthday and talk to her. “Have you seen Leopold’s entrance? He is already rather popular,” noticed Louise, gesturing towards the dance floor where Leopold held a blonde girl close while they swayed to the music. Mary-Belle hadn’t even realized he was present. “Although he does appear to be a rather inept dancer. I thought the two of you had practiced.”

“Ever since we were little, yes,” confirmed Mary-Belle, “his thoughts are elsewhere tonight which seems to be translating into his dancing. He is quite competent at other times.” The two girls watched as Leopold once again stepped on his dancing partner’s feet, but fortunately the song came to a close and they moved off the dance floor. He apparently didn’t lose his appeal to the girl either since she led him over to a group of people and introduced him. “He seems to be doing well enough for himself,” she pointed out.

Louise agreed before her attention was taken up by another person. “Oh, I almost forgot, there was someone I wanted to introduce you to.” She grabbed Mary’s hand and pulled her along past the group Leopold was sitting with, coming to a stop in front of two men. They were quite handsome but didn’t seem to have much to offer other than that. They appeared to have grown up with the idea that having good looks made a personality unnecessary. She entertained them for a little while for Louise’ sake before she wandered off on her own.

She noticed Leopold leaving the room with the girl he had been dancing with. She considered following them but decided against it and let herself get distracted by her surroundings. Louise got ahold of her again, pulling her to another couple of girls whose behavior was already influenced by the alcohol. They were laughing loudly, holding each other up while they filled Louise and Mary-Belle in about Eleanor Margot, the girl Leopold had been spending his evening with. Like how she only cared for herself. A trait she shared with many people present tonight. It came with the upbringing.

But when Eleanor Margot returned, Leo wasn’t by her side anymore. An uneasy feeling filled Mary, so she excused herself and approached Eleanor. “Where is Leopold?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “I left him upstairs somewhere.” She waved her hand dismissively, rolled her eyes and turned away from Mary-Belle who was equally as irritated by the short exchange. Making her way upstairs to look for Leopold she passed some people who had separated themselves from the happenings of the soiree and a passed-out girl. She checked one room that was being occupied by a couple that didn’t even realize someone had entered. She quickly left.

The next room was barely illuminated. She entered cautiously but there were no noises coming from the direction of the bed this time. But, through the thin curtains hung in front of the windows she could make out two figures out on the balcony. Curiosity took over. When she came to a halt in front of the window, she moved the curtain slightly, just enough to look through the opening, but hopefully not enough to be noticed. On the balcony, Leopold and Daimler were in the middle of what looked like a very intense conversation with Leo standing on the other side of the railing.

Before she fully realized what was happening Leo had jumped. A shocked gasp escaped her. She moved away from the window, the curtain slipping from her hand. Her shaking hands came up to cover her mouth. What had he done? She hurried to the door to the balcony. Daimler was already gone and when she looked down, Leopold was nowhere to be seen either. She hoped he was alright, that he hadn’t hurt himself and was on the way to his friends. She would have to go look for him herself to make sure of it, but for now she would return home. Too many thoughts filled her head, worries about Leo’s wellbeing.

She made straight for the doors, taking one of the awaiting carriages and drove home. As she looked out onto the streets of London her thoughts were on Leo who had to be out there somewhere. Once again, he had left her without a word. It had been just by coincidence she had seen it happen. She didn’t want to think that she would never be as important to him as Beatrice and his new friends were even though they had known each other almost all their lives and he had just met them. It hurt too much, so she pushed that thought away. She wouldn’t think that way. She would find Leo and he would have a reasonable explanation for it all. Or at least she hoped he did.

Her plans to look for Leopold had to be moved to the day after because after waking up the next morning her mother announced that Mary-Belle had to accompany her. It was a rather annoying thought to be stuck by her mother’s side all day when she could be out. She’d rather use the day to find Leopold than to attend boring meetings with other ladies who would just end up talking about themselves, their husbands or their children. But she complied. They went to a tea house first. If she weren’t as worried, she might have actually enjoyed it. The place was quaint with only a few tables for guests to sit down, the food looked delicious and the tea smelled even more so. The woman who served them the tea always had a friendly smile on her round face that put Mary-Belle at ease. She was quite certain that that woman would provide better company than her current one. But she couldn’t leave. It would put a bad reputation on her family. How ironic life could be. That she had more sense for keeping up her family name than Leopold did. And he was the Prince of England! If she were more like him, she’d just stand up, walk out and search the streets until she found her friend.

She stayed. She stayed and listened to the conversations that were always the same with a small smile on her face that was as fake as the friendship between her mother and the other women present. When appropriate she chuckled. When it was expected of her, she told an anecdote that didn’t happen the way she said but that didn’t matter. Not to these people. Not to her. She could come up with anything as long as it was a story that fit the picture her family painted of themselves in public and what was demanded of her.

The sun was already setting when they returned home. Going out now would be a lost cause. She wouldn’t find anything, even if she didn’t get lost. It had to wait until tomorrow. Maybe she could study a map. Her father had to have some of them. She would ask at the dinner table. Most of the time she got what she wanted, so she was hopeful. It might make it easier to find Leo. And, like she had expected, her father let her into his study after dinner, rolling out a map on the desk. He asked her what she needed it for, but she waved him off with the explanation that she was just curious about London’s infrastructure which – even in her ears – sounded like a weak excuse, but her father believed her. He left her alone with the words that she can stay there as long as she wanted. She just had to be careful and put everything away when she was done.

When the door closed, she allowed herself to relax a bit more. She wasn’t exactly sure how the map would help her now, but she had hope. Leopold did mention some stuff when he told her about his new friends, so she just had to look for some of those markers. It couldn’t be that hard to do. She could find the cellar somehow, she was certain.

The Duck and Quiver. That’s what she needed to look out for. It had to be around here somewhere. She had followed the roads the map had told her to take and she was sure she was in the right place. She had to be. She took a turn to get off Baker Street. It was already a lot different from the environment she was used to, but it was oddly nice. The way the people interacted here out in the streets felt a lot more genuine than she’d ever experienced with people of the royal court. A man was shouting at another, shoving him before they both broke into laughter. Two women sat off to the side watching some kids kick an old can around in the middle of the street as they talked with each other with genuine smiles on their faces.

She took another turn and, in the distance, saw the sign she was looking for; the Duck and Quiver, it read. A relieved sigh left her. She had been looking all morning and finally found it. She made her way over and even before she got there, she saw Leopold. He was up on his feet, so he wasn’t hurt too badly, she concluded. He actually looked happy standing there with the crowds of people passing him.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him further to the side before he knew what was happening. But, when he saw her there, he smiled at her. “You found me!” he announced happily.

“I did! But I only went searching because I saw you jumping off the frigging balcony! Do you know how dangerous that is!” She shoved his shoulder. “I was so worried! I mean, you jumped off a bloody balcony, for fuck’s sake! I thought you wouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. We had just talked about it and then you go and do that. I can’t believe you!” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Leopold tried the same by putting his hand on her arm but she shook it off. “Are you hurt?” she asked. For the first time she completely took in his appearance. His clothes were clean and the patches of skin she could see seemed unharmed.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry,” said Leopold.

“Well, I do worry because you’re my friend,” she explained, hitting him in the side this time. He hissed at the contact. His face scrunched up trying to fight the pain. “You have got to be kidding me! Leopold! You are not fine. How bad is it?”

“It’s fine, really.” She wanted to protest and look at the wound but Leopold didn’t let her speak or pull up his shirt to reveal his side. “I was hurt a little. There was no going around it, you know that. But I have been lying in bed since then to heal and it’s gotten a lot better. I can move, no problem.”

“That didn’t look like it was fine though,” she argued motioning towards his side.

“Well, yes, but you hit me! It’s fine if there is no one purposefully hitting me there. See,” He stood straight, opening his arms and jumping a little, “completely fine again.”

“Fine.” She gave in. There was no way she could convince Leo to rest anymore now. She has had to deal with his injuries before. He never stayed in bed for long. She looked around the place again, watching the people walking by, wondering if any of them were his new friends. “So, they forgave you?” She didn’t need to say which ‘they’ she was referring to for him to understand.

“They did.” He nodded. He noticed the distaste in her face, correctly assuming that it wasn’t aimed towards the people around, the place itself or his new friends. She was still mad at him for leaving. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to leave like that. It was just all getting too much. That life,” He gestured towards the general direction of the castle, “it’s not what I want. I can’t keep living like that, if it means living a life of unhappiness. I wasn’t meant for that kind of life. All my life I was being locked away in the palace. It’s not what I want anymore. It wasn’t ever what I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. I was born into that life, but now I found a way out. I found another life for myself with friends who like me for who I am and don’t just try to get close to me because of my family.”

“So, you think I’m not a real friend, that I don’t care about you and just want to spend time with you because – what, because you are the prince?” Leopold reached for her hand but was once again shaken off as she took a step back, tears collecting in her eyes out of both anger and sadness. “I was always there for you. Always. And not because of your status or your family but because of you, Leo.”

He tried again to reach out and pulled her back towards him before she could run off. “That is not what I mean. You are my friend, Mary. You are one of the few people in that place I actually care about and leaving you behind wasn’t easy. I never thought you were just there because of my status. Hell, you wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t care about me. You mean a lot to me, Mary, and me leaving that life has nothing to do with you.” He wiped the stray tear that had escaped off her cheek, his voice soft. “I told you everything about how I felt in that place, how trapped I felt. I often thought, you might even know me better than I do myself, but you can’t say stuff like that. It’s simply not true.”

“I know,” she admitted in a small voice. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. And I’m happy you got out, really, and that you made things right with your friends. I’ll be here for you no matter what. You can always count on me.” She looked up at him. They both calmed down and stepped a little farther apart. The close proximity felt too intimate all of a sudden.

“Well, uhm, do you, maybe, want to meet them?” He asked, unsure of what else to say, but she shook her head no.

“No, thanks. I… should probably go home before my parents notice and everyone thinks we ran away together.” She laughed, even if she didn’t quite feel like laughing having to leave Leopold again shortly after finding him, but it was true. She had to get back. “But I will come back tomorrow, if that’s alright.” At least now she knew where to find him.

“Yes, of course!” He nodded excitedly. But then his attention was caught by something behind Mary-Belle. She turned to follow his line of sight. There stood a girl with a round face that was framed by her long dark hair. She was beautiful. By the way Leopold looked at her, that had to Beatrice. Bea, for short. Mary-Belle wouldn’t call her Bea. She didn’t know a lot about her. Leo had told her that all of them were orphans. Beatrice had a sister, but Mary-Belle had forgotten her name. And of course, Beatrice was the one Leo was in love with. She was looking right back at the pair, confusion clear on her face. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” said Mary-Belle and went in the direction of the Baker Street to find her way back from there.

“Mary-Belle!” Leopold called after her before she had gotten far. “And don’t tell anyone where I am!”

“Of course not,” she reassured him. “Just… be safe.” He promised her to be, but given what they had already experienced, he would probably not be able to keep that promise. He would try though. Or at least not tell her if he weren’t. They exchanged a last smile before they each turned towards where their life was taking place.

All the while they had been watched by Billy and Spike who had been sitting in the perfect position to see when Mary-Belle had pulled Leo to the side, catching Spike’s attention. “Hey, who’s that girl with Leo?” he asked his friend pointing towards the two of them who seemed to be arguing. Spike flinched when Leo was hit in the side, imagining the pain that must have caused him.

“I don’t know,” said Billy, taking in the situation with suspicion. “Looks like another rich girl who wouldn’t look our way twice. Just another one thinking they’re so much better than us. Just look at her.” The distaste on her face supported his argument. “Maybe he used to have something going on with her.” He shrugged. The situation interested him. Her presence alone and the way the both of them seemed to be close spoke against everything Leo had told them. When Leo cradled her face, Billy was convinced that what he had said was the truth. The way that girl looked at Leo held a lot of emotions.

“But what about Bea?” asked Spike. “I thought Leo liked her?”

“Maybe Leopold is a wanker, like I’ve been telling you guys. He doesn’t deserve Bea. Especially not like that.” He looked on, like Spike did, until they went their separate ways. “I’ll be right back,” he let Spike know before walking after her.

When Mary-Belle stepped out onto Baker Street the scenery changed immediately. Men were walking by in expensive suits and the road wasn’t as dirty. She let out a yelp when she was pulled back. A blond boy was towering over her intimidatingly, staring her down. With every step he took, she moved back, away from Baker Street and the people who might intervene in this situation. “Who are you and how do you know Leo?” he basically barked at her. Mary-Belle felt more at ease at his statement, not backing away anymore. Her searching eyes stopped to look at his face. This guy knew Leo. Not a lot of people did, so he had to be one of his friends. She hoped he was. Her change in composure didn’t go unnoticed by him which aggravated him even more. His chest heaving heavily, his fists clenched by his sides.

“I’m Mary-Belle, Leopold’s… acquaintance,” she said studying the face in front of her. His blue eyes stared right back at her. His dark-blond locks were cut short. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

He ignored her question. “That back there didn’t look it was between acquaintances,” he argued. Mary-Belle’s eyes left his face shortly to look back to the direction she’s had her conversation with Leopold.

“I fear, that’s not any of your business. Why should I tell you anything anyway? You won’t even tell me your name.” She smirked. His face turned red, his muscles flexing. He looked a lot more intimidating like this. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe she shouldn’t have provoked him.

“What are you doing, Billy?” called Leopold’s voice. Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when ‘Billy’ backed away from her. She looked to where his voice came from. He was making his way over quickly, followed by Beatrice and two others. A pale girl with long dark hair that was pulled back into a braid, who she assumed must be Beatrice’ sister, and a boy with brown skin who focused on getting between Billy and Mary-Belle and talking the former down.

All eyes were on Leo and Mary-Belle when he came up to her, asking if she was alright and if Billy had hurt her. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just surprised. Not hurt or anything.”

“Who is that, Leo?”, asked Beatrice, her arms folded in front of her chest and an eyebrow raised. The other three were standing behind her as if to back her up, metaphorically and literally. Billy had seemed to calm down, but his eyes never left Mary-Belle even when Beatrice addressed Leo.

“I’m Mary-Belle.” She answered in his stead. “And I can speak for myself, thank you.” She smiled sweetly at them. “I’m a childhood friend of Leo’s.” This answer had to satisfy her because she couldn’t think of much else that wouldn’t reveal Leo’s identity this quickly but she was already thinking about a believable story. She’d stick to the truth as far as she could. It would make it easier.

“And what are you doing here, Mary-Belle?”

“Well, Beatrice,” if it affected Beatrice in any way that Mary-Belle knew her name, she didn’t show it, “I knew that Leo had run away from his home situation, so I was worried. But now that I know where he is and that he’s fine, I’ll be leaving. Which, by the way, had been my plan all along, hadn’t your friend here stopped me.” She eyed Billy up and down once more who was still looking back at her. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I’m gonna take my leave now.” Instead of going around the group to get to the street she moved straight forwards. Beatrice moved out of her way, but Billy remained where he was. She ignored it, shoving him lightly with her shoulder as she moved past him. This time they let her go, but the questioning wasn’t over. Now they focused on Leo.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” said Jessie. Her tone was not accusing in any way, just curious, different from all the looks he got from the others.

“I did say that. I lied,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. She’s the only friend I have. This is the truth, I swear. She’s the only one at home who ever really cared for me. She cares enough to know that I couldn’t stay there, that I had to get away from that life she’s a part of. That’s also why she came, to check up on me, to see if I was alright. I swear to you guys, that’s the truth. I didn’t tell you because…” He stopped for a second. Why hadn’t he told them about Mary-Belle? “If you had known that there was this person at home that cared about me like she does, you wouldn’t have let me in, we wouldn’t be the way we are now.” And he had wanted to keep her a secret. She had stuck by his side all their life. He never understood why she had decided to stay inside with him when there was so much to see outside of the palace. She did go outside, partly due to his request, but she’d always come back and tell him about what she’d seen. Even if it felt wrong, she belonged to a different part of his life. A life that didn’t fit into this group.

The others were still unconvinced, but let it go for now. He had broken their trust, but his reasoning was understandable, so they would forgive him soon. But now they had things to do. They huddled together revising the plan they had made the night before on how to efficiently shadow Watson before they started the operation.

The next day, Mary-Belle followed the same way she had taken before. Now that she knew where to find Leopold, she didn’t have to stop and overthink whether she should have taken that turn back there or the one up ahead, whether she walked in the right direction or should turn around. The streets were just as crowded as before but a familiar sight made her stop in her tracks.

Men of the castle, dressed in their uniform, were roaming the streets. As she took a closer look, she recognized one of them as Daimler who had been responsible for Leopold for as long as she could remember. They talked shortly with each other, three in total. Then they parted ways. But none of them walked back towards the castle. Rather they seemed to stroll down the streets, their gazes moving over the people. It took her a second to understand what was happening, but when she did, Mary-Belle hurried, taking a different way to get around them and to Leopold before Daimler did.

