#i mean i remembered but reading out and rewriting is Yeah.
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BIOGRAPHY. julya kyburz.
Name. Julya Kyburz
Occupation. Assassin for Hire
Species. Pillar Men
Age. 23 Years Old [73 Years Old]
Height. 180cm
Place of Birth. St. Moritz, Switzerland
Date of Birth. 11.28.1940
Residence. Canada
Parental Figures. Lara Kyburz[biological mother], Caspian Sable[adopted "father"]
Siblings. N/A
Skills. excellent marksmanship, loose weather manipulation[only snow/cold weather], able to detect weather events, immediate regeneration, enhanced senses, absorption of living material, protective stone shell.
Appearance. Julya has long wavy blond hair that is generally tied into a low pony tail. She has milky white eyes with barely a distinction between her irises and her sclera. Julya usually wears a large scarf that covers the lower half of her face, but she can also at times be seen wearing a basic white button up and tie. On her left eye is a red triangle-like mark that points upward and on her right is another that points downward. Additionally, Julya has two horns that resemble screws. They are above her ears and point slightly backward.
Biography. content warning: Parental Neglect, Alcohol Abuse, Suicide, Abandonment, Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Mental Abuse, Grooming, and Self Harm.
Julya was born in St. Moritz, Switzerland, to Lara Kyburz and no father. They lived in a remote cottage and due to Julya being blind, Lara began to isolate her from the rest of the world. This got worse with time; due to Julya being half pillar at the time, Lara couldn't touch her without risking having parts of her flesh absorbed. Not only that, but Lara began to struggle with earning money and feeding not only herself but also Julya.
Julya struggled to eat most things, so Lara began to draw her own blood to give to her daughter, which only made Lara's mental and physical health degrade faster. Julya herself, as she grew, would wander off whenever Lara wasn't home--usually her mother went drinking for long periods of time--into the snowy woods around their home. Given Julya's high tolerance and immunity to most damage, she would stand out in the snow for hours, listening to the wilderness, growing to it enjoy it more than being in her home. By the time Julya was 7, she began to worry about her mother and why she was alone all the time, since Lara would leave for hours and hours, even days without feeding her. Though she was always reassured then everything was fine and Lara was very happy.
This eventually spiralled completely on Julya's 10th birthday, where her mother decided as soon as Julya fell asleep that it would be better to simply end her own and Julya's life. Neither would suffer that way. Lara set a fire that burned the entire house ablaze, though while Lara burned and her screams soaked the air, Julya remained untouched, awoken and unable to do anything as she smelt burned flesh and heard everything till it came to silence in the morning. Later on, she would have an intense phobia of fire and due. Rather than dying, Julya fell into a deep slumber, turning to stone for 50 years within the wreck of her burnt home.
She was awoken by a man named Caspian Sable, using his stand--which had the capability to give any stone/statue life--[HEY JUDE]. Julya was still mentally and physically 10, and Caspian took it upon himself to "take her in." At first, their relationship was wonderful. He taught her to read, taught her english, history, everything someone her age could need. Soon, however, Caspian learned that with a simple touch, Julya could kill someone; leaving nothing in their tracks. No evidence. He also learned that if he let her starve or standing out in the sun, she would revert back to stone. With his abilities, he could turn her back but when she would awake she would have a hunger, so intense she would kill whatever was nearby her without hesitation. Caspian used this to his advantage, using her to kill whoever he wanted. This was when she was around 13.
The first attempt to try this was a failure, as he was nearly killed. Though it was a learning experience to Caspian and he soon learned how to better path and control the hungered frenzies Julya falls into. He would manipulate and throw niceties at Julya to keep her under check, not to mention doing his own little 'loving activities' to assure she was under his control. In her mind, he knew what was best for her, and she had no home or anyone that loved her aside from him.
This would change when Julya would meet a boy named Jovanni Joestar and over the next few weeks, Jovanni would convince Julya that what she was doing might not be a good thing...this lead to them getting close and her relationship with Caspian to grow not only more distant but also tense.
Due to this distancing, Caspian saw this as an opportunity to remind her of her place and who she belonged to through both physical, mental, and sexual abuse. An almost "culmination" of all of his supposed good treatment of her. However after it had finished, she snapped and went to kill him, giving a slow and painful death as she ate away at him with her skin. All throughout the process, Caspian would beg and yell and scream at her about how she needed him, and that he cared, and everything he did was for her.
Julya would spend the next week doing nothing, sitting in a corner of the Caspian's mansion and starving herself. At first she thought she was alone, nobody left--then she remembered Jovanni. Who throughout the week had moved his stuff into the mansion and had tried to not only feed her but give her comfort. Julya never argued or protested this, and soon decided it would be best if he lived with her.
There will be some times where Julya feels like she has to punish herself for what she did, mostly by poking her own eyes out--which would so quickly regenerate. Though a majority of the time it was peaceful. With time she adjusted. Julya is large on saying that she hates people with the exception of Jovanni.
Julya would grow hungry and eventually decided that she should take her life into her own hands, rather than sitting quietly and starving in a dark corner. She began to look for jobs, and eventually lead to her leaning that she could earn money for assassinating others or even just tracking them down.
#study ;; 𝔴𝔢𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫 𝔄𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔷𝔲𝔤#i forgot how fucking depressing julya's origin was holy fuck#i mean i remembered but reading out and rewriting is Yeah.
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heather mccrimmon is my oc now i've decided
#i've read her first few comics and yeah they're about what i expected#which means there's a ton of empty space to fill in surrounding her character#i can literally just insert the ideas i already had and nothing changes#except for the fact that 10 is a bit ooc when you remember where this is in his timeline#like immediately post-donna he would NOT be that blase about being reminded of jamie#i might end up rewriting their first comic to flesh it out a bit#i'll have to give it some thought but i definitely wanna go somewhere with this they have so much potential#dw#liveblogging#my posts
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Hell House | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)
Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, unwanted sexual advances toward reader (nothing crazy, just uncomfortable flirtation)
Word Count: 6125
Series Rewrite Masterlist
After leaving John and the Daevas behind, you and the boys began heading to Texas to investigate a potential case.
Sam slept in the front seat of the car as Dean cruised down Interstate 35. He looked at you suspiciously, smirking in the rearview mirror.
“What?” you whispered.
“Watch this,” Dean told you, grabbing a plastic spoon from the backseat next to you and put it in Sam’s mouth. Snickering, he took a picture with his phone before turning the music up loud. You rolled your eyes and laughed as Sam jerked up waving his arms and trying to spit the spoon out.
“Ha ha, very funny,” the younger Winchester said un-amusedly.
Dean gave what you could only describe as a giggle. You thought it was adorable. “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas; kinda gotta make your own.”
“Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again,” Sam stated.
“Start what up?” you asked.
“Prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates,” Sam explained to you.
Dean mocked, “Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” replied Dean.
“Alright, just remember you started it.”
“Ah ha, bring it on baldy.”
“Guys, I am not going to mediate or participate in a prank war,” you jumped in.
“Nobody asked you to, sweetheart,” Dean flippantly responded. “But don’t be surprised if you get caught in the crossfire.”
“Dean—!”
“Where are we anyway?” Sam cut you off.
“A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?” Dean asked.
“About a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”
“Haunted by what?” you asked.
“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answered.
“Oh, great,” you grumbled.
Sam laughed. “Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”
You scoffed. “Oh, even better.”
“Anybody ID the corpse?” asked Dean.
“Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains.”
“Maybe the cops are right,” the older brother suggested.
“Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” Sam shrugged.
“Where’d you find those?” you asked.
The brunet hesitated, seeming a little embarrassed. “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormal websites. And I found one.”
“And what's it called?” Dean prompted.
“HellHoundsLair.com.”
“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement.”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, probably."
“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter,” Dean quipped.
“Look, we let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out.”
“Agreed. But not on the mistake part— I’m not getting involved in that argument,” you said.
“Good call,” Dean responded. “So where do we find these kids?”
“Same place you always find kids in a town like this,” Sam said. He directed his brother to a fast food outlet called “Rodeo Drive.”
You interviewed all of the kids who had been involved in the incident, and the only detail they could agree on in their story was that a teen named Craig had been the one to introduce them to the house.
***
The next day, you went to the record stop Craig worked at and posed as interviewers trying to get his side of the story on a paranormal feature you were writing. Sam had asked him about the house he’d taken his friends to.
“You mean the Hell House?” the teen answered.
“That’s the one,” answered Dean.
“I didn't think there was anything to the story,” Craig shrugged.
“Why don't you tell us the story,” Sam told him.
Craig quieted his voice and looked around for eavesdroppers. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”
“How?” you questioned.
“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”
‘Oh, that’s just great.’
“Where'd you hear all this?” Dean questioned.
“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second.”
“But now you do,” the younger brother finished for him.
“I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”
***
You and the boys headed to the Hell House. It was more like a dilapidated shack at this point; it looked like it had been made with wooden boards that were probably rotting and hollowed out by termites. The path up to the house was muddy, and the house itself was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by woods. Add “woods” on top of “misogynistic ghost,” and you were thoroughly worried about this hunt.
“Can't say I blame the kid,” Sam commented, taking in the appearance of the house.
“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” quipped Dean. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart? You look like you’re gonna hurl.”
You looked up at Dean. “Well, misogynistic ghosts that kill any girl who goes inside don’t exactly tickle my fancy.”
Dean’s tone became a little more sincere, but still filled with his typical sarcastic charm. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle myself. Just uneasy, that’s all.”
“Hey, (Y/N)?” Sam asked. “I realized something back in Chicago.”
“What’s that?” you asked while you ducked under the police tape blocking the door.
“You never told us where you’re from. You know we’re from Lawrence, so, what’s your story?”
“Honestly, Sammy, I have no idea,” you responded. “My parents never told me. I don’t have a copy of my birth certificate either. If it weren’t for my mom using my middle name when she was mad at me, I wouldn’t even know what it was. Don’t know my social security number, either. I’m not even confident the government has record of my existence.”
“Huh,” replied Sam. “How’d your mom even have time for a kid if she’s been hunting since you were born?”
You took out your flashlight and continued looking around while you talked to Sam. “That’s the thing, she didn’t. My mom was never really a mom to me, and she certainly wasn’t to my little brother. Even though he was only two years younger than me, I kind of had to fill the role of ‘mom’,” you explained.
Sam looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“Meh, it’s whatever,” you shrugged. “You got something?”
Dean was looking around with his EMF meter. It was beeping, but not making sounds indicative of a usual reading. “Ye-ah,” he sounded unsure. “The EMF’s no good.”
“Why?” Sam questioned.
Dean looked at the power lines just outside the house. “I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings.”
“Yeah that'd do it,” Sam sighed.
“Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time, though,” Dean stated, looking at the symbols covering the walls.
“And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s,” Sam informed.
You and Dean stared at Sam for a moment before the older brother quipped, “That is exactly why you never get laid.”
You patted Sam’s shoulder. “I think it’s cool,” you assured him.
He returned your smile. “Thanks, (Y/N).”
Dean moved to another wall with a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom piece of the cross looked almost like a fishhook. “Hey, what about this one? You guys seen this one before?”
Sam shook his head, but you felt a sense of vague recognition, too. “Somewhere, I think.”
“Yeah, me too,” Dean said.
Sam rubbed the symbol. “It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”
Dean sighed. “I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one.”
A sudden noise had you on high alert. You and Dean flanked one side of the door, guns drawn, and Sam took the other. Dean nodded, and the three of you burst through only to be met with blinding lights in your eyes.
“Oh, cut. It's just a coupla humans,” a nasally male voice said.
The two men before you both donned backpacks and baggy cargo pants. They were around your height and seemed like complete involuntarily-celibate nerds to you.
“What are you guys doing here?” the same guy asked. He held an electrical device in one hand while the other man held a video camera.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean’s gruff reply came.
“Uh, we belong here; we're professionals?” the man said matter-of-factly.
You scoffed. “Professional what?”
The man eyed you up and down before answering, and you fought the cringe crawling up your spine. “Paranormal Investigators.” He handed you a business card. “There you go, take a look at that, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” you gritted through your teeth.
Dean took the card from you, saying, “Easy, tiger.” He read it and muttered, “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”
“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair.com. You guys run that website,” Sam noted.
The man who had been looking you up and down who’d identified himself as Ed nodded proudly.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans,” Dean grinned.
“And ahh, we know who you guys are too,” Ed said confidently.
You shot a sideways glance to Dean. “Oh yeah?”
“Amateurs.”
You and Dean immediately lost interest.
Ed continued, “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills.”
“Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry finished.
“Really? What have you got so far?” you asked.
“Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”
Sam played dumb, too. “EMF?” You could tell he was fighting a smile.
“Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” Harry gestured to the machine Ed was holding, who turned it on.
“Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg,” Harry noted.
“2.8. It's hot in here,” Ed grinned.
Dean whistled in mock admiration. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…?”
“Once. We were, uh— We were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table—”
“By itself,” Harry finished.
“Well, we, we we we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that… it, uh… it changes you,” Ed said solemnly.
“Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work,” Dean broke their stupor. “C’mon, (Y/N).”
He led you and his brother out of the room with the two guys in it. Dean stood behind you protectively.
“What?” you asked him as he led you out of the house.
“Didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he grumbled before seeming to realize what he had just admitted. “And… uh, misogynistic ghosts, and all.”
A smile spread across your face. “Thanks.”
***
You and the boys headed to a diner for some cheap burgers and beer before you decided to hit the road. You couldn’t find any missing persons matching the description of the Jane Doe that had been in the house, nor could Sam find anything on a Mordechai Murdoch. The real man had existed under a different name. You ruled the case a bust, and just wanted to relax a little before leaving town.
“How’s that thing on your leg healing?” Dean asked you, referencing the deep gashes you’d received in Chicago.
“Meh, it’s okay,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your beer. “It’s way better than it was a few days ago.”
“Good,” he nodded before clearing his throat. “So? Sammy, you got anything?”
His brother was scrolling the internet in search of a new case when something caught his attention. “Dude.”
“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.
“The Hell House.”
***
Emergency vehicles and officials hurried about, interviewing witnesses and wheeling out a stretcher with a body bag on it. The sinking feeling you got from the Hell House returned to your stomach as you and the boys approached it.
“What happened?” Dean asked a bystander.
“A couple of cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” explained the bystander. “She was a straight A student with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense.” He walked away from the two of you.
“I don’t understand,” you started. “How could we’ve missed something?”
“I don’t know,” Sam shook his head.
“Back to the drawing board, I guess,” Dean sighed.
You waited for the emergency vehicles to clear out and allow you and the boys the ability to get another look at the house. Two cops remained guarding it, though, to which Sam commented, “I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there.”
You and the brothers were crouched in the bushes, trying to plan how to get in the house. You then heard whispers that caught your attention, and turned to see Ed and Harry clunkily approaching with cumbersome backpacks and gadgets covering them from head to toe.
“You gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbled. “I got an idea.”
You shot him a confused look while he stood a little taller and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Who ya gonna call!”
You almost burst out in giggles at his stupid reference.
“Hey, you!” one of the cops called and took off running in the direction of Ed and Harry. The two guys turned and sprinted away. Well, sprinted as much as they could with their heavy packs.
You and the boys rushed into the abandoned house, passing each other weapons from the duffel bag. Dean was transfixed by the symbol on the wall. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!”
“Yeah, me too, but we don’t have much time,” you urged him, slapping a shotgun in his hand and pulling him further into the home. You headed down to the basement and took in your dust-covered surroundings. You could feel your allergy beginning to get aggravated while you looked around.
“Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean grinned, holding up a jar he found on one of the shelves.
“What the hell would I do that for?” scoffed the younger brother.
“...I double dare you.”
Sam just shook his head and continued walking.
You flinched and grabbed Dean’s arm at a sound coming from within a cabinet. Dean looked to you and back at the cabinet before the two of you took either side of the cabinet’s doors. At Dean’s nod, you threw the door open. Rats inside it squeaked and scurried away from the light of Sam’s flashlight.
“Arghh!” Dean yelped. “I hate rats.”
Sam scoffed. “You'd rather it was a ghost?”
Dean considered, but nodded. “Yes!” Dean suddenly looked up at something above your head, and you shrieked at the sight of an ax nearly hitting you squarely on your forehead. Dean yanked you away just in time and shielded you with his body protectively. He shot at the ghost of the tall farmer wearing a colorless straw hat that wasn’t at all deterred by the rocksalt. He shot once more, but it was still there. And then the final time, Mordechai disappeared.
“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam questioned frantically.
“I don’t know! Come on, come on!” Dean urged you and his brother.
You ran toward the stairs, and Mordechai smashed his ax down through the shelves right next to your head. You raised your gun at him and shot multiple times, praying it would work. Nothing worked, and you narrowly missed another swing of the ghost’s ax before you fled.
“(Y/N), let’s go!” Sam called, running ahead of you. You and the boys sprinted out of the door of the house, only to be met with flashlights and a camera in your face.
“Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commanded before hurrying away again. You and the boys left the Hell House in the dust.
“You okay?” Dean asked you when you returned to the car.
You tried to catch your breath, slumping into the backseat. “Holy shit,” you muttered. “I think so. You?”
He nodded. “Fine.”
“But Dean.”
“Hm.”
“You’re sweet, but I don’t need you to protect me. I can hold my own,” you told him.
Dean scoffed. “It’s a misogynistic ghost, (Y/N). I’m obviously gonna be a little concerned.”
You smiled fondly, but held your position. “I know. Just… I can handle it. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He just grunted in response.
***
The next day, you and the boys were hanging out in their motel room. You and Sam were at your laptops researching while Dean sat on his bed scribbling in a notepad.
“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. What was with those slit wrists? I thought the legend says he hung himself.”
“That’s what you’ve been scribbling all this time?” You looked up from your laptop. “That symbol?”
“Yeah,” Dean answered. “But seriously, what the hell is going on here?”
Sam jumped in, saying, “And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”
“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean added.
“Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute.”
“What?”
“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.”
“What the fuck?” you questioned, sliding Sam’s laptop over to yourself. “How the hell is he changing?”
