#door behind you and you are TRAPPED with me- now look at this ten page word doc I wrote at four AM about poisonous animals- anywho yeah I
Note
the idea of dipper and bill having to act as a "normal" white fence suburdan home married couple bc of "blending in with community" to investigate some particular magical phenamone or a cult or a monster or whatever and dipper is suffering, and bill is suffering too but he's also having sick fun with horrid fascination as an insane demon does, and they ask mabel for ideas, they have a barbeque housewarming party-
-wont leave my mind, its been *days*
dipper: this sucks, people live like this???
bill: I KNOW! THIS SUCKS! *fascinated like a watching a trainwreck or natural disaster* AMAZING
Pine Tree shuts the door behind him very quietly. A gentle 'click' as the latch sets in place.
Bill looks up from where he was flipping through the newspaper. He puffs on his pipe - unlit, but hey! It's for the look of things! - and smiles.
"Hello honey!" Bill takes the pipe out of his mouth, bouncing a slipper on his foot. "How was the homeowner's association meeting?"
Pine Tree stares forward. A muscle in his jaw twitches.
Bill hums to himself, and smiles.
Domesticity! Such as it is. That wonderful white-picket fence, no magic, no monsters, and no chaos-
The paper under his hands tears slightly. Bill clears his throat, shuffling the pages. He gives up on the ruse of news-reading - whether or not those nosy assholes across the street are watching - and flips, nonchalant, right to the comics section. He already solved the crossword in his head ten minutes ago.
Easy. He's got this. It's only been, like a couple days. There are way longer cons he's played, and this one isn't the worst!
Besides.
He'll be damned if he breaks before his mortal does.
"I talked to Linda." Pine Tree's voice is flat. He slowly strides over to the window, and draws the curtains shut.
"And?" Bill prompts, sitting up a little more. Man, sapling's got a full thousand yard-gaze going! He watches with fascination.
"She's so glad to see that the," Pine Tree lifts his hands, making finger quotes. "'Non-traditional' couple is so," He swallows, holding down some simmering fury. "'Decent'"
Bill's throat jumps, but. Nope, not perfect. The gagging noise still came through. But he nods, very seriously.
Acting.
"And," Pine Tree says, very slowly. Turning towards Bill, equally slow, and deliberate. "Even though she said I could water the lawn, since it's dying, now I can't water the lawn, because it violates some…" His hand clenches to a fist by his side. "Like, contractor agreement thing?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, honey!" Bill exclaims, with a perfect nineteen fifties voice - he's got that in the bag. "I'm sure it'll all work ou-"
"Except," Pine Tree strides in, planting hands on Bill's armchair, and staring him right in the face. "We're also getting fined for every day that the lawn is dead."
Bill can't help it. He snorts, face scrunching up. A full catch-22! Linda's got another thing coming, eventually. Once they track down this monster.
But hey! Bill can understand sadism, and contractual bullshit! If only Pine Tree wasn't around, he'd have made the trap appropriately lethal.
"Aw, rough day, huh?" Bill sets his pipe down, patting his husband on the shoulder. "Don't worry, honey, we'll-"
And Pine Tree yanks him forward. Gripping Bill's smoking jacket so tight that he hauls him nearly out of his chair. Bill blinks.
"If you call me 'honey' again," He mutters. "I'm going to murder you."
Bill can't stop his laugh this time, and as his cute little mortal rattles him back and forth -
Oh thank chaos, Pine Tree's the one broke first.
"Bill? This sucks." Pine Tree insists, teeth gritted. Shaking Bill harder now. He searches for words, he splutters - one hand waves at the air. "How does anyone live like this?"
Ha! Maybe now he gets how great he has it. No bureaucracy ! No trying to hide what you are from jerks who think magic is 'wrong'! No suburban life, no lawncare, and no rules!
Bill's mortal has too many hangups. You can explode any problem if you want to!
Pity he's not willing to do it with Linda.
"Hell if I know!" Bill exclaims, and surges up. He heaves out a breath, scratching at his neck. "Bullshit magical prejudice. Don't worry, kid!" He pats his husband on the back. "We'll get out of here in no time."
The monster that's preying on these mortals can't hide much longer. Once that's solved, Bill's contingency will kick in. And then -
"No, I found the vampire," Pine Tree says, half distracted. Bill does a double-take. What, he didn't mention that first? "I just, uh."
Bill wags a hand. Prompting.
And Pine Tree shrugs. Offering up an awkward smile. He rubs the back of his neck. "I…. kinda rigged her septic tank to blow once we got out of here."
Bill tugs him closer, beaming now. "Now that's a nice move!" He tucks his hands under Pine Tree's arms, but the human squirms away before he can pick him up. "It's what, a vicinity based setup?" A quick nod, and he grins wider. "Clever trick, kid."
"I'd... ask if that's too much, but knowing you, it's not." Bill's cute little mortal punches him, adorably, in the stomach.
"Pfft, nah, that's nothing," Bill nudges him, and grins. Pine Tree's not the only guy who's heard some comments. "You should see what I set up for her house."
#Written in about fifteen minutes so sorry for any really dumb shit or typos#Queuing this for later#I'm going to sleep for five years now#Okay it was more like twentyfive if you count some edits#This is only one example but you KNOW they both hated that shit#SO boring#Dipper probably enjoyed the domesticity for like#Eight hours#Until it started weirding him out#And Bill just got FULL into his role#But if Dipper didn't break he was like within six hours of doing so#Less than half a day for full-on stir-crazy demon NEEDING some chaos#Good thing you solved it first Dipper or there wouldn't have been much of a neighborhood after#Arguably a good thing depending on who lived there#Nah they probably had some really nice neighbors nearby who brought them like#A pineapple upsidedown cake and welcomed them warmly#Bill would have spared them/their house because he has a special like for upside down desserts#Also because Dipper would have been mad at him if he hadn't#Neither of these two do well in perfectly suburban environments#Getting bored out of their skulls without some mystery or monsters or drama#The only result would be that one of them would create it#answers#Sorry for the dumb bullshit
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The Sparrow and The Rogue - Part 3
Fandom: The Umbrella Academy
Pairing: Ben Hargreeves/female!Reader
Warnings: none in this one
Summary: When Ben/One goes home he is told of a forming plan to take out the rogues and the umbrella siblings
Note: well, I’m back at least for this. Its been a long time but suddenly I’m inspired again to write my fanfics. Despite the updated info about season 3 I haven’t changed anything about this fic except that Vanya is now referred to as Victor out of respect for Elliot Page
Part 1
Part 2
One walked back to the Sparrow house, meeting up with Two along the way. They were surprisingly silent as they entered the house together. He stopped when he saw Four and Reginald waiting for them in the main hall. Two just rolled their eyes and stalked away, clearly aware of something that One wasn't privy too yet. Reginald had a look on his face that stopped One in his tracks.
"What's going on?" One asked. He seemed, morbidly proud.
"Four reported that you have taken care of one of those rogue Sparrows, number eight I believe," he said. One nodded, eyes flashing to see Four smiling happily. The deluded idiot. Only Four would be so easily tricked into telling Reginald everything, that's probably why they were sent in the first place. One took a breath, mentally preparing for the shitstorm he was going to create by lying right now.
"Yes sir, met her on the train tracks and took care of the body also" he said. Reginald nodded.
"I need to speak with you in my office," he said, leading One up the stairs. Once in his office he motioned for One to sit down. Reginald stood behind his desk, always having to be the bigger man in the room with his children. One had noticed this years ago, him and Eight used to laugh about it before she left with Lila. Laugh at how he would stand behind his desk instead of sit, and how he would fold his arms and look down at them past his nose, making him look much like the Sparrow he had named this team for. He pushed down the urge to laugh when Reginald did this exact thing, he smiled a little and Reginald seemed pleased, probably thinking he was happy about killing Eight. This sobered up his attitude immediately.
"What do you need from me sir?" One asked, back to being serious again.
"Now that you have proven you are willing to do what it takes to end that ridiculous rogues group we are going to start upping our duties. We have stopped one apocalypse it is time to stop another and while we are at it we will set a trap for Lila and her...associates. They always come after us, screwing up what we do to help this world, but this time we will be waiting for them" he explained. One listened quietly, thinking about how this would affect Eight, Nine, Six, all the others who had left.
"What is the plan?" One asked, leaning forward to make sure he looked interested. Reginald held up a hand.
"I will inform all of you of the plan in a few days, once I have figured out the best strategy for us to destroy the rogues and the umbrella academy."
One was dismissed and headed to his room, claiming to be too tired for dinner. He was allowed to be excused, presumably being rewarded for murdering Eight. He closed the door and pulled his phone from his pocket, cursing when he saw it was dead. He slid under his bed and plugged in the device, climbing back on his bed to wait for it to charge. He would have to call Eight that night to talk about the tricky position they were all in.
------------------------
Eight got back to the old subway tunnel, trying to sneak into dinner relatively unnoticed, but as soon as she sat down Lila turned to face her. The others all were on edge, with Yina, formally Ten, just getting up and taking her plate out of the room. The Umbrella siblings were unaware of what was to come, enjoying their food in silence.
"Where have you been Eight?" Lila asked, causing any conversation to quiet. Her face was unreadable as Eight looked around the room. Everyone looked away except for the newcomers who were staring with interest.
"I was being killed," she said simply, taking a bite of her pizza. Klaus looked surprised.
"Can everyone see her?" he asked. Luther rolled his eyes while Diego just sat back and sighed, clearly tired of everything.
"I heard a rumor that everyone but Lila and Eight left the room," Allison said. Eight was impressed by this power, watching everyone but Lila get up and walk out as if completely under some kind of trance. She nodded her appreciation as Allison left last, closing the door behind them. She knew that everyone was probably listening through the door but she felt a little better not having an audience.
"You went to see One didn't you?" Lila asked, clearly disappointed. Eight nodded.
"I did, we were hanging out while he was supposed to be doing patrols," she answered, avoiding eye contact.
"Did hanging out involve exchanging body fluid?" Lila pressed, making Eight involuntarily blush. She internally groaned. No one else would be able to get her to react like this but she really did see Lila as a mother and moms somehow knew a secret to get the answers they wanted. "I see, you know he's using you right? Soon enough he's going to be asking where we're hiding. And you'll tell him like an idiot and then they will all be here killing us one by one. You are not a teenager anymore, this shit is just plain stupid now."
"One isn't like that, he has never asked me anything about this place, ever. I mean, not like we having been dancing around this for like ten years now," Eight replied. "I would never betray you and the others, especially now that we have those other people with us now. I am not an idiot mom." Lila looked at Eight for a second before letting out a laugh.
"You haven't called me mom in years" she said. Eight rolled her eyes, not seeing what was so funny about this interrogation. "The Sparrows are tricky, remember when we all thought Three actually left them? They came to our warehouse, poked around in our heads to find out what we knew and what we were hiding, and both Eleven and your precious One almost died in the fight that ensued. What was worse we had to start from square one, we were lucky to recover so quickly. Don't be an idiot like I was, don't let one of them get to you."
"I am not you Lila. I won't let anyone compromise me, I learn from the best how not to be an dumbass," she said, getting up from the table. She marched to the door, opening it and watching as Diego, Klaus, and Luther all fell through it. She stepped over them, eyeing Five, who seemed like the only one who wasn't interested in what was going on. He was one to watch out for, he knew more than he was letting on. She would have to ask Allison about his power and figure out what his scheme was. For now she just went back to her room, laying down and checking her phone. Nothing. Fuck. She heard Allison come in and turned around, sitting up to face her.
"How was your date with Ben?" she asked quietly, making sure the door was shut. Eight threw a look at the door anyway, not really wanting anyone to be listening on this conversation. Allison smiled. "Don't worry, I rumored everyone to leave us alone tonight. That's my power, I can tell people what to do." Eight nodded, impressed.
"Might as well show you my power," she said. She reached a hand out and made the music box open and start playing. "I just have to think of something and it happens, but only to inanimate objects, I can't control people or anything like that." Allison nodded, watching the music box for a minute. "Anyway, seeing One was nice, he got to kill me which is fun."
"Does that happen a lot?" Allison asked. Eight shook her head.
"No, this is only the second time its happened. The first time was when we were just out of our teens, One had me cornered, could have brought out his squid friend but instead he just leaned close to me, making sure he was pressed against me, and said, play dead, so I did," she explained. "A few weeks later, when I emerged again One took a beating like I'd never seen before, bruises everywhere, and the rest of the Sparrows were bragging about which ones they made."
"Fuck, that's worse than anything we had done to us," Allison whispered. "Dad just, yelled at us, sent us to our rooms, made us do more drills." Eight gave her a look. "Ok, we did mess with each other on his orders, but not physically, I mean, I never kicked the shit out of Diego no matter how much I wanted to." Eight chuckled and laid down again, still facing Allison. She was going to continue talking when her phone rang. Strange, One never called her, only texted.
"One?" she asked, clearly concerned. She could hear wind and traffic through the phone. "Where are you?"
"I'm hanging out my window so no one hears me," he said, trying to keep his voice down even with the background noise. "Dad is planning to trap you all, I'm not sure how, but he thinks since I actually killed you this time that means I'm ready to, I don't know, slaughter the rest of the rogues too. And those umbrella guys are pissing him off more than usual, he wants us to trap you all and kill you."
"When, where, how?" Eight asked, starting to pace as Allison watched worried.
"I don't know, dad isn't telling me anything yet, says he needs to get the right strategy. I will update you when I can, you have to lay low for awhile though, I don't..." One stopped talking, not sure how to say that he didn't want the shit kicked out of him again. He figured this time Reginald would just let the others kill him.
"Alright, I will, let me know when everything calms down," she said. She hung up and collapsed again.