She kept looking behind her to reassure herself she had lost them or that she at least was in front of them. She had just thrown another look over her shoulder when she bumped into someone. She was about to apologize and move on when the voice of the person she had run into reached her ears. “What happened that you look so panicked, Mary-Belle?”

Leopold looked at her questioningly when she grabbed his arms and looked at him with wide eyes. “Daimler is out looking for you. I saw his men stopping people who resembled you. He’ll be here soon.” She looked back over her shoulder seeing one of Daimler’s men already down the street. “There is one of them!” She pointed him out to Leo. “I’ll distract him,” she offered. “You go hide!” Leopold thanked her quickly before he turned on his heel and ran in the other direction.

She did her best to regain her composure taking a deep breath before she moved into the path of Daimler’s man, looking as much of a fine lady as she was born to be. Her mother had taught her well. “You’re looking for Prince Leopold, have I heard correctly? Did something happen to him?” She faked a surprised gasp, leaning in conspiratorially. “Did someone take him? I had thought my eyes were deceiving me when I saw him in Acton, but it seems he indeed left the palace. He must still be there. It hasn’t been long since then.” She was lucky this man didn’t recognize her as he thanked her for her help and ran off. Not even the fact that she knew of Leopold’s existence threw him off.

While that man was now going to look for Prince Leopold in the wrong part of the city, she remained in the right one. Since she didn’t know where exactly he went to hide, she walked on towards the place she had talked with him in yesterday. He wasn’t to find there either, but she recognized two of his friends standing around there. One of them was the brutish one who had rudely confronted her the day before. Billy, if she remembered correctly. The other one she hadn’t caught the name of but he was the one walking up to her now with a friendly smile on his face. “You’re Leo’s friend, aren’t you? I’m Spike! Nice to meet you! I actually wanted to apologize for this lad’s behavior yesterday.” He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder at Billy who was eyeing the two of them skeptically. He leaned in and whispered, “He can be nice too, y’know, just doesn’t show it in front of new people.” She chuckled. He seemed the type.

“I understand. I guess, I would be reluctant too if a stranger showed up all of a sudden. My name’s Mary-Belle, but you can call me Mary if you want,” she offered.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I remembered your name. How could I forget? Grumpy over there wouldn’t shut up about you last night.” This caused a real laugh to bubble up in her throat. Spike laughed with her and led her over to mentioned Grumpy.

“Always a pleasure, Billy.” She smiled at him. His expression turned even sourer. She hadn’t known it to be possible hadn’t she seen it with her own eyes. She turned back towards Spike who seemed to be more willing to engage in a conversation with her. “Have you seen Leo by any chance? I was looking for him.”

“Haven’t seen him since he left the cellar this morning, but he’s supposed to meet us here soon. You’re welcome to wait with us.” Spike sent another one of his charming smiles her way which she returned.

“Thank you. I think I’ll do just that.” Turning towards Billy she cocked her head to the side. “So, Billy, harassed any girls already today?” Spike moved to stand between the two of them before Billy could do anything.

“Don’t you think that takes it a bit too far?”, he asked her.

“No, I don’t actually. He cornered me and wouldn’t let me go until you guys came around. That’s not alright, so no, I’m not taking it too far. I was lucky he was actually your friend and not a random person. Who knows what would’ve happened otherwise!”, she argued. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes gave away the storm of feelings inside of her. Spike looked taken aback, so was Billy. They hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing she ever heard Billy say without any menace lacing his words. Their eyes met for a moment before he looked away again and went back to being quiet.

Spike looked from one to the other, wondering if there would be any more or if she had made her point and that’s it. She didn’t say anything either. Rather she opted to lean against the wall they had been standing next to. Spike followed her move to stand next to her.

“So,” broke Mary-Belle the silence, “what have you guys been up to?” Spike and Billy shared a glance, their uncertainty about what to say evident on their faces. “Leo has told me all about the monsters, so don’t worry about that.”

“He has?”, blurted Billy.

“He has,” she confirmed. The boys shared a look, the meaning of which remained unknown to Mary-Belle, but the moment was over quickly and Spike turned towards her. Billy went back to watching the people who passed, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

“Just boring things, really. Nothing you have to concern yourself with. But we barely know anything about you. Why don’t you tell us something?”

“There is not much to know, to be honest. I’ve lived a fairly easy life, everything dictated by my parents, much like it had been for Leo, but I always had a roof over my head and a warm bed. Whenever we were together, I felt free, like I could just be myself without having to behave the way everyone expected of me.” She stopped talking quickly, thinking back over her words and let out a chuckle. “That was probably not something one should share in their first conversation with someone. Anyways, my favorite colour is blue.”

“Oh, that’s Billy’s favourite colour as well!” Mary-Belle let out a relieved breath that Spike chose not to focus on the first part but kept the topic of conversation light. Her eyes met Billy’s for a second before he looked away again, ignoring Spike who had grabbed his shoulder. “Mine’s orange. You know, when the sun’s almost down but still colours the water. That orange.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw that, but it sounds nice,” she admitted. She probably had never seen that, having been held in carriages if they were out at that time. They barely went near the water either. Most of her travel was between her home and the castle.

Billy opened his mouth to add something to the conversation, but stopped himself when someone called out to Mary-Belle. Leo made his way over and asked to speak to her alone for a moment. “Thank you for keeping me company,” she said to the two boys, “both of you.” Her gaze went from Spike to Billy. Then she walked a few steps with Leo until they were out of earshot.

“Daimler found me,” he came right to the point.

“What? Then why are you here now? And not on your way back to the castle?” She tried to keep her voice calm, but failed as it was slightly raised.

“Mother wasn’t informed of me running away. He would lose his job if she knew he let me, so he won’t bother me again.”

“Are you sure? He’s smart, whether you like it or not. He will probably come up with another way to get you to come back. He knows where you are now.”

“He won’t be a problem. I know it.”

“If you say so.” She wasn’t convinced of it.

“I actually have to go now,” he noted. Over her shoulder he could see that Bea and Jessie had joined Spike and Billy and were now just waiting for him. “We will talk soon, I promise,” he adds at the hurt look that flashed across her face. She nodded and watched him go with the others.

Spike turned and waved at her as they were leaving. She raised her hand and gave him a wave as well. A small smile had made its way back onto her face. Another pair of eyes watched her before his focus was taken by Spike prodding him with his elbow. “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, Billy!”

Early the next day Mary-Belle heard word that Prince Leopold was to entertain his cousin Helena with a possible marriage in the future. Her mother had mentioned all that off-handedly during breakfast, making Mary-Belle choke on her tea. “I shall meet with him afterwards.”

“I’d assume they already count on you showing up on a day like this. Just be safe, your father had mentioned rising disturbances in the streets.”

“Of course, mother. I will be on my way shortly, then.”

Now she was walking the grounds, having been too late to show Leopold off to his meeting or talk to him about what had transpired the day before and too early since he was still having tea with Helena. Her mind was racing with thoughts about what might have happened, whether Leopold had come back willingly which she doubted but it was an option. Or maybe her worries had been legitimate and Daimler had found a way.

She got distracted by a commotion ahead of her. Palace guards stormed over to a person who had seemed to have jumped the wall. She neared cautiously which turned into confident steps when she identified the person being escorted off the grounds as Spike. She held herself high to convey as much authority as possible. “Let him go!”, she ordered, her voice not giving away the nervousness she was feeling as she stood up to the guards.

“But Lady-“, one of the guards who seemed to be in charge of the rest tried to argue.

“I said to let him go. He will come with me.” The guards who held onto Spike looked from her to their superior who nodded after a moment of consideration. They reluctantly let go of Spike who dusted off his jacket and reorganized his clothes. “And now you should go back to your posts.”

“Yes, Lady Mary-Belle!” They left, but not without wary side glances at Spike whom she turned to next.

“And you, follow me!” She started walking towards the castle. Spike easily fell into step next to her.

“That was amazing! I didn’t know you had it in you to have palace guards tremble in their knees. Thank you!” He looked back over his shoulder to watch the retreating guards.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d rather you tell me what happened yesterday that Leo is back now.” Her brain seemed to just now catch up with her actions and the fact that Spike had tried to actually break into the Buckingham Palace. “And how you knew to come here! And why you did it. You just risked imprisonment or even a death sentence! Do you realize that? A lot of bad things could have happened, hadn’t I shown up.”

“Yes, but this is important! I had to come here and get Leo. He needs to come back with me.”

“Why? What happened?” She stopped next to the door she had used to enter the gardens. Her hand was already on the handle before she put it down again. This conversation was better to be had out of earshot of nosy palace personnel.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

She shook her head no. “I didn’t get the chance to speak with him yet.”

“Some guy told Bea who Leo is. He was in the cellar when we came back yesterday. She threw Leo out after. But we need him for what’s to come. She doesn’t know I’m here, but I know it’s what needs to be done.”

“I understand. Alright, come with me. He’s doing something right now, but I will make sure he speaks with you.” She led him through the palace halls, ignoring the hushed whispers of the people they passed at the sight of him. “Why did you come alone?”

Spike hesitated. “Bea doesn’t want to see him and I don’t know where Jessie is. Her and Bea had a fight.”

“What about Billy?”

He hesitated again. “He was imprisoned because he accidentally killed Vic Collins,” he admitted.

Mary-Belle stopped abruptly. Spike almost walked into her but caught himself before he did. When she turned towards him her eyes were widened in shock. “He did what? Wait- how… wha- how do you kill someone accidentally? And who is Vic Collins?”

Spike started to feel uncomfortable under her intense gaze and with the questions. He looked around before leaning in and whispering, “Can we talk about this somewhere else?” She realized they were out in the open, easy for anyone to listen in to their conversation.

“You’re right.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the next room. A quick look around told her that they were alone, so she put her attention back on Spike. “Explain!”

“Well… don’t you want to sit down?”, he asked gesturing towards the chairs standing in the middle of the room.

“No, I don’t want to fucking sit down, Spike! Tell me what happened!” Her voice came out louder than intended. She tried to compose herself again with a few deep breaths but couldn’t help the anxious thoughts of all the possible things Spike might tell her now. Even though she hadn’t been particularly friendly with Billy, she never would have thought him a killer.

“Vic Collins was the master of the workhouse Billy and the girls were at. I don’t know everything that happened to them there but it wasn’t pretty. Billy saw him the other day and then last night… I don’t know exactly what happened but he told me it was an accident. Billy hit Vic. His head hit a pile of bricks and that was it. But Vic was one of them, so even if this was an accident…” He didn’t like speaking those next words. Luckily, he didn’t have to because Mary-Belle understood him anyways.

She knew how important these people were for Leo, so she made a decision rather quickly. “Where is he being held?” Spike told her. “I will take care of it,” she promised. “Leo will get out of his meeting shortly. Until then, I will leave you in good hands.” She once again led him out of the room. He was too perplexed to say much more. She was different than what he had imagined, doing that for a person she barely knew. Billy would be surprised, he thought.

She opened the door to the room she knew Louise would be occupying. She introduced Spike to her who was already charming his way into her heart when Mary-Belle left. On her way out, he called after her to meet them at Baker Street 221B, whether she succeeded or not.

Her first stop was her father’s office. The door was adorned with a plaque announcing the name of the person within. She entered after a voice from inside told her to come in. Her father was not a scary person. He might look the way with his stern gaze and his broad-shouldered physique and if Mary-Belle didn’t know him she would certainly be intimidated by him, but the person in front of her was her father who had never shown her anything but kindness.

“Mary-Belle, what a nice surprise!” His features softened as he recognized his daughter. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the palace.”

“I was.” She neared the desk her father was sitting behind. It was a big one, elegant, dark, something conveying his status. “I need your help, Father.”

“What is it, Mary-Belle? Come, sit!” He came around the table and led her to sit in one of the comfortable chairs he had standing by the wall. He took a seat next to her, taking in her troubled expression. “What can I help you with?”

“There is this boy…”, she started, but was interrupted.

“Are you in love, darling?”

“No, no, that’s not it.” She had to laugh a little at the absurdity of the thought. “He is a friend of mine, but something happened. He… There was an incident. He defended himself, but while doing so the other man… he- he died. And now my friend is going to get a death sentence because he is poor and the man he killed was a master at the workhouse. But he is not at fault, Father! It was in self-defense! He does not deserve this, so I need to get him out. Please, Father, will you help me?”

Her father hummed understandingly. “That is quite the situation your friend has gotten himself into. But I might be of help. If he is important to you, he is important to me.”

“Oh, thank you, Father!” She couldn’t hold back the smile as she threw her arms around him. When she let go of him, he walked over to his desk and pulled a piece of paper out of one of the drawers. She watched as he wrote something down on it, put it in an envelope and sealed it. He did the same thing a second time, putting names on both envelopes.

“Now I need you to do something. I do not have the time to do it myself, so I’m leaving this task to you.” She nodded, already reaching out for the envelope her father held towards her. “Bring this to Governor Jameson. If he does as it says in the letter, he will give you one as well. Then this one,” he handed her the second envelope, “you bring to the Chief of Police. As well as the one you will get from Governor Jameson. It will probably not be enough, so,” he opened another drawer. Two little sacks were put onto the desk, the content clinging as they were moved, “here is some money. He may not let him out just by the words of some important people, but I know the man. He is as greedy as they come. Give him this. Save some coins to give to the ones working where your friend is being held. I can’t do any more than this, but I hope it is enough.”

“Thank you so much, Father!” She grabbed the coin bags and put them into the pockets of her skirt before she turned to leave.

“I hope you can get him out, darling. And take care!”

“Of course! I will see you tonight!” She held onto the letters as tight as she could without damaging them as she ran through the streets of London. Governor Jameson’s office was not far but the streets were rowdy. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the house.

The governor wouldn’t speak with her right away. She was told he was in an important meeting, so she waited in the hall. Every now and then someone passed her but they usually didn’t pay attention to her. As she waited, she thought about what was happening at the palace right now, if Spike already had the chance to speak to Leopold and what he had said. Maybe he went with him. She hoped he did. From what Spike told her they needed him. He had become a part of their group. And now she had to work on getting the last member of that group back.

Now that she had time to think, the pressure she was under sank in. She was responsible for getting Billy out of jail and through that saving his life. If she failed, what other options would he have? Would it be over for him then? She didn’t like to think about that outcome. This needed to work. If not, she wouldn’t know what to do anymore.

A young man came towards her. “Governor Jameson will see you now, Miss.” He showed her the way, knocked and opened the door for her to enter.

“Ah, Lady Mary-Belle. How is your father? I would believe he has much to do with the way people seem to be acting at the moment.” The man behind the desk had a round face. He usually tried to hide his receding hairline with a hat which was now hanging from the hat stand next to the door. He invited her farther into the room before he asked what he could do for her.

“My father sent me. He gave me this letter for you,” she explained and held the envelope out to him. He took it with a smile that couldn’t quite hide his surprised expression. It was unusual for anyone to send their daughters for business purposes. He opened the envelope, intently reading the letter inside, nodding along as he read. “I see,” he muttered when he put it down. “That’s quite the dilemma. I will support this, but tell your father he owes me.” He picked up a pen and pulled a piece of paper from a drawer.

“Of course! Thank you, sir!” He quickly scribbled some lines down before he sealed the letter into an envelope. “I believe you have somewhere else to go now, so I won’t keep you any longer, but remember that this won’t come without a price.”

“Yes, thank you again, sir. I will be on my way then.” She took the envelope from him. Now that she had the letters whose content she was unfamiliar with she felt like half the work was done already, but she was unsure of how the conversation with the Chief of Police would go. He might be the biggest obstacle in her way.

Even getting an opportunity to speak with the Chief of Police turned out to be quite the deed. The whole building was bustling with people running around. There were shouts and clamoring. Everyone was restless. She tried to go about it as usual, walking up to the reception and waiting for someone to offer their help. But even behind the reception desk there was no one who spared her a second glance as they went about their business, frantically looking for things and calling people’s names. She stood there for what felt like forever just watching them ignore her. The door kept being opened and closed, the slam filling the air each time it fell shut. And each time it did, Mary-Belle jumped a little. When the loud noise of the door closing sounded again, she decided she would not wait around any longer. Since nobody paid attention to her anyways at the moment, she used it to her advantage and tried to find her way through the hallways to the one person she needed to speak with.

She never thought it would be this easy to get inside the Headquarters without being stopped, but there she was reading the signs by the doors that would tell her which room she had to enter. She blamed it on the current situation with all that negative supernatural energy or whatever it was in the air. It might’ve helped to ask more about that, but now it was too late. The thumping footsteps came and went, but they never stopped next to her.

When she finally found the right room, she was out of breath. The building was larger than it looked like from the outside. But she was also incredibly nervous. Now was the moment that would decide Billy’s future. She fumbled for the two letters in the pockets of her skirt. The paper got scrunched a little by how tightly she held onto it. This was it. This was possibly the only chance.

She knocked. She wanted to knock with force, letting the Chief know that she was no person easily intimidated, but it was a faint, polite knock. A knock in the way her mother had taught her. Still, it was heard, even over the commotion happening all around and she was asked to enter.