“I don't know,” Dean broke in, “but I think I might have just figured out where it all started.”
***
Your next stop was the music store Craig worked at.
“Hey Craig? Remember us?” Dean asked the teen who was organizing records.
“Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?” Craig answered.
“Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” Dean flipped through a stack of records, and you looked over his shoulder. You suddenly realized where he was going with this. He picked up a Blue Oyster Cult album, and you nodded in acknowledgment as you put together the symbol had been the logo for the band.
“You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult,” Dean said, putting the album on the counter across from Craig. “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why 'n't you tell us about that house. Without lying through your ass this time.”
Craig sighed. “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the walls; some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then, we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”
You knew he hadn’t meant any harm. “Okay. Thank you.”
You and the boys left an emotional Craig standing at the counter.
“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean asked.
“I have no idea,” you responded.
***
The next morning, you and the boys headed out to get some breakfast and coffee. Sam was shifting uncomfortably every few seconds in his seat. “What’s your deal, dude?” you asked.
His response was a grimace before he explained he thought Mordechai might be a Tulpa. “Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air.”
“So?” Dean said.
“That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam replied.
“Now wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?”
Sam shifted again. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“People believe in Santa Claus— how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean remarked.
“ ‘Cause we’re bad people,” you remarked. Dean seemed convinced by your answer.
“And because of this.” Sam turned his phone to you and Dean to show you a photo of a symbol on one of the walls of the Hell House. “That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this; not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai… I mean I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”
You shrugged. “That would explain why the bastard keeps changing.”
“Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work.” Sam shifted at least five separate times in his chair as he spoke.
“Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit,” the older brother continued. “Okay. So why don't we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?”
“Well, it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explained.
“Great. So if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”
“Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.”
Sam showed you and Dean footage from two days ago. “Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.”
“Great,” you muttered. “But I have an idea. C’mon.” You got up from the table and began heading away.
“Where we going?” Dean questioned.
“To find a copy store.”
Sam got up and began to follow you. “Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something.”
Dean laughed and walked after you.
“You did this?!” Sam called.
The only response he got was a laugh from his brother.
“You're a friggin jerk!”
“Oh yeah!” Dean pumped a fist in the air.
***
After you hit the copy store to carry out your idea, you and the boys found Ed and Harry’s trailer park residence and rapped against the door loudly.
“Who is it?” Harry’s voice called.
“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean called back. When the door opened, Dean looked over the two men’s shoulders. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging— what a shock.”
You snickered,but nudged him. “Be polite.”
“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam said.
“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're ahhh, a little bit busy right now,” Ed responded. “But pretty lady, if you’d like to stay—”
Dean cut him off, gruffly saying, “Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website.”
Ed laughed. “Man, you know, these guys got us busted the other night, spent the night in a holding cell—”
“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” the other goon chimed in.
“Why should we trust you guys?”
“Look, guys. We all know what we saw that night; what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” the brunet explained.
“That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt,” Dean continued.
“Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe—”
Ed cut his friend off. “Nope.”
“No,” Harry said despite his position moments earlier.
“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed stated.
“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—” Dean’s face hardened, and you could see Ed and Harry nearly shit themselves.
You pulled his arm back. “Just forget about it,” you told him. “You could bitch slap ‘em both, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai, but they’re still not gonna listen. Let’s just go.” You turned away.
“Whoa! Whoa!” the guys called after you. “What’d you say about...?”
“Hang on a second here,” Harry said. “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”
“Don’t tell ‘em, (Y/N),” Sam said.
“But if they agree to shut the website down, Sam—”
“They're not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean chimed in.
“No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it,” Ed said, stepping closer to you.
You sighed. “Look, it is a really big deal, alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”
“Totally,” Ed nodded.
Dean handed over some paperwork you’d doctored at the copy shop reluctantly. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”
“That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself,” added Dean.
Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “He shot himself?”
“Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them,” you said.
Dean continued explaining. “Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'll kill the son of a bitch.”
Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and bolted back to the trailer. Ed followed more slowly.
Once they were out of earshot, you held up crossed fingers to the boys. “Here’s hoping.”
***
You and the boys were waiting for Ed and Harry to put out the bogus story you’d given them at a diner later that evening. You sat in the booth between Sam and the wall, and looked over at his laptop while he reloaded the page repeatedly. Dean sat across from you and his brother, pulling the cord of a plaque on the wall of a fisherman holding a big fish. The fisherman’s mouth moved up and down when Dean pulled the cord.
You pulled it again to stop it. “If you pull that damn cord one more time, I’ll kill you.”
Dean sent you a challenging look and pulled the cord again. You pulled it again in response.
“Come on, sweetheart, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense.”
“What! I do laugh!” you pouted.
“Not as much as this guy.” He pulled the cord again.
You pulled it to stop it for a final time. “Don’t try me.”
Dean sighed. “They post it yet?”
Sam turned the laptop around to Dean. “We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms. Alright. How long do we wait?”
“Long enough for the new story to spread,” replied Sam, “and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker.” Sam lifted his beer and you and Dean lifted yours as well. The three of you tapped them together.
“Sweet,” Dean said. He took a long swig of his beer and Sam grinned. The older of the two tried to put his beer down, but it was stuck to his beer.
Sam cracked up, as did you, and Dean stared at his brother incredulous. “You didn't.”
Sam continued to laugh and held up his tube of super glue. “Oh, I did!”
Dean shook his hand trying to get the beer off and turned his aggravation to you. “You knew about this?”
You felt guilty, but said, “Hey, I told you, I’m Switzerland in this prank war.”
“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart.”
“Dean! I didn’t even do anything! I’m Switzerland! Look, I’ll even help you get it off your hand, okay? Stop pouting.”
Dean grunted, “Fine.”
***
Dean bought the laughing fisherman from the diner and brought it to the woods beyond the Hell House later that night. You wrapped the cord around a rock to weigh the pulley mechanism down to lure the cops away from the house.
You entered the house on alert with your gun drawn, Dean trailing just behind you. “I barely have any skin left on my palm,” he said snarkily.
“So you think Mordechai's home?” you asked as you entered another room.
“I don't know,” Sam answered.
“Me either,” a voice said from behind you.
You wheeled around and pointed your gun at the source of the sound.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Ed said.
“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” you yelled.
“We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?” Harry said.
“Motherfucker—” You were cut off by the sound of knives being sharpened coming from the basement. Your guard immediately went back up.
“Oh crap,” Ed said. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll protect you.”
“Oh, get off me, dickhead.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulders.
He crowded way too closely behind you and followed you and the brothers to the basement door.
“Ah guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?” Ed grinned uncomfortably.
“Why don't you?” Dean turned to him, shooting daggers at him.
Mordechai burst through the door at that moment, holding an ax and screaming. You and the boys began emptying your gun chambers into his stomach, but the guns had no effect on him. You then swept the other rooms in search of Ed and Harry.
“What the fuck, didn’t you guys post that bullshit story we gave you?” you asked them when you found them.
“Of course we did,” Ed scoffed.
Sam and Dean appeared behind you.
“But then our server crashed,” Harry explained.
“So it didn't take?” Dean asked rhetorically.
The two men exchanged looks and murmured to themselves.
“So these, these guns don't work.” Dean laughed coldly and raked a hand through his hair. “Great. Sam, any ideas?”
“We are getting outta here,” Harry said. “Come on, Ed.”
Harry and Ed ran past you and Dean to the other room. You noticed Mordechai’s apparition following them before you heard two girlish screeches coming from their direction.
“Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch,” you told the ghost.
“Gladly,” Ed said, not realizing you were talking to Mordechai.
You grabbed the hilt of the ax as he tried to take a swing at you, pushing against him with all your might. You were then pinned against the wall, the ax across your throat and constricting your airway,
“Get out of here, now!” you told Ed and Harry. They sprinted out of the door as you struggled against Mordechai, who lifted you up in the air by the ax.
“Guys! Help!” you screamed.
Moments later, Dean appeared. He held up a spray bottle and lit it, making a plume of fire appear.
“Get out of here, now!” Dean told you. You ran past him. You met Sam in another room, clutching your throat.
“You okay?” Sam asked you. He stooped to get eye-level with you.
“Yeah,” you choked out. “Peachy.”
Dean sped into the room next to you. “Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him— We improvise,” he said. He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room behind you. It burst into flames, and you ran after the boys outside.
“That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam asked incredulously.
“Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works,” Dean replied simply.
“Well, add arsonists to our rap sheet,” you said.
“What if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” questioned Sam.
“Then we'll just have to come back,” Dean shrugged.
You turned back to the house and watched it burn.
“Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz people believed in them,” said Sam. You looked back to him, amazed at how he could be profound in the midst of your situation.
***
You and the boys made one last pit stop by Harry and Ed’s trailer park before you were planning to head out of town. The two guys in question came over to your picnic table carrying grocery bags.
“I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus,” Ed said. “Man, I got the munchies right now.” He turned to the boys. “Gentlemen. And m’lady.”
You cringed.
“Should we tell 'em.” Harry could barely contain his gloating.
“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades,” Ed smirked.
“So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”
“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean snorted.
“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”
They put grocery bags into their completely overloaded car.
“And create the RPG,” Harry added.
“The what?” Dean asked.
“Role playing game,” came Ed’s simple reply. “A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, ah, excuse us, we're off to la-la land.”
“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam nodded.
“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you,” you said.
“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed grinned. “And you…” he sauntered up to you. “...Call me. You could have a bright future in film.”
You forced a smile at him.
“Later, baby,” he grinned. He got in the car next to his buddy and sped away.
“I have a confession to make,” Sam said as the three of you watched them drive off.
“What's that,” prompted Dean.
“I, uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”
You and Dean laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat,” the latter snickered.
“And I may have been the one to put the cops on ‘em about the Murdoch house fire. And the fact that they don’t have a license plate on that car. Or on their camper.”
Dean and Sam burst out laughing at you. You joined in with them.
“Truce?” The brunet turned to his brother.
“Yeah, truce,” he answered. “At least for the next hundred miles.”
Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @more-espresso-less-depresso-og @mysticmyth
a lot of my tags are broken which makes me very sad. if you see that i've misspelled your tag, please let me know! and make sure you have my post notifs on so a broken tag doesn't stop you from seeing the next chapter!!
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester x you#dean x reader#dean x y/n#dean x you#dean winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural series rewrite#spn series rewrite
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That thing where I feel like I'm going to have to write fanfiction again
This is a weird one. I just want to say it somewhere, so that I've said it somewhere, but I realize there's there's one person who actually cares about this and she already knows, so. This is just for me, I guess.
Fifteen years ago, I wrote most of a Narnia fic. It pairs of Edmund Pevensie and Bacchus, aka Dionysus, the ancient Greek god of grapes, wine and uninhibited ecstasy. Also theatre. I know, that's a bit weird. Is Bacchus even in the Narnia stories? (Yes, he is. He even has lines!) Why on earth am I pairing him up with Edmund, who is 10 when we first meet him?
It's all the weird memory tricks, I'm a sucker for those. The Pevensies forget about England because they stay so long in Narnia and stop thinking about England, and they can (and do) forget about Narnia if they stay in England too long and don't think about Narnia enough (poor Susan), and I find that really interesting. It offers up so many nooks and crannies to stick story in. They grow up and become adults in Narnia, but are required to forget most of it in order to return to build children in England.
And come on: is Bacchus not also very obviously the god of Narnian orgies? I mean, yes. Clearly. He's also Aslan's default caterer and water-into-wine head tech. If you need buildings destroyed and bullies turned into trees and/or pigs, Bacchus is your guy. He's not big on wearing clothes, and according to Edmund, he's incredibly beautiful and extremely dangerous. Edmund is only 10 when we first meet him, sure, but he grows up, reverse ages, and then starts to grow up again. Bacchus throws them a G-rated orgy in Prince Caspian. There's love there.
Hasn't Edmund suffered enough? Yes, he got addicted to the Turkish Delight that time, but he'd been struggling and was being bullied, he was carrying a lot of self-hatred and shame, give a kid a break. He did get himself heroically killed putting it right, only to be healed physically and psychologically by Santa Claus's magic healing cordial, as one does. Doesn't Edmund deserve a cute immortal boyfriend with quirky friends and a serious green thumb who grows his own grapes, makes his own wine, can manipulate and control the desires of everyone around him like conducting an orchestra, and who will love him until the end of time? There aren't many humans in Narnia, why not hook up with the god of uninhibited ecstasy? I mean, he's right there.
Anyway. It was fifteen years ago.
I wrote 3/4ths of it, I had one part left to go to finish it, I had an idea about what how it would end, but for some reason I never wrote the ending. I don't remember why. So it's been sitting there unfinished since 2009.
And in the last few weeks I started thinking about it again. I had an idea about that ending. I couldn't remember if this idea I was toying with was my original concluding idea or not, it's been that long, but I liked the idea, and I thought, you know, I should write that idea in as the last part and finally finish that thing.
And then I read what I'd written. And a) 15 years is a long time and I have so many criticisms, I was clearly in love with the sound of my own voice (uh...nothing's changed there I guess?), b) I wrote the thing in such a way to exclude my new idea, so apparently that wasn't my original plan, but c) yeah, I should have written this thing properly the first time around. And now I have 104 more ideas and I love them all, so.
I think I have to rewrite it. Or, I suppose, just write another one and replace it? I dunno. Just playing it out now.
I think I'm going to write it. Is this an active fandom? I don't think so. I don't care. This love story needs to be told. Edmund deserves this.
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CROWN
🗝Prompt: Even if he had to suffer for eternity, he would make you wear the crown.
🗝Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!reader
🗝A/N: I giggled writing this, although its been a long time since i ever wrote royalty au, i hope you like reading this. [p.s no proofread so if you see a update later, its prob me rewriting this]
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your figure laid on Dazai's lap as the soft wind blew, the flowers around the garden fragrancing the area. It was the relaxing hour in the afternoon and the royal staff seemed to be wandering off, relaxing the peaceful time. You open your eyes as you stare at Dazai, who was staring at you for quite a long time, before you shift a little, having your head placed more comfortable in his lap.
"Did you sleep well your highness?" Dazai asked amused, before gently brushing off the grass that was stuck in your hair. Previously, you and Dazai seemed to wander off in the royal gardens, taking place at the corner away from the maids and gardeners, before playing and scattering the collected leaves in the shade. The activity tired you, and Dazai insisted that it would be better to cool down a bit, only for you to dose off on his lap.
"Yeah, I did" You said, before picking yourself up, only to sit beside him, your back at the bark of the tree, and your head on his shoulder, "It was the most comfortable lap I ever slept on"
Dazai chuck at you response, before stating, "If you get caught, I might loss my job again"
"Don't worry that wouldn't happen."
"Aww, is princess worried about me?" Dazai said, before picking out a wild flower that seemed to grow in between the grass, examining it.
"Ofcourse, I cant loss my favorite servant again you know?"
There was a moment of silence between you too. The seasonal birds seemed to chirping in joy, drinking from the waterbeds laid in the garden, maids rushing towards the castle, indicating they were off to prepare for lunch.
Sighing, you pick yourself up, much to Dazai's dismay, dusting off your dress which seemed to be covered in tiny grass like hay before telling Dazai you were off to the building.
Without a second to spare, you move forward a little, only to see your brother walking near. Frightened by his authority, you turn your heels back towards Dazai, who was still sitting under the tree, eyes closed.
Higher your authority in the hierarchy of the world, lesser will the bond of relationship with others and family will go. Even if you were the eldest in the family, you were treated with nothing but a political tool.
As your brother approaches, a cold shiver runs down your spine. You both were never in good terms anyways. He was the crowned prince, the heir to this kingdom, and you were just a mere pawn who would be wed off anytime soon.
You take a step back, seeking refuge in the familiarity of Dazai's presence. Your brother, noticing your retreat, smirks knowingly.
"Well, well, if it isn't our dear princess slumming it in the garden with a servant," he sneers, his words dripping with nothing but hatred.
Dazai remains seated under the tree, eyes still closed as if oblivious to the approaching matter. Your brother's words cut deep, a painful reminder of the society that bind you. Despite being the eldest, your role in the family was reduced to a mere pawn and you could do nothing but endure his rotten words.
With a forced smile, you reply, "Just enjoying the fresh air, brother. No harm in that, is there?"
His expression darkens, and he steps closer, the air thickening with his unspoken authority. "Remember your place, dear sister. We have responsibilities to uphold, and you jeopardize everything with your foolish antics."
Oh how you wish to choke him.
"Being familiar with the servants of the castle only means to acknowledge the loyalty-"
Your brother scoffs, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. "A servant's loyalty is hardly a concern. Remember your station Y/N."
Your brother's gaze shifted from you to Dazai, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. "And who is this?" he inquired with a tone that dripped with arrogance.
Dazai, unflinching, looked up at your brother before standing, bowing down, "I am at the service of the princess, your majesty the crown prince."
Dazai knew how you felt. The burning urge to slaughter the man in front of him was rising, only if he had a sword. Dazai had been forever around you. The way you got your treatment from your family was worst then a relationship between a noble and a beggar and he couldnt help but embrace you every time you come running towards him. You never lacked in anything, but all you needed was authority, and even if he had to suffer for eternity, he would make you wear the crown.
The tension in the air was thick as your brother's gaze bore into Dazai. You felt a shiver run down your spine, however, to your surprise, your brother simply scoffed and continued on his way, leaving you and Dazai in the garden.
As your brother walks away, you're left standing in the garden, torn between duty and desire. Before you could apologize Dazai for your brother's rudeness, Dazai bows down gracefully, taking your hand into his, "You know Y/N? It doesn't matter if it takes me to kill the royalty for you, because I would do anything for you to wear the crown," he says, his voice unwavering.
"Wha-What do you mean by that Dazai- Kill? Crown?"
"If a Lady wants the crown, then a lady deserves it, this humble servant is ready to kill them in your command" Dazai replies, before he kisses your forehead and leaving you, in the middle of the garden, standing alone. The gravity of Dazai's words hung in the air, challenging the rigid structure of royalty and hierarchy.
The words hung around you like the memories of the past, because did you wanted the crown?
Even you didn't know.