"That didn't sound great," Allison said. She shook her head.
"No, since you're here, and dad thinks One, I mean Ben, I mean, One? Whatever, thinks he actually killed me, he's planning to trap the rogues you guys in something, take you all out at once," she explained. "He's not sure of the details yet but until he gets them I'm needing to lay low, which will piss Lila off immensely when I tell her."
"Maybe we could use this to our advantage, if Ben tells us about the trap then we can set our own trap," Allison offered. Eight sighed and nodded, not sure how good that sounded considering that One would be in the crosshairs of the rogues and the Sparrows if that happened. She rolled over and tried to sleep, wondering how to tell Lila about all this in the morning.
#The Umbrella Academy#ben hargreeves#ben hargreeves x reader#ben hargreeves series#ben hargreeves fanfic#Umbrella Academy#umbrella academy fanfic
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I Travel Alone ! (Hoping this is more from your Pierre fic 👀👀👀)
Hellooooo! I wanted to share a different part of this, but it’s not quite ready yet. Neither is this one, to be fair, it feels a little off to me, but I wanted to give you some introspection from our beloved Pierre 🥰
BEWARE. It’s a bummer— tw for suicidal themes and vague description of a murder.
Mon petit,
There is nothing for me to say but that I am sorry. I am sorry, and I hope that you can forgive me. There is nothing else I can do to make them believe me, and I will not be their scapegoat— not for this. Not when sweet Daisy’s killer walks free.
I was innocent, Pierre. Innocent in all but leaving you.
Please, make me this last promise— do not let this kill you, too. Live a life, mon petit. You’ve lived too long for others.
It wasn’t signed.
He didn’t need her to sign it. Hell, he didn’t even need to open the page and read the words. He could picture them behind his eyelids, hear her voice in his mind. He could feel the way his fingers shook, like it was the first time all over again, reading the last words of a ghost.
Still, Pierre felt close to her again when he could trace the loops of her elegant handwriting, hold the crumpled piece of paper she’d held.
It felt like reaching through the veil, touching her sister’s hand to his own through time and space.
Susanne had died terrified. That little baby had died terrified. That family was destroyed— Pierre’s family was destroyed.
At least that monster had died terrified, too. Pierre had seen it. He had looked into his bleary, drugged face, and he knew that Cassetti felt every second, wanted to run, wanted to fight, and he was trapped. Trapped like Susanne. Like poor little Daisy.
He would never be able to scrub that face from his mind’s eye.
And now he had to see it again. It was his job to find the body.
The entire Istanbul-Calais coach had dropped ten degrees in temperature by the time the plan demanded Pierre’s action. God, but it was cold, so cold. A shudder rippled through his whole body, and once it hit him, he felt as if he couldn’t ever be warm enough again.
Edward— that man’s valet— had approached him not a few moments ago, passing the proverbial baton as he came from his master’s door to request that it be opened. It was nearly the end of petit dejeuner, and if Mr. Ratchett intended to dine, he would have to wake soon.
They were the lowest of the low, The Help; and the morning had already been so overtaken with the drama of the avalanche. No one in particular paid them any mind, but their little scene was necessary. Nothing could be left to chance, not with the… unforeseen circumstances— the snow, the detective, the bystander.
The only pair of eyes that Pierre could feel on him were from one of the only quiet people in the room.
Señor Àngel had given no real protestations to the bad news of the avalanche. He didn’t look overly pleased, and Pierre saw the tension in his shoulders mounting. The way his lip twisted. But, there was no sign of the state of agitation he had been in about sharing a compartment.
He was their only audience. Pale, sharp eyes fixed on him as if he was looking for something, watching from over the lip of his coffee cup. Pierre didn’t dare wonder what he saw— what was there to be seen? He was cleaned and pressed, his uniform as pristine as ever. The red-rimmed tightness around his eyes looked like no more than tiredness by this point in the day, could be ascribed to any number of things.
What was he looking at? It prickled under his skin.
Pierre mentally shook himself, focusing every part of himself on this next task— the valet was passing him the baton, Pierre risked them all if he fumbled it.
Sorry for the bummer— poor Pierre 😩 thanks for playing, friend!
#tog adjacent#the pierre/mickey fic#murder on the orient express#a dangerous fortune#mickey miranda#pierre michel of avignon
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Obligations
Yan! Zhongli x Reader
Word Count: 2,837
How long can a man talk before he runs out of air?
Scratch that. How long can this man talk before you decide to strangle him?
"...as such, the rivers, plains, and mountains that are said to have been the remains of what is left of the dead gods remains…."
The intonation of Mr. Zhongli's voice nearly puts you to sleep at the ornate dining table, and if it weren't for the fact that you were at an esteemed establishment (even if you two were in a private room), you surely would've face planted and fallen asleep right there on the mahogany wood. But you don't, because it would be an insult to the very man (and the food) who invited you on this outing.
Mr. Zhongli is a respectable man and apparently, a good friend in your family's circles. Even though you've never met the man till now, even you're aware of his shining reputation; aunties giggling on how he's so charming and polite, cousins admiring his knowledge and strength, and other relatives likewise praising him to high Celestia and above.
And he is, you suppose, very handsome. His face is beautiful; high, defined cheekbones, molten amber eyes that glow warmly, pretty curved pink lips and nose to match. A good face, your auntie would say if she was here. An auspicious face.
“And that is how the geography of Liyue came to be...”
You're sure anyone in your position would be swooning over how his voice flowed like the trickling rivers that ran through Guili plains, but you just wished he would shut up at some point. Not even the delicious spread of food at the glass carousel wheel could distract from his tirade, and that was saying something.
Speaking of, why did he order so much food for only the two of you?
'In Liyue, you can always eat till you drop!' A saying that always echoed among the locals, and still holds true today. But even then, the intricately painted línglóng porcelain holding the remnants of steamed egg soup, roasted duck, squirrel fish, and more and more food, are way too excessive, even if he wanted to impress you.
You idly push around the Tianshu meat on your plate as he continues to drone on, wondering when you can politely excuse yourself without being rude.
-
"So, how was the dinner?" You internally groan as your mom's barely concealed excitement in her voice shows.
"Mama, we just sat there and talked." Well, Zhongli was the one doing most of the talking. But you weren't about to say that, not when you know a lecture awaits that answer.
"Isn't he a very handsome man?" Your mother's eyes gleam dangerously and a resigned sigh leaves your lips as she barrels on confidently. "Doesn't he seem like the perfect husband?!"
"Mama, it's ten in the morning…" What you wouldn’t give to eat your congee in peace.
"He is a respectable man, and quite knowledgeable to boot."
"Not you too, Baba!"
Your father merely chuckles as he continues reading the daily newspaper, and you roll your eyes as he continues chuckling behind the printed pages. Your mother swats at him to finish his porridge, turning to you with a frown on her wrinkled face. You brace yourself, knowing exactly what is coming next.
"[First Name], you're already of marriageable age, you should be looking for your future spouse! Your parents are growing old and when we die-"
"I will be perfectly fine without a husband." You cut her off, rubbing at your forehead. It was too early in the morning for this talk.
"Aiya, I don't want our only child to be by themselves! We will never know peace once we pass away, so much worry-"
You tune the rest of the lecture out, not even having the energy to refute her worries.
When you leave the house to take a walk, you meet the infamous Mr. Zhongli again.
"What a coincidence, I am also taking a walk to clear the mind. Would you perhaps like to join me?" And trapped by societal politeness, and the fact that this man did order you a three course meal the previous night, you agree.
So it's to your surprise that he does not immediately initiate dialogue as the both of you stroll leisurely through the stone gardens in Yunjin terrace, and a comfortable silence falls.
"You seem to have a lot on your mind." You turn to meet his gaze, and then away. Your frustration burns at you in the remainder of the morning's argument, but it dissipates at his concerned face. It is not his fault, you reason, that your mother wants you to court him for a possibility. For fortune. Despite the man's shortcomings, he is nothing but a gentleman.
"I don't want to pry but...I have heard that talking about your thoughts might ease your mind?"
You pause for a long time, breathing out your nose as you close your eyes.
"My parents want me to marry you." You've never been one to mince words, much to your mother's dismay at trying to teach you etiquette. "They think that you're a good match. And they're paranoid about me becoming a spinster."
There's silence for a moment and you open your eyes to not a face of disgust or shock, but rather one of musing.
"And you, [First Name]? What do you think?"
You turn your gaze to the water.
"Honestly? I don't know. I don't know you well enough to make that judgement. I know my parents are worried, but I don't want to get married for the sake of not being alone. I think it's rather selfish, to wish that solely for your partner."
The words tumble out of your mouth, one after another and you wonder how it is that it's easier to confess this to an acquaintance than your own parents.
"I was under the impression that people often like to pursue lasting romance in their lives. It's interesting to see this is not always true." Zhongli hums, hand coming to stroke his chin thoughtfully.
"Perhaps? I don't know. I've always been content with my friends." Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. "Who knows? Maybe I have yet to meet the right person."
Zhongli hums again in response, seemingly in deep thought with a small frown pulling at his lips. A silence falls once again, and an awkward atmosphere falls upon the both of you.
"Oh yes, I never did thank you for the delicious dinner last night." You note offhandedly, half distracted by the swimming carp in the clear pond water. The water trails are hypnotic, and they help take your mind off the stressful morning you had.
"It was nothing. For my friend's precious child, that was the least I could do." He modestly replies, and you deadpan. It was nothing? A three course meal at Xinyue Pavillion, nothing? You know that squirrel fish did not have a low price tag.
"Regardless, I'm very thankful for your generosity." After all, not many tolerated your blunt, forthright personality, least of all the potential suitors your mother always brought before you. The memory makes you feel guilty at the irritation you had back then at the dinner. "The next time, I insist we have dinner at Wanmin--I've heard their black back perch stew is to die for. My treat."
He hums, and turns to you with a heartbreaking smile, a far cry from his previous countenance. "Is that a promise?"
You raise your eyebrow, "What are you, Morax? Yes, it's a promise, unless you hate fish, I guess."
His amused chuckles are soft but light a warm hearth in your heart.
-
Your mother is growing more daring than you remember.
She shoves you out the door as if you're some kind of fancy wrapped gift to offer to Mr. Zhongli, and there's a manic glee in her eyes as she eyes you and him standing together like a couple.
"[First Name] has been looking forward to this, haven't you, sweetie?"
The Liyuen hanfu she forced you into were a different cut than the modern cheongsam dresses of the current trends. Archaic, if you dare call it that. While some traditionalists still donned hanfu, it was not as common to see it in the streets. When she was shoving you in the under robes, she muttered about how it was something passed down in the family. Which explained a lot. These days, hanfu like this were something of a rich antiquity.
You sigh deeply, tugging your translucent pibo around you tighter as you decide to humor her, if only to get her to stop embarrassing yourselves and leave faster.
"Yes, quite."
Zhongli hums, and when you turn to face him, you're almost unnerved at how his eyes sharpen and scan over you, pupils slit like a dragon's. The moment is gone in a flash and he merely smiles at you gently before taking your hand in his gloved one.
"In that case, shall we get going?"
The nightlife of Liyue is in full swing and Zhongli tugs you closer, and there's something intimate in the way he presses you firmly into his side, the warmth he exudes sending pleasurable tingles down your body.
"Do forgive me for being so bold, [First Name]," He addresses you so tenderly, that you blush when you look back up from your joined hands, "You look absolutely radiant tonight."
How is it this man manages to say such an embarrassing thing so smoothly? What is his secret? He doesn’t seem like the playboys that often loiter around the downtown area of the harbor. You look away, unable to meet his eyes that reflect the lanterns and make his pupils glow.
"T-Thank you, Zhongli, you're too kind."
His eyes never seem to leave you, even when taking in the lovely scenery of Liyue at night. For the bright lanterns glitter and glow on the ocean waves, but his own pupils are glued to your being when you look in your peripheral.
“Is there something on my face?” Tearing your eyes away from the street in front of you, you turn to meet his gaze straight on.
He merely smiles.
“No.” He pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture innocuous, but leaving a burning trail where his finger tips touch your skin. “I believe we have arrived.”
Thankfully you can excuse the burning in your cheeks and neck away with the spices that the Li cuisine favors. If anyone asks, it was the black back parch stew making you look flushed and out of sorts. Never mind the fact that Chef Mao looks quite amused at the fact you’re sputtering in response to his cheeky questions about you showing up with a man to your favored restaurant.
When you look up from checking to make sure your hanfu didn’t get any stains, Zhongli is uncorking a white bottle and pouring it into your cups. At your questioning look, he replies, “Dàqūjiǔ. The Li technique ferments wheat for about two to three months. This one in particular, has a fine aroma after being fermented for a while.”
“Hoh…” You chuckle at his explanation, “You really do know everything.”
“Hardly. I cannot say I know as much as the regular scholar…nonetheless, to good fortune!”
Echoing his cheer, you raise your cup and drink.
The alcohol burns your throat, and you’re reminded of your low alcohol tolerance. Yet, your fellow friend refills your cup just as easily, and who are you to refuse him? By the time you’re on your fourth cup, your world is spinning and you’ve developed a headache.
“Ahaha…wow...everything...is...moving…” You slur incomprehensibly and slump onto the bamboo table.
“Oh dear, we best get you back. In this condition, you’re too vulnerable.”
“No way...if I go back with you...my mom….she won’t let me…!” You raise your head from the cool table, but the effort of doing that makes you groan.
Zhongli all too easily picks you up bridal style, and after bidding goodbye to Chef Mao with a hefty bag of mora, he walks down the now empty streets of Liyue.
“Won’t let you what, dear heart?” He hums, stroking your face gently with the pad of his thumb.
“Won’t let me...let...us...ugh…”
“[First Name], do you like me?”