The midday sun illuminated the room, its rays finding their way through the big windows behind the desk the Chief was sitting behind. He watched intently as she entered, curious as to what a young girl was doing there at a time like this. “Please, sit down. What may I help you with, miss?”

She did as she was told, sitting down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. It was uncomfortable, not meant to be sat on for a long time and Mary-Belle felt utterly unwelcome even though the Chief of Police gave her a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes though which were accentuated by the dark bags under them. She once again made use of the mask of confidence she put on at the palace. “Hello, sir. My name is Mary-Belle Heavensforth, daughter of Lord Aaron Heavensforth. I come to you regarding the case of a young man who is now in confinement. I may answer any question you have, but first, you should read these letters.” She handed them over, surprised at the fact that her hand was not shaking.

He broke the seal of the first letter quickly, scanning over the lines before he turned his attention to the second letter. He held one in each hand, his gaze darting from one to other, humming in acknowledgement. The content of the letters was unknown to Mary-Belle, so she had to assume her father only gave information he had known from her. He might have left out some details – the letter wasn’t long enough to have the whole story and the plea – so it was on her to fill in any information he might still need and to do anything it would take to get Billy out. “I see,” he said before he looked over the brim of the papers at her. “So, you believe this boy to be innocent.” She nodded. “Explain to me then what transpired and why you think we should let him go.” So, she gave him the story that Spike had told her, about the master at the workhouse, his history with Billy and his friends and what had happened the night Vic Collins died. “And were you there that night? Did you see it with your own eyes?”

She faltered. What was the best way to go about this? “I was not.” She chose to stick with the truth. “But,” she followed up, “I do know this boy. He would not consort to this kind of violence if he weren’t defending himself or the people he loved. And he would never kill someone with intent. In front of you, you have the testimonies of two highly educated and sophisticated men with power. They speak out for his release and vouch for him.” At least she hoped that this was what was written on those pages her father had sent with her. “I vouch for him as well even though my word might not mean much to you. I will see to it that such thing will not happen again and that you may not hear of him badly anymore.”

“It does say here that your father will see to it that the boy may be put under his supervision. I do believe that your father is a man of his word. I have not been proven to think any less of him yet.” The Chief put one of the letters down to scratch his beard in thought. “But I can’t just write you a release form for this boy out of nowhere.”

“My father had guessed you might say something like that, so he gave me this for you.” She reached into her pockets once again and pulled out one coin bag. She sat it on top of his desk, making sure the coins made a sound as she dumped it on top of his papers. He snatched it up immediately, opening it to look inside at the shiny coins.

“That is indeed a compelling argument,” he pondered. He weighed the bag in his hand eyeing the coins with great interest. “Alright, I will write a release form for this boy, but do have your father contact me again in a few days. I need to speak with him.”

“Of course.” She could barely suppress her smile. She did it! She actually did it! Billy would get out and not die by judge’s rule. She looked on as the Chief shouted for someone. The door swung open revealing a rather young-looking man. His hair was disheveled and he seemed to be just as busy as everyone else in the building.

“Please, show this young lady to our front area,” he addressed the man. Mary-Belle felt panic rush in. If he had just betrayed her, taken the money and the letters, she would have lost. She would have fought for Billy’s life without success and would have to leave him to his destiny. As much as she had thought about it, there was no other way. She would be back on the streets with no trumps up her sleeve and the impending death of a boy weighing down her heart. But, the Chief turned back towards her as she lifted herself off the chair. “I will have the letter brought to you shortly. Just wait down there and that boy will be free as soon as you get the letter to the according office. That is, if your father follows up with his promise that the boy will be put under his care. He will be responsible for the boy’s actions, so he better behave or it will be over with your father’s good standing.”

She recognized his words as they were. A threat. As easily as he could get Billy out of prison now, he could put him back and take her father down right beside him. “Yes, Sir!”

She had to wait in that front area for way too long. People passed. She watched the same people that would enter the building leave it again. A cycle that seemed to find no end and still no release letter in sight. The doubt crept in slowly again. He could just take the money and act like nothing ever happened. She would have nothing against him. And who would believe her? She had no such standing as he did. She was already thinking about how to break the news to Leo and Spike and their other friends. She wasn’t even able to do that. She was quite useless apparently. And replaceable. Leopold had shown it clearly. Each time it seemed so easy for him to leave her and just run off to his new friends and go on adventures with them. Compared to them she had nothing to offer, except for her love but even that he didn’t want.

When the letter finally arrived, given to her by the same man who had led her out of the office, she just took it without another word and left. He would probably not care enough to take the story of her rude behavior back to his superior. She had somewhere to be now and she didn’t care about other people’s opinions at the moment. She felt troubled enough, torn between her love for Leopold and the selfish wish of having him back at the palace with her, away from his new friends and the fact that they were nice people who did nothing wrong. They offered Leopold some form of family, something he couldn’t find at the palace. Something she apparently couldn’t compare to. And now one of them had his life on the line. No matter how she felt towards them she could not just let someone die who didn’t deserve it while knowing she could do something about it. And apparently, she could. Or rather her father could. For the first time ever, she realized how far connections and money could get someone. It opened doors and gave you leverage. She had always been amazed by her father. Now even more so. Even though she didn’t spend that much time with him, she’d always admired him, his hard work and how far it had gotten him.

The scene outside had changed since she had entered the building. Where before the streets seemed quite deserted and eerily quiet, there was now clamoring coming from every corner, frightened screams, angry yells, shocked cries. She dared a quick glance down the first alley she passed on her way to where Billy was held. Two men were rolling in the dirt, their shirts already speckled with blood that dripped from their respective faces. Dirt covered all their clothes as they held onto each other, throwing punches mindlessly. As long as they made contact, they seemed satisfied. She hurried to get away from there and stayed away from small alleys the rest of the way.

She was stopped right after entering the building. An arm shot out, followed by a body that moved in front of her. The burly man sneered at her. “This is no place for a little girl like you.”

She brushed over the comment, choosing to stay professional. “I am here on business,” she announced, handing over the letter from the Chief of Police. “I am to get a boy you are holding here.” He snatched the letter from her hand. He took a quick glance over the written words before he let out a groan. “Fine. Jackson,” he screamed into the room he had previously come out of, “get that orphan kid from the cell. We’re letting him go.” He didn’t seem pleased about it as he looked back at her. “You should be careful. He’s dangerous.”

“I am aware,” she answered nonchalantly before she pulled the second coin bag out of her pocket and put it into the hands of the officer. “For your troubles.” She smiled politely. His eyes narrowed onto the bag, intrigued by the weight in his hand. His demeanor changed drastically in a split second.

“Of course. It is our duty to be here for the people of London. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to work, but you will be brought to the boy shortly.” Mary-Belle refrained from rolling her eyes, but gave him a polite smile and nod instead. At least until his back was turned towards her. She doubted he would work now. He will probably go to sit down in private and count the coins in the bag.

Another man appeared in the door. “Please, follow me. He is being held in the back.” The smile on this man’s face seemed way more genuine than the old man’s. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He led her down the narrow hall and down some stairs into a gloomy basement that held the cell. It was packed to the brim with all different kinds of people. She couldn’t find Billy at first glance, the many bodies obstructing her view. The man, Jackson, walked over to the guard by the door telling him what was about to happen. His eyes wandered over to her figure shortly before looking back at Jackson and narrowing his eyes. It took him some more talking to before he turned around and focused his gaze on someone. “You, orphan boy,” he called out catching the blonde’s attention, “you’re free to go.” The barred door rattled as it was pushed open. The surprise on Billy’s face was obvious as he stepped out of the cell. “You have that lady over to thank.” The guard gestured over to you.

A look of confusion washed over Billy’s face as he saw Mary-Belle standing at the bottom of the stairs. He never expected to see her there, especially not to get him out of jail. He was too shocked to say anything as he neared her. Mary-Belle quickly grew tired of his non-reaction. She grabbed his wrist and led him out of the shabby cellar and out onto the street where the people were still clamoring and screaming at each other. A different picture than what she was used to seeing in the streets of London.

Billy got ahold of himself quickly after they made it outside. The fresh air helped him focus his thoughts. As soon as they got to the street, he jerked his hand out of her hold, making her turn to look at him expectantly, eyebrows raised and hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”, he asked, still in that tone like he hated her guts and was spitting accusations.

“You know, you should be nicer to the person who got you out of a trial that would most definitely have ended in your death.” That shut him up, at least momentarily, but he also did not deem it necessary to thank her. He glared at her for another moment before he left her standing there. She watched after him in bewilderment at his audacity. But Billy rethought his decision when he saw at least five people in a fistfight happening over a dead body. It was already worse than he had thought. He walked back over to her, grabbed her wrist like she had his before and dragged her along with him, past the fighting people.

“We are supposed to meet Spike at Baker Street 221B,” she told him after they had walked in silence for a minute. Billy wondered shortly how she came to know this, what happened while he had been in that cell that now this girl he barely knew got him out of his certain doom, but he kept quiet and led her to Baker Street 221B.

They were the last to arrive. The whole group was already present. Bea and Spike were happy to see Billy out as a free man and greeted him happily, enclosing him in hugs. They thanked Mary-Belle for her help before they turned their attention back to him. When the three of them and Leo moved to the other room, she didn’t know whether to follow them or leave. Eventually, she took some steps to follow them but stopped in the doorway. There, in the room, a dark-haired girl was lying unconsciously on the sofa with the others gathered around her. It seemed an intimate situation that she didn’t want to intrude on, so she made the decision to leave them now. She had done her part and was not needed anymore.

A tall man walked towards the room the teenagers were gathered in when Mary-Belle was about to open the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. His gaze followed her arm to the door handle. “You shouldn’t go out there now,” he advised. Joyful sounds came from the adjacent room. The girl must have woken up. “Come with me,” he ordered and so, she followed him back to the room.

The girl that had been previously unconscious was sitting upright on the sofa now and told this man about a place they needed to go to. He nodded sternly and told the boys to follow him, leaving Mary-Belle alone with the two girls. She felt entirely out of place and didn’t know what to say or do. She couldn’t even look at them, so she walked over to the window and looked outside while the other two were speaking in hushed voices among themselves.

Outside was a mess, people running around, swinging weapons of all sorts, handmade, bought or just using whatever was available to hurt others. Just outside the window she was looking on as a man bashed in the skull of another, his teeth fletched. He even seemed to be growling at the man who was lying at his feet, blood flowing out of his fatal wound, coloring the sidewalk a dark red. Mary-Belle covered her mouth with a shaky hand at the barbaric act that had occurred in front of her eyes. And when the man looked up, his crazy eyes staring right into hers she let out a gasp and took a step back. She had seen pure rage in his eyes, no clear thoughts, just the urge to hurt and kill.

Her eyes were still fixed on the curtain. It had fallen back into place but she still had the image of the open skull and the look in the man’s eyes on her mind as if she was still staring at it. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Her gaze travelled to the person who sat her down on a chair far away from the window. She was still shaking. It was Billy whose place was quickly taken by Leo. He had looked out the window to see what had left you in this state. The crazy man was gone, but the body was still lying there on the sidewalk. Leo kneeled down by her side. His hand rested on her knee as he talked to her reassuringly. Her breathing calmed after a short while as the others looked on. She found words to answer Leo’s worried questions in a quiet voice.

As it was clear that she would be fine the other’s attention shifted. Beatrice and Jessie shared a look that had a clear meaning. They had to go. Now. Beatrice announced it to the group that immediately moved to the entrance. Bea stayed back a moment longer with Leo and Mary-Belle. “She’s coming with us!”, Leo insisted, looking up at Bea from his kneeling position.

The girl did not have the time to argue with him right now. They were in a hurry, so she agreed. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way.

“I won’t,” Mary-Belle promised and stood up to join the rest of the group.

When they left the building, warned by Watson to stay together, she threw a glance in the direction of the window she had been standing in. The body looked different now. Pieces of the skull and brain were scattered around it. Bile rose up in her throat, but she forced herself to look away and keep moving. She promised not to be in the way and so she wouldn’t. And she wouldn’t slow them down either. She hiked up her skirt – which was a very inconvenient choice of clothing for the occasion – and hurried after the others.

She was filled in about the whole situation by Leo on the way. To say she was shocked would be an understatement. “I thought you said you’d be safe!”, she exclaimed in frustration and anger. “That is not ‘being safe’! It’s like the opposite of safe. We are literally running towards the danger!”

“The danger is all around us!”, he retaliated. “We have to stop this! We’re the only ones that can because we know what is happening.”

They came to a stop in front of the entrance to Aldgate Station. Watson tried to open the door, unsuccessfully. It was jammed. It only took him a moment to come up with a different plan. He showed them another entrance, through the sewers. All of them stood around the hole looking down into the dark. Even though it was the only way to get to the Linen Man and Sherlock, a shudder crept down Mary-Belle’s spine at the thought of going down there.

Billy nudged Spike to tell him to go first, but he refused. There was another moment where none of them moved a muscle but then Mary-Belle heard distant noises which made her overcome her fears for a moment and announced, “Then I’ll go first!” She quickly climbed down before she could change her mind again but the growling and yelps coming from up there just helped to reassure her in her decision. Her skirt tore on the way down. She didn’t complain though as it gave her more freedom to move although it was a bad day to have worn one of her favorite dresses.

Surprisingly, the sewers were lit well enough to see without any additional gadgets. It only took Mary-Belle a moment to get used to the dim lighting. By the time she was able to see completely fine, the others have found their way down. Watson instructed them to stay together and to be quiet. It would be over for them if the Linen Man knew they were there. In moments like this Mary-Belle regretted tagging along. She was pretty certain she would die today. How could a bunch of teenagers save the world? Especially from some supernatural Rip that’s threatening to absorb this world? She still didn’t quite get what was actually happening. It was all a bit hard to wrap her mind around.

She kept close to Watson while moving through the tunnel. Sticking close to the only adult seemed like the most reasonable decision. He gave the impression he knew what he was doing which made her feel a little safer.

Nobody noticed the moment Beatrice stopped moving with them. Only when she cried out in agony they realized and quickly rushed back to her. Panic washed over Mary-Belle as she remembered the words Watson said about what would happen if the Linen Man found out they were there. Watson covered her mouth to stop her screams, hoping against all hope that the Linen Man and Sherlock hadn’t heard them yet and thus knew that they were close.

They started moving again after Beatrice had calmed down. It hadn’t taken long but time was precious now. With every second passing the world was closer to its end. Mary-Belle still remained close to Watson while she kept stealing glances at Beatrice to gather whether she would be alright. Every single sound had her on edge.

That the boys were not behind them anymore was suddenly realized when they started crying out. Beatrice did as well, clutching her head and sinking towards the ground. Tears were streaming over her face and she mumbled, “No, no, don’t go! Mum! Mum!” Mary-Belle tore her gaze away from Beatrice when gunshots were fired right next to her. The loud sound left her ear ringing. She only saw a flash of white before it was gone, scared away by Watson’s gun. Jessica ran after it and left them to deal with Beatrice who would not calm down.

The boys’ cries could still be heard as well, Leo’s standing out to Mary-Belle the most. She couldn’t bear hearing that and doing nothing, so she ran towards him. Watson shouted her name after her, telling her to not walk off alone, but she didn’t listen. If he didn’t have to take care of Beatrice, he would’ve gotten up to stop her, but he couldn’t leave the crying girl on the ground alone there.

Mary-Belle ran back down the path they had taken, following his outcries, she quickly found Leopold. He was sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest and his head between his hands. He screams and cries out. Each cry tore more at her chest. He removed his hands from his ears to stare at them as if he could see something on them that she didn’t. She dropped down next to him and tried to talk him out of it like he did with her back at Baker Street, but she couldn’t get through to him, so she just sat there, quiet tears rolling down her face at seeing the boy she loved in this state.

And then it stopped. From one moment to the next, his screams quieted down. He looked up from the ground and towards her in confusion, not grasping what had just happened. Relief flooded her system as she threw her arms around him. It took a moment, but then he returned the hug, desperately holding on to her.

Billy’s voice called out to Leo prompting them to let go off each other. He appeared in front of them seconds after and helped Leo off the ground who in turn helped Mary-Belle. His movements were still slow and staggered like he didn’t quite have a grasp on reality. Billy then called out to Spike who called back immediately. The three of them moved towards where his voice was coming from, finding him on the ground as well. He was already back on his feet when they came to a stop by his side. They made sure he was unharmed, physically at least, before continuing on the way they had gone before this happened, hoping to reunite with Beatrice, Watson and Jessica.

When Beatrice and Watson were already in sight, just down the tunnel, the earth began to rumble, debris falling down, dust collecting on their heads and clothes. Leopold pulled Mary-Belle back before the ceiling of the tunnel collapsed in front of them, separating them from Beatrice and Watson.