TAGLIST: @averagehisoilluenjoyer @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss @kissesmellow21 @just2normalperson
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#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd dazai#bungou sd#dazai#bsd manga#bungo stray dogs spoilers#bsd x reader#bsd headcanons#dazai x reader#bungo stray dogs dazai#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai osamu#bsd imagines#bungou stray dogs manga#royalty au#fantasy au
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The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite
Chapter 5- When Blue Turns Green
Chapter 4
(This one has more of my commentaries than most because I was feeling chatty today, let me know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing)
“…Yes… I do have a wish”
Magnifico holds in a laugh, just a bit longer, gotta hold in the act just a bit longer.
Magnifico walks towards her slowly with that same gentle smile he had at the wish ceremony “I knew you had it in you, just needed a lil push, right?” the king extends his hands in front of her, the same way he always does when getting people’s wishes “May I?”
He asks, as if Asha had a choice.
Asha stares at his hands… It’s not like she can actually grant this wish she’s thinking about right now, so she might as well let the king do it for her.
(… Oh you’re waiting for me to say what’s the wish she’s thinking of? Lol this is the chapter opening, read more if you wanna know)
Asha closes her eyes.
Takes a deep breath.
She thinks about her wish.
And…
She forgets.
Magnifico is holding her wish.
Asha thought that after giving up her wish she’d feel a great sense of relief, like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. That’s at least what everyone in Rosas says it feels like…
She feels lied to, because there’s no sense of relief to be found at all.
She feels like she just forgot something really important, it’s not her interest in drawing though, it’s something else, but she can’t for the life of her remember what… She feels like part of her is missing.
While Asha is going through all that emotional turmoil, the villains are looking at her wish as if it’s the most adorable thing in the world.
“Now, was that so hard? All you had to do was think about it and *snaps his fingers* there’s your wish” He says while making the wish bubble levitate slightly above his hand
“Oh and what a beautiful wish it is, it really does suit you well, Asha” the queen complemented in a honeyed voice
“Th-thank you?” Asha doesn’t really know how to react to the complement, of course it suits her, it’s literally the most essential part of her…
Oh god, did I actually just give that to them?
“Could I… maybe take a look at it?” She says meekly raising her hand to reach out for the wish.
Magnifico swiftly moves the wish away from her and holds it above his head, like a bully keeping a toy away from a smaller kid.
“Ah ah ah noooooo peeking~” he singsongs in a mocking reprehending tone “You know the rules Asha, you’ll remember your wish only after I grant it for you” he explains like he’s talking to a toddler.
“I… I know but… Why’s that even a rule again?”
“Oooh you and your questions haha” he laughs while pinching her cheek and shaking her head “It’s more fun that way, sillyhead! So you’re surprised when it does come true!”
(I wanna murder this man I’m writing, I might actually just give Aster a gun idk)
Asha notices how the king is acting more… Mean than before, like yeah he has been kinda pushy and overly touchy with her, and disrespected her father’s beliefs earlier. But other than that he was being nice overall…
Now it just seems like he’s making fun of her and treating her like a child.
That’s because he has no reason to keep the mask on, he got what he wanted so why keep pretending he respects her at all, right?
Asha rubs her cheek that now feels sore because of the king’s grip, she was already feeling small in their presence before but now she feels like she’s the size of an insect.
“Patience is a virtue, my doll” the queen states serenely.
Magnifico glances at his wife with a little “Oh I see what you did there” smirk, referring to how she just called Asha a doll, get it? Cause he just turned her into a doll minutes ago with an illusion.
“Tell you what Asha, I was going to grant all of today’s wishes next week, buuuut because I like you soooooo much I shall grant them all… TONIGHT! So you’ll remember it by morning, how about that?” He exclaimed with his usual over the top energy.
In case y’all need a refresher, in my rewrite wishes are granted at night, while everyone sleeps, so when they wake up they can already tell their wish was granted.
Asha is feeling really lost, she doesn’t know what to say or what to do “Yeah that… that sounds great, can’t wait” she forces a clearly fake smile
“Oh I’m sure you can’t my dear, so how about you just take your leave now and go to sleep humm? The sooner you do the faster tomorrow will arrive!” The king says as he guides her to the exit of the treasure room
Asha’s eyes widened in confusion “Wh-what? But didn’t you say dinner was in an hour?”
The king had to hold in a laugh once again. The girl actually believed she’d be allowed to sit with them? How pathetically naive.
“I know Asha, but I just can’t help but notice how tired you are.” He says giving her a fake expression of pity
“Yes little one, you almost fell on the floor a minute ago had I not caught you” The queen adds “Clearly you need sleep, today was a big day for you, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not tired really I just-“
“I said” the king interrupts, his voice stern this time, as he makes direct eye contact with Asha and his blue eyes turn green for a second “You are tired, you should go home, now.”
Asha is frozen in place as she nods slowly “Okay.”
(If you’re wondering why he didn’t use this mild hypnotic ability earlier when they were trying to convince her to give her wish, it's simply because it had to be her choice to give it away, otherwise the magic doesn't work)
The king’s expression relaxes “That’s better…WELP!” He snaps his fingers and starts talking really fast “There! Now all the doors that lead to the exit are open! Thank you for coming sweetheart! Nighty night now! Sweet dreams! Buh-byeeeee!”
B L A M
The door slams on her face
Asha’s now outside the treasure room all alone
About 5 seconds pass
The door opens again
“Don’t forget your goat.”
Magnifico’s is holding a very happy Valentino by the colar of his little goat sweater
He drops Valentino on Asha’s arms and-
B L A M
The door closes again.
…
“Good night…”
She says quietly and starts walking down the stairs, making her way back to the exit.
As she walks we cut back to the couple real quick.
Magnifico has his ear glued to the door trying to hear Asha’s footsteps getting farther away. He has mischievous smile on his face.
Amaya is just standing there watching him do so, smiling just as wickedly as her husband.
“Is she gone yet?”
“Shh shhh wait” he signals to her with a finger on his lips
He no longer hear her steps, she’s far away enough.
Magnifico cannot hold it in anymore and starts letting out a wheezed laugh…That grows into a cackle… And then evolves into an outright deranged fit of uncontrollable laughter as he’s leaning on the door hugging his sides.
Amable is laughing along with him, letting a dark chuckle that grows into a maniacal giggling.
Their voices echo through the dark room.
(… I need you guys to understand these two are losing their minds because they successfully manipulated an 18 year old… Because they’re petty she raised her voice to them in public… These people are in their 50s… What I’m saying is the straights are not okay)
So we cut back to Asha who’s getting near the entrance of the castle, and just like how the king said, the door is open.
Her expression is a mix of lost, sadness, but most of all defeat.
Even though she understands she’ll get this wish granted tomorrow, it was still something that was taken away from her
She doesn’t feel like she’s whole anymore.
“Is this what people travel days on end to experience here in Rosas? Give away part of themselves… So they can have it be made a reality by someone they don’t even know?”
She hugs Valentino tightly, and he realizes something is wrong, so he begins licking Asha’s cheek.
She smiles a little bit with that “Thanks Val. I’ll be okay.”
She puts him on the floor to take some deep breaths before she leaves
She starts talking to Valentino (more so to herself, really)
“I mean, maybe I’m just being dramatic, like they said, I’ll get my wish granted tomorrow, right? Then I’ll feel normal…”
She's distracted talking to herself so she doesn’t notice…
That the door to the room where the queen left Bravo in earlier…
Is open.
“But then again… Those two are really not how I thought they’d be at all… I mean yeah, I knew Magnifico was a bit full of himself sometimes and the queen was… well, actually till today I’ve never seen her being nothing but sweet… They were just acting so strange ya know Val?… Valentino?”
“Maaa! Maaa!” Valentino starts bleating, but not to talk to Asha…
He’s talking to Bravo, who just so happens to not have had his dinner yet, and is preparing to pounce at the naive baby goat that just thinks he found a new friend.
“VALENTINO!!! NONONONOGETAWAYFROMHIM!!!” She runs as fast as she can and manages to catch her goat just a millisecond before Bravo made his move.
The lynx is now growling at her aggressively, she looks behind her and sees the door of the castle opened, she can make a run for it and someone outside might be able to help her, she can do it.
Buuuut Valentino is panicking, realizing the gravity of the situation and he kicks his legs to run away, making Asha accidentally drop him.
“NO NO VALENTINO COME BACK!”
He runs up the stairs and the lynx runs after him, Asha obviously follows them running like her life depends on it.
“BAD KITTY! THATS NOT YOUR FOOD THATS MY GOAT!!”
She runs and gets close enough to the wild cat to step in his short tail. He lets out a scream of pain and turns to her with blood thirty eyes
“… Uh That- That was an accident hehehe” she nervously says as the cat prepared to jump no her
She manages to dodge him and starts running up the stairs after Valentino, with the lynx just after them
She’s realizes they’re getting near the treasure room again
“KING MAGNIFICO! QUEEN AMABLE! HELP!! PLEASE!!!”
(GYYYYYAAAA GET YOUR FUC*** DOG BI**
It don’t bite
YES IT DO!!!)
Asha makes it to the treasure room but she has no time to close the door.
But as they run to the other side of the room Bravo steps on the shattered glass slipper Valentino dropped earlier and gets distracted.
(Haha you thought that was just a pointless reference, didn’t you?? BUT IT WAS ACTUALLY PLOT RELEVANT HAHAHA- the writer proceeds to lose her mind as this scene unfolds)
Asha sees this as an opportunity, as soon as she enters a different room she slams the door behind her shut.
She and Valentino are both exhausted, Valentino drops on the floor panting heavily.
“I… *puff* am never… *puff* letting you in this crazy place AGAIN” she says trying to catch her breath
She looks around the room they’re in now
It’s a corridor, with decorative black armors along the way, leading to a new flight of stairs
(I know that you knew what room I was referring to so no need for an image reference, but either way have Magnifico happily jumping on a poor armor’s head)
“… Whoever designed this castle REALLY liked stairs” she comments to herself
She takes Valentino into her arms again.
She can hear Bravo scratching the door behind them and growling angrily.
Asha looks to the stairs in front of her and sighs “Well… Guess we’re not getting out of here unless we ask them to control their crazy cat… Greeeeeeat” she pretty much groans, clearly not looking forward to talking to them again.
She and Valentino start making their way up these new stairs
(Take a shot every time I wrote stairs in these past few chapters)
The ambience is dark, a direct contrast to how it was when Asha first entered the castle. Before it was beautifully illuminated by the sunset lights coming out of the glass windows
And now it’s night time, and the castle is just faintly lit up by some candle lights hanging from the ceiling.
She sees a light coming from the end of the stairs… the light seems to irradiate a mix of blues and greens flashes
Asha then hears something coming from the room she’s approaching… laughter?
That must be their room
She thinks… and wonders what they’re laughing so much about.
Asha reaches the end of the stairs.
She’s now in front of the large door… it’s slightly open, just enough that she can peek through.
She was about to say something like “excuse me” or “sorry to bother you again, but your cat wants to kill me” but her mouth was closed shut when she heard
“OH that stubborn little BRAT got me a headache!” Magnifico complained loudly while massaging both sides of his temple with his fingers “I never had to use THAT much mind bending magic on anyone before” he says sounding a mix of frustrated and almost impressed
(He’s referring to that whole illusion sequence at the end of their villain duet last chapter)
Mind bending magic?…What’s he talking about?
Asha looks through the small opening in the door and sees the king and queen are standing in the middle of the wishes room
(Like how Asha and Magnifico are here in this concept art)
Asha is in awe with the sheer beauty of all of them in that majestic room. She understands how much each one of those bubbles represents the most beautiful part of so many people, and that alone fills her with joy.
“Aww my poor darling” the queen coos as she caresses her husband’s head “You deserve some much needed rest, say, how about I prepare a sleeping potion for you before we go to bed humm?” She suggests lovingly, but not like the fake loving voice she does all the time, this one felt absolutely genuine.
Asha remembers the tales that queen Amable used to be an amazing potion maker when she first arrived in Rosas… But that’s something no one really talks about anymore.
“Oh please do, my love.” Magnifico looks at his wife with a devoted passion, then turns his attention to the wishes above him with a malicious glee “But before that, let us see which lucky subjects get their wishes improved tonight” he lets out a dark chuckle
Improved? What's THAT supposed to mean??
Asha holds Valentino close to her and places her hand on his mouth so he won't make a sound
Asha watches as the king moves his arms bringing some wish bubbles down, they circle around him swiftly, forming patterns in the air.
(Ya know like how he did in the movie during the “At All Cost” sequence? That was neat, not gonna lie)
Paying more attention she notices something really odd.
Most of the wish bubbles aren’t blue… they’re green.
Asha has never seen green wish bubbles before, only blue ones… like her wish.
Speaking of which
“I thought we’d begin with our little star of tonight, I am oh so looking forward to coming up with something special for her” The queen says sinisterly while tapping her fingers on Asha’s wish bubble. Her voice makes Asha feel a chill run down her spine.
What on earth is going on?
Now she’s trying to hold her own breath so they won’t hear her.
“Ooh you know how I always leave the best for last, my sweet. Besides, there’s some wishes here that have been gathering dust for a while” Magnifico gazes upon the wishes floating around him like a predator watching his prey “And what kind of king would I be if I left our precious people waiting, right?” He adds with sarcasm.
Amaya just shrugs and goes to the table with potions and alchemy materials to start preparing a sleep potion for her beloved husband.
Magnifico makes the wishes spin around him faster and faster “Now lets see… Eeny, meeny, miny… YOU!” All of them suddenly stop moving, Magnifico is pointing at one specific blue orb, he signals with one finger for it to come to him.
As the orb lands on his hands it reveals a young woman flying in the sky, along with a flock of birds.
The king’s face is cruel, but his voice is saccharine sweet “Awww would you look at that my beldam, little Wendy wishes to fly like a bird.”
“Is that so? How lovely” The queen says while preparing her potion “And what shall you do about that? Oh wise and benevolent king” she speaks jokingly.
It’s like they do this pretty much every night, and they just never get tired of it.
“Hmmm… You mentioned last month you’d like to have a mockingbird as a pet, didn’t you?”
The queen gasps with one hand on her chest “Awwn you remember?” She says, already knowing where her husband is going with this, but playfully acting shocked.
“Now how could I ever forget a wish from the only person that matters in this kingdom?” The king says lovingly
Asha feels like she’s gonna pass out, he’s not actually going to do what she thinks he’s going to do… Is he?
“Well mi reina, your wish is my command” He says as he caresses the blue orb and starts mumbling some words in latin as his eyes start glowing green
“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”
As he says the spell, the image of the young girl named Wendy looks at him terrified, as her arms turn into wings. The king caresses the orb a few more times and it slowly goes from blue… to green.
He removes his hands from the now green orb, revealing inside a little bird flying away scared, like it’s trying to get out.
… Asha holds in a gasp. She feels a single tear forming in the corner of her eye.
The king looks at the wish proudly, admiring his handy work “More of a Wendy Bird than a Mockingbird, but eh, it’ll do” He shrugs as he lets the bubble fly up to join the others “Tomorrow once she wakes up as a speechless helpless little bird, she’ll come flying begging for my help, and voila! You get your bird!” He says excitedly to his wife
“And what will you say if her family comes asking where she is?” The queen asks him, but not out of concern, more like she’s testing him to see if he’d know what would be the right thing to say
“… Not my problem?” He laughs at that
“Darliiiiing~ remember what we practiced”
“Hahah I know I know I’m jesting.” Magnifico says after laughing a bit more, but then his face instantly morphs to a sorrowful expression as he demonstrates what he’d actually say “Oh… I’m deeply sorry, but Wendy wished to be free from you, to live somewhere far far away… I’m sure she’s much happier wherever she is now” as he finishes the little act his face instantly goes back to an evil grin and gives her a bow like an actor.
“Hmmm not bad, you’re getting better” Amable complements softly
“Well, I do have the best teacher” He lifts his head and gazes upon her lovingly.
(This would be so sweet in any other context)
Asha feels like the world is crumbling down around her the more and more with each and every word that comes out of their mouths…
These people were more vicious than she could’ve ever comprehended… They tricked thousands of people… they tricked her.
“NOW!” Magnifico claps loudly, snapping Asha out of her thoughts “Let’s see who’s our next lucky subject~” he says in a singsong voice as the wishes once again start spinning around him, and once again he picks a random one
“A wish to write engaging stories about your culture?… Booooring!” Magnifico yells at the wish, the little man inside the orb holding a pen and paper gets frightened. “How am I supposed to make this fun for us?”
He ponders as he throws the orb to one hand to another several times, playing with it like it’s just a normal ball. The little man in the wish bubble is being thrown side to side like a rag doll.
“Just do the same you’ve done with the royal cooks, my love” Amaya suggests “Change the subject he’ll be writing about to something more interesting.” she says nonchalantly while grinding some herbs with a mortar and pestle for the sleeping potion.
(English is not my first language, so like, learning new words like “mortar and pestle” has been pretty cool :3)
The royal cooks?… Dahlia’s parents.
Asha thinks to herself in horror
“Oooh good idea my love!” Magnifico said excited as he turned his attention to the wish and once again recited the spell in Latin
“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”
“Aaaaand there, why write about your lame ol’ culture when you can write about something much more important… like ME” the wish is now green and shows the man writing a book about Magnifico.
Asha connects the dots. That family recipe book Dahlia found, THIS is why her mom doesn’t care about it anymore, the king made her only interested in making meals that fit his liking.
(I do love when my set ups pay off)
“Ahem” the queen says with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile
“… I MEAN US! WRITE ABOUT US! Of course, I’m sorry my darling, hold on le-let me change it!” Asha sees an emotion that she hasn’t seen from the king ever before, he got nervous, but not in a scared or pretending to be nervous way, more like an “awkward teen trying to impress his crush but he gets flustered” kind of way.
“Heh heh I’m just teasing, dear.” The queen says giggling at her husband’s small panic attack “We both know the less this kingdom knows about my past the better, so really, you may have all the spotlight you want” she speaks sweetly.
The king sighs with relief and comments casually “Hehe indeed, it would cause quite a stir if the people found out their beloved queen was banished from her homeland for being a witch back in the day, now wouldn’t it?”