“Mmh...yeah…” Is all he gets, but the stilted, jagged answer is enough for him. The content smile that breaks his face belies the haunting glow of his molten eyes.
-
When you step out of the door of your bedroom, you're accosted by your sobbing mother.
"Ma-Mama?! What's the matter?" You frantically ask, pushing at her shoulders.
"Oh my sweet child, oh I'm so happy for you! When were you going to tell me, you brat?!"
"Tell you what?!"
"That you're marrying Zhongli, sweetie! Oh, this is such a momentous occasion--"
You're too shell shocked that you do not hear her next words. What? Marry? Zhongli? What on Teyvat was going on--
"--Hurry up, he's waiting for you in the living room!" You're snapped out of your daze when you're ushered hastily into the room, casual robes and all, right in front of the very person you had so many questions for.
The door shutting behind you does not muffle the excited chatter from your parents and you wince when you hear your mother excitedly bantering with your father. Turning and meeting an intense gaze, you feel like you’ve stepped into an arena with a monster.
"Zhongli, why are my parents under the impression we're marrying?"
His golden eyes crinkle in delight at your blunt words, "Because we are, my dear heart."
D-Dear heart?!
"I don't understand."
"What is there not to understand?" You step back as he rises from the cozy armchair he was given. It only just occurs to you how ridiculously tall this man is, and he towers over you, like a mountain.
"I believe we share a mutual attraction. After all, last night only proved it." He leans over and you flinch as he gently cups your face with a small smile.
"We've only known each other for a couple days!" You protest, leaning your face out of his hands. His smile dips into a displeased frown, hands falling to his sides.
"Why need more time to prove what is already there?" He tilts his head. “If this is a matter about your dowry, I’m sure I can help--”
“This isn’t about mora! Zhongli, this is moving way too fast--”
“Is that so? If I’m correct, I believe that your family’s come upon some hard times, no?” And you’re left breathless, struck silent. “Not down to the pits, but just one little slip and...well, your father’s business is already taking loans, isn’t it?”
Your teeth are grinding so hard against each other to the point where it echoes in your head.
“Marry me, [First Name], and you won’t have to worry about any of that. After all, I’ve always had enough good fortune to share. Are you so willing to crush your parent’s hopes and dreams for their child?”
“I-” Your mother’s tears on her weathered face come to mind, wrinkles from stress deeply indented in her skin. Your father, weary, veiny hands covered in scars from hard manual labor, shoulders slumped from his strength sapping. And you realize with a bone chilling fear that this man, this man was threatening to destroy the very foundation of your life.
He smiles upon seeing your uncertain visage, gritted teeth, clenched fists and trembling body.
"You'll look beautiful in red and gold."
-
How numb you feel!
Having to sit there while being dressed, being fawned over by your cousins, cried over by your mother and aunties, and your father and uncles chuckling over your good fortune. All the while, you cannot bring yourself to bring even the fakest smile to your face, only being able to muster up a sheepish smile, but it is of no concern, as everyone seems to mistake it for a shy front for a person about to marry their true love.
At least that’s how your mother is spinning it to your giggling aunties. And even when the festivities are over, you know that this is not the end.
Bare fingers trace your cheeks and lift your veil as a chaste kiss is placed on your lips.
This was supposed to be a day of joy.
Said fingers begin to trail down your body, and more sobs begin to shake your body. When you think about it, this might be the first time you felt his skin touch your own. Zhongli has always dressed conservatively, even covering his hands with his gloves. Thinking about it longer makes your skin crawl.
This was supposed to be--
Zhongli hums appreciatively into your collarbone as he slips your wedding garb off your shoulders, your world collapses and dims, with only a haunting amber light as your guide.
#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere zhongli#me: how much worldbuilding can i fit in this fic#my work
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Secrets & Devotion
I want to remind you that this fic will be containing heavy themes. So please, read the warnings and tags in chapter 1
Chapter 2
New Pages
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The first night at the Heelshires manor was pleasant. When morning came, the sky was covered by dark gray clouds, making the morning feel gloomy and it reminded me of what's to come. After freshening up and putting on a fresh set of clothes, I stepped outside of the room. I quickly noticed the door to Brahms’ bedroom was open, and there on his bed, sat the porcelain doll, dressed in new attire and staring directly towards the direction of my room.
“Good morning Brahms” I beamed at the doll with a smile as I approached his room. I thought that Mrs.Heelshire must’ve gotten him ready for the day and left him in his room as she prepared for their trip.
“I do apologize for the rush Miss Stone” Mr. Heelshires's voice came behind me so suddenly it startled me, making me jump a bit and turn to him. “We are simply a bit anxious. As I said, it has been some time since we’ve been on holiday and we’re ready to be off” He continued.
“Good morning, Mr.Heelshire. It is alright, I see no reason to apologize. I would feel the same in your situation” I told him with a warm smile. He began to walk and I followed as he continued talking
“Brahms seems so fond of you. And I only wish we had the time to explain to you the vicissitudes of a child as unique as our Brahmsy. But I’m sure you’ll pick up quickly”
“Of course I will. I am more than prepared to care for any child regardless of their personality ” I reassured as we walked along the long hallway.
“Oh, I got something to help you” He spoke and reached for something inside his coat pocket. “A schedule. The rules.” He took out a set of papers and placed one on the small lamp table as we reached the end of the hall “Though it may seem a bit silly, but it is very important you follow them. Brahms is not like other children. He can be…particular” He then handed one of the papers to me. “I’m afraid we might have indulged him a bit over the years” So the kid was spoiled? I couldn’t say I was surprised. By having parents that rich that could offer anything your heart can desire, a child could most definitely forget how to behave. I could only hope that he was grateful.
There were ten rules:
1. No guests
2. Never leave Brahms alone
3. Save meals in the freezer
4. Never cover Brahms face
5. Read a bedtime story
6. Play music loud
7. Clean the traps
8. Only Malcolm brings groceries
9. Brahms is never to leave
10. Kiss goodnight
Mrs.Heelshire had previously mentioned some of these rules the day before. Though rules one, four, and nine seemed a bit odd to me, I wasn’t really worried. I could see why these were the rules. I assume previous nannies might’ve taken advantage of having the house to themselves and invited people over. That is just plain disrespect to the owners. Also, covering the doll's face? I mean I guess he might be a bit creepy to others, but I see no reason as to why they’d have to cover an inanimate object's face. As to rule nine, someone might’ve taken Brahms with them and possibly damaged him. The rules made sense to me.
We made our way downstairs and to the opened front door. The same chauffeur that brought me to the mansion loaded his vehicle with the Heelshires’ belongings and then turned to greet me with a tilt of his hat. I offered him a ‘good morning' in return. I turned behind me at the sound of footsteps and Mrs.Heelshire was making her way downstairs— Brahms tight in her hold.
“Malcolm will be by once a week with groceries and of course your payment. And I’m sure he can answer any questions you might have” Mr.Heelshire told me. His breathing was now ragged and sweat covered his face. His features showed worry. “I'm-I’m sorry. I’m a bit off today”
Before I was able to say anything, Mrs.Heelshire joined her husband's side with the same worried look on her face. He placed a hand on her back, the other on Brahms’s head, and kissed it so delicately. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me as I stared at their interaction. To them, they are leaving behind a child. A living and breathing child. Though not exactly the same, I supposed I could relate somewhat. It was a bit hard leaving the US and leaving Ana. She’s the only family I had left.
The only thing worse is the thought that I would never get to see her again.
I followed the couple outside and down the steps to stand beside the cab. Mrs.Heelshire turned to me and reluctantly handed me Brahms. Her face contorted in a mixture of guilt and sadness. Her hold slowly released from the doll, only for her arms to embrace me in a tight hug, and leaned closer to my ear “I'm so sorry…” her voice trembled as she whispered so low I almost missed it. I blinked at her words as they filled me with confusion, but she pulled away before I was able to ask why or what she was apologizing for. I watched her with worry as she slowly made her way to sit inside the cab, not daring to look behind.
“Please, Miss Stone, take care of our Brahms” Mr.Heelshire began, voice lowered. I turned to him with Brahms secure in my hold. “I’m sure this might look a bit strange. But I beg you, Miss Stone, don’t neglect him”
“I wouldn’t dare to do so, Mr.Heelshire. I will care for him like my own” I said. My heart ached for the couple. Their past employees surely must have been horrible to them. I offered him a last reassuring smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were watery and tears threatened to fall. Without any last words, he turned to the vehicle and stepped in to sit beside his wife. I could only stand and watch as the black cab began to move away and off the premises of the estate.
~~~~~~
Not soon after the Heelshires left, the sky began to pour. The sound of the water droplets coming into contact with the exterior of the estate filled the home as I made my way towards the kitchen with Brahms in my arms. I secured him on the kitchen table and patted his head as I spoke
"Well, seems like it's just you and me now, huh Brahmsy?" I asked the doll with a smile. "Your parents are on holiday, but I assure you that we are going to have a lot of fun, alright?"
Even though I knew I wasn’t going to get a reply from him, I liked to speak to the doll as if it was alive. Others might think I'm crazy, but taking care of a doll didn’t seem the slightest bit weird to me. Especially in the situation of Brahms. The Heelshires saw him as a real boy, and I was determined to treat him as such. In some way, the doll was connected to Brahms.
The idea of the doll possibly being haunted had crossed my mind on many occasions. I have never been one to fear the idea of ghosts or beings that lingered after death. But I was also not one to look for proof of their existence. But then again, Mrs.Heelshire said he was playful and that he's probably the reason my boots went missing. I wanted to believe that it was probably a test to see if I was willing to stay alone in such a big mansion and not leave Brahms alone out of fear. A way to prepare me maybe?
“Let's see what we have here” I spoke out loud as I moved to look in the fridge, searching for ingredients to get started on breakfast.
My eyes landed on some bacon and a few eggs. I grabbed them and other ingredients out of the fridge, and placed them on the counter. “How does bacon and eggs with toast sound?” I asked him. I waited a few seconds, staring into his hazel glass eyes. “Alrighty then. Let us get started”
After breakfast, I made sure to store the leftover food in the freezer and tidy up the kitchen. The next thing on the schedule was his lessons—three hours, five days a week, as instructed by Mrs.Heelshire. I made my way up the stairs, Brahms in my arms, and to the music room on the second floor. I placed him on his assigned chair and I began the lessons by reading, loud and clear, 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Brontë. A story about a girl who appeared to be plain and simple but goes through many harsh struggles in her life. I thought the book might be something a bit too mature for an 8-year-old, but according to Mrs.Heelshire, it is one of Brahms’s favorite books. I believed in teaching children that this life can be hard for some, to prepare them for any struggles that might enter their life. And this book was perfect. It demonstrates that appearances aren't always what they seem. People can hide dark secrets and fake a smile to the world. In some way, I felt like Jane Eyre. She endured the abuse from her cruel aunt for years. And I? I lived with whom I can only describe as a monster. A man that appeared perfect to the world, but became a devil when hidden. A man who once fooled me and whom I fell in love with, only to reveal his true face and cause me much suffering. Jane overcame her aunts' abuse and grew to learn the love she deserved. But unlike her, I became caged by it and let it hold me down. Until now.
It had been an hour and almost halfway through the book, I stopped in order to play some of his music on the vintage record player. The loud opera music filled the entire house. it was quite loud but if that's how Brahms likes it, then I shall play it that way. I made myself comfortable in the seat beside where Brahms sat and continued to read a book for myself. The Heelshires had quite a selection of classic novels, some even in Latin. Another hour passed and the music came to a stop as the record reached its end.
"We still have one hour to go" I spoke to the doll. Next up was what I liked to call arts & crafts. Mrs.Heelshire told me that Brahms was also very fond of drawing, so his lesson consisted of drawing vases and fruit bowls she laid out on the coffee table for him to 'sketch'. I recalled where she stored his sketch pads along with various drawing mediums. I grabbed two sketchpads and two charcoal pencils from the wooden drawer. "What should we draw today Brahmsy?" It occurred to me that Mrs.Heelshire probably made him 'draw' the same objects over and over again throughout the years. So I decided that maybe we could switch things up a bit.
"What if instead of the same boring vase, we draw each other. What do you think Brahms?" Of course, he didn’t speak, but to my surprise, the doll shifted to its side. It startled me for a bit but then I reasoned that the weight of the porcelain head reacted to the pull of gravity. "I'll take that as a yes" I beamed at the doll with a smile. I placed a sketch pad and pencil at his side and returned to my seat to begin drawing him. I wasn’t the best artist but I still enjoyed drawing and painting now and then. It reminded me of my dad.
"You know Brahms, my father was an amazing artist" I spoke to him as I started to draw the form of his suit. "His pieces were displayed in some art museums here in Europe now that I remember" I spoke "He wanted me to become an artist like him. So he thought me to draw and paint. He kept me away from sculpture because as a child would, I made a horrible mess playing and wasted the materials" I chuckled at the memory.
I was mostly done drawing his face when I heard a soft scratching sound within the walls. I adverted my gaze from my drawing to look around, trying to follow the sound. But nothing came. I remembered that I still had to clean out the traps, so I relaxed and assumed that it might’ve been a rat trying to get in or something. The faint scratching sound momentarily stopped but it continued as I moved to add details to the drawing. I simply ignored and focused on Brahms’s hair.
"But instead of an artist like my father, I became a dancer" I felt a bit silly speaking to the doll, but it was so easy to talk to him. "Dancing was my way of expressing myself. It was so liberating to me. I felt free. I felt alive" My voice dropped as a sour memory crossed my mind. "But many good things must come to an end..." a deep sigh escaped me. It was difficult for me to talk about the past, but I knew that it could help. The scratching sound had also stopped.