When most of the dust settled and she could see clearly again she saw Billy lying on the ground. His leg was pinned under two big stoned and he knew that it was wrecked. “Billy! Leo!”, Beatrice shouted from the other side of the rubble as Leo and Spike helped Billy up. He couldn’t put weight on the leg without crying out in pain, so Spike supported him. They let Beatrice know that his leg was probably broken.

A short argument broke out since Beatrice wanted them to go back to the cellar but Billy refused to leave them. “Be reasonable, Billy,” Mary-Belle chimed in. “The tunnels aren’t safe and you wouldn’t be of much help anyway with your leg. You should rest before it will get even worse,” she argued.

Billy was about to retort when Beatrice spoke up again. “Listen to her, Billy!” She sounded desperate. “And promise me… Promise me that you’ll keep each other safe.” Silence overcame them for a moment as they thought about what they were going to do before Spike agreed and gave her the promise. Leo followed suit. For Billy to agree it took some more demands from Beatrice. Her voice still sounded strong despite her desperation and in that moment Mary-Belle realized what Leopold saw in her. “Mary-Belle?” Beatrice called out to her as well, this time a bit calmer. “Will you promise me, too?” She was surprised that Beatrice wanted her to give the promise as well. After all, she was not a part of their group.

“Of course,” she replied nonetheless, never having thought of doing anything other. “I promise.” With those promises made they went on their way, Leopold going to Billy’s other side to support him as well. Mary-Belle walked behind them. Still feeling uneasy, she kept throwing glances over her shoulder like something would appear there at any moment. Thankfully, it didn’t and they made it out of the sewers without any more incidents.

“Mary-Belle, here, take over!”, Spike instructed you, so that he could move in front of them to protect them. She took his place at Billy’s side. He slung his arm over her shoulder begrudgingly. He didn’t have much of a choice now about who would help him move. He just needed to get home and off the streets, so he would have to get used to the idea of Mary-Belle supporting him on the way.

The streets were ruthless. Never had she seen anything like this. The people had turned crazy. The ones that hadn’t either fell victim to the ones that had or hid out in their homes behind barred doors and windows. Having to basically carry Billy through the streets slowed them down immensely. Each time they came upon someone she tensed but kept moving in the strong believe that when it came to it, Spike would protect them. Most of the time they were ignored though. Maybe they were not interesting enough for those who found liking in eating someone’s intestines. The things Mary-Belle had already seen today were nightmare material for the rest of her life, but she doubted that it would be all. The day wasn’t over yet, the world hadn’t ended yet. There was still time to be traumatized even more.

With each step Billy hissed in pain. He tried his hardest not to scream but some steps were even worse than the ones before and he couldn’t stop the screams that escaped him.

The sight of the ‘Duck and Quiver’ sign was a relief. They had made it. Mary-Belle was out of breath. Her body was hurting from having to haul Billy all the way through the city but she did not dare compare it to the pain he must be feeling. He had to sit down for a moment on the stairs across the street from the pub, groaning and hissing. They had tried to stabilize his leg. It didn’t do much but was probably better than just leaving it without.

“Watson was right,” said Leo, “the city’s turning. With the Rip the way it is every time someone prays for help or wishes, that’s all it takes now.”

“We should’ve stayed and found a way through. We’re useless here,” added Billy.

“You would have been useless there, too,” Mary-Belle remarked, growing tired of his behavior. “I mean, look at you. You can barely stand. What would you have done there? Going back was the best option whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“You-“ Billy’s answer was cut short as what looked like blue lightning soared through the sky. It rumbled, crackled and sissed as it came down from the sky and connected with the building that held the pub. Blue lines danced along the walls as the magic – there was no other way Mary-Belle could describe it – made its way into the building.

“Jessie still hasn’t closed the Rip,” observed Leo. “It’s nearly over. It could be too late now.”

Spike rushed them to get moving again, so that they could find shelter in the cellar and hope for the best. Mary-Belle moved back to Billy’s side and helped him get up as Leo took his other side. They stopped again shortly after as terrified screams came towards them and a bunch of people came running from behind the corner, a weapon-swinging attacker after them. They tried to stop him as he had a nun cornered against her door but without any luck.

Spike didn’t hesitate as he lunged forward and knocked him out with his rifle. The man fell to the ground having lost his consciousness. Spike was rather excited about the fact that he succeeded in taking him down. “I rifled him! I rifled him!”, he announced in disbelief. Leo, Billy and Mary-Belle moved over to him as he helped up the nun who had been cowering on the ground. She told them how the man came after them in the church. She was desperate as she told them that they had nowhere to go. Billy immediately offered that they could come with them and so, they made their way to the cellar together.

Mary-Belle let out a sigh of relief when Spike closed the door behind them and barred it. With walls surrounding them she felt a lot safer than out on the street. They set Billy down on a chair. Without him weighing down on her she stood up straight again and rolled her shoulders to get at least some of the tension out. It barely worked. The stress and anxiety just made her more tense. No rolling her shoulders would help with that.

Sister Anna, as Mary-Belle had found out the nun was called, moved to the back of the cellar with the other two they had taken in while Billy, Spike, Leo and Mary-Belle stayed more in the front. She went to stand with Leo. “How are you feeling?”, she asked.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. That was close back there. You do realize you were almost crushed back then, don’t you?” His gaze was fixed on her, worry in his eyes.

“Don’t turn this on me now,” she scolded. “I asked how you were doing. I am fine, thanks to you, but the Linen Man got into your mind. What did you see? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I- There was blood, so much blood. I-I don’t know. I thought I was about to die.” His eyes glazed over as he thought back on the visions he had. “I was all alone and I thought I was dying.” He didn’t say anything else, stuck on that feeling. Mary-Belle wrapped him into another hug bringing him back into the moment. “Thank you!” He smiled at her softly before his gaze moved over to Billy who was breathing heavily from the extortion that getting to the cellar had been for him. “How did you get Billy out of jail anyway?” She recalled the story for him, stressing that it wouldn’t have been possible if she had done it without her father’s help. “How did he take the condition that he would be under your father’s supervision?”

“I didn’t tell him yet,” she admitted, avoiding the reproachful look he gave her. “How am I supposed to tell him? I can barely be near him without him hating every moment. That doesn’t really make me enjoy his company either. He hates me. I’m sure of it.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Leo argued. “That’s how he was with me at first as well. Now we’re friends. New people are not really his thing, I guess, especially rich ones.”

“Leo’s right.” Mary-Belle jumped at Spike’s sudden appearance by her side. “It may be hard to believe for you, but Billy is actually quite nice and a good friend. He cares. More than he admits himself sometimes. And I bet he doesn’t hate you. You two just got off on the wrong foot.”

“So, you’re saying…”

“You should talk to him.” Spike and Leopold both rolled their eyes at the groan she let out. They kept looking at her expectantly as she waited to see who would give in first.

“Ugh, fine.” She was the first to break. She turned towards Billy and even got a little shove from Spike to get her to move. She shot a sour glance at him over her shoulder but went to sit down next to Billy. He looked up from what he was doing to focus on her. She couldn’t quite decipher the way he was looking at her. It might be hatred, might be intrigue, might be disgust.

“What are you doing?” He asked after she did not speak up after sitting down.

“I just wanted to sit,” she replied but she could feel Spike and Leo watching her, their gazes boring into her and giving her the motivation to talk a little more. “How are you feeling?”

“Still think we should’ve stayed, should’ve been there for Bea and Jess,” he grumbled.

“Look,” she tried to explain once again, “I told you. With your leg like that, you can barely move. Just getting here already took such a strain on you. If it had come down to it, if we had to get out of there quickly, you would’ve held everyone back. You can’t do much with your leg like that. And if we hadn’t come here, who knows what would’ve happened to Sister Anna. It was the most reasonable decision. I am sure, Beatrice thought the same. Otherwise, she probably wouldn’t have sent you back. She wanted you to stay safe and I bet she won’t let herself get hurt either. You will all be together again.”

He considered her for a moment. “I guess,” he agreed begrudgingly. They sat in silence for another minute or two. Both of them looking anywhere but at each other. “Thank you,” he finally mumbled. At her confused gaze he groaned once more. “For getting me out of the trial, I mean. You’re right. If they had gone through with it, it would have ended with my death sentence, so thank you. I appreciate it.”

“How about we start over?”, she proposed, turning so she could properly face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Start over.” She paused for a second before giving him a bright smile and extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mary-Belle.” Throwing all the things she had learned about etiquette out the window she introduced herself with only her first name.

Billy seemed surprised at that. He looked thoughtfully at her outstretched hand before he grasped it. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he pressed her hand gently. “Billy. The pleasure’s all mine.” He laughed a little as he let go of her hand. It brought a genuine smile to her face as she chuckled along. “So,” Billy stated. His gaze was on Leo and Spike who were looking over in a manner that was not very inconspicuous, “do they think I would murder you or is there another reason they are watching us this intently?”

She followed his gaze. The two boys weren’t bothered by the fact that their attention was now on them. “They might. Or they think I would you. We do not have the best history after all.”

“You’re different from what I thought,” Billy admitted which took her by surprise.

“Elaborate.”

“Do I have to?” His eyes found hers again. A teasing smile adorned his lips.

“You do,” she insisted.

“I guess, we met you at a time I was also very suspicious of Leo. For good reason, I might add. He lied to us. I have forgiven him for that, don’t worry,” he added after he saw the look that she gave him before he continued, “But my experiences with nobility hadn’t been very good. I didn’t trust him, so I wouldn’t trust you either. I was rude and I scared you. I’m sorry about that. I thought you’d be just like the others who are well-off, up-tight with a stick up your arse and thinking you are better than everyone else, especially those living like we do. But you are… not like that.” He didn’t explain any further.

“I take that as a compliment, so thank you. You’re not as much of a rowdy as I thought you were.” She squeezed his shoulder as she got up as a way to end the conversation, before she walked over to Leo and Spike.

“He seemed to have taken the news well,” noticed Leo.

She just sighed, hanging her head in shame. “I couldn’t do it. We got along for once and I didn’t want to destroy that right after.”

“You have to tell him at some point.”

“I know. Let’s just survive the night first and then I will tell him. I promise.”

They were shaken out of their conversation when a rattling sounded from the door. Someone was trying to get in. They came together at the bottom of the stairs, ready to defend the cellar. Somehow, Mary-Belle ended up next to Billy who noticed the way she watched the rattling door. Each of them grabbed a weapon. Billy handed her one as well. “Scared?”, he asked.

“Of course. Unlike you apparently, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“I’m scared, too,” he admitted quietly before chaos reigned down upon them. Surprisingly it didn’t come the way they expected with the door splintering and bloodthirsty people storming in but with the Sister finishing a prayer. They hadn’t been able to stop her from saying that last faithful word. They barely moved fast enough to watch her turn. Her eyes turned black, no light shining in them, no life, no recognition. The dark lines crawling over her skin made her look monstrous, inhuman. But even as her appearance had changed into something not quite human, her voice remained calm as she spoke to the two who were kneeling in front of her and had been praying with her. They too were overcome with the magic of the Rip, not moving away from her, not screaming as she broke their necks.

She then turned her attention to the four of them, calling them heathens as she neared. Her skin was pale, a stark contrast to the dark veins and her black eyes. Mary-Belle was terrified. The feeling only deepening when the bullet Spike shot at her did her no harm. Mary-Belle was pulled back and down some stairs until she moved on her own. Leo supported Billy again as they ran from the cold-hearted monster that had once been a loving person filling people’s hearts with warmth. Spike stopped to reload his rifle. Even if the bullet might not do damage, it might slow her down. But before he was able to target her, she grabbed the rifle out of his hand and threw it to the ground. Her hands gripped the front of his shirt and threw him into a corner. He didn’t move or make a sound, worrying his friends. Mary-Belle could just watch, frozen in place, as Billy attacked the monster. She flinched with every punch and kick he got before he too was thrown across the room. His body slid on the ground until his head bumped against the wall and he fell unconscious.

Her feet were frozen. No matter how much she willed them to move they wouldn’t. She stood there and watched as the monster came towards her. In the corner of her eye she still saw Leo trying to get between her and the monster before she felt her hands on her, felt a dull pain and everything went black.

She came back to when her body was shaken. Slowly opening her eyes while trying to ignore the searing pain behind them she saw Leo towering over her. The worry on his face changed into relief when her eyes found his. She groaned as she sat up, holding her pounding head. Leo helped her up, holding onto her arms tightly. “It’s over!”, he explained. “It’s over! Jessie must have closed the Rip!” She felt great relief as she clung onto Leo.

“Is Spike alright?”, she asked after pulling away from him.

“Am fine, love,” the boy called over having heard her ask the question. Her face lit up as she realized that he was indeed alright. She rushed over and gave him a hug as well, surprising him, but he didn’t complain. Near-death experiences did bring people closer together. Either way, she had always liked the charismatic boy. In her mind they were friends. In his, too. She just didn’t know.

“And you?”, she asked Billy who was sitting down again. The fight could not have been good for his broken leg.

“Not much worse than before,” he answered honestly. Apart from the throbbing in his head, his leg gave him the greatest pain, but it had done that before, too. She nodded at that. They were well and alive and the world wouldn’t end today. She looked around the cellar once more, noticing the absence of the Sister and the bodies. They must have already taken them out while she was unconscious.

“I should probably go, then,” she started, but was stopped by Billy.

“You should at least wait until Bea and Jessie come back and tell us what happened. You deserve to hear the story, too.” The other two boys agreed. It didn’t take much convincing to get her to stay a little longer. They sat in silence, much needed after everything that had happened. It was interrupted after a while by the door opening. Steps made their way down into the cellar. The two girls appeared, covered in dirt with sad looks on their faces that were replaced by happy and relieved ones at the sight of everyone being there.

Mary-Belle watched the way Leopold and Beatrice looked at each other as they got closer and enveloped each other in a hug. It was adoring, loving, in a way Leopold had never looked at her, but she understood now. Understood how she could never compare to Beatrice who was so adventurous and brave. More hugs were exchanged while Mary-Belle just sat there and watched on. There was a short moment Beatrice and her held eye-contact. The black-haired girl nodded at Mary-Belle as a sign of respect and as a thank you for keeping the promise she had made. She couldn’t justify not liking Beatrice anymore after today, but she didn’t know if that made it harder or easier to let go of her feelings for Leo.

She stayed seated as the girls found their own seats and the boys went back to theirs before they started telling what had transpired. Jessie filled them in about her mind battle with the Linen Man and together they told them about their mother who had appeared from the Rip. It was a heart-wrenching story. Mary-Belle’s eyes filled with tears that she didn’t want to let fall in front of the others but the story and the expression on the sisters’ faces made it hard. She admired them even more now. Having to make such a decision wasn’t an easy weight to bear and then having to live with it.

Soon after everyone filled the others in on what they had experienced the groups dispersed. Mary-Belle took that as her cue. There was just one more thing she needed to do before she left them. She walked over to Leo and Beatrice, hesitant to interrupt their conversation but doing it anyways to get it over with. “Excuse me,” she butted in, “Leo, can I talk with you outside for a moment?” His gaze fluttered over to Beatrice who agreed silently before the both of them climbed out of the cellar and onto the street that had already gone back to some sort of normalcy. People were bustling around, going after their business, others were in charge of picking up the dead bodies and cleaning up after them.

They came to stop a short way away from the cellar when Mary-Belle turned to face him. “What are you going to do now, Leo? Are you going to return to the palace? What is your plan?”

“I… would like to stay here. These are my friends and I belong here, not in the palace,” he announced.

She nodded, a sad smile on her face. “I understand, but I’m certain the Queen will have people looking for you when she notices that you are missing. You can’t stay away from your responsibilities forever.”

He let out a desperate sigh. “I know, but… I want to enjoy this time for as long as I can.” She nodded and squeezed his arm briefly before she watched him descend into the cellar again to live this life for a bit longer.

She turned to walk away, home, back to a life so unlike the one Leo chose to live, but she didn’t get very far before she was stopped by a hand hesitantly reaching out to her. Jessica stood there. She quickly retrieved her arm after gaining Mary-Belle’s attention. “We were actually going to get fish and chips later. You, um, you should eat with us. After all, you’ve helped us.”

“I didn’t really do anything actually. I was probably just in the way most of the time, but thank you. You guys should enjoy your evening by yourselves.”

She wanted to walk away again, but Jessica spoke up once more to stop her. “That’s not true! If anything, you got Billy out of jail! The others told me. You didn’t have to do that. You barely know us, but you did! Please, I would really like it if you would eat with us.”

In the end, Jessica had convinced Mary-Belle and when they were all sitting together that evening eating fish and chips she felt content and happy. Looking around at their smiling and laughing faces she could understand how Leo found his family in this group of people.

She caught the expression on Billy’s face when Leo and Beatrice walked past him to get up to the street. It was a sour one, full of jealousy. So, she walked over and sat down next to him. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”, she noticed quietly, following their retreating figures with her eyes until they disappeared outside and closed the door behind them.

Billy’s head whipped around to eye her suspiciously. “What would you know about it?”, he asked.