As soon as the king finishes that sentence a cloud of smoke pops out from one of Amaya’s flasks, making a loud noise.
“Your sleep potion is done… Also, you know I much prefer the term “alchemist”” she corrected him, sounding a bit more serious… like the word "witch" strikes a nerve with her.
“… My apologies my love, I forgot” he says genuinely
(… I might make a blog all about this, because there’s history here, let me know if you’re interested… anyway enough of them being a cute evil couple, Asha is SUFFERING)
Asha is not even that shocked with the reveal that the queen was a witch, that’s minor compared to everything else she has seen.
They tricked THOUSANDS of people for the past 25 years, and no one had a clue…
How many people had their dreams twisted beyond recognition? How many families had their culture erased from their minds after entering Rosas? And how many couldn’t even tell that they’ve been forced into a complacent life of loving nothing but these two monsters?
And… What would they do to her wish?
Asha will get that answer earlier than she thought, as she hears the king say:
“You know, we really should wrap this up, it’s getting late…” he says looking at the stars outside and then turning his attention to Asha’s wish that is floating around, he smiles maliciously “Let’s finish this with our sweet birthday girl’s wish, shall we?”
Asha feels her heart stop.
Magnifico makes the wish fly towards him
Amaya also walks to her husband to take a closer look at the wish.
As they take a look in her wish we see...
Asha happy with other people in Rosas.
That was her wish, to make other's happy, and to be accepted.
Magnifico looks quite disappointed but not surprised "A wish to “Make others happy”… Pffft pathetic." Magnifico rolls his eyes and sighs "She couldn’t even want something only for herself. Now how can I possibly turn this into something entertaining?"
Asha's eyes widen, that's it, that was her wish... She can't really feel a connection to it anymore... Why would she want to be accepted?
(Sooo yeah, just like how Simon’s personality changes because he doesn’t have his wish, a similar thing is gonna happen to Asha, but it’s not gonna be that noticeable)
"Hmmm I can think of a way" The queen says with a wicked gleam in her eyes as an idea forms in her head
"Do tell" he says already anxious to hear what his wife’s words of wisdom.
She walks a few steps away from her husband to start explaining her idea
"Riddle me this, darling... Who makes a kingdom happy?"
Magnifico... The damn king of this forsaken kingdom, struggles with that question for a bit
"Uuuuh... Shoot, I don't know. Uh florists? Backers?...Hair dressers?"
The queen gives him a one arched brow look.
"That’s kind of a vague question, don’t you think? Peasants get excited over the simplest of things" He shrugs
"Fair enough... Let me put this in a different way then... What do we want to make of this girl" She continues her train of thought walking around the room.
"To be honest? I considered just pushing her off the stairs handrails a couple of times today" He states like killing a random 18 year old is just a normal Thursday.
"Yes yes me too, but that's thinking too small, what she has shown today is that she has this almost unbending spirit, so much so she made you tire yourself using your powers... What we need is to put her under control, make sure that she NEVER inspires anyone else to be like her" She explains eloquently.
Asha does not like the sound of that at all.
"I like the sound of that. Buuut how can I do that with such a simple premise? "Make others happy"... Should I just make her WANT to conform to the norm?" He ponders
"That is, again, thinking too small, darling" she walks towards him slowly "Wanna know something I've always wanted?"
Magnifico was kinda taken aback by the sudden change in subject but ok "Well, just tell me and it shall be yours, my queen" he said with his voice dripping with passion
"... I always wanted a daughter"
...
...
...
wha-
"W H A T ? !"
Magnifico literally screamed with eyes wide like a bat blinded by the sun, his voice echoed through the room in a way that some of Amaya's potions even shook.
"WOMAN, SINCE WHEN??? I THOUGHT WE AGREED BABIES ARE THE MOST HEINOUS CURSE ONE CAN HAVE CASTED UPON THEM???? NOT TO MENTION I WANT NO HEIRS!!!"
He's not mad by the way, he couldn't get mad at her even if she stabbed him, he's just surprised, really. Because that's something he thought they both agreed on.
Amaya blinks a few times after that reaction, she may love this man more than anything in the world, but wow, his temper is something they really gotta work on.
She continues her train of thought like that didn't just happen.
"Yes... But Asha is not a baby, is she?"
... Oh... Oh no... Asha understood where the queen is going with this
The king did not tho
"... Ooooooh... Uuuuuh??" He stared at his wife, very confused "Not that I’m questioning you dear, but um... Are you suggesting we make THAT girl... A princess?"
(Hehehe subverting the disney princess trope, I love it)
"Precisely." The queen nodded pridefully, then she continued “You change her wish from “I wish to make others happy” to “I wish to be a princess”, it’s semantics since a princess does make the kingdom happy. Her personality will be rewritten to fit that wish, and she shall never question us again.” The queen speaks like she’s just talking about the weather.
The king is not fully convinced though "...Thats all fine and dandy but I thought we were gonna punish her, not give her a life of luxury”
"And who said anything about a life of luxury? You know the guest room on the west wing tower?"
"Yeeeeees?" Magnifico starts to understand his wife’s train of thought
"We lock her up in there." Amaya says it like it's simply the most natural course of action.
"Hmmm" He thinks for a moment with a hand in his chin, and by the looks of it he warms up to the idea "Yeah I can see the appeal now... It’s like throwing her in the dungeon, but in a socially acceptable way." he rationalizes with an evil smirk
"To the people it'll seem like this poor orphan girl just got the wish of a lifetime. While to her, well, she won't remember ever wanting anything else than to obey us... And as a bonus she can stay drawing in her room all day, just how she wanted." She has a wicked smile that grows more and more with every word.
"There's just one caveat to that though” He says with a worried expression “She'd be the heir" He almost whispers like the word frightens him.
The queen shrugs "And? We are too beloved for anyone to dare threaten our lives, and with my potions we can remain young for many MANY years to come" The queen says like that’s all obvious.
Magnifico still looks concerned. He really despises the possibility of anyone getting his crown.
Amaya notes his fear, and genuinely gives him some words of comfort... in their own way "Here's a thought, in the impossible scenario that we may have to come to terms with our own mortality... I'll give the girl my special tea, the same one I gave to your brother all those years ago, and she won't take what is ours. How does that sound?" She speaks calmly... How she's gonna straight up kill this girl if they so happen to become old or sick.
Magnifico's face softens at that, his wife always know the right things to say
"As always, the brightness of your mind outshines the sun, moon and stars, my love." He holds her face tenderly. "Very well then, if a little princess locked up in a tower is what my queen wants, then your wish is my command"
They exchange a kiss.
Magnifico turns his attention back to Asha's wish and mumbles the spell one more time
“Mutatio animae, mutatio mentis, hoc votum fecisti, nunc meum est”
And the blue bubble with Asha smiling among the citizens of Rosas... slowly turns green, and the image inside morphs into Asha smiling forcefully, while standing between the two royals.
... So umm yeah how's Asha feeling right now you may ask?
Yeah our girl is not fine, she's actually panicking. Tears running down her face while she hugs Valentino.
(It's like she's stuck in a story that the writer also can't wait to move along and get to the happy stuff... So let's move this along, shall we?)
Valentino obviously didn't understand anything that just transpired but he sees how sad Asha is, so he tries cheering her up.
"Maa-"
Asha covers his mouth instantly
But they heard it.
"What was that?" Queen Amable whispers.
The two royals start walking to the door.
Their steps are quick.
Asha doesn't think twice and slides down the stairs's handrail.
She’s terrified. If they find out she heard all that she’s as good as dead.
She makes it back to the corridor with the black armors.
Asha knows behind that door there's a savage wild cat... Which now feels less scary than the people coming from those stairs.
She gets an idea.
Asha opens the door quickly and when Bravo notices that it's finally open he runs inside to attac-
B L A M
Asha pushes one of the armors and it falls on the lynx, making a lot of noise.
"WHO'S THERE?!"
Magnifico’s enraged voice echos through the whole castle.
She hears their footsteps quickly approaching.
They have not seen her yet.
She runs as fast as she can to the exit without looking back.
Magnifico and Amaya get to the corridor and find quite the sight...
Their cat has his head stuck in the armor's helmet, he's struggling to get out like those cats you see on youtube that get their head stuck in a jar.
Bravo meows in his raspy voice panicking as he moves around.
"OOH my sweet precious babyyyy! How on earth did this happen??" Amaya rushes to his rescue like a worried mother.
"Bad kitty Bravo, you don't attack armors, just the people inside them" Magnifico says sternly.
Meanwhile our girl is BOOKING IT down those dang long stairs, jumping the steps and almost falling a couple of times.
She doesn’t know if they're actually right behind her or not.
But she’ll not look back to check.
She finally makes it out of the castle.
The wish ceremony celebration is close to ending but there's still a few people in the surroundings of the castle, talking to each other.
Asha just keeps running, she let's go of Valentino, she knows he can keep up with her
So she just keeps running.
Some people see her and try asking what’s wrong.
But she can’t stop.
She' can’t look back.
Tears run down her face.
And...
She’s stopped, by a large hand holding her arm.
Chapter 6
Final Thoughts
AFTER 3 CHAPTERS ASHA IS GETTING AWAY FROM THE STRAIGHT WHITE RICH PEOPLE!!! RUN GIRL RUNNNN
Don’t get me wrong, I LOOOOVE writing these two with a passion, but I wanna focus back on my girl Asha and couldn’t quite do that with those two stealing the spotlight… They gonna keep stealing the show every time they appear in the story tho but hey that’s kinda what it means to be a Disney villain.
With that said, I hope this helped make it pretty clear how Disney royally screwed up when they scrapped the villain couple concept. Like, it’s not just a “oooh that looks neat” thing, NO it’s more of a “THE WRITING POTENTIAL IS UNFATHOMABLE” thing.
Because I cannot stress this enough, we’ve been told through Disney’s WHOLE HISTORY how love is the strongest thing of all, and that’s true… But what happens when two immoral people love each other? WHAT HAPPENS??? Well I’m planning to show here what I think would happen, and it’s scary.
Also a recurring theme I was trying to make very clear in this chapter is how this couple comes from completely different worlds, Amaya was a peasant, Magnifico was born royalty, but they both learned from each other to make themselves more powerful… Actually, I think I might write a whole blog about their respective backstories, like yeah I wrote about them here but this was the early concept (not that it’s out dated, you can still read it if you haven’t yet) but after some further reflection I came up with even more details to flesh them out and make them feel like rounded characters, that although are irredeemable, have their own perspectives on the world that makes them see themselves in the right… Let’s just say they think the world wronged them so they can do the same to others, that’s all I’ll say for now.
Also OH MY GOSH, I did it, the animal sidekicks pretty much are the whole reason the plot is set into motion. I'm actually so happy.
When I first started to think on this scene (Last month) I thought about Asha just going back up the stairs to ask for her wish back because “oh she changed her mind”… which didn’t feel right, ya know? Like yeah it’s cool she’s so determined, but it felt off… And then the idea of the royal couple having a pet lynx showed up to save the day.
It’s kinda funny that none of this would’ve happened if Magnifico just teleported Asha outside after getting her wish… But he was feeling petty as usual so he decided to have her walk AAAAALL the way back… And he accidentally messed up the spell and instead of just opening the door to the exit with the snap of his fingers, he opened ALL the doors, letting Bravo get out. So my point is that Magnifico’s pettiness will bring his downfall, as it should be.
Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! And get hyped because STAR BOY IS COMING!!!
Thank You For Reading!
#disney wish#wish#wish 2023#wish star#disney#wish asha#wish disney#wish movie#wish rewrite#king magnifico#queen amaya#magnifico x amaya#king magnifico wish#asha#wish reimagined#long post#kingdom of wishes
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yeah fuck it i'm making this its own post. basically very long winded (but still not as extensively detailed as i'd like) thoughts on adam & ronan (sort of) & whelk & noah
i remember reading the raven boys back in 2014 (ten years of rot in my brain!) and being sooo disappointed that there was basically zero fandom interest in whelk & noah beyond "omg whelk is evil and awful and terrible, poor baby noah!" when that is not the narrative surrounding them, not really. i feel it's a disservice to both of their characters to do that, especially noah's:
there is nuance there. there are implications. like... it's ALL about the implications!!! we basically see nothing of whelk and noah beyond what's left after the carnage. and it's a theme in trc for characters to have irreparably changed before we ever meet them (gansey, ronan, whelk, noah). we don't know what they were actually like when noah was alive, when they were best friends. when they were tight as ticks.
what we do know is this: whelk was noah's gansey. whelk was cheating on his own girlfriend with noah's, which is a shitty thing to do for sure, but something we also have zero context for. we also don't know how true it is, because whelk has such a self-inflicted warped view of his past. he keeps rewriting his own memories to think lesser of noah, because his absence hurts that much! we know they were best friends, the same way adam & ronan are best friends with gansey. we know they did everything together
okay, changing gears a little.
i'll paste the part where adam is possessed, sorry for the amount of screenshots:
and this line from a bit further along the chapter:
then, from noah's possession scene:
compare this to whelk's recollection of killing noah, and the effects it had on him:
"red lines streaked in the corners of his vision" "in whelk's head, unearthly voices hissed and whispered, words blurred and stretched together" "dictated by something larger and more powerful than himself" "somehow invited into his body through czerny's death" yes i am going there, yes i am making that point. i think, to some extent, barrington was possessed when he murdered his best friend. neither noah nor adam get their own pov while possessed, so...
i mean, time is a circle. noah needed to die so that gansey would live. noah had already died, gansey had already lived. it needed to happen, and so it would.
where the difference lies, i think, is in barrington's reaction to being possessed, versus adam/noah. for all that i'm arguing possession, i don't think barry's a stand up guy, he's a kid who's never had good role models (need i pull out the quotes about his shit parents) and who was raised by money and objects and reputation, which is why i think the possession worked. the idea to kill noah might've seemed like his own in the moment, an escalation of the situation he was already in, but unlike adam/noah there was no one to hold him back (not to mention barrington isn't as familiar with magic things(?) as they are). in that moment, whelk did truly lost it. he did the unforgivable. but there is no universe in which he doesn't.
for every time we see noah reenacting his death, we also need to imagine barrington whelk, seventeen and shivering. realizing as he's committing the act that he can't go back. perhaps realizing too that he couldn't stop his hands from gripping onto that skateboard, no matter how much he wanted to after that first hit. ("But instead, he remembered the sound Czerny made the first time he hit him.")
there's also adam in this. both him as a parallel to barrington, and as a strange sort of part of noah in a way. adam and noah interact the least out of the main group, arguably, but they too are a two-headed creature; they started out as one singular character and you can sort of tell. something something hands and eyes, something something sacrifice. ronan sort of parallels noah, in that he is not the same lively person we hear about, and he never will be that person again. both are cabeswater personified (although in different ways).
some more things:
"he once had been tight as ticks with his roommate czerny" "only whelk and czerny, treasure hunters and troublemakers" "it was possible that czerny's death wasn't for nothing after all" "[...] his days a ribbon floating aimlessly in water" (in relation to: "he had been a swimmer himself, once") "czerny, you're in a better place than me, i think" "whelk, standing in the wreckage of his life, didn't laugh this time" "the dry, half-eaten burger on the passenger seat / the first fast-food burger he'd had in seven years" "these days, when whelk was trying to comfort himself, he told himself that czerny was a sheep, but sometimes he slipped and remembered him as loyal instead" "[...] took him back to that moment, the skateboard in his hands, the sad question gasped in czerny's dying sounds "we were friends like —"
also, whelk dying in the same place noah did. these lines:
both noah and barrington look the same in the end. broken, rumpled, forgotten. noah's family will never know his bones were reburied outside of their family plot. whelk's mother, however distant she is, will never be notified that her son has died. i think in a way barrington died at the exact same time noah did; something something invited into his body through czerny's death.
basically what i'm getting at is, noah and barry could've been ronan and adam i think, had the circumstances been different. they never will be, but i think about it sometimes.
and there's so many more things i'm not even gonna TRY going into, like noah and whelk both being parallels to gansey (the three of them kings in their own right), or the disparity between whelk talking about czerny vs adele talking about noah, or whatever the fuck is going on with whelk's backstory in general (what's the deal with his mother? how the hell did he get the aglionby job? a random headcanon of mine is that his and noah's search for the ley line lead them to fox way, seven years before the events of the book, and that's partly why whelk refuses to give out his name to maura, because barrington is hard to forget, and easy to trace back)
there is so much to talk about here and i'm so peeved no one is doing it properly... why are we still talking about declan bringing his weekly girlfriend over to monmouth for no reason when we could be talking about whatever the fuck kinda soul-fate-destiny bullshit noah and whelk have!
#i know trc has its villain of the book thing but i am sooo disappointed whelk is never really talked about beyond#the first novel. like he's one of the only tangible links we have to noah's life... he was RIGHT THERE#he's so interesting to me. i rotate him and noah over and over in my head like they're in a microwave#trc#the raven cycle#the raven boys#noah czerny#adam parrish#barrington whelk#ronan lynch
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Right Place, Right Time
(image creds: to the owner)
pairing: jason dilaurentis x female reader.
summary: 1x09 “the perfect storm” episode imagine/rewrite.
warnings: none... wilden being a jerk?
*read previous part here!
—————
“Where is Spencer with my mozzarella sticks?” Hanna groaned, dropping her head on top of her book that laid open in front of her, and [Y/N] chuckled at her friend’s antics.
Currently, [Y/N] and Hanna found themselves in Spencer’s kitchen, sitting at the island, as they studied for the SATs.
“Relax, Han, I’m sure Spence is on her way here,” [Y/N] replied while working on practice questions. “Remember she had to pick up Aria on her way?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Hanna groaned yet again, facing [Y/N] this time with her cheek pressed against the cold page of her book.
[Y/N] was so engrossed in her studying that she didn’t notice the sudden mischief that lit up Hanna’s eyes.
“Until they get here, though,” Hanna began, lifting her head up and sitting straight again with her hands clasped in front of her. “We have something very important to talk about.”