"When I was about to turn twenty-one.." I began softly "I was offered an opportunity to audition for a big dancing company back in the US. it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The auditions were going to be held in another state, so my parents offered to take me. I was so happy about this. They always supported me through everything. Even if they wanted me to follow in their footsteps and work in their same field " I softly chuckled at the last statement. I'm not sure why, but I felt like Brahms was actually listening. And in some way, it helped me. "We planned a road trip. We packed everything we needed for the road and took off. 'To a new beginning', my mother told me... But it wasn’t the one I expected" Breathing began to feel a bit difficult and my heart ached. I placed down the pencil on the coffee table and held the sketchpad on my lap.
"When we were about halfway through the state..." I closed my eyes when I felt tears beginning to form. " We stopped at a gas station in a small town. We refueled and got anything we needed for the road and continued." My body began to tremble and I tried controlling my breathing. "That day, an eighteen-wheeler decided to ignore a red light and it just so happened that our vehicle was the only one crossing that intersection.." At that point, the tears had already started to fall. I clutched the soft chair beneath me and hung my head.
"That day, I lost both my parents" The sound of my tears hitting the paper on my lap reached my ears, but I ignored it. "I begged the universe to take me with them" My voice became more fierce as I felt the anger build inside me. "But instead, it left me here on this earth— Damned. I was hospitalized for many months. The impact left me lodged between the car seats—crushing my legs. I was told that it was a miracle that I was able to walk again.....but I would never be able to dance" I opened my eyes to look at the porcelain doll. I had become better at talking about my parents. But every time I spoke of the incident, it felt as if I was reliving it again. His eyes held no emotion, but they brought me solace.
"We must learn to appreciate what we have while we can Brahms. This world works in unimaginable ways. We simply have to be strong for whatever it throws at us" I felt like I was saying it more to myself than to the doll "But sometimes it brings us good things. It brought me here, to you, didn’t it?. And we are going to be the best of friends right Brahms?" I smiled at the doll. It really was luck that I found such a secluded place to live. The pay was unimaginable but it did not matter to me. All I needed was somewhere so hidden, one could get lost....and never to be found.
The old grandfather clock rang loudly, indicating that it was now noon. I looked down at the sketchpad on my lap. The liquid of my tears distorted the semi-finished sketch a bit, leaving faded rings on his suit. It wasn’t the best drawing, to begin with, so it didn’t matter.
"Lessons time is over" I spoke as I stood from my seat and placed the sketchpad on the coffee table. I looked at my hands—dark charcoal powdered covered my hands. "Oh no, I’ll be right back Brahmsy, I need to wash my hands. I wouldn’t want to stain your pretty suit"
I made my way to the restroom that was closest to the music room and washed my hands. Everything in the house was so fancy, even the soap. Soft creaking sounds could be heard as I let the water wash away the charcoal from my hands. The rain was still going hard and the wind seemed to be picking up, so naturally, the house was filled with sounds. Even though I've always been fond of the rain, I can't imagine the inconvenience of water pouring from the sky every day.
When I returned to the music room I headed straight to Brahms and picked up the sketchpad and the pencil he didn’t use. I didn’t know whether or not fake amusement and praise him for the 'drawing' he had made, so I simply went to go grab the materials I had used. Only to pause upon looking at the coffee table.
"Huh? That's strange. I'm sure I left the sketchpad right here" Only the pencil I had used was on the table. I turned to the drawer where the rest of the sketchpads were kept and looked for the one I had used, thinking that maybe I had returned and simply forgotten about it. But nothing. I took a second to recall if I had taken it with me to the restroom, but obviously, I couldn’t have because then it could’ve gotten wet. My eyes widened at a sudden realization
"Crap! I forgot to take my medication!"
I quickly returned the materials to their corresponding places and turned to pick up Brahms. It was most probably the reason why I had begun to hear things and forget what I did. This is why I took notice of the creaking within the walls that followed me as I made my way up the stairs. Forgetting my medication wasn’t a common occurrence, but I blamed it on the slight jet lag and the fact that I was adjusting to life in a new continent. The different time zones messed with my internal clock. And speaking of time zones.
"Shoot! I also forgot to call Ana"
As soon as I reached the third floor, I made my way into my bedroom and placed Brahms on my bed. I dug through my bags and took out the orange bottle that held my pills. I unscrewed the white safety cap and placed one small yellow pill in my hand. Without wanting to go all the way downstairs and into the kitchen for a glass of water, I plopped the pill in my mouth and swallowed it dry.
"There. Now hopefully I won't forget where I leave my head" I spoke and I laughed as I screwed the cap back on the bottle. I moved to place it on the drawer by my bed and caught a glimpse of the black home phone and made a mental note to call Ana later when it was best for her time zone.
The rest of the day went on pretty smoothly. The rain had calmed down a bit and it allowed me to clean out the rat traps. I couldn’t help but smile at how cute Brahms looked with his small yellow rain jacket. Afterward, I made us lunch and as instructed, stored the leftovers in the freezer. I was told that Malcolm would empty out the freezer when he came by with groceries. After that, I spent the rest of the afternoon exploring more of the house and taking Brahms along with me—talking to him all throughout the exploration. I would ask him questions (which I had no response to obviously), complementing his home, and commenting on art pieces whose history and origin I recognize; A small art lesson if you could call it that. I would also take it upon myself to clean around for a bit. Mr.Heelshire informed me that a cleaning service would come biweekly. I thought that it would’ve been a bit too long in between cleaning, given the size of the manor, but since it was only three—no—two people living in the manor, I supposed it was understandable. Soon it became dinner time and I prepared some meatloaf. knowing that I would have to cook for myself, I filled a journal with recipes for all sorts of plates—even some pastries and baked goods. Some were recipes from Ana.
~~~~~~
"Alright Brahmsy, time for bed now"
After changing him into his nightclothes, I placed him under the covers of his bed. I sat on the bed and recalled one of the rules- 'Read a bedtime story'. Just like with the drawing, I thought that maybe he had been read the same boring stories over and over again. So I decided to tell him a bedtime story of my own.
"There once was a little mouse that lived in a little mouse village. He had many friends and family that lived in the village. They lived a happy life filled with~~"
I knew it was somewhat crazy of me to try and follow all the rules. That all my efforts would technically be going to waste, but I simply did not care.
"But one day, a cat attacked the village!. The little mice were scared and they all ran to hide in their tiny homes!~"
Caring for a doll that represented an actual child was the Heelshires way to cope with the loss of their son. And in some way, it began to be a way to cope with the loss of my own child.
"....and thanks to the little brave mouse, they all lived happily ever after. The end"
I smiled down at him and caressed his smooth, cold porcelain face. I then leaned down to leave a tiny kiss on his forehead, lingering for a few seconds, before pulling away and standing up.
"Goodnight Brahms. Sleep tight. and don't let the bugs bite"I chuckled out before turning off the lamp and closing his bedroom door. I made my way to my room and prepared for bed.
~~~~~~
" But is he cute though?"
Anas static voice came from the other end of the line
"I don't know. I guess he is. He's just the delivery guy, Ana, nothing is going on between us" I told her while rolling my eyes.
"Yea yea okay I get it. Now tell me, how are you adjusting? Are things going well so far?" Her voice was now more serious and filled with concern.
"Yes, Nana" I called her the nickname I gave her. I had trouble pronouncing her name when I was a child, making me pronounce 'Ana' as 'Nana', and the name just stayed with her throughout the years. "Things are going amazing. The manor is so big I could almost get lost in it"
"That sounds nice. But how are...'things'? y'know, are you keeping up with your medication?" her voice dropped a bit now. Ever since the accident, Ana has been worried for me. I was diagnosed with some type of PTSD and have been experiencing some symptoms of Schizophrenia; it affected me emotionally and even physically at times. Ana had always been there to look after me and help prevent things from getting bad. Most of the time...
"Ana, things are great. You don't need to worry" I reassured her.
"I know, it's just..." I could hear her deep sigh through the phone. "Y/N, I'm worried. You’re distancing yourself. You moved across the world and I'm worried that there's no way I can be there fast if you—“
"Ana, I said I'm fine!" I spoke a bit louder than I wanted. I know why she was worried. She was scared I would try again. I sighed deeply, controlling my voice "I promise I'm okay Ana. I need this. It will help me. Ever since the accident and...." My voice trembled and I clutched the phone tightly. I still couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. "I just need this Ana. Please, don’t worry so much about me. I'll be back before you know it" My heart ached. It hurt so much to lie to her. "Okay?"
I heard her sigh again. She was processing my words and reassuring her own thoughts.
"Alright. But promise you’ll be back for Christmas. And I’m expecting a fancy gift, given that your weekly pay is more than what I make in a month"
Her words only made me feel worse.
"You bet your ass I'm spoiling you and the rascals," I told her, trying my best to hide the sadness in my voice. "I'll let you go now. I need to get up early. Tell the little devils that aunt Y/N loves them, okay?"
"Alright. I will" She chuckled "Goodnight Y/N, call me when you can alright? Also, the books and other stuff I sent you should be arriving by the end of the week"
"Okay. Thank you, Ana. I love you" I weekly spoke
"I love you too Y/N"
That night I let the tears fall freely. I sobbed in my bed and let the emotions consume me. I had promised myself to be strong. I had a plan to execute. But no matter how much I told myself that things would be okay, I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to leave Ana. Thinking about the pain I would cause her and her children made me scream into the soft pillows. Hearing her so worried about me over the phone left me heartbroken, and only for me to reassure her with more lies. It’s all I could do. I wasn’t planning on returning. I left the US knowing that it would’ve been the last time I ever saw her. I had a goal. An elaborate plan I had prepared for many months before arriving in England. I had made up my mind. And I wasn’t planning on stopping. I couldn’t—It was too late.
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Chapter 3
#brahms the boy#the boy 2016#brahms hillshire#brahms heelshire#brahms x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x you#brahms smut#brahms x y/n#slashers x reader#slasher fanfiction#slasher fandom
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Demigod MC Series: Athena
So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...
I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.
Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena
Lucifer
The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...
Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...
Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.
Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…
Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…
Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!
It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!
Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...
He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.
Mammon
To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.
They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.
They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.
Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!
They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)
So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...
Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.
MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...
Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?
MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?
Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*
MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂
Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…
MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.
Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?
... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷♀️
Leviathan
Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.
What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!
It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...
Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.
The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…
However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?
Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.
MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*
Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?
MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*
Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???
MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*
Satan
Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.
He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...
He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.
He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...
At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!
It's confounding! It's infuriating!!
...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!
Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.
Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷♀️
The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…
Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…
Asmodeus
They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?
Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...
First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…
Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.
Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.
And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.
Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!
MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?
Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.
Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…
MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.
Asmo: You’re going already??
MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*
Beelzebub
Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.
He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷♀️
No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!
Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…
And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…
It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢
After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…
The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓
Belphegor
In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.
… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…
How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???
Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.
It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑
They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...
Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…
And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...
Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...
He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!
Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…
Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏
#you say athena mc is smart#i say athena mc is spy#because where better to use your smarts#in war#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me demigods
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Edward and Winry: Why They Definitely Dated During the Two Year Gap
Since the end of the manga as well as Brotherhood, I’ve observed a chunk of the FMA fandom adopting the notion that Edward and Winry do not begin their romantic relationship until the exchange at the train station, two years after the Elric brothers have been home. Admittedly, this fanon has always been a pet peeve of mine, and it was one that I actively ignored, even as an awkward high schooler that had not yet been in a romantic relationship.
As awkward as Edward is, it’s odd to me that many people believe that he would skip the process of building a solid romantic relationship with Winry before asking her to marry him. Sure, they’re best friends and have known each other since childhood, but, ask yourself: if you were in love with your best friend, would you propose marriage at random, having never made your feelings known, before? I’m not a betting woman, but I think it’s safe to say most, if not all of you, wouldn’t.
We’re going to take a look at several moments within the manga and Brotherhood that serve to hint towards Ed and Winry engaging in a romantic relationship during those two years spent in Resembool.
I’ll be opening with Brotherhood’s fifth opening, “Rain”. It has always intrigued me that the version of Truth Edward sees takes on the form of Winry. I’ve had many theories regarding this that I’ve shared in the Edwin Discord server, but, recently, while researching Truth for a oneshot I’m writing, I discovered this in Truth’s trivia section:
For some reason, in the fifth Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood opening "Rain", Winry Rockbell appears as Truth. Perhaps Winry is what Ed needed most at the time of the episode in which the opening first aired. Another possible reason for Winry's appearance in the opening "Rain": at this point, the scene is playing a review of Edward's review of his journey to this point. When he faces Truth originally, and is then dragged backward through his Door (his ten year old self), he glimpses an outline of Trisha, the object of his sacrifice that brought him to the Portal of Truth, and also the most important female in his life at that time. But in "Rain", he sees Winry instead of Trisha, the current object of his affections and, after regaining Alphonse's body, his goal. A third possibility, is that Winry-as-Truth, was meant to show what he desired as a trap, fitting the next scene: of him screaming within a Philosopher's Stone, before images of every homunculus except Greed. Winry, his desire that tempts him away from what must be done, and the homunculi, whom he must face to succeed.
When we assess the second theory listed in Truth’s trivia section of its wiki page, it is easy to conclude that Edward, though a typical teenage boy concerning romance (not to mention emotionally constipated), came to some sort of realization regarding his feelings towards his best friend. Alphonse has always been his priority since the night the brothers performed human transmutation; he never thought of his future past that. He saw his goal—get his and Al’s original bodies back—and was determined to achieve it. It was the only thing he saw in his future for years. And, suddenly, his father returns, and the fate of Amestris (perhaps, the world, even) is thrust upon him. This, I believe, is what forces Edward to face the emotions he never bothered to acknowledge. There was always a possibility of failure on the Promised Day—Father could have succeeded, and any future Edward envisioned for himself would be unobtainable. He suddenly saw himself sharing his life with his best friend, the woman he had fallen for at some point in his life. Sure, he denied having feelings for her time and time again throughout the series (Hawkeye, anyone?), but that can be chalked up to being a typical teenage boy. Not to mention, he didn’t have time to think about being with Winry. He acted selflessly, focused on getting his little brother’s body back and fulfilling the promise he made to him.