“Well.” She let out a sigh. “I’m in love with him,” she revealed, “so, I guess we’re in the same boat.” The two of them shared a mutual understanding that the people they loved, loved them too, but not in the same way.

“Should we do something about it, then?”, Billy asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you thinking of?”, Mary-Belle asked with a smile, before Billy grabbed her face and pulled her close. His lips hovered over hers for a moment, enough time for her to pull away if she wanted too, and then he kissed her. A gasp sounded which pulled the two apart. As they looked over to the source of the sound, they found Spike staring at them, his hand dramatically on his chest which made them all laugh. Billy threw a chip at Spike to get him to stop with his antics. He had a carefree smile on his face again. Even as he looked over at Mary-Belle, which he used to do with such a dark gaze, it didn’t falter and maybe, she thought, she could find her place here as well.

#the irregulars #billy x oc #billy x female!oc #bea x leopold #unrequited love #leopold x female!oc #leopold x oc #angst #billy chisup #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #one shot

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jovialyouthmusic · 3 years

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Double Trouble

Following Bastien and Sophia Lykel, the proud new parents of twins. Sophia’s parents come to visit.

Word Count 2293

A/N Nothing to report, just fluff. The chapter got a bit long so I’m splitting it.

6a Granny and Grandpa

‘There they are!’ Sophia threw her arm up in the air and waved as she caught sight of her parents, Bob and Edith, coming out of Customs into the arrival lounge at Cordonia’s main airport. Costa and Althea had not stayed long when they visited, but the Turners would be there for a week.

‘What are we going to do with them?’ Sophia had asked Bastien ‘I love them, but it takes all my energy looking after the twins. We can’t really ask Hana to help while they’re here. She deserves a break’

‘Don’t worry, Regina has invited Edith and you for afternoon tea for one thing. You can take your mother shopping in the Capitol and Bob and I can look after the twins. I’ll find lots of things for us all to do, and if you’re tired, you can just rest. I’m sure your parents are capable of taking the twins for a walk in the grounds.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps we could invite Costa and Althea back, after all they haven’t met yet.’ Bastien’s foster parents were often busy visiting others that that they had fostered over the years, and were ‘foster’ grandparents to many children, so had missed both their wedding and the reception back in the palace after their honeymoon.

‘Oh my goodness, I can’t imagine how that would go – but it’s a good opportunity’ Sophia said ‘I suppose there’s no harm in asking if they’re free’

At the airport, Bastien smiled to see the joy on her face.

‘Go on, I’ve got the pushchair’ he said, putting his hand on the handle of the double stroller. The twins were mesmerised by the noise and bustle of the airport terminal, Theodore looking all around wide eyed and Beatrice frowning in disapproval, fidgeting and wriggling in her seat. Sophia rushed forward to greet her parents. Edith hugged her, but she was scanning the lounge for sight of the twins and broke away from her quickly.

‘Where are they? Is that Bastien over there?’ she asked impatiently, while Bob gave his daughter a warm embrace.

‘You’re looking well, Sophia’ he said fondly ‘How are you coping with being a parent?’ Edith was surging determinedly ahead toward her quarry, her luggage forgotten. The trolley was laden with bags and Bob looked tired.

‘It’s hard work, Dad’ she replied ‘But we have a lot of help – we’re lucky really, the Palace is a great place to stay right now.’ Edith was out of earshot but Sophia could hear her delighted cries at meeting her grandchildren.

‘We’d better catch up’ Bob said, and Sophia kissed his cheek as he went back to pushing the luggage trolley.

‘How on earth did you get all these bags on the plane?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Your mother’ Bob said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed, but went on to elaborate. ‘She harassed the check in girl thoroughly. I think she overlooked the baggage limit just to save her eardrums’

‘You must have had to pay extra, surely’ Sophia replied, and her father shrugged, smiling warmly.

‘It was worth it for the sake of my only daughter’ She squeezed his arm as they caught up with Edith, bending down and cooing at the babies. As usual with any new stimulus, Theo regarded her with fascination, fingers stuffed in his mouth, and Beatrice continued to wriggle, but she was engaged at the new person paying her and her brother such close attention,

‘They haven’t got your lovely fair hair’ Edith said, looking back at her daughter. ‘You were such a pretty baby, strangers didn’t believe Bob was your father because you were blonde’

‘It’s genetics, Mum’ Sophia sighed ‘You must both have recessive genes’ Edith sniffed, unconvinced.

‘Well, they’re very bonny.’ she conceded ‘How did you get here? Did Bastien drive? How are we all going to fit into the car?’

‘We’ve got a minivan’ Sophia explained ‘We’ll all fit in fine – and your bags’ she looked back at the trolley ‘At least I think so’

‘We’ll manage’ Bastien asserted. Bob had been gazing fondly at the babies, but his attention went to his son in law.

‘Lykel’ he said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly ‘You’ve got a hard job looking after twins’

‘They keep us on our toes, Sir’

‘Now then son, it’s Bob’ Bastien smiled wryly.

‘With respect, you used my surname, Bob’

‘Well dammit so I did. Force of habit, s – uh Bastien. No offense’

‘None taken, Bob’ Edith was talking to the babies in a sing song voice, which caused Theo to reach out to try and touch her while Beatrice stopped wriggling to concentrate on her voice, staring at her intently.

‘They’re such little darlings’ Edith gushed ‘When is Granny going to get a cuddle?’

‘You can help when we get out to the car, Edith’ Bastien said ‘It will be easier to keep them in the stroller for now.’ He looked at the baggage trolley. ‘Let me take that, Bob. Sophia can take charge of the twins’ They set off for the car park, Sophia taking the lead and Edith walking beside her, Bastien and Bob taking up the rear. It was warm outside in the Mediterranean autumn air, white clouds billowing up in the sky as the day wore on. They reached the minivan and began the loading process.

‘Would you mind taking Beatrice, Mum?’ Sophia asked. She’d never been able to change her habit of calling her parents Mum and Dad. It just didn’t feel natural calling them by their names. ‘She’s more likely to get cranky. Theo’s pretty laid back’

‘Well who’s a gorgeous girl?’ Edith enthused as Sophia unbuckled the baby and handed her over. ‘Granny’s been waiting to meet you and your brother’ Beatrice sat quietly in her arms, happy at being paid exclusive attention. Bob caught up with them and beamed as Sophia handed Theo over to him so that she could wrestle with getting the stroller folded up and stowed away and putting the nappy changing bags where they could be reached easily. Bastien was taken up with manhandling the bags into the back of the van, scrutinising them first to work out how best to stow them away.

Sophia climbed into the van and reached out to Bob for Theo first, knowing that he would be content to be buckled into his baby seat. Edith was only too happy to spend a few more moments rocking her granddaughter before handing her over.

‘Now Beatrice will probably cry when I buckle her up’ Sophia explained ‘But as soon as we get moving she’ll quieten down. Theo will be fine’

‘I’ll sit next to her’ Edith offered ‘Granny will keep her quiet’ Sophia pursed her lips dubiously but said nothing. Beatrice squirmed and grizzled as she placed her in the car seat and adjusted the straps. Edith swiftly climbed into the next seat and leaned over her as Bastien crammed the last bag into the back.

Bob wheeled the trolley back to the collection point while Bastien got into the driver’s seat. Bob came back and sat beside him whilst Sophia settled next to Theo, who kicked his legs happily. He seemed to like the motion of the minivan, whereas Beatrice just wasn’t happy being strapped into anything. It wasn’t as if she could get anywhere under her own steam, just that she hated any kind of confinement apart from being held and fussed over. Happily, the fact that Edith was paying the little girl attention pleased her, and she quietened down before they started off.

‘Beatrice must really like you, Mum.’ Sophia said ‘Normally she cries until we get moving. Not that we’ve manage to get them out and about much. It’s like organising a campaign getting them ready’

‘Well four pairs of hands are better than two’ her mother said ‘I know you have extra help at the Palace, but whoever it is can have a little holiday while we’re here’ Sophia sighed inwardly, knowing that things were never that simple with her mother, well meaning as she was.

It wasn’t a long journey to the palace, and Edith carried on talking to Beatrice all the way, only looking up when they got to the palace gates.

‘Oh, here already? How’s the King? Didn’t you say that the Queen’s expecting a baby too? Theo and Beatrice will have a real life prince or princess to play with’

‘Mum, I told you we’ll be moving to Edinburgh when the academic year starts’ Sophia said.

‘Oh, still so far away.’ Edith sighed ‘However will you manage the twins on your own? You should move back to the island, then we can babysit for you.’

‘Now Edith, that’s a huge commitment.’ Bob said firmly. ‘Much as I love the idea of being a grandpa, I want to enjoy my retirement. Sophia and Bastien will manage just fine without us.’

‘I’d planned to set up my own security consultancy, but I can delay a lot of it while we settle in’ Bastien explained ‘Most will be done remotely anyway, so I should be at home most of the time once it gets going’ Edith boggled at this.

‘You mean you’ll be a house husband?’ she gasped ‘Sophia, you should be the one staying at home’ Bob coughed loudly, and she looked sheepish. ‘Oh dear, I’m being old fashioned, aren’t I? Things are different nowadays I suppose’ Sophia rubbed her forehead.

‘I was honoured to be offered the job.’ she explained. ‘I didn’t think I’d fall pregnant so fast. They deferred, but I really want to take it up.’

‘I’m sorry dear.’ Edith sighed ‘It was so different in my day. You were expected to be at home to look after your children and wait for your husband to get home’

Any further discussion was halted as the minivan drew up at the security post at the Palace gates and went on to stop in front of the staff wing after being checked over.

‘Let me have Theo this time’ Edith offered as they started to unload, so Sophia handed him over and carried Beatrice herself, leaving the two men to unload the baggage. They climbed the stairs to the apartment.

‘Now Mum, you know you can’t stay with us this time. The twins have the spare room, so the King has very kindly put you in a suite in the guest wing. It’s not far from us, and we can all eat together. Your suite has a very nice view out over the grounds at the back’

‘Oh’ said Edith ‘That sounds lovely. When can we see it?’

‘I just need to check the twins aren’t hungry or need changing, then we can all go over and take your bags’

‘Are you bottle feeding them? I fed you of course, but I stopped when your teeth came through’

‘I’ll feed them for as long as I can’ Sophia explained as they reached the apartment, and she unlocked the door. She went along the corridor to the nursery, and Edith exclaimed at the room.

‘Oh my, aren’t you a lucky boy?’ she cooed to Theo ‘Your mummy didn’t have her own room until she was at school’ She made a face and held Theo away from her body. ‘Oh dear, I think he’s a little damp, darling’

--------

At first Edith had been a little peeved not to be staying with her daughter. Sophia and Bastien had discussed putting the twins back in the main bedroom and reinstating the spare room, but it would have been too disruptive. The suite Bob and Edith had was one that was usually put aside for nobility to stay in the social season when there were balls and other occasions to attend. Edith was most impressed at the grand décor and soon forgot all about the little apartment in the staff wing. The arrangement meant that everyone had their own space and weren’t on top of each other.

After taking all the bags through, Bastien sent for a meal to be served in the Turners’ suite, and Sophia sat feeding Beatrice whilst it was all laid out on the table. She felt a little guilty at always feeding her first, but she was impatient where her brother was not. Edith paraded up and down with Theo, singing and chatting to him.

‘What’s in all the bags, Mum?’ Sophia asked.

‘My painting things’ she replied. ‘After all, I work by Royal appointment, you know’ Sophia suppressed a smile, as she knew that remark to be caused by Regina politely saying she’d like to see Edith paint the palace grounds. Beatrice stopped feeding and Sophia waved her mother over to swap, handing her a napkin for her shoulder.

‘Make sure she’s winded’ she warned ‘If she gets tummy ache neither of them will settle.’ When Theo had been fed and winded, Sophia went to sit at the table. Theo was happy to sit in his bouncy chair, and surprisingly Beatrice was too.

‘My foster parents are passing through tomorrow’ Bastien said casually as he passed the breadbasket to Bob ‘If you like, we could meet up with them.’

‘Oh, Althea paints, doesn’t she?’ Edith piped up ‘Of course we should meet them’

‘Perhaps we should plan an outing’ Sophia suggested ‘I’m getting a bit fed up of the same four walls. A walk along the seafront and lunch at a café would make a change’

‘That’s an excellent idea’ Bastien replied, standing to take some plates back to the kitchen and stopping on the way back to put his hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll get in touch with them and arrange it’

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @fluffyfirewhiskey @kingliam2019 @rainbowsinthestorm @camillemontespan @texaskitten30 @bascmve01 @nomadics-stuff

#double trouble #sophia x bastien #bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #bastien x sophia

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snicketstrange · 3 years

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Rereading The End Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Olaf claims to be aware that the Baudelaires parents were on the island. According to the revised chronology, this happened after Gregor A.'s Schism, and after the fight for salmon. This means that Olaf had access to information about the Baudelaires parents being on the island after the AA fire. This corresponds to the events described by Ish about the creation of a tunnel connecting the island to AA. The events surrounding Gregor A.'s schism seem to be one of the main backgraunds for understanding Beatrice and Bertrand's stay on the island. This makes sense when we think that the deadly fungus MM was directly linked to Gregor's Schism.

Considering Violet's age, and knowing that Beatrice was pregnant with her when when Beatrice was on the island, we can conclude that Gregor's schism occurred about 14-15 years before the main events described in asoue.

It is interesting to note that Phill, in TMM states that for 14 years no one had knocked on the door that the Baudelaires slammed when they arrived at the mill. This mill was next to a forest full of peculiar apple trees. Did Beatrice, after leaving the island, try to replicate her experiments near the sawmill? Well, the chronology checks.

"Of course I'm trying to trick you!" Olaf cried. "That's the way of the world, Baudelaires. Everybody runs around with their secrets and their schemes, trying to outwit everyone else. Ishmael outwitted me, and put me in this cage. But I know how to outwit him and all his islander friends. If you let me out, I can be king of Olaf-Land, and you three can be my new henchfolk. "

Olaf's dialogue with the Baudelaires is very interesting, and it is possible not to disagree at least in part with the villain. There is no safe place in this world. And Ish is as horrible a person as Olaf, despite having the opposite motivation. I think Daniel Handler wants to show that extremism in any direction leads one to become a villain.

I found it interesting that Ish ate the apple just before he met Olaf and the Baudelaires on the coastal platform. Did he already suspect the possibility that Olaf had the deadly fungus MM with him? It is also interesting that Olaf already knew that Ish was going to eat those apples, and that the object that fell from his hands was exactly the core of an apple. Apparently, Olaf and Ish were in a piscological battle trying to deduce each other's next step.

"Do you think your pathetic history is the only story in the world? Do you think this island has just sat here in the sea, waiting for you to wash up on its shores?

Olaf demonstrated a great deal of knowledge about the events on the island. Probably people who left the island earlier informed him about what was happening there. But I think the concept (which started since LSTUA) that the asoue world does not revolve around the Baudelaires is really cool. This was very well reinforced by Olaf's words, when he made it very clear that the history of the Baudelaires is not the only history in the world. But the most interesting thing is that Olaf did not speak to the Baudelaires about the healing power of apples, even though he already knew that.

"Do you think that I just sat in my home in the city, waiting for you miserable orphans to stumble into my path?"

I understand that this question is ambiguous. But I understand that this question most likely indicates that Olaf was in his own affairs when suddenly and by chance from his point of view, the Baudelaires entered his life. I think this is the simplest understanding. The meaning can be the opposite, hypothetically speaking: Olaf did not just stand and wait for the Baudelaires to come into his life by chance, but he did something to make it happen. But that doesn't make sense here. Olaf is trying to prove that the world does not revolve around the Baudelaires. If Olaf had acted, causing the fire at their parents' house, this argument would have made no sense. While his last words may, hypothetically, be a way to act cruelly just before he dies, in an attempt by Olaf to leave the children in doubt as to who really was behind the death of their parents, this is not the case here. Olaf, without being encouraged, started a series of questions (he even seemed a little indignant at the Baudelaires' lack of awareness and their egocentrism) and tried to show that there are several stories going on at the same time. So, I believe that this question in this context is strong evidence that it was not Olaf (or anyone at Olaf's request) who caused the fire at the Baudelaire mansion.

"I could tell you stories, Baudelaires," Count Olaf said in a muffled wheeze. "I could tell you secrets about people and places that you would never dream of. I could tell you about arguments and schisms that started before you were born. I could even tell you things about yourselves that you could never imagine. Just open the door of my cage, orphans, and I'll tell you things you could never discover on your own. "

Those words from Olaf have always touched me. I feel like he's being sincere here in regards to him actually having a lot to say if he wanted to. I want to emphasize the fact that he talked about schisms in the plural, which reinforces the fact that there is more than one occasion in the history of VFD that can be called Schism. One of them happens when kit was a child. Another certainly happened at the time when Gregor A. planned to use the deadly fungus MM to get rid of his enemies. This caused another schism, but this time within the fire-extinguishing side. It is interesting to note that Gregor Anwhistle's Schism was caused by a fundamental question: Was the violence against enemies on the VFD fire-extinguishing side justifiable or not? When Olaf accused Captain W.'s family of never deciding which side of the schism they would support, I think Olaf was referring to Gregor Anwhistle's schism. However, I find it significant that Olaf claims that he could tell secrets about the Baudelaires themselves that they did not know. If we associate this with the hint that Olaf was orphaned by the Baudelaires 'parents, we can conclude that Olaf believed that the Baudelaires' parents supported Gregor Anwhistle's ideologies that violence is sometimes justified. If we add to this the fact that the Snickets fought for the salmon, this seems to indicate that they also came to believe this, at least up to a tolerable limit of violence. Kit was admittedly involved with the poison darts, but she still did not accept the use of the deadly fungus MM. I think all of this shows that Gregor's Schism has fragmented VFD into several factions.