“Talk about what?” [Y/N] asked, her eyes turning suspicious as she noticed the teasing glint in the blonde’s eyes.
“About the past few days,” Hanna replied. “About Jason.”
“What about Jason?” [Y/N] asked, her eyes dropping to the pages in front of her again as she tried to remain nonchalant about the topic.
“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], you know exactly what I’m talking about!” exclaimed Hanna.
“Nope, I don’t,” [Y/N] answered, flipping the pages of the book because she couldn’t concentrate on the practice questions anymore.
Hanna, who understood this, was quick to pull the book away from [Y/N] to which the latter let out a ‘hey!’
“[Y/N/N], did you really not see the way Jason’s eyes lit up when he saw you after he said hi to me the day he came to discuss the memorial with us?” Hanna asked, ignoring her friend’s protest to grab the book again.
“The way he hugged you and to me, it looked like he only let go when you pulled away from him first,” Hanna continued and [Y/N] remained silent, no longer trying to get her book back. “He also stood closer to the side you sat by at this very spot. He was all polite and business until he brought up Ali’s picture, and you replied that it was our favorite. Not to forget, you speaking up totally calmed him down when we pretty much nagged him about why Jenna wanted to speak at the memorial.”
[Y/N] played with her fingers as she processed Hanna’s words. She would be lying if she disagreed with Hanna because she had made the exact same observations about Jason. However, she was afraid to hope that there was more – that Jason somehow returned her feelings.
“Also, let’s not forget the extra large frown on his face when Eric hugged you after the memorial,” Hanna added.
“Wait, what?” [Y/N] asked as this was the first time she was hearing about this.
“Yes!” Hanna exclaimed. “I mean he probably knows Eric’s your ex so he was very much likely jealous.”
“Han,” [Y/N] sighed. “Are you sure you’re not imagining things?”
“Of course not,” replied Hanna. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very observant person.”
[Y/N] couldn’t help but chuckle before sighing.
“Hanna banana, nothing is going to happen between Jason and me. So, you need to forget about Jason and I, and focus on the SATs we have tomorrow.”
“Hey, I’m multitasking!” Hanna reasoned, making [Y/N] laugh yet again.
“But, Han, I’m serious,” [Y/N] replied. “To Jason, I’m prob- definitely just a friend of Ali. One of the powerpuff girls as he used to call us.”
“I’ve just… never seen you look at a guy the way you look at Jason,” Hanna said softly. “I mean I know you were with Eric and you two liked each other, but I don’t know. I’ve always thought you two were better off as friends.”
“That’s why we ended things but we are still good friends,” smiled [Y/N].
“I hate that I’m nagging you about Jason, but I just… I want you to be happy,” Hanna shrugged.
“I am happy, Han,” [Y/N] replied, leaning over and squeezing Hanna’s hand reassuringly.
Before Hanna could say more, they heard the sound of Spencer’s car.
“Let’s not talk about Jason anymore,” [Y/N] said. “Can I have my book back please?”
“Ugh, fine,” Hanna rolled her eyes dramatically and handed [Y/N] her book again. “Our conversation isn't over [Y/N/N]!”
...
The day of the SATs was awful to say the least.
Veronica Hastings had driven Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and [Y/N] to the school. Spencer’s mother didn’t let the girls out of her sight until she verified with someone the test was definitely taking place and not getting canceled due to the storm.
“Test is on today,” a woman, one of the proctors, told Veronica. “Rosewood students should register in the library.”
“Half of the school isn’t even here,” Hanna said.
“And, they may never make it,” Veronica added. “We saw this huge tree down on Sawmill Road and they’ve closed off York street.”
“That wasn’t because of the storm,” a familiar voice replied from behind them and the four best friends looked at each other in alert. Detective Wilden was the last person they wanted to see at the moment. They, along with Veronica, turned to face him. “York Street has been closed since last night.”
“Why?” Veronica questioned.
“Somebody decided to pay a visit to Alison DiLaurentis’ memorial and destroy it,” Wilden informed them, making the girls’ hearts drop. “Shattered the tiles, broke the bench.”
“What?” Aria and [Y/N] whispered in shock.
“When did this happen?” Spencer questioned.
“We had to cordon off the area, there’s an investigation going on,” Wilden stated, eyeing the girls rather suspiciously.
“Spare them the details,” Veronica interrupted before Wilden could continue. “They’re about to take their SATs.”
“Right,” Wilden nodded, slowly backing away from them. “Good luck on the test, ladies.”
“We should get to the library,” [Y/N] said quietly and walked ahead with Hanna as the others followed.
...
The exam still hadn’t started and [Y/N] found herself alone in the music room after a while. She was seated on the window sill and leaned against the window with her eyes closed as she listened to the sound of the rain and winds.
She felt exhausted with everything.
First, one of her best friends, Alison, disappeared a year ago only to be found murdered a few months back. Then, Jason DiLaurentis – her dead best friend’s brother and the man she had feelings for – returned to town to plan a memorial for Ali. Now, the memorial they put their hearts into was destroyed.
It also didn’t help that Emily was acting pretty strange. She hadn’t joined the rest of the girls the previous night to study for the exam, explaining that she didn’t get out of swim practice till late. Except, when Wilden had questioned about all of their whereabouts, Emily told him that she was with her friends to study for the exam. And, now, Emily was upset with them for questioning her on her lie and had stormed off.
Everything was taking a toll on [Y/N] and all she wanted to do was go home, snuggle in her covers, and shut the world out for a while.
“[Y/N]?”
The call of her name startled her and she snapped her eyes open, turning her head to face the doorway. To her complete surprise, there stood the man, who had captured her thoughts and more.
“Jason?” she asked, her voice indicating her surprise, as she moved her legs down to sit up straight. “What are you doing here?”
“Wanted to have a word with Detective Wilden,” Jason replied, walking further into the room, and his wet raincoat hung on his right arm. “Went to the police station and found out he was here.”
“Jason, it’s terrible out there,” she couldn’t help but say in concern. “You shouldn’t have driven in this weather. It’s dangerous.”
“I know, but I had to,” he said, pausing a foot or two away from where she was sitting. “I don’t know if you heard but Ali’s memorial was destroyed.”
“I heard,” [Y/N] whispered, dropping her gaze from his. “Detective Wilden told us.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason said a few moments later and [Y/N] looked up at him again in question. “I know that you and your friends worked really hard on it. I can only imagine how upset you guys must be.”
[Y/N] shrugged with a sad smile.
“You can sit here if you’d like,” she said when she noticed Jason was still standing in front of her. He complied, sitting next to her with a small ‘thanks.’ “I’m sorry too.”
“For what?” he asked, confused.
“For everything that’s happened since Ali’s disappearance,” [Y/N] replied. “It feels like… she can’t rest.”
“More like Rosewood won’t let her rest,” Jason added with a bitter smile.
“I’m still having a hard time processing this, to be honest,” [Y/N] commented. “Rosewood has always been a strange little town. Yet, it’s hard to believe that such a heartless person is out there who would destroy a memorial.”
“Do you or your friend know of someone who would want to hurt Ali?” Jason asked and [Y/N] froze in her spot. “Someone who must hate Ali to such an extent they’d go as far as to destroy a memorial for her?”
In [Y/N]’s opinion, the list of people who disliked Ali was rather endless. Unfortunately, her deceased best friend wasn’t the nicest person. She had bullied almost half of the school and had made more enemies than friends. One of Ali’s victims definitely had to be their faceless tormentor, A, and they had to be responsible for destroying Alison’s memorial the previous night.
But, of course, she couldn’t exactly reveal all of this to Jason.
“[Y/N]?” Jason called when she didn’t reply for a long time and the girl looked at him again.
“I’m not sure, Jason,” she shook her head. “I have a feeling that there are probably a lot of people out there who didn’t- well, don’t like Ali and us. But, I don’t know anyone specific who could’ve done this.”
Jason seemed convinced and nodded at her answer. He was well-aware of the type of person his little sister was. Yet, it broke his heart that even after her death, someone was holding grudges against her.
“Are you ready for the SATs?” Jason asked [Y/N], changing the topic from Alison.
“I- I guess so,” she shrugged with a low chuckle.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he said reassuringly, understanding how stressed she must be feeling. “Don’t think about anything now. Just focus on your exam, okay? I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Well, it’d be greater if the exam gets canceled,” she said, causing him to laugh. “But, thank you, Jason.”
“Of course,” he said, still smiling. “And, I hope for your sake that the exam does get canceled.”
She laughed, shaking her head, before meeting his eyes. The two of them felt lighter for a moment despite the chaos that awaited them outside the classroom. The moment was soon interrupted when [Y/N]’s phone binged with an incoming text.
“Excuse me,” she said, moving to grab her cell phone from her bag, and Jason nodded, looking away. [Y/N] instantly tensed when she saw that the message was from none other than her and her friends’ faceless tormentor.
Define 'desertion.'
Seems like you're about to lose Emily.
Who's next?
- A.
Just like that, the calmness Jason’s words and presence brought [Y/N] disappeared. She abruptly stood up, startling the man next to her.
“[Y/N]?” Jason called her name and she turned to face him while wearing her backpack. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding her head rapidly. “I have to go.”
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” he couldn’t help but ask, having noticed her rapid breathing.
“Yes, yes, I just really have to go,” she replied, already walking towards the door.
“Uh, okay, can I walk with you?” he asked.
“No, no, it’s okay,” she said quickly, already out of the classroom. “I’ll see you later.”
Before he could reply, [Y/N] was already out of his sight. He was confused and a little suspicious by [Y/N]’s sudden anxious state. Soon, he walked out of the class too, hoping to find Wilden and also to check up on [Y/N] if possible too.
...
[Y/N] walked to the locker room to join the rest of her friends, who were all there except for Emily.
“[Y/N/N], where were you?” Hanna asked in concern.
“I- I just needed some time to myself,” [Y/N] answered and her three friends nodded in understanding. “Where’s Emily? Is she okay?”
“She’s right behind you,” Aria replied and [Y/N] turned around to see Emily walk towards them.
“Hey, Em, where were you?” Spencer asked gently when Emily stopped a few feet away from them.
“I was looking for my purse,” replied Emily, not meeting her friends’ eyes.
“Maybe it’s still in the library?” Hanna suggested.
Before the girls could talk further, they were interrupted by Wilden.
“Emily, we found something that belongs to you. Could you come with me, please?”
Without waiting for Emily’s reply, Wilden began to walk off while Emily turned to her friends, looking scared. [Y/N] held Emily’s hand in hers, nodding at her, wordlessly telling her that they were in this together.
“Emily, let’s go,” Wilden pressed sternly and the five girls walked behind him, annoyed and worried.
They followed Wilden to the library and their eyes widened when Wilden stopped by a table, where Emily’s bag sat.
“Perfect, we can all be together for an update,” he said in mock excitement as the girls stood in front of him.
“What’s going on?” Spencer asked first with her arms crossed across her chest. She wasn’t about to let Wilden intimidate her and her friends easily when they did nothing wrong.
“Did you tell your friends where you were last night?” he asked, facing Emily with a smirk. “When you weren’t studying for the test? See, because I got these really interesting photos…”
Wilden passed his phone to the girls and they were shocked to see the pictures of Emily at the site of Alison’s destroyed memorial.
“And, I see that you didn’t get a chance to clean your shoes either,” Wilden stated, looking at Emily’s muddy shoes.
“It wasn’t me, I swear,” Emily said in a shaky voice as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh, really? Were you there to cover up Toby’s tracks then?” Wilden questioned sarcastically.
“I found it like that,” Emily continued tearfully. “It was already destroyed when I got there.”
“And, this,” Wilden ignored Emily’s words and pulled out a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “Would you like me to share this with your friends or would you?”
Emily looked horrified and tried to snatch the paper from Wilden, but he held it away from her. Meanwhile, the rest of the four girls looked on, feeling confused and helpless.
“Go ahead and tell them, Emily,” he said with what [Y/N] would call a purely evil smile. “Tell your friends about the angry letter you wrote to Alison.”
“You had no right to read that,” Emily said tearfully, wrapping her arms around herself, [Y/N] instantly side-hugged her as she was standing next to her.
“What’s in the letter, Em?” Spencer asked softly.
“Tell her, Emily,” Wilden snarled. “Tell her how you wanted to punish Alison for rejecting you. Tell her how you felt relieved at her funeral.”
“I went back to the memorial to say that I was sorry,” Emily said as [Y/N] rubbed her back. “I wrote that letter in anger and- and I didn’t mean the horrible things I said to her. I- I loved her as- as more than a friend.”
Emily looked down as she finished speaking, leaving her friends in surprise. They had no idea that Emily was in love with Ali.
[Y/N] held Emily tighter when she felt the latter shake in her arms. Her hatred for Wilden was increasing day by day. She couldn’t believe he would go ahead and reveal such personal information about Emily. It should’ve been totally up to Emily on when or if she would’ve preferred to share this with her friends.
“Give her the letter back or I swear to god–” Hanna demanded, facing Wilden with fiery eyes.
“Sorry, can’t do that,” was Wilden’s smug reply as he kept the letter back in his coat pocket. “We’re not leaving the room until Emily here tells me why she was carrying around pieces of Alison’s memorial!”
“Detective Wilden,” a familiar voice called and their heads turned towards the doorway of the library to see Jason standing there.
He walked further inside the library, towards the detective and his sister’s friends. His eyes were narrowed and suspicious as he looked at the familiar faces gathered there. His suspicion soon shifted to concern when he noticed a teary Emily being held by [Y/N]. He looked at [Y/N] in question while she looked back at him helplessly.
“What’s going on here?” he asked sternly, turning to Wilden. “Shouldn’t they be with the other students?”
“It’s good that you’re here too,” Wilden smirked, taking Emily’s letter to Ali out of his coat pocket again. Then, he proceeded to show Jason the pictures of Emily at Ali’s trashed memorial, the figurines in her bag, and the letter.
“Stop,” [Y/N] interrupted before Wilden could explain the contents of Emily’s letter to Ali. “Jason, Emily didn’t do this, okay? She would never!”
“I believe you, [Y/N],” Jason replied instantly. “Emily or you girls are the last people I would expect to destroy Ali’s memorial.”
“The proof is right here, Jason,” Wilden scoffed in disbelief.
“Just because you can’t find the ones who committed the crime doesn’t mean you can go around and accuse my sister’s friends,” Jason said back. “Besides, you shouldn’t even be talking to these girls without their parents present!”
While Wilden was staring down Jason, Hanna was quick to grab Emily’s letter from his hand before moving back and the detective glared at her.
“Spencer?” another voice called and they turned around to see Veronica Hastings walk into the library, observing the people present there, especially Jason and Wilden rather cautiously.
“Who are you?” Wilden questioned, annoyed. He was already in a foul mood as Jason hadn’t believed his accusations against Emily.
Veronica was not at all fazed by the detective’s rude tone and her face was a mask of calm as she came to stand next to Spencer.
“Her mother,” she replied simply before her eyes fell on a crying Emily, then she turned to her daughter. “Honey, why is she crying?”
“Detective Wilden accused her of killing Alison,” Spencer replied.
“What?” Veronica asked, baffled.
“He also went through her purse and continued to accuse her,” Aria added.
“Hold on, you’re questioning minors without an adult?” Veronica questioned the detective angrily. “What police department do you work for? What century are you in?”
In the next few minutes, Veronica Hastings successfully shut Wilden’s mouth, causing him to leave the library in irritation while she proceeded to take the girls back to the locker room.
[Y/N] slowly trailed behind her friends and Spencer’s mom. She knew Jason was standing behind them and could feel his eyes on her. A part of her wanted to thank him for standing up to Wilden for her friends and her, while the other part was nervous to do so with a mini audience.
With these thoughts swirling in her head, she was already outside the library when a hand held hers, stopping her. She looked to her right to see Hanna giving her an understanding smile.
“Go talk to him,” she said softly. She glanced at Aria, Emily, Spencer and Veronica, who were walking ahead of them.
“Han,” [Y/N] protested weakly.
“Go, I’ll cover for you,” Hanna interrupted. “Just be quick.”
“Thanks, Han,” [Y/N] said before turning around and walking to the library again. Once she reached inside, she saw Jason still standing in the same spot, staring at the ground and lost in his thoughts.
“Jason?” she called softly, not wanting to startle him.
He looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes.
“[Y/N]? Is everything okay?” he asked in concern, walking towards her and she met him in the middle of the library.
“Yes, yes,” she breathed out, nervously fiddling with her fingers as her gaze moved around the library for a few moments before finally meeting his attentive, green orbs. “I just wanted to thank you. For standing up to Wilden for Emily… and the rest of us.”
His lips pulled into a small smile as he looked at her.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “Wilden had no right to accuse Emily and intimidate you girls.”
“We’re kinda used to it by now,” [Y/N] shrugged with a humorless chuckle and Jason’s smile faded.
“Has he been bothering you and your friends?” he asked, a protective stance taking over him. “Do you want me to file a complaint against him?”
“No, Jason, don’t worry about it,” she shook her head. “I’m sure Mrs. Hastings scared him enough. You saw the way he kinda ran out of here, right?”
“Yes, but still…” he sighed.
“I’m sure he won’t bother us anymore,” she said, smiling reassuringly at him.
“Okay, I believe you,” he finally nodded, smiling back at her.
“I should go now,” she said, slowly walking backwards. “Thank you again.”
“Anytime, [Y/N],” he answered and she gave him one final smile before walking out of the library.
Once [Y/N] was out of his sight, Jason sighed and looked down at the carpeted floor of the library, wondering if it was right to feel the way he did for his deceased sister’s best friend.
—————
*read next part here!
#jason dilaurentis x reader#jason dilaurentis x female reader#jason dilaurentis fanfiction#pretty little liars#pll fanfiction#drew van acker#reader-insert#jason dilaurentis#jason dilaurentis x oc
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I know a lot of people give Twilight a country accent… how do you think the chain would react if reader had a southern/country accent aswell? (If you don’t wanna answer this, dw)
Sorry this one took so long!! It took a few tries to write something I was happy with plotwise!! I hope you'll like it!