This is somewhat touched upon in the third theory on Truth’s wiki page—the feelings he has for Winry tempt him away from the task at hand. While it does not tempt him away from the promise he made Al, it tempts him away from saving the country. While Edward is not so selfish as to abandon his friends and family on the Promised Day, he does urge Winry to take Pinako and Den out of the country, saving them from the country-wide human transmutation. Though he does not say he will join them, the request is still selfish on Ed’s part. He cares deeply for Winry, and Pinako has become a found family member for the brothers. While he’s unsure if he will make it out alive, he at least wants Winry to see another day.
At the end of “Rain” we see that the storm has cleared, as shown by the sun shining on Winry. She watches Ed sleep peacefully, a smile on his face. This is what Ed wants, this is the goal he wants to achieve after regaining Al’s body—a happy life with Winry.
This moment will be talked about briefly—in opening 4, “Period” (my favorite), Ed and Al pass through each other and look to their surroundings, noticing that they’re alone. Their world comes back into their view with the assistance of those who matter most to them. Winry is seen smiling behind Edward, reminding him that he isn’t alone. Being the first person he sees (or thinks of, depending on how you look at it), it speaks volumes as to Winry’s importance in Edward’s life. She is so much more to him than his mechanic and best friend.
In a blink and you’ll miss it moment, Edward thinks back to those who have impacted his life in a positive way when facing Truth one last time. Truth asks him multiple times if he’s certain on giving up his alchemy; Edward hears the voices of Roy, Riza, Hohenheim, Armstrong, Izumi, Mei, and Alphonse calling out his name. After a brief pause, he hears Winry, This is when Ed proudly asks, “Who needs alchemy when I’ve got them?”
The pause is significant. Ed is able to think of the others—familial and platonic relationships—without missing a beat. When he thinks to Winry, however, there is a pause. We hear her call out his name as he looks Truth in the eye. His goal has been achieved—he is able to sacrifice his Gate to bring his brother’s body back. With this in mind, and with Father having been defeated, Ed is free to think towards the future, and that is a future involving Winry. The pause symbolizes Ed’s freedom to do so, as well as his next goal, so to speak: live an “ordinary life” with the woman he loves.
There is a time skip of at least two months following the Promised Day. This specific scene is worded different between the English dub and the subbed versions. As shown above, Alphonse asks his brother if he’s “…sure about Winry…” in the subbed version as they return home. While we would expect to see Edward freak out to some degree (i.e. spitting out his coffee when asked by Hawkeye; reciting the periodic table when remembering the conversation in Winry’s presence) he only stares at his little brother questioning my. The question by Al suggests that he and Ed had some form of discussion regarding the latter’s feelings towards their best friend. To ask someone if they’re sure of something suggests that the individual has made some sort of decision. For example, one may ask me if I’m sure about my decision to go to college, something I’ve made known to those around me. During those two months spent in Central, or even during the train ride home to Resembool, the brothers had to have discussed Winry. Alphonse is not only Edward’s little brother, but his best friend and confidant. He can tell him anything without fear of judgment, and he feels safe in divulging what he thought of as selfish desires now that his brother has his body back.
In the English dub, the question is worded differently. Alphonse instead asks “What about you and Winry?” While not entirely the same as the Japanese, this question does continue to emply that Edward spoke of his feelings to Al at some point. This line is Al’s way of asking his brother what his plans with Winry are now that they’re home—how will he go about sharing his feelings with her?
Sadly, we don’t get an answer to either version of the question, as the Rockbell home comes into view and the boys prepare to make their return.
Now, to the most compelling evidence, in my opinion… The white hoodie.
Remember the hoodie Edward returns home in? Just a plain ok’ hoodie, right? No significance whatsoever. Or so we all thought.
Two years after their return, Winry is seen wearing the same hoodie when she sees Edward off to the West (in both Brotherhood and manga!). Now, why would a simple friend have possession of your hoodie? Sure, people share clothing all of the time, but it carries a much deeper meaning when both parties have feelings for each other.
Winry had this hoodie before Ed’s awkward marriage proposal, not after, and while this may be the only canon scene we see her in it, the artists for Brotherhood drew Winry in the hoodie at an earlier time.
Notice how Ed’s and Al’s outfits are different from what we see them in in their final scenes. (Note: It’s easy to argue that Al’s outfit is the same, but he actually lacks the tie he wears in his final scene!) The trio seem to be headed for Trisha’s grave, hence the flowers and the cemetery in the background. Winry is seen in that same hoodie she wears at the train station, and the same hoodie Edward wore home. While her outfit is not different whatsoever from the train station (lazy artists, maybe?) this artwork clearly takes place prior to the seeing the brothers’ off on their journeys. She’s also seen carrying a basket, presumably with apple pie, as the basket has made appearances in other Brotherhood art. It’s clear the trio plan to stay out for awhile, which leads me to doubt that even Alphonse is headed out in this day.
Can we also take notice of the heel on Winry’s shoes? She’s clearly shorter than Ed by a lot. Guess she just can’t handle it.
When you have feelings for someone, you don’t just hand them your hoodie for fun. The boyfriend hoodie, as I’ve dubbed it, is a common thing seen in various types of media. When in a relationship, the other party steals their partner’s hoodie and wears it proudly, even if it’s a bit too big for them (also seen in the manga, as the sleeves reach well past the middle of Winry’s hands). Do you really think Edward would let her steal the hoodie he came home in if they were still just friends? He would freak out to some degree and snatch it back. It’s a different story if the two of them are in a relationship.
With how awkward this boy is, there is no way in hell he let two years go by without confessing, only to propose out of the blue before leaving. While the proposal itself was awkward, what proposal isn’t? Rings are dropped, words are jumbled… Nerves get the better of both parties, and that’s what happened here. It wasn’t a confession of feelings, either. When you tell someone you like them (or love) do you ask for half of their life in return for half of yours? Edward was behaving like anyone would when proposing marriage—even if the love you share with your partner is indestructible, there is always that anxiety nagging you in the back of your mind. What if they say no? What if this is too soon? What if I mess up? What if, what if, what if…
In the timeline provided by Arakawa, Edward leaves for the west in 1917. He also marries Winry in the same year. Again, had the proposal been the beginning of their relationship, I just don’t see them marrying so quickly. Edward most likely returned home after a short stint in the western countries, having his fill of traveling, missing his fiancée more than anything. He rushed back home (within six months is my guess) and neither could wait to start their lives together. They’d been together for two years at that point, and lived without making their feelings known for years. I don’t blame them for rushing into their marriage; it’s actually quite cute to think about! But I fail to understand the idea that Ed and Winry kept their feelings for each other under wraps under the same roof for two entire years. Not to mention, Alphonse and Pinako had to have teased the ever-loving hell out of the two of them. There was no way possible they endured two years of that, mixed with awkward, sexually tense encounters.
#edward elric#winry rockbell#edwin#fma#fullmetal alchemist#fmab#edward x winry#edward/winry#meta#my meta#this is my first meta btw pls go easy on me#holy shit
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Not while I’m around
Summary: When a thunderstorm rolls into town, Wanda comes to the rescue.
Pairing: Wanda x Reader
Warnings: None, just fluff.
A/N: this is the first piece of Wanda fic I’ve written that I’ve been brave enough to publish 🥺 I hope you like it. Also, if anyone else can tell me how to cut this into a link to shorten your pages, please do 😂
You had only been dating for two months when Wanda had come to your apartment, knocking on the door before twisting the handle to let herself in. You had told her early on into your relationship that she was always free to let herself in and you loved that she felt comfortable enough with you to do just that.
“Y/N? I brought dinner,” she calls out, closing the door behind her with a smile, kicking off her shoes. To her dismay, there was no sign of you in the living room, nor in the kitchen of your open plan apartment.
You’d yet to meet the rest of the Avengers. You knew of their reputation, and although you’d been scared to admit it to Wanda when you had first gotten together, you had told her one early morning as you lay with your head on her chest while the sun rose that you were intimidated by them. What if they didn’t like you? What if they didn’t think you were good enough for Wanda? What if they felt the need to abolish you from her life in one way or another.
Of course, she had reassured you that there was no way that would happen: that they were her friends and they’d love you - and she had put you at ease, you’d both agreed to wait just a little longer. Besides, it meant that there was still time for Wanda to keep you for herself - and she loved that too.
Setting the bags of takeout down on the kitchen counter, a frown creasing her forehead as she turns around, wondering where you had gotten to. She had texted you to tell you that she was bringing food, and although you had read it, you hadn’t replied. But the read receipt told her that you knew she was coming over.
“Y/N? Are you home?” She calls out, this time heading towards your bedroom. The door was open and your bedside table was on, casting light and shadows simultaneously against the magnolia walls of your rental property.
It had gotten dark outside early as a storm had rolled in across the city. Rain pelted against the windows while the wind howled, and it had been storming for the past hour or so. “I’m sorry I’m a little later than I said I’d be. Traffic was crazy out. You’d think it was the end of the world, and not a little storm,” she chuckles to herself, before turning out of the bedroom and glancing at the bathroom.
Again, the door was slightly ajar, but all the lights were off. Instinct should have told Wanda that there’s no use checking the bathroom, and yet, she found herself pushing the door open.
Her eyebrows raise as she switches on the light, her eyes landing on you, curled up in the tub.
“Honey, why are you in an empty tub in the dark?” She asks, crouching down at the side of the bathtub with a concerned expression upon her face. “Are you okay?”
You didn’t have to answer verbally. A roll of thunder growled across the night sky, followed by a flash of lightening. Your whole body jumped, causing you to hit your head on the side of the tap. If you weren’t trembling before the impact, you were now.
“Are you scared of storms?” Wanda asks, immediately reaching forward to rest her hand against the side of your head.
Shame washes over your body. You’re way too old to be cowering at the weather. Mentally, you know this. But you can’t help the fear that has you trapped within its vice-like grip.
“I’m not scared, I just-“ you began, before being interrupted by another roll of thunder.
Before you even had a chance to say another word, Wanda had risen to her feet, scooping you up and into her arms, carrying you bridal-style into the living room, where she had set you down on the couch.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, y/n. All fears are valid, and you can always tell me what and how you are feeling. There’s no shame in that,” she says, shaking her head. “Give me five minutes and I will be right back,” she says with a smile, before shrugging off the long cardigan she had chosen to wear. Delicately wrapping it around your shoulders, she places a kiss to your forehead. “There, it’s like a hug from me. It’ll keep you safe until I’m done,” she says, before scurrying off to your bedroom.
Wanda isn’t gone for too long - maybe ten minutes or so, when she comes back to you on the sofa where she finds you pulling the cardigan tightly across your chest. Your knees are brought up to your chest and your forehead rests upon them while you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm outside.
There was no way Wanda was going to explain to you that lightening can travel through plumbing during a storm - and that was why she had lifted you out of the tub. Instead, she taps your shoulder gently and takes your hand, leading you back to the bedroom.
You stayed close to Wanda as she walked before you, your body huddled close to your girlfriend and your grip holding her hand tightly, squeezing it every time you heard another roll of thunder.
It’s absolutely stupid for a grown adult to be afraid of a storm. She’s going to think I’m an idiot.
“I’m not going to think you’re an idiot,” Wanda tells you with a smirk, turning to look at you as your eyes widen. You still hadn’t gotten quite used to the fact that she could read minds - and you often forgot it too.
She kisses the tip of your nose and smiles, before leaning to kiss your lips softly. “You’re adorable. And I’m going to show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she tells you, before she pushes open your bedroom door.
Inside the room, your bedroom looks almost unrecognisable. Sheets and linens had been draped from the ceiling to both walls. Your bed faced the windows in the room, and your bed had been lined with a cacophony of pillows.
Wanda had built you a fort.
Not only was it a fort, it was a fort adorned with fairy lights and the Chinese take out she knew you loved from that place a few blocks away.
“Come on, y/n. Climb in,” she says, releasing your hand only to climb onto the bed, patting the space besides her until you quickly followed. The scent of her perfume on the cardigan she had given you earlier had already helped to relax you, but there was truly no better feeling than of Wanda’s arms circling you protectively.
From where you both lay, you had a great view of the city. It may not be dark outside because night had fallen, but the storm had brought its own darkness in early. “Nothing is ever going to hurt you, y/n. Not while I’m around,” she tells you, allowing you to nestle your head into the crook of her neck. When she feels you flinch with another roll of thunder, she chuckles to herself. “We can watch the storm together and you’ll see,” she tells you.
“You’re laughing at me,” you say, a little timidly. This was the reason you never told anyone about your fear of thunder and lightening. This was was a fear that is traditionally rooted in children under the age of ten, and you had passed that marker decades ago.
“No, baby. I’m not laughing at you,” Wanda promises, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Her hand smooths it’s way up and down your back gently as she watches the storm outside.
“I’m laughing because of the circumstances. You know of Thor, right?” She asks, looking down at you, and watching as you nod your head quietly. “Well…he’s known as the God of thunder. Well, his name means Thunder. Legend has it that lightning was created by him using his Mjolnir - or so I’ve been told,” Wanda explains.
Lifting your head curiously, you raise an eyebrow towards the redhead. “So you’re telling me that all of this is caused by Thor having a tantrum?”
“Well, technically thunderstorms are caused by the atmosphere being unstable - when warm air exists underneath colder air,” Wanda begins to explain, stopping only when she sees you frowning.