Lemony says that Klaus has been curious about many books since a visitor to his home wrote the alphabet on his wall. This is very specific information and I wonder how Lemony got it. I think the simplest answer is that Lemony read about it in the Baudelaires' writings, although it is possible to obtain this information from other people. However, I think it is more likely to be through the Baudelaires' writings because two pieces of information come together: the first is that there was a visitor who wrote the alphabet on the wall and the second is that Klaus became known for reading that remarkable moment. This second information is of an internal nature, and could be accessed through Klaus' family members, or through Klaus himself. I can't imagine Beatrice and Bertrand meeting Lemony to talk about Klaus.

The end of chapter 7 considers a hypothetical secret that the Baudelaires refused to hear. Lemony's narration really makes me think of the secret about the Baudelaires' parents, that they were not as peaceful as the children wanted to believe they were. I think the children thought the same thing and refused to accept that thought for having a little cordial coconut drink.

#asoue #asoue theory #a series of unfortunate events #lemony snicket #asoue theories #the end #snicketverse

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missnight0wl · 4 years

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Believe it or not, but I still enjoy the story of HPHM – even in Y6. I mean, the Polyjuice Potion plot was really shitty, but still. And you know what? I’m not even mad about Rowan’s death. Admittedly, it’s probably mostly because I just don’t believe it was real… But in general, I don’t think it’s bad as a part of the story. Especially when you realise how it parallels Jacob and Duncan. And I don’t think that Rowan died purely to shock the audience (at least it wasn’t meant to be that way). I’m not even mad that we grew apart with Rowan in Y5, because it’s something that happens when you’re a teenager and your group of friends is expanding. What I HATE, though, is how it all was done. I hate that MC didn’t ever think why R wanted to kill one of their friends SINCE THE START OF Y5. I hate that we didn’t talk with Rowan in Y5 after our fight in the Library. I hate that we didn’t talk after they attacked us, and that we didn’t see how things turned out later between Rowan and Ben. I hate that we didn’t even mention Duncan when talking to Jacob after Rowan’s death.

Imagine something like that: you had the most amazing adventure at school, at work, or just in some other place. It was either thrilling, or funny, or whatever – simply a good story to tell at the parties etc. Therefore you (Person 1) decide to tell that story to your friend (Person 2). However, for whatever reason, that someone doesn’t quite pay attention to what you’re saying. Maybe they’re distracted by some problems, or they’re sleepy. Perhaps that’s just who they are. Still, they enjoyed the story enough that they want to tell it to Person 3 (who doesn’t know you). Unfortunately, because they don’t remember everything, they skip over some parts or even make things up to fill the holes. Perhaps they also forget to mention some detail about you that is important to fully understand the story. In the end, even though the punchline is the same as it was in the original story, Person 3 is just a bit confused because it did sound interesting, but not everything adds up. And that’s basically the problem with HPHM, especially since the second half of Y5, where Person 1 is the original writing team under Matt London, Person 2 is the current writing team, and Person 3 is us, the players. It’s a good story, but it’s written poorly.

That being said, it doesn’t have to mean that the story is doomed. I don’t think they’ll write anything, no matter how stupid it is. Because the thing is that a lot of the story was planned from the very beginning. I recall a post where London said that they knew how everything ends, what’s in the final vault etc. from the start. Then, it was only about getting there. Also, it seems like he worked on a big part of the story before he left after Y3.

He has to talk about Beatrice here because before Y5, we didn’t see much of Penny’s interest in her family.

Now, Rakepick wasn’t even introduced officially before Y4, yet, he put so much into her character that it makes him “the proudest”? I admit, if he talks about all of Rakepick’s symbolism, IT IS damn impressive. But it also means that Jam City can’t fucked up Rakepick’s story because it’s already done, and throwing it away would be plain stupid (also, if they’ll do it anyway – I’m so so sorry, Matt…). And you know, we already have examples in the game of things which makes sense in the big picture, but they were poorly executed.

New Ben. All of Y5 was for Ben about becoming braver. There should’ve been something at the end of Y5 which showed Ben that his previous efforts weren’t enough, and that’d explain his behaviour in Y6. I believe that Ben was supposed to try to sacrifice himself to protect MC (I explained it in details here), but for whatever reason, Jam City changed it. Still, Ben’s story is probably the same as it’s meant to be. We’re just missing a link which would explain his change better.

The Wizard in White. There were theories that he was expelled from Mahoutokoro as soon as he was first mentioned back in Y5. The thing is that those theories were based on the facts that he wears white robes AND that he was using incantations Fletcher didn’t understand (suggesting foreign language). In Y6, Dumbledore deduced that based only on the fact that he wears white robes – which is stupid. Even if white colour is not common in Knockturn Alley, I refuse to believe that Dumbledore would guess it so accurately without any indication that the wizard might be a foreigner.

Alanza. We needed a long time for her to reveal that Rakepick was at Castelobruxo. Why? Because the current writers weren’t listening to the original story at the part where MC finds out that Rakepick was there before coming back to Hogwarts. Still, they know that it’s important that Rakepick was there and that they need Alanza to bring it up.

All of that are examples of a good story being told by an incompetent person. But I do not believe that they will pull out who knows how stupid things “because bad writing” – at least not when it comes to the main events (I don’t believe that R could be Voldemort, for example). In fact, I have to say, I’m always a bit... irritated seeing that argument. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we shouldn’t criticize Jam City. We should! You can find quite a lot of complaints on my blog, actually. But I always try to point out why things are stupid. That’s why I use shitloads of screenshots and write essays for a thousand words. Why I keep bringing up questions which should be answered. And honestly, I don’t really know how to react to people saying that Jam City will do something stupid because it’s Jam City… I mean, if that’s what you believe – you do you. But that’s not really why I’m here. I always try to show that HPHM can still make sense.

Also, I probably wouldn’t find it very motivating to improve if I was a writer at Jam City, to be frank. Like, people have no expectations, but they keep playing, some of them keep paying, so... Why would they try harder? Their salaries are probably the same, no matter how much sense the story makes. I mean, I get that it’s frustrating when they ignore things, and it makes constructive criticism harder, but assuming in advance that we shouldn’t hope for logical solutions won’t take us anywhere either.

Long story short: even if people think it’s pointless, I’ll keep analysing the shit out of this game because I know I’ll be right about the main events in the end. Even if the way Jam City gets there will be missing many explanations, will be full of pointless fillers instead, and it won’t be half as thrilling as it could’ve been. I didn’t want to offend anyone; I just felt the need to explain myself as to why I believe that my procrastinating makes sense. I’m not sure if I succeeded, but oh well.

If you made it here, thank you for your time and attention.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #rowan khanna #ben copper #patricia rakepick #penny haywood #wizard in white #alanza alvez #matt london #jam city #marta rambles #let's talk

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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years

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The Rumor Mill Game (pt2)

You guys asked, and I have no self control at all. Have some more Intrulogical, now with Plot(tm). If you missed part one you can find it [here!]

Summary: If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine. [aka When his coworker, Remus, decides to play a game, Logan is going to make sure he regrets it. Even if its the last thing he does.]

Words: 3506

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @midnightmagi @shadowjag @residentanchor

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had first put on the ring, he hadn’t expected it to end like this.

But that was mostly his own folly: Logan should have realized that based on his (lack of) knowledge concerning the behaviors of Remus Prince, his imagined plan of action would be....upended. After all, he had barely known the man beyond the occasional sight of him in the break room where he teetered on the edge of the counter sitting much like a king as his subjects bowed before him.

Logan was of the sound impression that absolutely everyone who had been hired for his company was of the particularly stupid brand. Often times he had imagined his boss had sat down in the interviews and hired the first person who walked in and smiled, because clearly Beatrice from Accounting did not know what she was doing and her inability to use Excel spreadsheets had led him to far too many late nights correcting her work.

It was one such night that had lead to this...this ludicrous situation: Logan had been in his office all day practically tearing his hair out over his coworkers inability to count (what did you do with the decimal point, Kyle? Where did this five come from? Why are you all so inept?) and his coffee had gone cold, and he should have been leaving an hour ago, but these pages had been due two weeks ago and Logan hated leaving things unfinished.

He had a headache brewing from staring at his screen for so long. He peeled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes until they watered before glancing at the clock in the bottom of his screen. After a quick and efficiently ruthless curse towards Janet for being so late to turn in any of her sheets, he scooted back in his chair and had left to refill in coffee mug.

The office floor had been deserted for the most part. Logan should have been grateful, because that meant less possible nonsense to distract him from his work.

But unfortunately, he was quite familiar with Jen’s hair in a loose-but-still-formal bun and Quin’s scarf that they wore like a talisman to ward off bad omens. They clutched it the second they noticed Logan approaching the two of them, as if he had been coming to deliver an upsetting diagnosis and not to use the coffee machine they were standing in front of.

And because Logan was absolutely not in the mood to talk to either of them, Jen had caught sight of him and puffed her cheeks in anger, like some sort of puffer fish. She tuned to face him fully with her arms on her hips and gave him some equivalent to a “death glare”, as Logan assumed people would call it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I work here,” Logan said, perhaps a little snappish, “Now, might I get to the coffee machine?”

She had huffed, tapped her foot thrice, and then shuffled to the side just enough that Logan could get to the coffee machine.

Thankfully, just enough was still technically enough. He placed his mug beside the coffee maker and checked the cartridge for leftover used grinds because-- once again-- all of his coworkers were extremely disappointing when it came to using their brains.

Jen huffed again and she was close enough that absolutely all of Logan’s internal alarms started ringing. He snapped the cartridge --thankfully clean, Logan ideally wondered if maybe it was possible they were learning. Oh wouldn’t that be a miracle?-- closed and debated giving up on the coffee all together. But he could still see grid patterns when he closed his eyes, so he dug out his preferred coffee brand and set up the maker.

Quin opened their mouth and closed it again several times. It was clear from the way they shifted on their feet and and looked anywhere but at Jen or him that they were uncomfortable. Logan found himself praying to gods that he didn’t believe in that they would hold off until he had his coffee and was safely back in his office.

“I see Remus cleaned your mug.” Quin mumbled softly because the gods that Logan didn’t believe in don’t exist and he was on this planet purely to suffer.

But they had made a semi-valid point. Remus had cleaned his cup just as Logan had requested--just as was basic human politeness when using something of someone else’s possession, regardless of the fact that Remus Prince had not asked permission to use it in the first place. Logan felt his nose twitch in irritation at the memory of the other day.

“Yes,” Logan said between his gritted teeth. Had the coffee machine always been this slow? Or perhaps it was showing its age by taking longer to make his miserable coffee. He was sure that he could move some funds around to get them a new machine by Thursday if he could just make it back to his office--

“That’s all you have to say?” Jen sniped, “Just “Yes”? Unbelievable!”

“If you have an issue,” Logan said to her, “Please keep it to yourself.”

She slammed a hand on the counter, “I cannot believe you! Perfect Logan Ackroyd! You’re just like all the rest of them!”

“Curious how this sounds very much like you are not keeping your issue to yourself,” Logan commented.

“Jen--” Quin said, but she acted much like puddle of gasoline after a match dropped on it.

She got red in the face and her neat eyebrows smashed together as she stared down him with a snarl that most certainly did not belong in the workplace. She stamped her foot like some sort of child-- honestly? Logan shouldn’t have been surprised seeing how he had been able to hear the meltdown that happened after her messy breakup with Kyle. It had been so loud that Remus had even had the gall to look moderately shocked when everything had gone down.

“Where do you guys get off on taking advantage of your significant other’s trust in you?” Jen growled, “Is it fun for you? Do you not care about our feelings? Maybe we weren’t so far off when we said you were a robot, Mr. Ackroyd! You’re cold and cruel and I hope that when your affair comes to light--”

“Jennifer,” Logan hissed, “choose your next words extremely carefully, because I have spent eleven hours going over spreadsheets that have been done wrong and am not in the mood to listen to you prattle about lost love. In case you have forgotten, I very much have control over your sector and it will only take three emails to have you demoted and-or removed from this company.”

Jen’s mouth snapped shut.

Logan thought that was the first merciful thing that had happened all day. He picked up his coffee, holding it tightly in his hand despite the heat radiating off it and headed out of the breakroom.

He stopped at the door, as the dregs of the conversation spun through his brain. “Did you imply that I was having an affair?”

Quin was wringing their hands and Jen was clawing her nails into the counter. Still, they nodded.

“Who told you that?”

And really, Logan should have expected the answer. Of course it was Remus Prince, the advertising privateer who had turned the entire company into some sort of drama circus with his half truths and his lack of a mouth filter.

The Robot Extravaganza had stolen the peace and quiet of Logan’s work atmosphere and driven him up the figurative walls. That week alone had eight times more people rapping on his door frame than he had had in the entire year previously. And of course that ridiculous white board they had put up in the far wall as if Logan was incapable of reading and comprehending words. It was unprofessional and childish and Logan had barely gotten any work done when he had been constantly interrupted with mundane questions of “Logan do you need to eat?”, “Logan how do you shower without rusting?”, “Logan do you have batteries or do you plug yourself in at night?”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”.

Not to mention the way that Remus had laughed the entire time as if he found the idea of Logan being harassed particularly amusing. And Logan hated that laugh. It was terrible and awful and grating, and it made Logan want to tear out his hair because it sounded so much like---

“Is that so,” Logan said absently to Jen and Quin. “Remus Prince told you I was having an affair.”

He shifted to hold his mug with both hands, his eyes slipping over to that counter where Remus had been sitting before, with that same mug between his legs daring suggestive thoughts. How many times had Logan seen him sitting there looking like he could control the whole world with a few crass comments?

It was a game to him, wasn’t it? A game that Remus loved to play because he always won.

And who better to fix that than Logan who had been craving for revenge like it was a figurative itch under his very skin?

“Ah, well then,” Logan said and then because he was very much not the type to let people misinterpret him, he added, “I hadn’t realized my husband’s antics would upset you so much, Jen. I apologize on his behalf.”

That got their attentions real quick. Quin’s neck cracked with the force of which they turned their head to look him in the eye. Jen blinked several times as if she was having trouble processing things.

“Husband?” Jen repeats, as if she hadn’t heard the term before.

Logan straightened his back, “I’ll repeat myself slower since this seems to be overwhelming for your small brain. Remus Prince and I are married.”

“You’re a real asshole!” She covered her mouth and then fluttered her hands in a bootless waste of motions. “You’re serious? Wait of course you are! How could I forget, necktie! Oh my god, you’re serious. You and Remus?”

Logan took a sip of his coffee. “I have spreadsheets to amend.”

“Wait wait wait! I want details! Logan get back, here!” Jen screeched after him.

Logan wondered vaguely if this was the reason why Remus spread these rumors so often: the short zappy thrill that had ignited his neurons was much more effective than his coffee could ever hope to be. And Jen had believed him without a hesitance-- which truly was revealing of her hot headed nature. It was, dare he say, exciting. He hadn’t felt this way since his college lab days when he had tackled the creation of experiments with unbridled vigour.

Just how much was she willing to accept just because Logan had been the one to tell her? Just how wild of an accusation could Logan offer up before she wisened up? How quickly would this get back to Remus?

Logan itched to set up an experiment to test it all out. After all he would only get one chance to do this: most certainly when Remus gathered wind of how Logan had turned his false information back on him, Remus would come clean and admit that they had never even seen each other.

It would ruin both of their reputations. Remus as someone who spread truths, and Logan as someone who could be believed in every instance.

But Remus would still choose it over allowing anyone in the work area to think they were married. Logan knew this easily, obviously, irrefutably. They were strangers, not even acquaintances.

“Janet! Janet!” Jen screeched surprisingly loud for someone of her stature. “Janet did you know that Remus and Logan are married?”

Logan hadn’t realized Janet was still there at all, but at the accusation she flung backwards from her cubical in her rolling office chair and nearly crashed into Logan on just feet from his private office door.

“Run that by me again!” She demanded, “Remus and Logan?”

Logan opened his door and let himself in but before he could close it, Janet wedged her foot in the way.

“No way! Remus doesn’t wear a ring!”

“Allergic to metals,” Logan listed off the top of his head.

“You don’t wear a ring, either!” Janet said grabbing at his hand and nearly causing him to spill his coffee.

And well….