But for the accents, I have to thank my wife @angry-trashcan for helping me out with them, and by helping I mean rewriting the all dialogue perfectly for me 💖💖💖 they're incredible and I really recommend anyone who hasn't goes and reads hair holds memories because it's an absolutely amazing fic!!!
Where am I? It feels like I’ve been hit by a truck, but worse… This place clearly isn’t my room, because the last time I checked my room wasn’t a forest.
The last thing I remember was playing twilight princess, then this weird red-eyed shadow and now I’m here? The amount of pain I’m in proves that it isn’t a dream, no matter how much I hope it is. The area I’m in looks vaguely like… no, no that couldn't be possible.
This place is a game.
This can’t be outside of Ordon, It can’t be.
“Is anyone there? Anyone at all?”
No response, but if I really am in… or somewhere similar then I know where to go.
After that revelation, it’s a fairly easy decision to follow the path I’ve memorised from many playthroughs. It doesn’t take long to get to find my way either, a matter of moments until I’m on a more well-worn path. With nine people who look like Link standing in front of me… Great…
"Uh, you 'right, darlin'? We found ya on the trail, passed out. And ya don't look like you're from 'round here."
"Sorry I just... Yeah, I ain't from 'round here."
Why does he look so happy, I’ve not really even said anything have I? He doesn’t recognise me, he can’t it was dark link who’d always look at me in the games when he shouldn’t have, not link. Except for…
No let’s not get into that right now. I’m speaking to, I’m speaking to the link from twilight princess and he’s got the same accent as me. HE’S GOT THE SAME ACCENT AS ME. Is that why he’s so excited? It’s part of why I’m so excited.
"You do seem kinda familiar though, darlin'. Even though I ain't know exactly where... just how, but now I could listen to ya all day long."
"I think I may be able to answer that, though I'm not sure if ya'd like the answer I'd give ya."
"I'm fairly certain I can, darlin'. 'Sides, it's not like I don't already know."
“What was that?”
“Nothin’”
He looks obsessed and a bit ashamed? Is my accent really that impressive to him? His voice is nice as well, but his voice isn’t the only reason I’m flustered right now. Link, the hero of twilight is standing over me like he’s never heard anything like me before.
"so [name], are you feelin’ better now?"
"I-I haven't told ya my name. How do ya...?"
“Ah, sorry darlin’ lucky guess, mayhaps??”
"Lucky guess!? I know for certain that that ain't a rare name here, let alone a common one."
"And what you was sayin' under ya breath earlier, you already know who I am, don't ya?"?"
Seems he still has the decency to look ashamed of how eager he was there, but now that brings up so many more questions. Was he aware the whole time, how much has he heard? If he has heard all of that why is he so excited to see me?
"darlin'?”
"How much do ya know ‘bout me, link."
"Well, it's a uh, long story."
#links✦react#linked universe x reader#yandere linked universe x reader#yandere linked universe#link x reader#moss✦answers#moss✦writes
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Cooking Up Love, Chapter 12
Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader
Rating: T
Story Summary: Here
Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, idiots in love, angst
Word Count: ~1800
A/N: It's time for Mega Angst, which means we have 2 more chapters to go until our resolution!
Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @roseslovedreams
"Hey, Ellison is looking for you," Skyler said on Friday morning. "He said he wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, okay, thanks," you replied.
Skyler eyed you. "Still haven't heard from Chef Hottie?"
You shook your head. "Nope. I tried texting Matt yesterday just to let him know that I'd be emailing a copy of my article to him after Ellison approved it and never got a response."
Skyler frowned. "Well that's shitty."
"Told you he'd ditch you as soon as it was all over," Kelsie said as she walked up. "Although I'm surprised he didn't at least wait until your article came out."
She let out a snide laugh. "He must've really not been into you."
Your heart twisted. After rehashing the events of your blind tasting with Skyler on Tuesday you had allowed yourself a small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe , Matt had been genuine with you, but once again Kelsie had come along to squash it.
You swallowed and shook your head. "It really doesn't matter what Chef Murdock thinks of me personally. I'm still going to write the truth about him."
"And that's why you'll be stuck writing puff pieces your entire career." Kelsie shrugged. "Well, I better get busy. James is picking me up early for our weekend away and I don't want to be rushing to get things done last-minute."
Skyler scowled as Kelsie sauntered away. "One day… One day I'm going to go off on her, and I promise you, it won't be pretty."
She turned to you. "You okay?"
You nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm gonna go ahead and go see Ellison. I'll catch up with you later."
You headed towards Ellison's office, knocking on the doorframe when you reached the threshold. "Hey, you wanted to see me?"
Ellison nodded and gestured towards the couch opposite him. "Yeah, take a seat."
Oh, shit. Sitting was never good news. Sitting indicated Serious Conversation that usually resulted in someone getting reprimanded -- or worse.
You swallowed nervously as you sat. "What's up?"
Ellison reached for a stapled set of papers -- papers you recognized as the copy of your article that you had set on his desk Wednesday afternoon and had been waiting for feedback on. "I want to talk to you about your article."
You didn't notice any red markings on it, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
A dozen thoughts flew through your mind, none of them good. Did he hate my article and I need to rewrite the entire thing? Am I being reassigned? Did Matt call to complain about me having been unprofessional somehow and that's why I haven't heard from him?
Ellison peered up at you above his glasses. "Remember when I told you not to make me regret agreeing to give you a raise?"
You nodded, your heartbeat quickening. "Uh huh."
"Well…" Ellison grinned at you. "There's a reason I told you that you're my best reporter, and it's because of articles like this."
A wave of relief washed over you. Oh, thank God. "You liked it?"
"Liked it? I loved it." Ellison shook his head. "In fact, I think this is the best article I've read in a very long time."
A slow smile spread across your face. "Really?"
Ellison nodded. "I knew if anyone on staff would be able to get Chef Murdock to open up, it would be you. I feel like I've gotten to know him through your writing -- that bit about him volunteering to cook for the soup kitchen at Clinton Church every Sunday after the restaurant closes? It's almost like I was there with the two of you. The descriptions of the dishes you tried at his restaurant? I could almost taste them myself."
He flipped to the second page. "And that final line? 'Chef Murdock's professionalism, masterful culinary skills, and obvious love and care that he puts into his cooking all combine to create a delicious recipe for success' ? Probably the best closing sentence I've ever read. In fact, I was so blown away by your article that I'm submitting it for consideration in the NYPC's Journalism awards next year. I have a feeling it'll win the Best Feature Reporting category by a landslide."
You were speechless. "I honestly don't know what to say, Mitch. Thank you."
Ellison leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Say you'll remember to thank me in your acceptance speech when you inevitably win."
You nodded. "Absolutely. If I win, you'll be the first person I thank."
"Good. Now, I have an editorial column to write for Restaurant Week so let me get back to it, but I want to tell you again… great job."
You stood. "Thank you, Mitch, truly."
You left Ellison's office, a huge smile on your face.
"You look happy," Skyler said as you passed her in the hallway. "Good meeting?"
You nodded. "The best. Ellison loved my article and said that he was going to nominate it for the Press Club's Journalism awards next year."
Skyler gasped. "You're kidding!"
She wrapped her arms around you in a hug. "Oh my gosh, I'm so happy for you. My best friend, an award-winning journalist!"
You huffed out a laugh as you gave her a quick hug back. "That's the dream, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I probably won't win."
Skyler shook her head. "Oh, I'm pretty sure you will. You're an incredible writer."
"Thanks, Sky." You smiled. "I'm gonna go send my article over to Matt. Hopefully he likes it as much as Ellison did."
"Okay. I'm about to head out to go pick up my press pass for that music festival I'm covering this weekend. Did you want me to grab something for you while I'm out?"
You shook your head. "I'm good. Thanks though."
"Okay, I'll see you later then."
You headed back to your desk and pulled up your email, clicking the button to draft a new email and attaching the document with your article from your desktop.
Subject: Bulletin Article
Attachment: Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc
You considered adding a message, but still wasn't sure what you'd say to him besides "I'm sorry", so you left it blank.
You were getting ready to click send when Kelsie walked up to you. "There's a delivery for you downstairs," she said. "You have to go sign for it."
Your brow furrowed. Normally Phil, the Bulletin 's security guard, signed for deliveries and put them in your mailbox. "Oh. Okay."
"And by the way, I'm not your secretary, so next time there's a message for you, someone else can deliver it."
You sighed. "Whatever, Kelsie."
You stood and headed to the elevator, then went down to the first floor.
You frowned as the doors opened and you stepped out to an empty lobby.
You walked over to the security desk. "Phil, did I have a delivery in the past couple of minutes?"
The security guard shook his head. "We had several packages come in, but nothing for you that I know of."
You shrugged. Kelsie must've been mistaken. "Okay, thanks."
You headed back upstairs to your desk and clicked send on your email to Matt.
You sighed. At least that's done.
…So why did you feel uneasy?
Matt was sitting at his computer in his office working on the next week's purchase orders when his computer chimed with a new email alert.
He navigated to his inbox and opened the email, waiting as his voice accessibility feature read out the information.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Bulletin Article
Attachments: (1) Restaurant Week Feature V1.doc
He took a deep breath and opened the attachment, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.
He plugged in his headphones, then hit the keyboard command to start his text-to-speech service.
His heart sank as his computer began to read the article aloud to him. It was full of false information, including completely made-up quotes and scathing reviews of both Daredevil and Matt personally. At least she left what I told her at Fogwell's out of it.
He listened to it twice more, his stomach sinking lower and lower each time.
He was contemplating listening to it yet another time when Foggy walked in. "Hey, Matt, we need to add extra oranges to next week's --"
He paused. "What's wrong?"
Matt sighed. "The Bulletin article."
Foggy stepped fully inside the office. "Oh, you got it?"
Matt nodded. "Yeah, and it's just like I thought -- she was using me the whole time."
Foggy placed a hand on the back of Matt's chair as he peered at Matt's computer screen.
He sucked in a breath. " Shit, man, I'm sorry."
Matt shook his head. "I knew it. I knew that she would turn out to be just like Elektra."
His phone began to ring, the repetition of your name twisting the knife into his heart.
He answered, saying your name flatly.
"Matt, hi," you replied. "I was just calling to let you know that I sent you a copy of my article."
"Yeah, I got it."
"Oh. Okay." You sounded unsure. "Have you read it yet?"
"Oh, yeah, I read it." Matt scoffed. "What, are you expecting me to be happy about it, to say 'thank you?' I knew I shouldn't have trusted you -- all you journalists are exactly alike."
"What?" You sounded confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you used me to make a name for yourself. Always looking for the next big scoop, no matter who you screw over in the process."
"Screw over? Matt, I don't under--"
"I actually thought you cared about me, that maybe you felt--" Matt cut himself off and shook his head. "You know what, don't bother coming by my restaurant ever again -- you're not welcome here."
Before you could say anything else, Matt hung up then threw his phone across the room. "Fuck. "
Foggy placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Matty."
Matt shook his head. "You know, the worst part about all this is that I could feel myself falling for her, Fog. I thought she was different, I thought -- I thought that maybe someday she could be the one."
He sighed. "By the way, I know you meant well and all, but don't ever offer for me to do anything involving a journalist ever again."
Foggy chuckled. "Oh, no danger of that, don't worry."
He patted Matt's shoulder. "Come on, let's finish getting ready. If this article is going to tank us then we're going to make these last few services the best we possibly can."
#lotmf writes#Cooking Up Love Masterlist#Chef!Matt Murdock x Reader#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x female reader#matt muerdock x you
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Finders Keepers Ch 17. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 5.3k
Warnings: SMUT, PIV, a little bit rough but, like, in a romantic way, author once again refusing to acknowledge she has a hand covering mouth during sex kink
Summary: At Seafarer's Beacon you feel stuck in limbo. McLaggen is determined to do something to give you purpose again.
A/N: I'm sorry I teased a little subby moment with McLaggen at the end of the last chapter but this chapter took so many rewrites because it turns out I don't have a dominant bone in my body so you'll need to pretend it happened off-screen. Anyway...
Masterlist
Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai, @marmie-noir, @lolitstiana, @evabellasworld, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @xyzstar, (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)
Chapter 17: Purpose
You spot a tiny white spatter on the t-shirt you’re wearing as you finish brushing your teeth before bed in the bathroom. It’s clean. Or at least was until your spearmint toothpaste marked it. Freshly laundered so it doesn’t smell like him in the way you’d prefer. The shoulders are too broad. The seams hang loosely around your arms. But the old Gryffindor Qudditch training top fits you like you’re wearing a piece of his soul.
“I’ve got toothpaste on your top,” you remark absently to McLaggen next door in the bedroom.
It’s not like you’ve said something profound but when McLaggen doesn’t reply it sticks out like a splinter. You often bat snippets of unremarkable things to each other, like two beaters at bludger practice. If he finds something useful from a book from his uncle’s collection, he just reads it aloud and says “I should remember that,” instead of writing it down. As if imprinting the words on you means he’ll commit it to memory.
But when he doesn’t fire something back, you open the bathroom door. He’s sitting shirtless in his plaid pyjama bottoms. Even though it’s the coldest Christmas Eve that you ever remember experiencing, your bedroom at the top of the lighthouse is warm. Heat from the hearth in the kitchen on the bottom floor rises the whole way through Seafarers Beacon, making everything feel warm and cosy. You tilt your head, waiting for him to lower the copy of this morning’s Daily Prophet but he doesn’t notice you standing in the doorway - he’s holding it so high that it’s covering his face.
“Are you still reading that?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
You glance at the white, frosty landscape outside the window as you wander over and climb into bed beside him, reading over his shoulder. The development he’s reading about isn’t significant - a short paragraph assuring the wizarding community that repairs to Azkaban are ongoing - but there’s a tiny quote from his dad that he read out to you this morning. And he’s been reading and re-reading all day, ever since his eyes first landed on it on the kitchen table while the rest of you were talking and buttering toast.
“I’m sorry you can’t see your mum and dad tomorrow.”
It’s not that you’ve been having an unpleasant time at Seafarer’s Beacon. But Christmas here has felt like a strained effort to replicate Christmas at home, or even, to some extent, Christmas at Hogwarts. Marietta has spent the past few days decorating the kitchen at the bottom landing of the lighthouse. Paper snowflakes whirl around the empty space in the middle of the empty space between the staircase spiralling around the outer walls and up the seven floors.
“It’s fine,” McLaggen says and clears his throat. “I’m okay.”
“It’s not fine.” You rest your hand on his arm and he lets the Daily Prophet fall to his lap, still staring at the small paragraph with his dad’s words. “I wish I could see my mum and dad too - it’s okay for us to be sad about it.”
He nods. “I know - I miss them. Especially after reading about Dad today. But this time of year makes me… I - I dunno. It’s complicated. I still haven’t really forgiven him for handing you over.”
“Cormac -” you hesitate. “- your dad… he did what he had to do. I forgive him for choosing to save you and your family over me - someone who’s practically a stranger. I mean, if I was in his position…?”
He presses his palms hard into his eyes. Usually so bright and green, tonight they’re bloodshot. “You’d really make a choice like that?”
“All I know is that right now, I’d do whatever it takes to keep us safe.”
“All of us,” he affirms, sitting up properly.
“Well… yes -” You say slowly. “But if it comes to it, what I meant was you and I.”
“Don’t talk like that. We’re all in this together.”
“Cormac, you had to choose between me and Eddie when you had to get one of us out of Azkaban -”
“That was different.”
“Every single time we’re faced with a difficult decision it’s different. It was different for you. Different for your dad. We’re in the middle of a war and that’s how war is.”
McLaggen tosses the newspaper aside. “I just wish we could do something. Something to win the war. I feel useless stuck in here.”
“I don’t think there is.”
Because you’ve already racked your brains. You and McLaggen have had this conversation several times already.
Both breakouts from Azkaban have rendered you almost completely isolated from the outside world. Now that Marietta and McLaggen are both assumed kidnapped, your insider knowledge of the Ministry has been shut off. With Krum and Davies here, you’ve got no idea what’s happening internationally. The only real source of information you have that isn’t Ministry propaganda is Potterwatch, and aside from reporting deaths and other swathes of bad news, they don’t seem to have much more information than you do holed up here.
“What about the snatchers they mentioned on Potterwatch? Couldn’t we go after them?” he asks.
“And what are we supposed to do with them? We can’t hand them in to the aurors. It’s not like they’re doing anything illegally - this is all Ministry sanctioned,” you remind him.
“I was more thinking along the lines of teaching them a lesson.”
“What? Like, kill them?” you raise an eyebrow.
“Nah just scare them - rough them up a little.”
“Cormac, we’re not gonna start dealing out vigilante justice. And especially not when half of us are Undesirables. It could go seriously wrong.” You tilt your head, feeling slightly worried that being so cooped up, being away from his parents and the rest of the outside world is making him want to behave recklessly. “And you’re supposed to be kidnapped, remember? If you’re seen outside again people will get suspicious. All we can do is wait,” you say softly, touching your lips against his bare shoulder. “Wait here and stay safe.”
He shakes his head. “We should be training. Like when Potter was in charge of Dumbledore’s Army. Duelling. Practising defensive spells. If we’re prepared then maybe, just maybe, none of us will have to make a difficult choice about who to save.”
You nod and rest your head on your white down pillow, looking at him as you lie on your side. “Let’s start the day after tomorrow. First thing on Boxing Day.”
“Yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow as if he was worried you’d think it was another bad idea.
“Yeah, it’ll give us something useful to do - I’m kind of sick of doing nothing.” You sigh. “Being here has made me realise how slowly time passes without Quidditch… I wish there was enough room to fly properly.”
Cormac rests his head on the pillow too, lying on his back and looking up at the curved, coral ceiling thoughtfully. His brow is slightly furrowed in concentration.
“I could try to work out how to extend the perimeter of the Fidelius Charm?”
“You can do that?” You blink. Your heart soars at the idea that you might be able to feel the wind in your hair again.
“I mean, it definitely won’t be easy but - yeah, I think so. I’ll get it sorted if it’d make you happy. Who knows how long this war will last? You might as well have someplace to fly.”
God, he’s so sweet.