“I think I prefer the idea of Thor having a temper tantrum,” you admit, setting your head back down on her shoulder before wrapping your arm around Wanda’s waist.
Her fingers play with the ends of your hair as she hums a soft melody for a moment with a smile on her face as she relishes the comfort of you snuggling up to her.
“If you prefer, you can always tell our children that Uncle Thor is having a tantrum if they’re scared of storms,” she muses quietly, bringing a smile to your face.
Wanda wants a family with you.
And you want a family with her.
And in years to come, whenever there is a thunderstorm, you’re no longer afraid. Not when you’re cuddling your wife and three children beneath a blanket fort in the middle of your living room.
Suddenly, storms aren’t that scary anymore.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x you#Wanda Maximoff#MCU#fluff#reader insert#avengers#wanda x you#thunderstorms#fluffy fic#marvel#who doesn’t love Wanda Maximoff
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someone i once knew : b.b - p.4
with Fury denying Bucky the chance to stay to monitor you, he and the rest of the avengers are forced to go on a mission leaving you alone. if only they new the dire consequences that decision would enforce. (2.3k)
(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)
masterlist / permanent taglist
- i also have an etsy shop and will be releasing wandavision themed items real soon! -
(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)
PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX
(also thank you again and again for the love and excitement for this series - i am loving the writing process and there are now two chapters left!)
“Look, you’re all going, no excuses.” Fury states as he stands before the Avengers all sat around the conference table with furrowed brows.
Bucky sighs to himself, thinking about you sat down in that lab alone, still unsure of what is even happening like everyone else.
“But Sir,” Steve speaks up, all eyes turn to him as Fury raises a brow as to whom is questioning him. “Y/n isn’t just someone, she needs protecting.” He reasons, but Fury exhales deeply.
“Mr Rogers, let me make this clear,” Fury steps forward. “I don’t give a damn.”
“You should.” Bucky mutters under his breath as his arms remain crossed over his chest, barely able to stop his leg from bouncing up and down.
“What was that, Sargent?” Fury quips.
Lifting his head, Bucky coldly stares at Fury, ignoring Steve’s silent pleas for him to back down. “You should care who she is, as she matters to me.” Bucky bluntly states.
“As I said, Sargent, I don’t give a damn.” Fury reiterates his point. “Stark hired her, she went through every background check there is. She’s perfectly fine here, do I make myself clear?”
No one dares to speak up as Fury turns his attention to Maria Hill standing beside him.
“Get the jet ready, they can finish briefing on the way.” Fury tells Hill.
Maria nods as she places her earpiece back on. “Yes, Sir.” She walks out of the room and Fury follows.
“We can talk more about this situation when you return.” Fury comments before exiting the room, leaving the team sat in tense silence as the thought of you lingers on all their minds.
“So that’s it?” Sam asks as Tony rises to his feet, not daring to look up at Bucky or Steve.
“You heard Fury, we’ve got a job to do.” Tony explains, knowing there’s no use trying to argue any further. “Come on, the sooner we go the sooner we can get back.”
*
Sitting in the lab, you wish someone was around to keep you company. The last time you had any form of communication was with Bruce before he left last night for a mission with the rest of the team.
All you can hear were his lasting words of advice; "Don't leave this room."
You were bored out of your mind, stuck in the confined space surrounded by cameras and monitors as you remain hooked up to various machines; yet no one will explain what they all do or what is exactly happening to you.
“Hey, FRIDAY?” You call out, desperate for something to do as you lean against the glass wall, flexing your feet.
“Yes, Ms Y/l/n, how can I help?” FRIDAY asks and you exhale deeply, what can an AI do to provide any assistance whilst her creator is keeping you trapped in a lab?
“Any chance Tony mentioned my dinner plans?” You chuckle, having all the facilities beside a kitchen at your disposal.
“I’ll arrange for dinner to be provided by an Agent, Ms Y/l/n.” FRIDAY responds, and you nod to yourself, sliding down against the glass as you lie flat on your back.
“Thanks, FRIDAY.” You mutter. “God, I’ve truly lost it, talking to an AI for company.” You groan, covering your eyes.
It has been a few days since you had a ‘memory’ or a snippet of one. It’s as if your brain has gone dormant the moment someone finally was willing to listen and provide help.
Yet, your mind always ends up wandering back to the ever-present thought of Bucky Barnes. You’ll never forget the way he screamed your name before he was forced to the ground, thrown out of sight from your point of view. There was something about him, the way he looked at you with so much pain lingering in his eyes, even when you first met him.
“Come on, seriously where are we going?” You giggle, following behind James as his hand remains in yours, guiding you out from the bar filled with soldiers.
Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky smirks at his best girl, still amazed that you’ve stuck with him through all this. “Somewhere special.” He tells you, quickly turning to kiss you sweetly before carrying on.
After walking for around ten minutes, Bucky guides you toward the old hall you used to go to during dances.
“This is somewhere special, huh?” You joke, resting your hands on your hips as Bucky fiddles with the lock, tearing it off with ease much to your surprise.
Releasing the chains, Bucky pulls the door open and motions for you to walk inside. Without hesitation, you quickly slip in as Bucky follows behind.
Your footsteps echo in the empty space, having barely been used for months since the war worsened. There are still banners from the last dance you attended with Bucky, dust lining the stage and the various blown out bulbs.
Bucky hovers near the entrance of the dim hall as the moonlight shines through the broken roof, illuminating your figure as you look around. He tries to ignore the screams that ring through his mind, the horror he witnessed mere weeks ago.
“James?” Your voice brings him back to reality as your hand cups his cheek. “It’s okay, you’re right here, with me.” You softly remind him, having experienced countless nights of cries and screams of terror leaving his lips as he flails around, wishing for it to all end.
Leaning his head against your hand, tears form in Bucky’s eyes as you move closer, wrapping your arms around him and hold him close.
“It’s okay, I promise, it’s okay.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his shoulders rising and falling. “It’s over, James, you’re safe.” You remind him, but his sobs subside as he lifts his head, resting his hands around your waist.
“Doll, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you,” Bucky admits, knowing it’s going to be more painful to tell you he’s leaving again. “I, Steve’s got a plan, one final mission.” Looking up, Bucky can see you trying to remain composed as you bite your lower lip. “And then we’re done, it’s over and I’m all yours, forever.”
“That’s it?” You breathe out. "One final mission?"
Nodding in response, Bucky guides you toward the moonlit spot in the middle of the hall. “That’s it, and then I’ll be here, by your side until you get sick of me.” He jokes, and your gentle laugh fills his ears.
“Won’t take long, but I’ll put up with it if it means you’re here, with me.” You tell him before tearing your eyes from his as you look up at the birds perching on the rails above you, cooing back and forth.
Bucky admires your smile, the sincere look across your face and he knows it’s now or never.
“Y/n?” Bucky asks, and you hum in response as you lower your face, your eyes practically sparkling brighter than the stars. “Do you remember the last time we were here?”
You smile at the memory. “Of course, we danced until everyone else had left.” You remember it vividly, dancing in the silence of the hall together before Bucky walked you home and slept by your side until the sun rose. His lips lingered over your skin as the sunlight beamed through your curtains, burning his eyes with the reminder he can’t stay.
“There was something I never got to say that night, and throughout everything I, I went through,” Bucky trails off.
“Hey, I’m right here,” You softly mutter, gravitating him back to the present.
“I, I always thought of you, my darling Y/n who has been there through thick and thin. I’m in awe of you, I think I always have, ever since we first met. Your defiance for both Steve and I is unmatched, and you’ve weaved a piece of yourself into me and I don’t want it to ever disappear.” Bucky explains, glancing up to see tears forming in your eyes.
“What’re you saying, James?” Your voice cracks as tears begin to fall down your cheeks whilst Bucky lowers himself down onto one knee before you.
“I’m asking if you, Y/n Y/l/n will do me the honour of being my wife, my doll and best friend forever.” Bucky can feel himself going as you bend down, level with him as a watery laugh leaves your lips.
“Yes,” You respond, looking at the beautiful ring that you recognise from his Grandmother. “you and me, James, forever.”
Gasping for breath, you sit upright clutching your chest.
“FRIDAY?” You yell, but there is no immediate response.
Uneasily you stand up as your body shakes, the memory replaying on your mind as the soldiers face is becoming clearer, his name ghosting your lips, but still refuses to leave them.
Looking across to the monitors, you notice they’re all down. Nothing is operating.
With uncertainty, you remove the various wires and pads covering your skin before stepping toward the glass door and pull it open with ease. “Strange.” You mutter under your breath as you walk out, half expecting a series of alarms to blare, but silence follows as you reach the elevator.
As you press the button for the elevator, you watch as it rises from the ground floor. Yet, the closer it gets the sound of voices near.
“FRIDAY, who else is in the compound?” You call out, now backing away from the elevator as it’s two floors away from you.
Silence ensues yet again, and now your heart rate increases as the elevator pings.
Backing away as the metal doors slide open, you rush back into the lab and hide beneath one of the many desks as a series of men yell orders to one another.
“FRIDAY, please,” You whisper to the AI who remains unresponsive as you close your eyes, wishing to remain unnoticed. “emergency protocol seven.” You add as the glass door shatters open, followed by several footsteps crunching across the broken glass.
Lowering your hands from your face, you can see three pairs of feet from where you’re hiding, weapons hanging in their grip.
“Get anything you can whilst the systems are down.” One man instructs, and you can feel your heart sinking further into your chest; you’re on your own, truly, defenceless.
“How long do you think we have?” Another speaks up, his Russian accent thick as the previous man sighs in annoyance.
“Twenty minutes at the most, now don’t waste time.” He spits before turning around nearing the entrance but pauses.
His feet crunch into the glass as he slowly walks back to the other men.
“Do you hear that?” He asks, holding his hand up to his ear as the two men look at him cluelessly.
“Hear what?” The Russian dares to question whilst you bury your body further into your hiding spot, covering your nose and mouth with your hands to suppress your unsteady breaths.
“The elevator stopped here before we planned which floor to go to, so, who called it here?” Your eyes widen in fear as footsteps approach the desk you’re hiding beneath. “Neither of you notice these tubes and wires connected to the monitors?” The man scoffs.
Within a split second, the desk is flipped over, revealing you curled up to the three men with twisted smiles across their faces.
“Hello, Miss.” The leader bends down and kneels in front of you, he extends his arm, revealing a tattoo across his forearm which you recognise from the many files you’ve read. “You and I are going to have a little game, and I can assure you, it’s going to be fun.”
*
Boarding the quinjet alongside Sam, Bucky wipes his lip, ignoring the throbbing sensation as fresh blood lines his fingertips.
“I told you, we’d be in and out.” Tony comments as the jet door closes behind him as he remains almost unscathed, unlike Steve and Bucky who are slightly worse for wear.
“You didn’t have to go off course like that, Tony.” Steve sighs, sporting a black eye as he takes his seat beside Natasha who wraps her wrist up with Bruce’s help.
Shrugging his shoulders, Tony picks up his phone. “Yeah, well, it’s done now and we can carry on with our little mystery back at the compound.” He mutters, briefly looking to Bucky whose thoughts have remained consumed by you ever since he left. “Hey, can we leave right now? We have to get back to the compound!” Tony rushes toward the pilot with a level of urgency in his tone.
“Tony, what’s going on?” Detecting the change immediately, Steve rises to his feet as he walks toward Tony.
Glancing over his shoulder, Tony can see Bucky still staring at him. “Protocol Seven was activated.” Tony explains in a hushed tone, but he should know better considering there were two super soldiers on board.
“What’s protocol seven?” Bucky speaks up, noticing Natasha tense beside Bruce. “What is it?” He repeats, trying to suppress his panic as Steve clenches his jaw.
“How long do you think we have?” Steve asks.
Rubbing his face, Tony sighs. “Maybe forty minutes, FRIDAY will lock the building, but with the systems hijacked it’ll take longer than normal.”
“Stark,” Bucky tries to remain composed as the plates in his metal arm whir, his fist clenching tightly. “what is protocol seven?”
Turning away from Steve, Tony faces Bucky with a heavy heart. “A security breach within the compound, the systems have been hijacked and FRIDAY is on back up mode.” Tony explains, but Bucky can tell he’s holding something back.
“What kind of security breach?” Bucky dares to ask, stepping closer whilst Natasha lowers her head whilst Clint remains sorrowful opposite the Black Widow.
"I'm so sorry, Barnes." Tony softly responds, looking down as FRIDAY's systems begin to reboot, the security camera's slowly reactivating.
“HYDRA, Buck.” Steve states. “HYDRA are in the compound.”
P A R T F I V E
(thank you to the following for all the love so far! if you’d like to be tagged in this mini series do let me know)
@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler
@feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart @soccer-100000 @sunflowerbunny2 @kickingn-ames @choerriesmotion @why-thats-just-delightful @officialfictionalwreck @romanoff-nataliaalianovna @hersilencedscreams @b-r-stark @dezzxmx
#take my heart#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes series#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes oneshot#avengers#avengers imagine#avengers imagines#avengers fluff#avengers angst#avengers oneshot#avengers series#avengers x reader#avengers writing#avengers fic#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel x reader#marvel au#marvel fic#james barnes#james barnes x reader#james barnes imagine
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Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)
Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.
Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.
This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!
Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.
Chapter 1:
It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.
“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.
“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.
The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.
“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.
“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.
“Oh yeah,” you grumble.
“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.
“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.
“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.
“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.
You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.
“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.
Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.
“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.
“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.
“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.
You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.
“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.
“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.
“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.
Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.
“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.
“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.
“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.
You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.
“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.
“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.
“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.
You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.
Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.
“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.
Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.
“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken
You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.