Quin, Jen, and Janet were all standing at his door, ready to believe whatever he said. He could have just said he was also allergic to metals too, but there was dubious gleam in Janet’s eyes, because yes, this is the sole thing she seemed to be knowledgeable about.

If Janet didn’t believe him now, then Jen would get even more upset at him than before and that would ruin the surprise for Remus tomorrow. A half baked revenge wouldn’t be nearly as good as the one he was expecting.

So he needed a ring.

His eyes slipped over his shoulder to the dinner jacket slumped on the chair in the corner of the room, crumpled and abandoned and gathering dust with the filing cabinet and the box of records that Logan had arranged his first week on the job.

He needed a ring.

And really it was just for one night.

He could pretend.

So Logan swallowed the sudden unexpected lump in his throat and tracked the three steps to the chair to dig the silver band from the pocket. He tried to remember how long it had been there, how long he had tried shoving it from his mind, and pretending like it and the jacket and that night had never existed.

It had been a reminder for so long now: like a flashing sign in the night had warned him that a relationship would never be worth that again, that romantic pursuits were frivolous and fleeting and meaningless.

Regardless, it felt like putting on one of his favorite ties, like slipping into his shoes that were broken in perfectly, like it was made for him.

(It hadn’t been and wasn’t that the most ridiculous part of the story?)

It was only for one night, so he let Jen and Janet and Quin ogle over it and answered their questions efficiently. He tore into Remus’s reputation as subtly as he could, making Quin flee the room and Janet fan her face and Jen cackle. He made up a story about a summer wedding, about a honeymoon he thought was just ridiculous, about late night activities he could never imagine doing with anyone.

And when they left, Logan had stared at the band engraved so delicately for another ten minutes.

“A robot,” Logan said to himself.

Is that what he had thought, too?

Logan shook his head to clear his mind. He tossed the ring in his pencil cup and gathered his bag and car keys.

If he allowed himself to ignore the lapse in reality, he could even pretend like using the ring in this fashion was the same as saying “Fuck you” to the man he had almost married a year ago.

It was just one night, and an hour or so tomorrow morning after all.

Logan arrived the next day earlier than normal, which was an unexpected surprise. He got to flick on the lights and watch the floor illuminate itself. His shoes made a lovely type of clack on the tiling.

It used to feel lonely, being this early to work, but Logan found himself distracted by the anticipation of the days promised events.

He finished correcting Janet's spreadsheets and sent them off for proper filing, reorganized his desk, slipped on his ring, and managed to get his coffee brewed before most of the office had come alive.

"Holy shit," he heard Kyle whisper to Max, "Is Logan smiling?"

Curious. It seemed that he was. Logan settled himself against the wall of the break room, Remus’s preferred cup in hand, where he had an excellent view of the cubical where Remus came up with his schemes. Jen, Janet, and Beatrice were already huddling around the entrance, much like a committee of domesticated vultures preparing for a feast.

By the time that Remus showed up to the office, running three minutes late, Logan was nearly giddy. Perhaps he could understand why Remus did what he did, if this was the sort of feeling that he experienced every time he opened his mouth.

Logan had seen many beautiful things in his lifetime; one of his hobbies was visiting art museums, art galleries, movie premieres and the likes while on his mandatory three weeks of time off from work. Still nothing could quite capture the glee that was invoked directly into Logan when Remus’s eyes had widened and his jaw dropped and his face flushed with embarrassment when Quinn squeaked at the sight of him.

Remus Prince looked like a work of art when the world dumped him on the floor and left him too shocked to speak.

If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine.

Except.

“Logie!” Remus whined, throwing his arms up, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret!”

Logan’s smile vaporized, almost instantly, “Wait--”

“You Mischievous Mathematician, You!” Remus giggled crossing the area far quicker than a person should be able to cross that distance. Logan blinked and suddenly Remus was right in front of him, a foot, half a foot, a handful of inches. And his voice only seemed to get louder, bolder, more excited with every step. Logan had a hypothesis that all twenty eight of the workers on the floor were watching them with baited breath.

“Well I’m happy!” Remus said loudly for Kyle and Jen and Janet and Beatrice and, and, and-- “I’ve missed getting lunch together! Let’s go to the sandwich shop down the street!”

“Absolutely not--”

“Or we could do that Thai restaurant that’s your favorite!” Remus said, which tripped Logan up because Remus had noticed he preferred Thai? Logan couldn’t even remember the last time he had Thai! How could Remus have possibly known he liked Thai?

“I’ll pay!” Remus said when Logan hadn’t responded quick enough to turn down the lunch proposal. “Oh this is going to be so much fun, Lolo!”

And Remus came in far too close, closer than anyone has been to him in a year. His eyes were brown with flecks of green dark enough to seem like a swamp at Twilight. They gleamed as he fluttered his lashes at Logan and his mouth curls into a pointed smile.

“Let’s play,” Remus said so softly that Logan himself could barely hear it. And then he pulled back, and stepped away with Logan’s coffee in his hands. He took a long sip and licked his lip afterwards. “Mmm! Just how I like it Lo! You’re so good to me!”

Logan knew for a fact that Remus did not like black coffee. He’d seen the numbers that went into buying creamer for the break room.

Just what did Remus think he was doing? Playing along with Logan’s rumor reversal? Encouraging it?

Remus smiled at him. “Lunch it is!” He said and waved Logan goodbye with his fingers.

Of course Logan could out him right there, right then. All he had to say was that it was a lie and that he and Remus were in no way married and he had no intentions of having lunch together. But for some reason the words seemed to be figuratively jammed in his throat, leaving him with nothing more than splutterings to vocalize his frustration.

Fine. Logan inhaled through his nose, curled his lip, and twisted his watch on his left hand to center his thoughts. Remus would like to play a game?

Fine. Logan could play a game with him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, dearest?” Logan said before Remus could get too far away.

He could see the way Remus’s eyes light up at the nickname, the twitch of his mustache where he was struggling not to laugh too boldly. “Am I?”

“I did make you coffee. Do you not tip your barista?”

“Ah,” Remus swirled the mug, “And how does my “barista” like his tips then?”

When Logan had put on the ring, he had not expected to end up with Remus’s lips on his.

And yet.

Remus kissed like he was dying and wanted to make every second last, like he was living for the moment, like he had nothing left too lose. Logan thought it was ridiculous that he tasted like pickles this early in the morning.

“I think you’ll find I won’t fold that easily, Specs,” Remus breathed when he pulled back.

Logan replied, “May the best man win.”

And then he took his coffee back out of Remus’s hands and headed back to his office with that ring firmly on his hand. It appeared that he would need it for just a bit longer.

Part Three

#intrulogical #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #Far too many OCs gross #Rumor Mill Au #Revenge getting #rumors #well fake marriage #sympathetic remus

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raz-b-rose · 4 years

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Daminette Reverse-Life AU

Hey guys, this is one of my oneshot fics that I also have posted on A03 and my first time posting on Tumblr so if anyone has any tips, I’d appreciate it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608933/chapters/56655253

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Marinette had been raised in what she would consider a deplorable manor unfitting even the strongest of beings. It was in a literal sense, a living hell. She had been driven to near death, not only with over exhaustion but botched training exercises as well. No matter how hard you push a child, physical limitations will always be a thing.

She knew more ways to kill a man twice her size than there were types of ants that crawled the earth. She could be flawless in her execution of her skills, leaving very to no little trace or obliterating the enemy into submission to leave a message. She had conquered physical feats that many trained years to accomplish by age eight.

She had the strength greater than the average fifteen year old girl, and the physical agility of an adult. Even after all this time, she continued to train constantly, adjusting to her ever changing and growing body. After all it has been trained into her since birth to be nothing but perfect.

She had been trained to be the perfect lady in perfect society as the perfect assassin. Knowing every social cue in high society, from the perfect demur smile to using her words for political gains. She knew anything and everything a young girl raised in high society would be expected to know. She had been trained on any and all personalities needed for cover stories. She could be anyone she needed to be at the drop of a hat. She knew poisons, blades, and multiple languages. She knew various forms of fighting, having been trained to make a style all her own. The ultimate femfatale by age thirteen. No man would suspect her when she was older, much less when she was younger.

Yes Marinette Cheng-Wayne was many things, and knew how to be anything she needed to be. However all this knowledge brought her to the one big question, so big that she found herself in an interesting situation. She felt her face muscles seized, eyes glazing over, the woman in front of her move out of focus. Who was Marinette Cheng-Wayne beyond the constant varying acts put on by what she deemed the situation needed. Even now she was acting at this stupid opening Gala. Even now she didn’t feel any form of joy the entire night. She felt drained. She felt irritated. She felt just, done.

Her dress was too big, and too impractical. Her hair hung too loosely around her neck, making her feel clammy and gross. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel what she knew was the start of a panic attack, and felt rather disgusted with herself for having one. She should be more controlled than this.

Slowly she relaxes her face muscles into a resting scowl, she watches as the women she and her father were talking to exchange a side eye. Father looked at her in concern, after all she had stopped mid sentence. What she had been talking about, she didn’t have the care to remember, after all it was frivolous and ignorant on their end.

“Marinette what’s wrong dear?” The oldest of the woman looks at her with lips downturned and parted, eyes wide, brow furrowed. Ah the perfect replication of concern.

“Oh shove it Beatrice, like you actually care, which I know you don’t” the woman, Beatrice, gasps, covering her mouth with one gloved hand in dramatic shock. Marinette just snears in disgust. How would anyone answer her question if everyone around her put on an act?

“Marinette that was uncalled for,” Bruce scolds her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “Apologize.” His tone is firm, and she can already tell she is going to get a lecture when she gets home.

Bruce has had it easy the last four years when taking her out in public. She had been good at putting her training to good use to fly under the radar of her father's social circles. Their nightlife activities is where he had put all his energy in reforming and refining her to a sense of morality, still a grey area in her mind, but a sense of morality nonetheless. She could see in his eyes that he was concerned and confused.

Without another word she turns away from them, pushing her way roughly through the crowd, not caring about her actions at all anymore. She ignored the grunts and exclamations of annoyance in favor of distancing herself from all these people. She pulled to a stop when someone grabbed her by her arm, their hand warm and strong.

“Whoa there babybird, what's got you in a huff?” She turns her glare on Grayson, mildly annoyed at his concern, even more annoyed that the one person who gave great advice was the one to stop her. She didn’t know what she wanted right now, and talking to Grayson felt like she would be stabbing herself with an emotional knife.

“Let go Grayson, I just need out of this stupid place.” With a yank, she is free, moving a little faster towards the exit. She can hear his footsteps following behind her, annoying her further. If only she wasn't in this stupid dress, she could slip away. How did she get convinced to wear this contraption again? Her mother would be disappointed in her for not remembering.

With a dramatic and resounding bang from the thrown open doors to the front entrance to the new Wayne building, she marches down the steps, past the remaining reporter's and flashing cameras. She just keeps going until she finds herself on the side of the Seine river. It smelled terrible and reflected oddly against the setting sun. She leans against the railing of the staring at the water drifting below.

The fresh air felt nice against her flushed face and she could feel her heart rate returning to normal. Finally alone, she could start processing her mental breakdown. Given all the roles she's had to play in her life, it wouldn’t be a simple search either. The search for her true self. Who was she outside her parents?

She hears a set of steps making their way towards her. They were heavy but not because of weight but muscle mass. They belonged to someone tall as well. Her relaxing atmosphere crumbled around her.

“Huh, hello are you lost?” She glances at the speaker, pleasantly surprised at her uninvited guest to her pity party. At least it wasn’t Grayson. He was around her age, close to six feet, his skin was a warm tone and blended well with the blue shirt he wore. His eyes were a startling green, not bright, but darker in a good way. His hair was styled into spikes, the gell glistening in the fading light. To say he looked good was an understatement.

“Oh must not speak French,” he murmurs to himself, “Are you lost?” He asked again but in English this time.

“No, I'm not lost,” She answers in French, turning her gaze back to the sights in front of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just assumed that a beautiful girl like you must have gotten lost going to a party or something” He fumbles for his words, clearly embarrassed.

“I am in a predicament, but not one that would be as urgent as being lost” She can feel her face turning pink at his words. A beautiful girl. Well she knew she was beautiful, it's just rare to hear it from strangers on the street.

“What's wrong?” He joins her in leaning over the water, he doesn’t look at her just stares into the depths of the river along with her. She studies him for a moment, watching as all traces of embarrassment vanish from his features, quickly replaced by intrigue and an emotion she had trouble placing. She turns back to the water confused at the things adding to her confusion.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Well, I am a good listener, even if I can’t help, isn’t it nice to talk to someone sometimes isn’t it?”

“How do you know you’re a good listener? I can’t imagine you were trained to listen well?” The boy chuckles softly at her words.

“I like helping people and listening to others' troubles is a good way to help. Takes no training at all to just listen.” He sends her a grin before turning away from her again.

“I’m confused.” She starts, frustration welling up within her. “I don’t know who I am.” Just as he said the boy didn’t respond, but Marinette could tell that he was listening, she so continued. She tucks a stubbornly loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I know a lot of things, and put on a lot of different acts all the time. I have had to be one way for my mother and another for my father. I have to act a certain way at my father's parties and at school and at work and with my brothers.” The words are just tumbling out like an avalanche.

“I was talking to these rich women who like to behave like they're ignorant to life's pain and trials, and I had to pretend that I was too and it just pissed me off!” She reaches up to rub the spot on her chest where she had been stabbed three years ago. The scar surprisingly was small, and hidden by her dress. She watches as he switches between observing her and the water. His eyes kept straying to where her scar was, his expression surprising unreadable for her.

“I- I just want to know who I am as a person, outside everything.”

“Well, I think that's going to be a difficult question to answer. After all everything we experience and know helps make us who we are.” She feels tears welling up in her eyes which just pissed her off more.

“But I'm not what my mother raised me to be” She knows she's being defensive, but she needs this strange boy to know that isn’t who she wants to be anymore.

“Then you have a part of the answer. Despite how your mom raised you you know that isn't who you are” He smiles widely at her, turning to lean his back against the railing, elbows propped up as well. She looks at him in surprise, eyes not leaving his own, even after he looked away in embarrassment.

“Who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know you”

“No but I’m told first impressions tell you a lot about a person.” She can tell he's thinking; about what she doesn’t know but she hopes to get some more answers soon. She repositions her hair behind her ear once again.

“I can’t tell you too much now but how about we go on a walk? Then I can tell you what kind of person I think you are at the end of the night” She smiles again, and she is finding that she doesn’t mind his smile, it has a certain charm to it after all.

“I would appreciate that,” she walks beside him, hands lifting the heavy navy fabric encasing her legs. “However I feel as though I am overdressed for such an activity as casual as a walk” He laughed again, why she didn’t understand. His laughter was contagious and she found herself smiling with him.

“Do strangers' opinions matter to you?”

“No,” She hesitates on finishing her sentence. He gives her an encouraging smile “But my Father’s and oldest brother’s do I guess” She kicks a leg out, watching her skirt lift but before settling back down.

“Why is that?” She thinks over his question, reaching up to play with her hair. He pulls something from his pocket, his face flushed as he presents her with a hair tie.

“Sorry, but it looks like you need it”

“Thanks, My hair has been bothering me all night”

“So why does your Father’s and brother’s opinions matter to you?” He asks again, while she ties up her hair, and she doesn't miss the way his eyes stay in her neck for a moment, or how he quickly averts his eyes. She can’t help but smirk.

“My mother was-” She tries to find a word to describe her that a normal person would. “Strict. She expected a lot of things from me, unreasonable things. Her child was to take over for her father, unfortunately I was born a girl. Grandfather was not happy. So I was raised for her to prove herself.”

“I don’t think that's unfortunate, nothing wrong with being a girl after all”

“They would not agree,” She sighs, getting lost in the turret of recollections from her childhood. The harsh words, the degrading punishments, the unreasonable expectations. She spirals into her memories. She can feel the burn of metal against the bottom of her foot, the pain excruciating. And all because she couldn’t remember a few words of Russian. She was seven.

“Hey, Hey! Are you ok?” She takes a shaky breath, meeting his eyes, nodding quickly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He takes her hand, gently leading her to a bench. He glances behind himself, looking at her in worry.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back” He motions for her to wait before running off, She watches him turn the corner and out of sight. She looks back down at her hands, surprised that they were shaking violently. She hadn’t had this kind of reaction to her childhood in over a year now. She was pathetic and weak. Holding her head in her hands she continues to take deep breaths, thankful that at least she hadn’t started crying like last time.

“You really scared me there” The boy was back, this time with a bottle of water and a damp rag. She tilts her head in thanks, taking the rag first, the temperature helping calm her down further.

“And I didn’t know your name, so it took a few minutes to get your attention.” She laughs softly.

“Hey that’s the first time you’ve laughed” She shouldn’t have looked at him then, because the look in his eyes left her breathless. They were soft and gentle, again holding that indecipherable emotion.