You don’t say anything else. You don’t need to. Instead you curl into the crook of his arm and you both drift off. You, wrapped in his arms as your dreams take you to the sky once more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Training breathes new life into Seafarer’s Beacon. Everyone is invigorated by the opportunity to do something that isn’t just lounging around, existing. You’re Dumbledore’s Army, after all. You’re part of the resistance.
McLaggen and Eddie spend days working out how to do an extremely complex piece of magic to extend the perimeter of the Fideleus charm so you have space to fly. You think you could cry when you get onto your broom and fly properly for the first time since your mission to Azkaban.
Marietta gets to work transfiguring a scarecrow into a working duelling dummy and creating so many duplicates you feel like you’re facing a small army when you step into the garden one spring afternoon.
Cho scours the Daily Prophet - her curious intellect and keen eye for detail help her read between the lines to make sense of what’s really happening. She sends coded letters with her theories to Lee Jordan so he can confirm them with his contacts and inform Potterwatch listeners. You all huddle around the radio every other night and you squeeze her hand when Lee’s reporting follows her leads.
Katie and Leanne find that there’s more than just fiction in McLaggen’s uncle’s old bookcase and find an extensive collection of defensive spells and healing potions that can be used in combat. They forage herbs in the lighthouse’s magical garden and order rarer potion ingredients by owl post.
You, Krum and Davies, put everyone through flying drills until even Marietta is confident on a broom. Everyone practises casting curses while flying - it’s much harder to keep balance than it looks. When Krum finds out just how talented a Seeker Cho is, you can practically see little hearts forming in his eyes. When you toss an apple her way one day in the kitchen and she catches it one-handed without even looking, you think Krum might propose to her then and there.
Even as the months slip by, the Ministry is taking your threat about breaking into Azkaban again seriously. There have been no more Muggleborns sent to prison. And you tell yourself that as long as you’re here, and the Ministry knows you’ll retaliate, you’re doing something to help win this war.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“See anything?” asks McLaggen, one late May evening as the two of you finish clearing up the garden after duelling practice. You can hear the others in the kitchen having final cups of tea before bed except for Cho who had to run upstairs to wash her hair after you sent such a powerful disarming spell your way that she’d ended up flat on her back in the rather muddy vegetable patch.
“I think something might have cracked a window pane on the greenhouse?” You suggest as you wave your wand over a heavily battered and burned duelling dummy. “Reparo!”
“On it,” says McLaggen, wandering over to assess the damage. “...I can’t see anything” He calls from behind the greenhouse.
“I definitely heard something smash,” you say, frowning at a slightly squashed courgette in the vegetable patch and making a mental note to cast a protective charm over them next time you’re practising in the garden. “I hope it’s not one of the lighthouse windows.”
You follow the garden path around past the greenhouse to find McLaggen standing at the other side of Seafarer’s Beacon, pointing his wand at a window. Beautiful, warm light cascades across his handsome face. It’s late evening but the sun still hasn’t set.
“Found it. It was a window. Easily fixed though,” he says, lowering his wand and turning to face you. “You’re getting much better at duelling by the way. That last one with Cho was pretty evenly matched.”
“I’m just glad I’m not the worst anymore. I think I’m better than Marietta now. Maybe Eddie too - on a good day.”
“Not everything has to be a competition,” laughs McLaggen before kissing the top of your head and pulling you into his chest.
“That’s easy for you to say when you’re winning. You’re the best at duelling,” you grumble, although you’re not jealous. The thought is a comforting one, you think as you close your eyes and inhale his dark, spicy scent.
“No, I think Krum is probably the best,” says McLaggen thoughtfully.
You look up at him. “Y’know when I first met you, I don’t think you’d ever have admitted someone was better than you at something,” you tease.
He chuckles softly. The garden hums with the sounds of nature as McLaggen holds you to his chest and stares out at the amber sky as the sun sets over the sea, interrupted only by the distant echo of laughter from the kitchen from inside - the unmistakable noises of the others joking together before they retire to bed.
“Thank you for doing all this,” you tell him. Just being on a broom has - ironically - grounded you. It’s made everything feel alright again. And now that you’re spending every day outside in the fresh air and every night insight surrounded by your new found family, the shadows of Azkaban have long left your face.
“It wasn’t just me. Eddie helped with the Fidelius Charm -”
“Not just the Fidelius Charm. For giving us all purpose again. And somewhere safe to stay.”
“It’s my Uncle’s house -”
"You know -" you cut across him, " - when you volunteered to apparate home with Mary Cattermole, I was furious with you because I was scared." Your eyes meet his green ones, finding the warmth and strength that’s become so familiar. "But I should have expected it from you. You always go way beyond what any ordinary person would do in that sort of situation. And I mean, for goodness sake, who else out there can say their boyfriend got them out of Azkaban?"
McLaggen exhales in an embarrassed sort of way and turns his head back from the window. “It’s not - I mean when you say it like that it sounds much more impressive than it is. I’m just doing what anyone else would do. ”
"Most people would save their own skin.” You put your hand directly above his heart, feeling it beating through his chest. "That fact we’re all still alive isn’t because of this lighthouse. It's because of who you are,” you tell him fiercely.
You look up at him, bathed in the warm light from the sun against the backdrop of the whitewashed lighthouse. He looks down at you with an oddly reminiscent look on his face.
“You’re more like yourself again.”
You nod. The past few months have made you feel like you’re the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain again. You love getting to fly with Cho and Davies again. It’s just like old times. But you never dreamed you’d be flying with Viktor Krum, never mind have him actually take direction from you when you yell mid-air about flying formations for combat.
Cormac curls a finger under your chin and kisses you. You link your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close to him. Everything slots together perfectly. Well, almost perfectly - you need to stand on your tiptoes but to you, that just makes him more perfect. Like he’s your missing piece of a puzzle.
He parts his lips and your tongue finds his. Your fingers become entwined in Cormac’s messy curls as you press your hips into his. The world outside the Fidelius Charm might be chaotic, fraught with fear and devastation and death but in this pretty, seaside garden where the evening light warms your back as you kiss Cormac, you have the sanctuary of each other.
Cormac’s large hands roam the curve of your waist under your t-shirt and you feel callouses on his palms and fingertips from so much flying and duelling. And you know he believes if you all train enough none of you will ever fall in the war. He trains so hard because he thinks that if he does when the time comes, he can protect everyone. Save everyone.
And you hope beyond hope that you’ll never need to put your training to use. But you’ve been listening to Potterwatch every night. The tone has been subtly shifting since your giggled huddling and listening back before Christmas. You know things are getting worse out there. Something in the air tells you that you’re going to have to act - and soon.
But not right now.
Right now all you want to think about is each other.
“You know, you don’t have to be so selfless all the time,” you say, unfastening Cormac’s belt and getting to your knees on the grass in front of him. Fuck, he looks even taller like this.
He wastes no time helping you and pulls his cock out from his boxers. You blink up at him, taking a shuddering breath when you see him - already thick and hard and ready for you. Even after all this time together, your stomach flips when you’re reminded that his cock is just as beautiful as he is. You take him in your hands and place tiny kisses along the underside of his length.
“You can let me do things too,” you whisper, his tip just brushing your lips as you breathe the words. Cormac leans his head back against the curved exterior wall.
You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly wrap your lips around his head and circle it with your warm, hot tongue. The light makes every hair visible on the small strip of skin on his lower abdomen, shining and golden. The tiny freckles on his arms are getting darker now the early summer sun has been cascading down on you while you’ve been training in the garden.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, threading his hands through your hair. He’s messing it up but the ache between your legs is pulsing too pleasantly for you to care. It would almost be distracting if you weren’t so preoccupied with sucking and swirling your tongue around him. “My pretty girl.”
You stare up at him with wide eyes as he swallows thickly and leans his head back. His adam’s apple is visible as he swallows back a steadying breath. Just seeing him enjoying the feel of your hot, wet mouth makes you moan around him. The vibrations make his eyes snap back towards you just in time for him to watch you swallow his entire length down your throat. His grip tightens in your hair when he bottoms out and lets out a groan.
You don’t hold back. You press your head down as much as you can, blocking your own airways and feeling saliva dripping down your chin as his cock fills your mouth up. Cormac gently pulls back, letting you briefly take a gulp of air but the way you eagerly take him again makes him pant harder, his shoulders rising and falling with his breathing as you work your mouth.
“Fuck, let me fuck you.” You detach from him with a gasp and shake your head, blinking back tears. His grip tightens. “I don’t want to cum. Not yet.”
“Be selfish for once. Finish here. Please,” you say through laboured pants as you jerk him off in your hand and present your tongue. You go to take him in your mouth again but he grabs your upper arm.
“I am being selfish.” Cormac hoists you to your feet. Before you know it, you’re being spun around and pressed up against the wall. You feel the bumpy whitewash paint under your palms when he whispers in your ear from behind. “You think I want to fuck you as a favour to you or something?”
His hands unbutton your jeans and he pulls them and your underwear down over your ass. You’re able to turn your head just enough to see him casting his eyes over your body with that appraising smirk that makes you fold every fucking time you see it. It’s been over a year and a half since that stupidly gorgeous dimpled smile made you feel butterflies in a way you hadn’t expected. Just that look is still enough to make you feel like you’ve been knocked off your broom.
And to him, the way you look right this second - dishevelled and pouting because you’re not getting your own way - is equally captivating. Everyone thinks you’re the loud, domineering one in the relationship and that it’s him who goes along with whatever you say. But Cormac doesn’t care what they think because he knows the truth of it. Even when you take the reins, climbing on top of him or setting the pace, all it takes is a single whispered word from him, or his hand gently guiding you at your lower back that keeps your dynamic exactly how he likes it.
And here you are once again, as malleable as if he’s used a softening charm on you.
Before you realise what’s happening Cormac’s tongue sucks your earlobe as he presses your body between his and the wall. You open your mouth to argue but instead take a sharp inhale when he slaps your ass, followed quickly by his hands groping and massaging all over your body - going from squeezing your backside to groping your tits and back again like he doesn’t have enough hands to touch you everywhere he wants to at once.
“I - I wanted to make you cum with my mouth,” you complain as he pushes your bra up to pinch your nipple between two fingers but you don’t protest any further - you’re too turned on to care. From how flush he’s pressed against you, you can feel his hard cock pressed up against your backside, wet with your saliva and his precum.
You’d think after a hard day of training, Cormac would be exhausted - that he’d have no testosterone left in his body. But you know from experience over the past few months that this isn’t the case. You’re not sure whether it’s seeing you fight that turns him on or if his ego is slightly bruised from having Krum as fierce duelling competition - either way, he comes to bed most evenings murmuring sweet things in your ear and slipping his Gryffindor training tshirt off our your body before you’ve barely had a chance to wear it.
This evening is only different because he can’t wait until you’re back in your bedroom to have you. He kisses your neck and draws the tips of his fingers along your slit, dragging your wetness over your clit.
“I couldn’t let that happen. Not when all I can think about is how wet this cunt is for me,”
You let out a low, shaky breath. Fuck, you love it when he gets in this mood. He’s so filthy. Talking to you like how you sort of expected he would when you first met him. Before you found out how sweet and soft he is.
Usually.
Fuck.
Your legs twitch involuntarily when Cormac drags the pad of his middle finger across your clit and dips it through your sopping-wet folds. You can’t move much but you can’t stop your hips from grinding with his fingers, chasing the feeling of him toying with you.
“Yes. Ah fuck - yes,” you squeal as he draws the words from you with his touch.
“Shh, shh, shh…” He soothes, tutting gently. He pulls his wet fingers back over your clit, swirling in circles around the throbbing clutch of nerves. “The others are through the wall. You need to be quiet.”
As if testing you, his wet strokes over your clit pick up pace - his calloused fingers feel so deliciously wet and rough all at once. You whine pathetically.
“Can’t you - oh, god, can’t you cast a sound-dampening charm?” you whimper, your fingers searching for something to grip. Your palms just claw helplessly against the surface of the exterior wall as his chest presses into your back.
“I don’t think so. I think you need to show me you can be good.”
You squirm but there’s nowhere you can move while you’re pressed between him and the wall. “I will. I’ll do whatever you say,” you pant. The pads of Cormac’s fingers continue pressing circles the pressure building inside you as your walls clamp around nothing. You need him - you need his fingers, his cock - fuck, anything inside you. “Just fuck me. Please, Cormac.”
You know the drill. You know he loves hearing his name. Having you beg for his cock. And you’re running out of time - your twitching and convulsing is picking up pace. “Q-q-quick, please, I want to cum on your cock.”
Cormac’s hands leave your body so he can take his cock and tease you between your folds. You feel the tip of his cock at your entrance and whine. Fuck, you need to cum. You bring your hand between your legs to start rubbing yourself in his absence but he moves your hand out of the way.
“Keep your hands where they were.”
You place your palms flat against the wall, splaying your fingers, and feel your knees buckle when Cormac sheathes himself into you with one forceful roll of his hips.
He curls one arm around your chest and the other slips down your body to play with your clit as he jerks his hips up, each thrust sends his hips smacking against your skin.
The burning ache in your pelvis crackles and fizzes inside you while Cormac fucks you. Your hands scrabble against the wall and you feel chalky, white paint crumbling under your fingernails as the walls of your cunt spasm, grateful for Cormac’s long, thick cock to grip onto.
“Fuckfuckfuck-” The curse tumbles from your lips. You’re so boxed in that your cheek presses against the rough surface of the wall. All you can do is close your eyes and fucking take the way that Cormac is brutally slamming himself into your tight heat while his hand dances perfect, rhythmic circles over your clit.
You seize up and cry out and the arm that Cormac had wrapped around your chest claps over your mouth, pulling your head back and dampening your wailing. “Let it all out for me - quietly,” he growls in your ear.
There’s a drop like when you descend in the air on your broom too quickly - your body reacting after your brain. Your core plummets and everything implodes as you sob against his palm, melting into his touch.
“Good - that’s it, baby,” he says, more softly this time as your orgasm, blinding hot, makes your cunt convulse and clamp around him.
You cum so hard that you think your legs give way - you can’t tell because his strong body pushing yours against the wall keeps you upright. Tingles spasm from your core right down the backs of your thighs.
Cormac groans too. He moves his hand from your mouth so he can push his hips against your ass and shove his twitching cock as far as it can go inside you. When you whisper his name shakily and tell him you love him, he’s done for. Warmth floods your insides as he cums, filling you up as he grunts into the column of your throat against your racing pulse.
Even as you’re pressed up against the wall with his cum leaking out of you, you feel like he belongs here with you. Not in the lighthouse - or against the lighthouse - necessarily. Just here. Inside you. With nothing but the sounds of your heaving breathing and waves crashing against the cliffs in the distance to interrupt you.
Eventually, his mouth breaks into a smile against your skin and his laugh tickles your neck.
“What’s so funny?” you ask.
“We’ve got a perfectly good bed upstairs and we’re still sneaking around like we used to do under the Quidditch stands at school.”
He pulls out of you carefully and offers you his t-shirt to clean up the mess. You decide it’d be less conspicuous to wash your jeans and underwear in the laundry tomorrow morning than for McLaggen to return back inside suddenly missing a t-shirt.
“We never did that under the Quidditch stands,” you say, turning around and leaning your back against the wall so you can button up your jeans. “We’d have been expelled if we were caught.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m sure Madam Hooch would have been totally fine if she caught us just doing hand stuff,” he grins.
“Well, we were stupid back then,” you laugh.
“It was fun though. I kind of miss those Quidditch stands.”
“Even when we’re old and married and I’m winning the Quidditch World Cup. I’ll want to meet you under the stands afterwards to celebrate.”
“Yeah, right. If I wait for Scotland to win the Quidditch World Cup for our next fumble under the stands, I’ll die without ever doing it again.”
“You really think I won’t go out of my way to win the Quidditch World Cup just to prove you wrong?”
“Anyone else? No. But you? I’m counting on it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you quietly come back inside the back door to the empty kitchen, you insist on making a cup of tea for yourself and a cup of coffee for McLaggen while he goes upstairs - you insisted that he needs to let you do something for him for once. That beautiful post-sex warmth nestles into your chest and makes between your legs ache pleasantly. Nothing can go wrong when you feel like this. You boil the kettle and set to finding yours and McLaggen’s favourite mugs in the cupboard when a yell from upstairs makes you nearly jump out of your skin.
“Cho?!” It’s McLaggen’s voice. The urgency in his voice makes the hair stand up on the back of your arms.
You run to the bottom of the spiral staircase and skid to a halt, looking up at all the seven floors winding above you. You crane your neck upwards to see McLaggen on the topmost floor looking over the bannister - a small, gold something glints in his hand. A galleon?
“Cormac? Did you see?” Katie’s head appears diagonally across from McLaggen on the floor below. She looks down at you standing in the middle of the kitchen and then up to McLaggen at the top of the lighthouse.
“Whazgoin’on?” yawns Davies, coming out of his bedroom opposite Katie’s. “Are the others back from Puddlemere?”
“Not yet. But they’re about to be.” Leanne pads out onto the landing directly above you in her pyjamas, closely examining a galleon in the palm of her hand. “Merlin’s pants…”
“Mine just came through too!” Marietta too appears outside her bedroom door, followed by a bleary-eyed Carmichael. She looks up at Katie, Davies and McLaggen.
“Guys, this is it,” says Cho leaning over the bannister across from McLaggen. Krum curiously joins her, looking equally as puzzled as you are.
“Can someone please explain what is going on!?” you bellow from the bottom of the staircase as if calling everyone to attention in Quidditch practice.
“It’s our coins from when we were in the D.A. The old D.A., I mean,” says Marietta. “It’s what we used to find out when the next meetings were.”
“And? What do they say?”
“It’s Neville Longbottom. He says they’re getting ready to fight at Hogwarts and that we’ve to join them,” says Cho.
“Fight?” Your stomach drops. “Fight who? Why?”
“Only one way to find out,” McLaggen replies as you look up at him in disbelief.
He nods at you reassuringly and you take a deep breath. This is what you’ve been preparing for after all, right? It’s not just pretend. You’re simultaneously more and less prepared than when you broke into Azkaban. You’re much better in combat now but god, you need a plan. More details. Something you can control.