“You guys?!” You call shakily.
“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.
She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.
Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.
“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.
“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.
You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.
“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.
“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.
You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”
“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.
“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.
“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.
The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.
“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.
The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.
“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.
“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.
“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.
Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.
“Yes!” You all shriek together.
Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.
“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.
“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.
The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.
“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.
“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.
“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.
“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.
“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.
“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.
“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.
She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.
“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.
It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.
“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.
“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.
“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.
“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.
“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.
“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.
There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.
“Did we get it?!” You yell.
You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.
Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen
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I just discovered your blog, and I'm in LOVE with your writing! I'm completely obsessed with Familiar, so if it's not to much to ask, could you write a continuation? Thank you so much, your snippets and prompts are greatly appreciated!!
Familiar - Pt 2
First part here
On a scale of one to ten, this was either a -2 or a 12 on the good idea scale. Hero double-checked the address Villain had sent her before looking back at the tiny house. The paint was peeling, steps were rotting and that roof was definitely of the leaking sort. Somehow, she had expected Villain to live on the rich side of town.
When he had invited her over to work on their assignment, her thoughts had been torn between screaming trap and find some evidence. The second side won. If there wasn’t anything in there to prove who Villain really was… Well, she’d have to find another way of getting proof to show the authorities. She knocked and noted the cracked windows to her side. After a few seconds, Villain opened the door.
“Hey, I’m glad you could make it. Come on in.” He led her down the musty hall towards a suspiciously normal bedroom. “Thanks again for making the trek all the way over here. My mom hasn’t been doing too well recently, and I’m trying not to leave her alone for too long.”
“Of course, I get it.” Hero let her eyes trail over the spartan room. The only furniture was a bed and two chairs beside a fold-up table covered with books and scribblers. Funny, the number of times Villain escaped from her with stolen cash made her think he’d at least have better furniture. Or a safe to put the money in. Maybe it was hiding in the closet? Although in this neighbourhood, keeping money lying around might not be the brightest idea. “It’s good that you’re taking care of her.”
He nodded, avoiding her gaze and moving his stuff from the table to the floor. “Hopefully, this next surgery will be the one that works.”
“Yeah, it’s tough watching people you love go through painful things. My sister has a heart problem right now, and it’s terrifying to watch her energy come and go.” Shut up! Stop telling him personal things. “Yeah.” She finished lamely.
Their gazes locked in understanding. Hero was the first to break away. “Ready to start the pain?”
They worked on the assignment in silence for a while. Honestly, there was probably a special punishment designed for whoever invented assignments over ten pages long. This just wasn’t fair. Hero sat back, running a hand through her hair. “I think this is karma's way of punishing me for not reading the textbook.”
His lips quirked. “There’s a textbook for this class? That would’ve been helpful to know at the start of the semester.”
“Want to know how tired I was at the beginning of the semester? I can’t even remember choosing my classes,” she pulled a hand down her face. “I think I just closed my eyes and pointed at the screen.”
“You could have been in differential calculus. Or worse, accounting.”
“Or Phys Ed. Did you know our university has a course devoted to badminton?”
Villain laughed. “What a racket. To think, I could have spent time swinging my arm around and gotten credit for it.”
“But then you’d be missing out on the glories of this assignment.”
“And a friend.”
Oh nope. Big nope. Wait, Hero reconsidered. Were they friends? They did chat after class and had studied a few times together, but that didn’t mean- wait. Huh. Time to deflect with awkward humour and process these feelings later. “I thought you saw me as a role model, but that’s cool too. I’ll just have to find a new lackey.”
“And here I thought you were friends with me for my brilliance and good looks.”
She felt her cheeks begin to burn. “Yep, it’s all for your looks. If you seduce our professor, then we don’t have to do this assignment anymore.”
Villain rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seduced a professor before. Would I have to wear a sweater vest?”
“And a tweed jacket. It’s the only way.” Her fingers twitched, and she was suddenly very aware of him. The light hitting his hair, the way his lips curled when he was amused… Bad, very bad. This is your official ABORT MISSION alert. Find some evidence on the dangerous criminal and get out of there. She cleared her throat. “I’m parched. Could I get some water?”
Villain nodded, standing and leaving the room. Hero leapt out of the chair the moment the door shut behind him. Her eyes latched on the only place one could hide anything in the sparse room - the closet. She yanked it open, feeling her heart speed up at the sound of Villain opening a cupboard in the kitchen and turning on the tap.
The closet was small and impressively dull. Clothes and boxes littered the tiny shelves, with no signs of the files or weapons she was looking for. A flap of a familiar fabric dangling from one of the top boxes caught her eye. Bingo. Hero gingerly reached to feel the consistency, making sure she wasn’t wrong before bringing the authorities in, and accidentally bumped an elbow against the side of the closet. The box plummeted from its precarious placement and met the ground with a thump. No! She scrambled to pick up the box and the spilled-out uniform when a movement behind made her pause.
Villain stood in the doorway, hand clenched around a glass of water. His eyes darted to the clothes on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.
Hero’s throat went dry. She tightened her grip on the clothes and tried to look surprised. “S-something fell in your closet, so I opened it to check what it was.”
“Huh,” Villain said. “That’s unfortunate.”
He knelt, gently taking his outfit from her hands and placing it back in the box. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”
“Clearly.” Hero swallowed and prepared to run if he attacked. Worst case scenario, she had beat him before and could do it again. Theoretically. “I didn’t mean to-“
“I know.” A familiar calculation crept across his face, making her hands shake. Villain sat across from her and blocked the only exit, placing the cup of water between them. She felt trapped against the closet.
“You know, if this had happened a month ago, I would have killed you without a second thought,” he said mildly. “Guess you’re lucky.”
A horrifying reminder that she was not dealing with her awkward classmate anymore. “What are you going to do instead?”
Villain shrugged, seeming far too calm for the situation. “I don’t know yet. Talk, I guess?”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Hero said, lying through her teeth.
“Unfortunately, I’m too old to believe the promises of others so easily.” He trailed his fingers through the thin carpet, tracing patterns through the material. “Even yours. The stakes are just too high.”
“What’s even worth all the stealing and destruction?” she asked quietly. “Why do you do it? “
The fingers paused. “It started out as one job. My mom needed treatment, and we didn’t have the money to pay for it. Then one treatment turned into two.” He shook his head. “Before I knew it, I was on the city’s most-wanted list.”
Her shoulders tensed. “Will you stop when the treatments are finished?”
“There have been other benefits to criminal activity.” Villain ducked his head, cheeks turning pink. “Lots of amazing people to meet. I haven’t decided yet.”
She leaned against the wall beside the closet, feeling safer with something solid against her back. “I don’t know if meeting people through crime is worth a lifetime in jail.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d be surprised.”
Hero picked up the forgotten water sitting between them and drank, if nothing else than for the excuse to avoid responding.
His fingers trailed larger patterns in the carpet. “I never wanted you to find out- this is one of the first friendships I’ve made since I started university. I don’t want to lose that. And I don’t want you getting hurt, but this does put me in a tight position. I won’t let you inform the authorities.”
Hero pressed her back further against the wall.
Villain took one look at her wide eyes and softened his tone. “Just don’t tell. If I get one inkling that you’re about to turn me in, then..." he sighed. "Please don’t make me choose between you and my mom.”
He would know it was her. Hero didn’t think she could after this. Or fight him, knowing it was for his mom’s medical bills. She pursed her lips, making a highly regrettable split-second decision. “Alright. But only on one condition: you stop once her treatments are done.”
He twitched. “I told you, I haven’t decided yet-”
“I’m making the decision for you.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. "Deals are much easier to trust than promises.”
“No. I’d miss-” Villain stopped, clenching his jaw. “I can’t let certain people from that life go yet.”
Something clicked. The girl he liked was from his criminal life… Oh gosh, Hero probably knew her. The brunette villain from the southside? The redheaded weapons supplier? Stop getting distracted.
“I trust you. Give it up as soon as you can.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “For me.” That was even worse. Was it possible to die from a foot in your mouth?
Villain relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s a deal.” He stuck out a hand and Hero grasped it, shaking firmly and ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest. So like, a 5 on the good idea scale.
@revrevrew-personal @spruceandpine @sailor-cat2 @literally-just-kirby @emerqlds @chaoticgoodandu @notsocharmingmagician @flying-paperboat @touchedbyanerdyotaku
#my writing#writing#hero#villain#creative writing#hero x villain#heroes and villains#hero villain snippet#snippet#my snippet#sorry for the long wait guys!#two idiots in love#if i was Hero I'd tell Villain's mom
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“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.” with Javi 😩 OR marcus moreno bc I think it fits him too
Personal Number (Javier Peña x f!Reader)
Summary: You’re lonely working as the American ambassador’s secretary. You miss the days of being down with the agents as a receptionist. At least you get to talk with Javier Peña on the phone somewhat often.
W/C: 1.5k
Warnings: language, brief mentions of sexual content. this is pretty tame.
A/N: I LOVE JAVIER. can you tell?? thank you for this idea Thea!!! I love it so much and I hope you like it too. Also, can you tell I like writing phone calls? I just think it’s so fun and a medium that isn’t covered super often.
it’s definitely not because I like not having to write about body language or action.
Javier Peña was a flirt. You knew that from the start, from the stories you’d heard from the other women around the embassy. He was cute, you admitted. Tight shirts and equally slim-fitting jeans, dark hair, lean and strong. He walked with power in his stance.
You liked him. He was a nice man, respectful. He flirted with everyone, but he never went too far. Sure, he’d slept with a solid chunk of the women who worked here, but he was supposedly a wonderful lover. His methods were unorthodox in the field, but he got what he needed. He was incredibly clever, setting up traps and getting information by any means necessary. You talked occasionally, when he’d stop by because you had a message for him at the receptionist desk. He was good for conversation. He liked the cinnamon candies you kept on your desk.
The other women talked with you more than he did. You and the other women chatted, ate lunch together. The rare female presence was much appreciated in such a testosterone-laden environment. You all got along well. Even compared stories of sleeping with certain agents, how their skills at finding the clit ranked, how snuggly they were after, how receptive they were to certain acts. It was fun.
Javier was a busy man. The phone on his desk rarely rang. If someone needed someone around the embassy, they went and talked to them in person. It was an excuse to get away from your desk, people figured. You rarely used the phone too, even as a receptionist. You’d answer calls when they came, but they were usually directed other places, with specific extensions. People here were more direct.
That was before you’d been appointed as the ambassador’s secretary. It was an honor. It meant you were good at your job. You’d taken it, bragging to the other girls over lunch. Everyone was excited for you.
The job, you found out, was dry. It consists most days of making phone calls. Stechner, Ambassador wants you. Ambassador? Stechner’s here. Yep. I’ll let him in. Hi, we’ll take three orders of arepas- sorry, yes sir? Scratch that, he wants four. And can you throw in a coffee- one second, yes sir? Got it- with four creams and two sugars.
You doodle on a notepad many days. You read newspapers or reports. You proofread memos for the ambassador before he sends them off to someone important. It’s draining and dry and you have to admit you hate it.
“Peña,” a voice answers the phone.
“Hi Javier. Are you busy?” You ask.
He smiles a little as he hears your voice, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “When am I ever around here?” He asks, and you chuckle.
“I know the feeling.”
The two of you had talked a few times before. He was nice enough, if curt. Usually, he was busy. People only came to you when they needed something as a receptionist, and now even more so as a private secretary.
“How’s the promotion treating you?” He asks. He’d heard word as he talked with others. Noticed your spot was empty for a day or two before being replaced by another woman. He missed the little candies you kept on your desk. You always kept cinnamon disks stocked in a separate jar from the seasonal candies for him.
“It’s… good,” you nod, drawing a little fish on your notepad. “Kind of feels like a demotion sometimes. It’s boring up here. And lonely. I miss being around to talk with people.”
“We miss you,” he admits with a smile. “You still keep those cinnamon candies on your desk up there?”
You shake your head, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder. “No. Ambassador doesn’t like them, so I switched over. I did get some new fun caramel flavored stuff though.”
“Damn,” he chuckles.
“Would it make you come up here if I had them?”
“I may have to visit the ambassador more often if you did,” he teases, and you chuckle softly. “Poor little social butterfly, cooped up on the highest floor, away from humanity.”
“I do feel like Rapunzel some days,” you sigh, still smiling. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to ask if you were busy for the ambassador, not for myself. He wants to see you if you have a minute.”
“Yeah, I’ve got time. Right now?”
“Right now.”
You can hear shuffling on the other end. “Let me put my signature on one more paper and I’ll be up.” He hangs up and you sigh. There was the most interaction you’ll get for the day.
-
It seems that the closer the men get to Escobar, the more the ambassador needs to see Murphy and Peña. You don’t mind. The two men are funny, and the way they interact makes you smile.
Peña talks to you more than Murphy. Steve is more likely to go outside to smoke, while Javier smokes at his desk. That means you dial him more often simply because there’s a higher probability he’s at his desk. Not because you enjoy talking with him more.
The two men had picked up on calling you Rapunzel. Your energy and excitement was draining day by day, and they compared your new position outside of the ambassador’s office, high on the top floor of the embassy, to Rapunzel’s tower.
You playfully called them Javi and Stephen in return to annoy both of them. It didn’t work on Javier. It turned out he liked that, and you could tell by the way his voice softened. So you kept that.
“Peña.”
“Guess who?” you ask dryly, tapping your pen against your notepad.
The man chuckles. “You must be having an exciting day up there. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Ha.” The word is humorless and flat. “Ambassador wants to see you two.”
Javier groans. “Kind of busy.”
“Well, I’ll tell him that,” you nod and write down on a legal pad- separate from your doodling pad- Peña busy. 11:30. “How are things going down there today?”