“I don't laugh often.” She whispers, afraid to break the spell. She doesn’t want it to end, whatever this setting that had been created was. It was peaceful and never before had she felt more like herself than with this stranger.

“And you name?” He whispers back, he continues to smile, taking her free hand.

“Marinette”

“That's a very beautiful name, it's French for ‘of the sea’. Do you know why the name was picked?”

“My mother never said” As soon as she mentioned the woman again he was quick to change the subject, giving her the water.

“Well my name in Damian”

“That means to tame”

“Does it? I’ve never actually looked it up before” They sit quietly, watching as the street lights slowly come on, the last of the light fading.

“Will your parents worry about where you are?”

“No, as I’ve gotten older I get more of a free reign what about you?”

“They aren’t worried, probably just annoyed because of how I left the Gala.”

“Earlier you said that your dad's opinion is important to you, why is that?” Damian asks the question for a third time, “If you don’t want to answer you don’t have to” he rushes to add.

“No, it's fine Damian. When my mother handed me off to my father, it was an adjustment for both of us. He helped me change a lot of bad….habits,” she pauses to think about the last life she ever took. Just a few nights after she started living with Bruce. His was the only name she remembers, because Bruce had drilled it into her to never forget what she did. Gilbert Johnson.

“How did he have to adjust?”

“Well he didn’t know I existed for eleven years, so that was a shock, and to get me in the state I was in….I was difficult and aggressive, fighting him at every turn.” And when she said fighting she meant literally. They would constantly get into scuffles, more so with her brothers, but Damian didn't need to know that.

“Nothing like I see now” Damian interjects.

“Well it was thanks to his patience and love that I am the way I am now.” She shrugs. “So I try everyday to meet his expectations, to make him proud, because his disappointed face is awful” She thinks back to the Gala, about how she left, about how disappointed he looked. Her stomach turns at the thought of seeing him at the hotel tonight.

“You seem to live you life by other people's expectations a lot” Damians slowly gains a look of horror, “I’m so sorry that came out so rude”

“I’m not offended, it's true after all,” She waves off his concern. Silence drills over them, slowly gaining an awkward feeling to it.

“What is your biggest dream?” He blurts out, bewildering her.

“What?”

“What is one thing you want to accomplish in life?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about what I want.”

“Then there is another way to answer your question. What does Marinette want out of life? What brings you joy, excitement, or even helps you feel accomplished. Not saying that living to your fathers expectations are bad, but maybe try to find what you want”

“You know Damian,” she smiles, swinging her legs back and forth, “You know something I don’t and I want you to teach me”

“What's that Marinette?”

She looks into his eyes again, finding that that shade of green is her new favorite color. He doesn’t break eye contact this time, she feels her lips quirk at his quickly reddening face. His jawline was attractive and she can see that he worked out regularly. Yes Damian was quite attractive, and she was never one to focus on such an attribute of another person, only to acknowledge it in a passing thought. Slowly she leans in, her quirked lips quickly turning into a predatory grin as he doesn’t back down.

“Teach me how to live.” A heart beat of silence passes between them, she watches as many different emotions flash through his eyes, she doesn’t even realize she has started to cry until he reaches up to wipe the tears from her eyes. She blinks rapidly in surprise.

“Marinette, you are an interesting girl. But something tells me you wont be in Paris forever” His hand stays on her face longer than necessary, hey gaze an overture of regret and longing.

“True. I return to the states tomorrow.” She can’t help but feel rejected before something even started.

“That's quite the distance,” The look hasn’t left his eyes, “Marinette-”

“No its ok, I understand.” She hands him the rag and water, standing quickly, “Thanks for listening, I wish you the best '' She doesn’t make it very far before he's grabbing her hand.

“Thankfully we live in an age where long distance communication can be accomplished in seconds.”

“What reason do you have to do such a thing?”

“Because-” He starts to stutter, “You’re cute and I really want to keep talking to you” She can’t help but giggle, flushed from her cheeks to her toes in flustered joy. She is also enjoying his flustered state, he scratched the back of his head, but does not avert his gaze from her own.

“I too find you attractive,” she gives a demur smile, enjoying the fluttering of her stomach. He is quick to take her hands again, leading her on an impromptu tour of the city, before she knows it, they are just a few blocks away from the new Wayne building. She uses her arm to stop him.

“We best part ways here. There are bound to still be reporters around, don’t need them hounding you everyday just because you were seen walking with me.”

“Your life must be stressful” He reaches into his pocket again, this time however pulling out his phone, handing it to her to add her own contact. “I’ll text you when I get home, I know that dress doesn’t have pockets”

“How do you know that?” Despite her protests, Alfred had insisted that one night being cell phone free wouldn’t kill her, especially in Paris. She still disagrees but nevertheless, the man had his ways.

He winks at her, “Well Marinette, we still have a lot to get to know about each other, guess I’ll start with that my dream is to be a fashion designer.”

“I can’t wait to hear about that.” She suddenly feels sad, holding her hands behind her back, staring at her shuffling feet.

“And I can’t wait to hear about your dream Marinette,”

“I still don’t have one”

“I’ll help you find it” It almost looks like he's about to walk away, she has to find a way to make him stay a little longer.

“Hey Damian, I surprisingly really like you, and thank you for talking with me.” her face is pink again, and she's finding it hard to look him in the eyes this time.

He leans down his soft lips brushing against her cheek, “I really like you too Marinette, and we can talk any time you would like.” He whispers in her ear, giving her hand one last squeeze, before he's speed walking back the way they came, his ears red.

Feeling much better than she did before, she reenters the lobby to find that the party has ended, her family standing around with the clean up staff, each looking agitated, her father and Grayson each on their phones.

“Where have you been?” Her father demands as soon as he sees her, putting his ohone away.

“Around the city,”

“We need to talk about what happened tonight Marinette.”

“What's there to talk about, I got tired of playing the role,”

“What role?” Father asks in confusion.

“The perfect lady, who's polite and quiet. I may not have a clear idea on who I am, but it's not that.” Everyone stills at that, exchanging uncomfortable and concerned glances. Bruce grabs her gently, leading the family into a private room to talk.

“Babybird, we all have to act at some point”

“But I act all the time” she exclaims in frustration, “I’m never not acting.” She can tell they don’t understand, that they don’t quite get it. But Damian does and that's all that matters right now.

Grayson comes up to her, kneeling down to eye level, for which she levels a glare at him. She is no longer a child. “Marinette,” he sounds so gentle and soft. Very much like Grayson, and this is why she didn’t want to talk to him because she just knows she's going to cry.

“You are strong willed, determined to the point of death, kind, selflessly serving those who need it, but you don’t play well with others.”

“You’re a great artist, and care for animals with much more care than the average person.” Todd joins in now too, also coming down to eye level.

“You’re smart, and have a quick wit because of that.” Drakes adds from across the room, clearly embarrassed, even more so when she finally starts to cry.

Bruce takes the place of the other two boys, who move to hover on her sides. “You are an amazing person Marinette and you have overcome so much, don’t forget for a moment the person you have worked to become.” She launches herself between his open arms. “Always try to be yourself, I just ask that we keep it polite in public, you can have a bit of a tongue too” He brothers chuckle at that.

“Whatever you say oldman.”

“Go upstairs to get ready to leave, we have an early flight back home.” She is glad to leave, being vulnerable leaving her feeling raw and exposed. Once in her room, she is quick to snatch up her phone. She breathes a sigh of relief at the text from an unknown number. The night wasn’t a total waste after all. While Marinette now had a clearer picture of who she was she still needed a dream to strive for. She looks out her window, the lights inside her room making it difficult to see clearly, but the beauty of the city wasn’t completely lost. Out there somewhere was Damian, and maybe, just maybe, her new dream as well. It wasn’t clear in her mind quite yet, but she knew that he would play a part in it somehow.

Flopping on her bed, she’s quick to text back, surprised when he sends a picture, and asks for one in return. She is pleased to see that in the picture he looks the same as when they met. She takes some time trying to get the right picture, never having taken one of herself before.

“Demonette are you taking selfies?” She is ashamed to say she jumped at the sound of Todds voice, quick to turn a withering glare on him.

“The hell Todd, I could have been changing. Ever heard of knocking?”

“Don’t ignore my question!”

“And don’t ignore mine!”

“Are you and mini supes like a thing now?” He barrels on, trying to grab her phone.

“EW! That imbeciel, think again.” She rolls off the bed, quick to lock her phone, just in case.

“What are you hiding” He growls, swiping at her hands, she dances around him, annoyed at being interrupted.

"None of your business!"

"Bruce Demonette is hiding something!" Now everyone was in her room, eyes darting between Todd and herself, to the death grip she has on her phone.

"Jason you are an adult, act like it, leave her alone." Father groans, leaving the room with a shake of his head.

"But she was taking selfies Bruce!" Todd shouts following after the patriarch.

"Why were you in her room?" Drake asks in disgust.

Grayson sends her an encouraging nod and a wink before closing the door behind himself. "She's sixteen Jason, what's so weird about that?"

She feels her temper rising, face flushed at the fact that he saw through her so easily. She quickly chooses one of the pictures she took, sending it to Damian along with an apology.

Damian: It's ok. I don’t have siblings, sounds energetic. Thanks for the contact pic.

Me: That would be an understated assessment of what kind of men my brothers are.

With a quick glance towards her door, she runs to lock it, before finally ridding herself of her dress. She could hear the texts coming in, but knew she had to clean her face off all the makeup before she did anything else.

Damian:I have always wanted siblings

Damian: Just me and my mom though

Damian: Sorry that was insensitive

Me: Why would that be insensitive, you are simply stating a fact about your life.

Me: And siblings are a nuisance. Constantly involving themselves in your personal business.

Damian: Ok. Did you get in trouble with your dad?

Me: No.

Damian: That's good.

Me: I’m not good with texting, I apologize for my awkwardness.

Damian: You are texting perfectly fine.

Damian: What time do you leave tomorrow?

Me: 11:40 am. We will get back into Gotham around 4am a day behind.

Damian: Wow you’re from Gotham. Hope you get there safe and stay safe.

Me: My safety is never a question, I am trained to adequately protect myself.

Damian: lol if you say so

Marinette stares at the receding conversation, then at the time. She could always sleep on the plane. And who knows when she will be back in Paris again. Not anytime soon that's for sure.

Me: Can I see you tomorrow before I leave?

She doesn’t feel anxious often, but now is one of those times. The minutes drag by as she waits for his answer, illogically fearing she overstepped a line. Illogically because she thinks back to his lips on her cheek, hoping that she wasn’t misreading him.

Damian: Mom’s cool with it. We own a bakery so we are always up super early.

She can’t help the wave of relief at the response, or that the address is close enough for her to walk there without her brothers knowing.

Me: I’ll see you tomorrow. You should sleep now to get enough sleep to function safely and properly.

Damian: I am used to running on very little sleep, no need to worry about me.

Damian: But I won't keep you up, see you tomorrow Marinette.

She doesn’t sleep right away though, all the new emotions and experiences buzzing in her mind. So she stares at the ceiling until her brain forces her other functions to shut down and recharge. She awakes early, her bags packed and ready by the door, and family undisturbed as she slips out. She finds the bakery easily enough, the signage in a classic french design and the paint a calming green and beige. It was cute and quaint.

Glancing through the window she sees Damian at the register, what looked like school books piled around him as he writes, pure concentration in the air around him. The bell alerts him to her presence as she enters the shop, his eyes meet her own and his face light ups.

“Marinette you’re here so early”

“Sorry I didn’t text ahead, bakeries are known for opening early. It looks like I interrupted your studying.

“It's fine, I was just getting ahead.” He puts everything away lightning fast, and she is impressed by the organization. “So you have a few hours before your flight leaves, would you like to come up?”

“Up?”

“Yeah, we live above the bakery.” Taking her hand, he leads her behind the counter, revealing a large kitchen and another door leading to a hallway. A woman was in the kitchen, her hair tied into a tight bun, her arms and face covered in flour and yeast.

“Oh Damian is this your friend, Nice to meet you I’m his mom, Talia.” She was definitely his mother, the resemblance uncanny except for the green eyes, hers were brown. Her eyes showed her kindness and the smile lines on her face told Marinette what kind of woman she was. Damian was very lucky to have her.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Marinette.”

“You kids go up stairs and have fun, but no funny business.” She waves them off, turning back to the stone oven before pulling bread out.

“Mom!” Damian hisses in embarrassment, he glanced at her before pulling her out of the kitchen. “Sorry about her”

“I do not mind, she seems very kind.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don’t think too much fazes you, huh?”

“No normally, I’m normally very guarded and hyper aware.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Nothing you can do about it, just a deeply ingrained habit” She looks around the small apartment, finding the simplicity and bright colors giving her a welcomed feeling. Surprising considering her preference for dark colors. “What a lovely home.”

“Thanks,” She follows him as he moves towards the set of stairs against the wall of the kitchen. “This is my room, sorry about the mess, I’m working on a project or two right now.”

She takes back what she thought about his organizational skills, the explosion of fabric, pins, and pattern paper covering the floor left much to be desired. The walls were covered in sketches, and not just of clothes but people and places too, as well as cut outs from magazines and fabric swatches. An older looking sewing machine sits on one desk while the other is full of books, pens and colored pencils.

“Wow, I can see how passionate you are about your dream.”

“Yup, I want nothing more than to own my own line, and to see people wearing my designs.” She picks up a green knit sweater of one of his chairs, liking it for the color. It matched his eyes. It was soft and even smelled like him.

“Do you like that one?”

“Yea.”

“You can have it, I was just trying something new and really liked how it turned out.”

“Are you sure you wont need it?”

“You can send me pictures if I need a reference, wow that sounded really flirty” He gives a nervous chuckle.

“Was it,” she's amazed by how easily ruffled he constantly became, “My mother never taught me how to flirt, so I don’t fully understand it” She continues to pick through his clothes, inspecting each piece.

“I’m going to ignore that passing comment, and we flirted most of last night, at least I felt like we did”

“Why do people flirt?”

“To, huh, show another person they are interested in them, romantically.”

“Oh then I definitely flirted with you last night,” She spins around, pleased to find a red faced Damian awaiting her, “I am very interested, and it's all very new to me.”

“Wait, you’ve never liked anyone before?”

“No, but I am certain that a fluttering stomach, blushing and increased heart rate are signs of romantic interest. So I am certain that what I am feeling is accurate.”

“You are also not embarrassed easily,” Damian murmurs through his hands.

“Do you not feel the same?”

“NO!” She jumps at the force of his answer, too surprised to process his answer before he is tumbling through his words, “no, what I mean is, yes I feel the same”

“Oh” This pleases her greatly.

“I’m just scared about starting anything so quickly and with you leaving and everything.”

“Understandable, but I can easily fly over for holidays, I could even have my father transfer me to Paris. They do have an exemplary education system after all.”

“You are taking this distance thing very well”

“Well I will miss seeing you, but we will still be able to communicate.” She takes a seat beside him on his couch.

He gives her a fond look before grabbing a paper bag, filling it with her new sweater and a few other items. “You are a very interesting girl Marinette.”

Her phone rings, bringing her mood down, knowing it can only be her father. “Good morning father,”

“Marinette where are you?”

“I just stepped out for a moment, I’m heading back now.”

“Please let me know next time you are leaving,” She pauses for a moment, hearing real concern and fear in her father's tone.

“I won’t willingly go back to her.”

“I know sweetheart, but I am afraid she won't give you a choice, and knowing where you are will put me at ease.”

“I promise to let you know next time father.” With that she hangs up, sharing an equally bitter sweet gaze with Damian.

“I’ll walk you out, I can’t leave my mom alone with the bakery for too long sorry”

“I completely understand, thank you for the clothes,”

Talia is waiting with a box of pastries, smiling sweetly before sending her off with a quick hug. “Take care of her Damian”

“Yes mom,” They exchange a hug, not too long or too short.

“I’ll text you soon, thank you for making this visit a pleasant one Damian.”

“Safe travels, bye Marinette.”

“Bye Damian.”

As she nears the awaiting car, she sees her father and Drake waiting for her on the sidewalk. Drake gave her box an inquisitive look.

“What do you have there?”

“Pastries for everyone, the owner was quite insistent” The men decide to think nothing of it, instead eager to get home and relieve the girls who stayed behind while they were gone. She stiffens when the car passes by the bakery, Damian walking out the door, meeting a girl with vibrant wavy hair and golden brown skin, along with a boy with slightly lighter skin tone and a ball cap. She wonders what kind of friends he has.

“What is it Demonette? What's in the bag anyway?”

“Clothes,”

“How did you find time to go shopping?” Todd could try all he wanted, but he would get no fight from her. Not right now anyway, she felt too happy to ruin it.

“I don’t know Todd, you’re the detective, figure it out.” She ignores his spitting anger in favor of continuing to stare out the window. The passing buildings and the eiffel tower left her feeling refreshed and born again, despite the age of the city. She had started her journey of self discovery only last night, and she felt satisfied so far.

“Father, I think I would like to attend school in Paris next semester”

#daminette #maridami #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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