“Annoying. Steve is a pain in my ass- hey, shut the fuck up,” you can hear him say even as he removes the receiver away from his phone. You giggle at that, smiling as he speaks again. “Sorry. Can you guess who that was?”
“What was he saying this time?” You ask, twirling the cord to the phone around your finger.
“Nothing,” he insists, but you can hear Murphy shouting. Some message he’s trying to get to you.
“Well, alright. Call up when you’re less busy,” you ask him and hang up.
You really want to know what Murphy was going on about. You dial his desk and he picks up. “S’this Rapunzel?” A southern accent twangs.
“Of course,” you chuckle. “What were you shouting into Javi’s phone?”
“Oh, nothing. Oh, hey, wait,” he says, pulling the phone down and pressing it to his chest. You can hear the muffled voices of the two men, but not what they’re saying. He puts it back to his ear quickly after. “Anyway, it’s nothing. We’ll call you back when we’ve got a minute to come up.”
Odd, you think, before going back to your work on your desk.
-
The phone rings again an hour later. “Ambassador’s office,” you say with a gentle lilt to your voice.
“Hey, Rapunzel,” a kind but rough voice speaks through the phone. Javi.
“Hey,” you chuckle a little. “You guys ready to come up?”
“Uh, no, not yet. But I do want you to write something down for me.”
“Anything,” you nod, priming your pen above the piece of paper.
Javier rattles off ten numbers, and you diligently write them down on the paper. You repeat it back and he affirms that it’s correct. “Got it. What is it?”
“It’s my personal phone number.”
“Javi, the ambassador already has your phone number.”
“No, I know. It’s for you.”
Oh. Your heart flutters excitedly in your chest, causing you to let out a soft giggle.
“I like talking with you. Our phone calls are the highlight of my day. You can call me whenever you want… even if you don’t have a reason to. I just… like hearing your voice. I like you.”
You clutch the paper, grinning ear to ear. “Well, I like you too, Javi. I’ll be using this,” you assure him, looking down at it and beaming. “Now, you said you’re busy. Get back to work.”
“Yes ma’am. See you in a bit.”
Click. Dial tone. Your heart fills with sparks and little fireworks, sending you into a loud laugh of excitement.
The thick oak doors swing open. The ambassador looks at you with concern. “Everything alright out here?” He asks you.
You nod, biting your lip and looking down to hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah. Great, sir. Peña and Murphy aren’t ready yet. They’ll be up later.”
The man gives you a nod and closes the door behind him.
The grin returns. You trace the freshly-dried ink, the nine numbers that will connect you directly to Javier at any time you want. You pull your contact book from your purse, sitting beneath your desk, flipping to a clean page.
Javier Peña, you write.
xxx-xxx-xxxx
personal number
You go back and draw a small heart next to his name.
#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javi peña x reader#javi peña#narcos fanfic#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pascalpanic
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hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more
for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z.
for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar?
that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!
[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]
trendy
the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about.
trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do?
you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone.
what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here.
at least, you assumed so.
how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking.
d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.
hey, you texted, can you help me with something?
his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need
how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?
lololol, it’s not possible :p
a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.
don’t lie.
a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh.
“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.”
just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response.
a vpn and a proxy site.
a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster.
can you set it up for me?
after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed.
levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions.
click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself.
you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more.
“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.”
you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.
once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs.
what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you.
for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm.
you blinked.
you’ll trigger the what?
i’ll trigger the fucking What?
levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.
roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^
yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.
you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible.
of course bestie :] ily
ily2 normie -_-
in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.
you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world.
a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind.
your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms.
after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea.
you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.”
and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it.
levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway.
come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed.
you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were.
yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something.
boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included.
walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form.
you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone.
you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up.
there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”
human intuition is a wonderful thing.
your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh.
huh.
the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.
you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.
what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something.
you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it.
well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨.
#FUCK#this took FOREVER im so glad im done#one day i'm gonna know how to write consistently i promise#i hope u enjoy!#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me!#obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphie#obey me belphegor
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hello please accept my humble offering of the first two pages of a would-be piolet episode (written in script format)
Open in a busy bank. Lots of people lined up, bank tellers and customers making small talk. Suddenly a loud crash is heard. Heads turn to see a small spherical robot flying in through a hole in the glass door. It stops in the center of the room and large holographic screens are projected out from all sides. On the screens, VILLAIN appears. She is dressed in a black cloak, with most of her face covered in shadow. Only her mouth is visible. She speaks.
VILLAIN: Greetings citizens! From this point forward no one is allowed to move. My delightful little robot is equipped with motion sensors. If any of you move it will explode, which would be a real shame for anyone trapped in a room with it.
As VILLAIN speaks, the camera pans around to the people inside the back who are standing still as stone with the exception of their faces. Their expressions get more fearful by the minute. More robots fly in. For a moment we see things through the eye of the first bot, it scans the newcomers and detimins them as friendly.
VILLAIN: My bots will empty the vault within ten minutes and you will all be free to go about your lives. So long as no one moves. Have fun!
The screen blinks out. Cut to VILLAIN’s lair. A dark room, designed to look like a cave. At one end, VILLAIN sits in front of a large computer screen. She throws her hood back, laughing. She leans back in her throne-like chair and spins around to face ASSISTANT, who is holding a tablet.
VILLAIN: How was that? Great, right?
ASSISTANT: Evilness was up 10% since last week's bank robbery. I calculate an 89% chance of success.
VILLAIN: That's what I like to hear! I'm the best. You're the best. I love winning.
ASSISTANT blushes but VILLAIN does not see. Behind them the screen starts to blare an alarm with a large red exclamation point flashing. VILLAIN sighs and turns around.
VILLAIN: Goddammit. What now?
With the push of a few buttons, a window pops up with security camera footage of the bank. A light pink blur can be seen whizzing around. Switching cameras, VILLAIN sees a pile of her robots in the corner.
VILLAIN: Are you kidding me!?
Zoom in on the screen until the camera is inside the bank. HERO is zipping around, too fast for the motion sensors to detect her. Once the other robots have been taken care of she grabs the 1st one and flies it offscreen. Que explosion and crown cheering. HERO flies back inside.
HERO: Don't worry friends! As long as I'm here you needn't fear Villain or any of her evil robots! I’ll always be around to save the day!
Hero beams. The crowd cheers, chanting her name. Fade out until we're back in VILLAIN's lair watching the screen. VILLAIN angrily slams a button, causing the screen to go black. She slumps down, face smushed into the keyboard.
VILLAIN(muffled): why does she have to ruin everything?
ASSISTANT opens their mouth to respond but VILLAIN cuts them off, now sitting up
VILLAIN: I mean, god, doesn't she know how expensive these robots are? It's insensitive, really. And she calls herself a hero.
VILLAIN scoffs
ASSISTANT: It's hard to believe you guys are related.
VILLAIN: You're telling me. She's so…
ASSISTANT: Excessive?
VILLAIN: Annoying.
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Wrote the second part of AU where Aaron moves into a flat share. This part is a bit angsty but then it will lighten up.
(You can read Part 1 first here )
Come sail your ships around me
There was a lot of milk left over so I made a quiche. Assuming you’re not actually allergic to fresh vegetables, I made enough for two. Better for you than take-aways. Please wash up the dish when you’ve done.
Aaron’s eyebrows play as he reads the note. Alright - so he’s had the odd take-away since he moved in a couple of weeks earlier – it’s been an adjustment period. It’s not as if he lives on them. And, anyway what’s his housemate doing? - Going through the bins? It makes him wonder for a moment what else he’s been snooping through.
He leans over the quiche in question to examine it. Definitely something green in it. He wrinkles his nose. But on the other hand, the kitchen smells savoury and warm and good.
He washes his hands with a sigh under the kitchen tap, shrugs off his hi-vis.
He takes a spatula and places half the remaining quiche on a plate. Grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge and pops the lid. He treads lightly down the metal steps to the garden and sits at the bistro table.
With the sun shining through the leaves, he takes a first bite. It’s crisp and light and he inhales it, serenaded by the resident blackbird, goes back inside to fetch the rest.
‘Hello.’
He’s on the stairs when he hears the voice. It takes him a moment to locate it. There’s a bloke standing on the other side of the garden fence, who he wouldn’t be able to see except from this elevated position. The bloke has keys in one hand and a package wrapped in greaseproof paper in the other.
‘I’m Mike, your downstairs neighbour.’
‘Aaron,’ he nods introducing himself.
‘Lovely weather,’ Mike goes on. ‘Not that you and Robert get to see a lot of it. Have you settled in alright? He told me you were coming. You must be like ships in the night, the two of you. I suppose it’s one way to keep the interest alive?’ He smiles rather salaciously, then goes on, ‘Are you a foodie, too?’ Aaron watches his eyes travel wistfully to the plate in his hand. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet with that one!’
Mike’s mobile phone starts ringing and he fishes it from a pocket with the hand holding the keys. ‘I have to get this – possible job interview, but don’t let me keep you. You’ll have to come round for a beer one evening and tell me how you two met - maybe I can bag myself one!’ He cracks another grin. then looks down and says hello into his phone. From inside there’s the sound of barking as he disappears under the entrance porch into the house.
Aaron stands for a moment holding his plate.
Now there’s no one to see him, he pulls the corners of his mouth down. How well does this Mike know Robert? Clearly, well enough to pass judgement on his cooking. Whereas he, Aaron, who shares his space, has never even met him face to face. He can’t explain why but he feels a sudden irrational resentment of Mike the Neighbour.
He watches an action film until bedtime and, after, sleeps fitfully, wakes suddenly, convinced he can smell fish and chips.
It sends him rolling down deep into a tunnel where he can’t breathe, and his heart rattles like a bird flung back and forth against the sides of a cage.
He sits up, arm pits running, turns on the lamp; it’s not enough so he climbs out of bed, crosses the room and turns on the big light.
He grabs the robe that isn’t his from behind the door and wraps himself in it, moves back and sits against the bed head, tugging the cover up.
His chin drops and he feels the tears smart from his eyes and run over his cheeks. Why is he still such a loser, letting himself get dragged down?
Was moving here was a massive mistake after all? He’s out of sight. His Mum’s getting on with her life with Paddy, with the pub. Adam’s at the farm and probably going out with lasses. They’re probably glad he’s gone. And who can blame them?
He’s all adrift.
He casts about the room looking for something to distract him from the pain and the panic.
His eyes land on the book on the far bedside table. He clutches at it, bringing it near and gazes at the cover. Space Minotaur – he reads the blurred title. Frankly the illustration on the cover is ridiculous. He wipes his nose on his arm, opens the book where Robert has left a book mark, takes a cursory glance at the page. Somehow, he finds himself reading one sentence, then another.
This Ariadne is clearly in love with Captain Theseus and her father is a dick. He’s the real monster not the Minotaur. The captain has been tasked with saving the galaxy by defeating the Minotaur in a labyrinth of worm holes that will take him to a parallel universe. Will he ever get back? Aaron imagines himself as Ariadne as she implores him not to go. Theseus kisses her. It’s really nice. He turns the page.
There’s an erotic scene which Aaron skip reads, blushing wildly, but still impressed by Theseus’s pounding member. Now Theseus has to go. Ariadne says she can help him trace his route back through space in his ship with thirty oars … the words start to swim in front of his eyes.
He wakes cocooned in the robe.
The white pages of the open book beside him reflect the morning sun. Some of the pages are creased where he’s slept on them. He smooths them, places the book back carefully on the nightstand, gets up and goes to the bathroom to pee.
He thinks about Gordon. In the cool light of day, he can imagine that what happened, happened to someone else, not him. He remembers at work listening to the radio, he’d heard someone say how all the cells of your body replace themselves every seven to ten years. In which case he’s not the person all those things happened to anymore. He doesn’t have to be.
I got you a bookmark of your own. Please don’t turn down the corner of the pages again, it ruins them.
PS. I made a larger tiramisu this time since I noticed you liked the last one. It’s in the labelled box in the fridge.
He picks up the bookmark and inspects it. Time has moved on. Robert - well both of them now - are on book three of the Demigods in Space series, but this is from the first book: Aaron never did find out what happened to Theseus - whether he got back safely - because Robert presumably finished the story and replaced it before he had time.
The bookmark is just a flimsy rectangular strip of card. On one side there’s an illustration of the Minotaur framed by stars, on the other Captain Theseus. His impressive member is trapped inside some jazzy metallic space trousers; his face enigmatic, hidden by a helmet and visor except for some locks of escaping blond hair.
He frowns, takes the bookmark to the bedroom and lays it down on his table. All evening he’s conscious of it there - waiting for him to turn in for an early night.
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New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2
A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh? Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic! Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services. But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself. So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one! Trigger warning for fertility issues. The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.
Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner. Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend. It wasn’t that she minded the time alone. Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company. But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.
“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door. Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift. “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”
“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break! Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp. Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”
Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel. It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all. She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.
The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby. Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink. They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.
“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated. They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.
“Alright, hen. Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”
The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes. Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.
***
The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air. Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze. Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors. Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual. The kitchen was next. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.
After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette. She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.
Ten o’clock. Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.
***
Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch. She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat. Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online. Dirt paths meandered the park, entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells. It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.
The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life. And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.
Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind. It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park. Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.
Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient. With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself. Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.
With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.
“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine. Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat. A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel. She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.
“Franklin! Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady! Ye near knocked her o’er.”
Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return. She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere. She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered. “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken. An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.” As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood. It suddenly hurt to breath.
“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered. “No harm done.” Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair. “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.
The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.
***
As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events. No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago. The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue. What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?
She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly. Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship. Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse. But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt. No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her. It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.
It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling. A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer. She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.
Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud. Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.
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