You nod. “Alright. Well, we’ll get some rest and meet up first thing tomorrow with Wood and the others so we can come up with -”
“No,” says McLaggen. “Now. They’re fighting now. We need to leave. Right now.”
You look up at him. Absurdly, all you can think now is that you really need to change your jeans.
Chapter 18: Calling
#cormac mclaggen x female reader#cormac mclaggen#cormac mclaggen x reader#ravenclaw#ravenclaw fanfiction#smut#fanfic#harry potter and the half blood prince#harry potter fanfic#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#freddie stroma#deathly hallows#harry potter and the deathly hallows
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I finally got to read the update!! Don't mind me rambling a bit about everything I loved about it...
I really enjoyed the beginning of this chapter. Being playful with Basil in the van is super cute. It was interesting to see Reem and Basil not getting along a little bit, it makes me intrigued about if there will be any cracks in our little friend group's foundation that might start to show. And if so what that might mean when things start going bad.
Also, Anita is adorable!! It had me giggling when she called everyone attractive--I loved getting to tease her about it afterwards. I chose to room with her and the siblings--though the thought of Basil sleeping alone makes me nervous for the future...
Definitely Looking at Anita's comment about how your sanity starts slipping when you go without sleep. I'm SO eager to reach the horror. Though the slightly slower, cheerful beginning is so great. I love getting to know everyone and seeing them happy and bonding, knowing that there's horror on the horizon...
Javier talking about his mom marrying his dad straight up made me snort laugh. I work with kids and they truly do say the most out of pocket things. It's very true to life. And ooooh, Basil and Gabriel just...staring at the woods got me so hyped. Reading that scene gave me a proper thrill, that little 'heart-pounding-faster' feeling that makes me love horror so so much.
Hell yes at getting to tell the kids a scary story!! I remember being a kid and hearing classics like Don't Turn on the Light and being scared out of my socks. It's sooo fun to be able to play at passing that on to a whole new generation!! I'm 100% in to romance Basil, but this update makes me want to do a run where I romance Anita. She's so so cute. And the siblings both are great in their own ways... I'm sensing that I'll end up doing runs for each of the ROs, you've made such fun and sweet characters!
Aaah that ending!!!! Genuinely terrifying, and made me so anxious about the kids!! I KNOW my MC is going to be hard-pressed to keep them all safe. I can't wait to see what comes next!! I love how you write characters, they're all so likable and distinct!! This was such a good update, it makes me really eager for more.
HI (omg it's that cool person) HIIII <3
Thank you so much for this. I'll have you know I reread this ask like three times and I'm probably gonna read it all over again tomorrow bc it gives me life. I can't express how happy I am that you cared to write such a long ask bc of my IF if all things. Thank you, it made my day.
Basil and Anita's on-the-road scenes in the van were my favorite to write!! And yes, there's certainly a bit of tension in the group. MCs with high sociability or perception will be able to pick up on this, also on George's fondness for a certain colleague--- but don't worry, no one's at each other's throats. Yet.
And yay, some Anita appreciation!! Cut her some slack, she's not used to being around hot people and between a possibly cute MC and the FUCKING MALAKS of all people... yeah. It's not easy for her.
Ok so you know that you can also sleep in the van with Basil if your relationship stat/his approval of you is strong enough? I hope that was clear from the dialogue options and you just chose the cabin despite of it, bc if not, I might have to rewrite the choice. Furthermore, while I can see why you'd be worried for him, I'd be more concerned for an MC who chooses to sleep alone ;) [yes, this is me hinting at a future horror scenario possibly unique to that route].
Ah yes, Javier, my son <3 lol. Nahhh I don't favor any of the campers. Though, if I had to pick which one I liked to write the most, it'd probably be him.
Now I feel bad haha. Ok but srsly, kids can be VERY outspoken, and Javier especially has noooo social filter. You might notice that some of the campers' traits specifically correspond to some of the ROs' characteristics... Looking at Gabriel and Basil here.
Both campfire stories are also really close to my own heart, so I jumped at the chance to include them. As for the ROs, I do hope you'll do a run for each of them! I'm trying quite hard to make it difficult to choose between them ;)
I love that the ending hit the way it was supposed to. If you want to know what's up next, I have one word for you: confusion. Lots of confusion.
See, I need to give this story a slow, slice-of-life start, bc purely from a narrative standpoint, it wouldn't make sense for the horror to come out guns blazing. That's why the MC will at first be the only one to experience the horrors and for the horrors to (seemingly) originate from one of the kids, bc if it was more dramatic and the threat was to come from an exterior source, everyone would just pack up and flee and then the story would be over. That's what I figure.
Anyhow, I'm so glad I still got you hooked with this project. Thanks so much for this super long message.
#if: wip#interactive fiction#choicescript game#dashingdon wip#if demo#romanceable characters#ro asks#if: such happy campers
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Yet Another Writing Advice Post
I'm about to type about some stuff about writing. It's pretty Meta and feel free to skip this one if you're waiting for more about Gord and Fen, that's coming soon. It's not for anyone specifically, it's for me mostly, but you might get something out of it too.
As a writer - especially as an amateur writer who eventually wants to get paid for writing - one of the things I struggle with is what am I writing for? Is it just for me? Is it for my readers? Is it for sale?
Lots of writing advice for newbies boils down to "write the things you want to read, do it your way, fuck the haters."
This is good.
I mean it. It's going to sounds like I don't agree with it, so I'm saying right here off the jump, if you're just starting out, this is an unalloyed good. Write what you want how you want.
But.
If you want to write things that other people will read - not even writing things that people will pay you for - you also need to expand your skills. You should get better at writing. So as to not waste your readers time, but also so that you're better able to translate what's in your head into words on a screen/page so that others can see the cool as fuck things you thought up.
The only way to get good at something is to be bad at it for a long time.
It's hard for me to remember this. Every expert that you see, every skilled creation you come across was made by a person who did piles and piles and piles of terrible art first. I hate this! I don't want to suck, I never want that.
That does not make it untrue however.
I am a mediocre writer.
I am not saying this to fish for compliments, or to get positive reinforcement. It's the truth. I am trying every day to get better - and I am getting better! It's one of the reasons I like rewriting my old stuff. But, me assuming I am A Good Writer Now is pure hubris.
In an attempt to get better, I joined an online writing group. (I don't think anyone from there reads this Tumblr, but if they do, Hi!) Everyone in that group is skilled, probably more skilled than me. That's normal and to be expected. Everyone is good about offering crits and nobody is mean, but also it's not a hugbox. We're all there to get better and write.
Last week I put more effort into an entry than I think I have ever done. I spent real time on it, worked methodically, had a plan, even sought out folks to beta read. Like, I put in the work.
I still didn't win.
The winning entry was one that was almost utterly opaque to me. It wasn't "well that's not for me, but I can see how they'd win," it was pure "I don't like this and I don't understand why they'd win, and yet, here we are"
Why do I mention this?
Well, for one, I'm disappointed that I didn't win. The judges did give me crits on my entry, which was nice, but it wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. This is also fine, change takes time. But additionally the things they didn't like were things that I added on purpose. It's important to remember when receiving crits that you don't have to change what you do. It's just like, their opinion man. Brush off crits at your own peril however. They show what others who read your work expected to find and didn't.
It's normal to be sad that you worked hard on something only to find out it wasn't what the judges wanted to read. It's normal to be bummed to realize you aren't as good as you thought you were, and/or that you still have a long way to go.
But then what?
Do you change what your style? Try and write something that you think will appeal? Do you stick to your guns and say "I know what I like, and I will continue to write what I like?"
In the end, you have to decide why you are writing (or drawing or painting or weaving or whatever.) You have to decide who your audience is.
If it's just you? Keep on keeping on, go nuts! Make art however the hell you want. You are an artist, it's still art, you are legitimate.
If it's someone else? Then yeah, maybe work to drift towards something that the like. There's nothing wrong with a little pandering - to a point.
Is it to sell? Now, we're getting into the meat of things. If you want to make a go at doing this full time and making it a jobbity job, you have to start looking at your craft with a much sharper eye. You have to watch trends, follow bandwagons, do the things that bring eyeballs and wallets. Is it distasteful? It can be. Is it necessary? If you want to make money, yeah, unfortunately it is. Do you have to? Nah, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, but do it with clear eyes about your prospects vis a vis the publishing world.
As for me?
I once thought that I could get some books published and make a tidy side income. Now? I'm not so sure. I still have it as a 2024 goal to be published anywhere, but I'm pretty sure that if I do get a book out, it'll be self published. I have friends who have agents and who have traditionally published books and the whole process is hard and depressing and not fun.
#Yet Another Writing Advice Post#writing#writeblr#jpitha#it sucks to suck#everyone is a beginner in the beginning#you have to write a lot of bad words before good words come out#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr
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𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐈 ✶ Teen Wolf Rewrite
Stiles Stilinski / Original Female Character
TW | S2
chapter seven
fic summary; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough – now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle it. it would be fine. everything was great.
word count; 19k
warnings; the possibly triggering scene from the show with Jackson being creepy in the locker room, slight gore maybe?, eventual explicit sexual content, oral sex (both m and f), fluff fluff and more fluff
chapter notes; the group tries to figure out who's been controlling jackson all this time. ben davis makes a brief return as my own personal plot device. stiles is his typically over-dramatic self and amber is, as usual, super into it.
masterlist
c h a p t e r s e v e n
restraint
Amber's nerves had her nearly dropping her phone to the floor of her car as she climbed behind the wheel while simultaneously trying to get ahold of Stiles. Fingers of her free hand fumbled over the touchscreen, already turning her key in the ignition as the call began to ring through. Stiles was answering before the first trill through the speaker had even finished sounding out, his voice frantic.
"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?" He shouted through the speaker, the pitch of his voice higher than normal.
"Is Scott still with you?" She asked immediately, taking the turn off of her street a touch too quickly than was probably good for her tires, "Because I was just with Lydia and-"
"Jackson escaped." Scott's voice supplied through the phone.
"He what?" Amber squeaked, letting off the clutch to shift gears and increase the speed of the car that much more, "Guys he's not-"
"Yeah, he got out and the asshole went straight to the police," Stiles told her, "His dad's here and my dad's pissed and Scott's mom is on her way down to the station."
"You guys are at the station?" She cursed, slamming on the breaks so she could make a messy three point turn and backtrack in the direction of the Sheriff's station.
"Yeah, and we're totally screwed," Stiles was telling her as she reoriented her car in the right direction, "My dad said the Whittemore's are filing a restraining order against Scott and I. As soon as Scott's mom gets here my dad has to read out the terms and-"
"Stiles!" Amber interrupted sharply, "That sucks but it's not important right now, okay? Lydia translated part of the kanima entry from the bestiary-"
"How'd she do that?" Scott cut in.
"She knows Archaic Latin, Scott. Now shut up and listen to me," Amber snapped as she turned onto the next street, "Mrs. Morrell translated it wrong! The kanima doesn't seek a friend, alright? The kanima seeks a master! Which means someone's controlling Jackson-"
"Woah, what?" Stiles exclaimed through the speaker.
"Stiles, you said that Jackson still didn't believe you when you were explaining everything to him earlier, right?" She asked, shifting gears as she went around a sharp corner.
"Yeah, pretty much." Stiles agreed.
"Well, so- If Jackson doesn't know what he's doing then he must not know someone's even controlling him." Amber deduced.
"Or he doesn't remember." Scott supplied.
"What if it's the same kinda thing that happened with Lydia when she took off from the hospital?" Stiles questioned.
"Right!" Amber recalled, "Like a fugue state-"
Scott's voice came through the phone again, "But then he'd have to forget everything.. The murder-"
"Getting rid of all the blood-" Amber offered up, an image flashing behind her eyes of Jackson's bloodied body at the nightclub. She thought of how he would've had to have washed the blood away himself after he'd killed Tucker, and Isaac's dad, and then the hunter-
"Yeah," Stiles agreed, "He had help with one thing though.. The video. Someone else helped him forget that." He reminded them of the erased footage.
"Whoever's controlling him." Scott said quietly.
The tires of Amber's car squealed quietly in protest as she peeled into the parking lot at the station and jerked to a slightly crooked stop between the painted white lines.
"Jackson thinks that being with Lydia somehow made him immune and, like, delayed the whole werewolf bite thing-" Amber told them, throwing herself from the vehicle and nearly falling to the pavement in her haste to slam the door shut behind her, "Where exactly are you guys?"
"What d'you mean?" Stiles asked in confusion as Amber pushed the front door to the station open, "I told you we're down at the station-"
"Yeah, so am I," She panted slightly, adrenaline still pumping in her veins from the wild drive from her house, "So where are you guys?"
She let her phone drop from her ear to her shoulder as she stepped up to the door that led to the interrogation rooms, only to find the door locked, the handle stiff and unmoving when she jiggled it. She turned to cast an incredulous look at the female deputy who was watching her from behind the front desk and Amber gestured wildly at the door with her free hand.
"Tara, I know you recognize me," Amber said in exasperation, "C'mon, buzz me in-"
Tara frowned, slowly eyeing the girl's frazzled state, but pressed her finger down on the button to unlock entry into the hallway. Amber sighed gratefully as she rushed through, nearly running straight into Stiles' chest when she stepped into the hall at the same time that he and Scott stumbled out of the room at the front end of the corridor.
"Jesus!" She exclaimed in surprise as her boyfriend's hands came up to steady her.
She abandoned her phone completely, ending the call and shoving it into her pocket as she looked at her best friends.
"We need to find out who's controlling him." Scott quietly continued their conversation from before.
"D'you think he'll talk to us?" Amber questioned, "I mean.. After what we did? Kidnapping him and all?"
Stiles shrugged, "Yeah, it's us. He'll talk to us," He nodded before catching Amber's unsure frown, "..Right?"
It was at that moment that Sheriff Stilinski stepped out from a room further down the hall and cast a disappointed look at the three teens.
"Scott, your mom just pulled in. So, you boys get your asses into this room," He said firmly, "Now."
Stiles and Scott lowered their heads and followed the order, moving down the hall and into the larger interrogation room. Ms. McCall hurried past Amber only a moment later and the girl immediately moved to follow but Sheriff Stilinski held up a hand in signal for her to stop.
"No." He said simply.
Amber spluttered, taking another aborted step forward, "Wh- But- If I could just-"
"This doesn't concern you," He told her firmly before raising his eyebrows in question, "Does it?"
"Um.. No?" She told him cautiously.
"Then you stay out here." He said, giving her a serious look before moving into the room himself, leaving the door into the hallway open behind him.
Amber moved to the edge of the doorway, attempting to listen closely to what was going on just on the other side of the wall. Ms. McCall hovered at the edge of the room, her arms crossed over the scrub top she was still wearing after having rushed down to the station straight from work.
"Scott. Stiles. This is going to apply to both of you, so listen to me very closely," The Sheriff said in a stern voice, "You will not go within fifty feet of Jackson Whittemore. You will not speak to him.. You will not approach him.. You will not assault or harass him physically or psychologically."
"What about school?" Stiles questioned immediately.
His father sighed, "You both can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty foot distance."
Amber shook her head, unsure how such a thing was possible when they shared so many classes with the other boy in addition to lacrosse.
"Bu- Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time-" Stiles started, words rambling together quickly as Amber clenched her eyes shut and silently willed him to stop talking while he continued, "-And there's only two stalls available, and those two stalls are right next to each other?"
There was a brief silence and Amber brought her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose in exasperation.
"-I'll just hold it." Stiles said quietly after a few moments.
A few minutes later, Stiles' father was leading him out of the room with a hand fisted in the collar of the boy's sweatshirt, "Do I need to remind you how lucky we are that they're not pressing charges?" The Sheriff demanded.
"Oh, come on! It was a joke!" Stiles attempted to justify their actions.
Amber had to physically fight the urge to press the palm of her hand against her forehead in vexation.
"It was a joke?" Sheriff Stilinski repeated incredulously.
"Yes!" Stiles agreed quickly, "I didn't think it would be taken this seriously. Dad, humor's very subjective, okay? We're talking, like, multiple levels of interpretation here."
His father's gaze cut to Amber and she stepped forward slowly as if pulled by the weight of his glare.
"You and Stiles have a pretty similar sense of humor," Sheriff Stilinski pointed out, "How would you interpret the situation? You think it was funny?" He questioned sternly.
"I, um.." She bit down on her lip as her eyes bounced between her boyfriend and his father, "Not.. Not wildly funny."
'Traitor' Stiles motioned with his lips silently, shaking his head at her cowardice under his father's attention.
"Uh huh," Sheriff Stilinski looked between them with narrowed eyes for a moment before refocusing on his son, "Well, uh, how exactly am I supposed to interpret the stolen prison transport van, huh?"
Stiles spluttered, hands waving around wildly, "We filled the tank!"
His father raised his hands with a deep breath as he stepped away, removing himself from the conversation entirely with a shake of his head and leaving the two of them alone in the narrow hall.
"A prank?" Amber hissed, landing a hard punch to her boyfriend's shoulder, "You told them it was a prank?"
"What? Like you had a better excuse lined up?" He questioned while he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm. Amber's face pinched as she tried to quickly come up with something and Stiles nodded at her after a few seconds of silence, "Yeah, that's what I thought, smartass."
Her eyes narrowed at his words, "You are infuriating sometimes, y'know that?" She muttered quietly.
Stiles' lips pulled into a slow grin, his cheek dimpling as his eyes flicked over her frustrated expression. He noted the way she'd petulantly crossed her arms before his gaze trailed back up to her face, "Infuriating in a way that kinda makes you wanna kiss me to shut me up?" He questioned in quiet optimism.
She glared despite the flutter in her stomach at his words, "No."
Stiles took a step closer, his palms dragging softly up and down over her upper arms, "You sure? Because I could keep saying infuriating things if that'll-"
"Move!" Ms. McCall yelled at her son sharply as she shoved him out of the interrogation room and they stepped out into the hall, "It's not just this. Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think you would reach quite this soon." She scolded loudly.
Amber and Stiles both winced as Scott followed closely behind his mother, the family unit walking a few steps past where the couple had been loitering.
"-It's everything on top of it!" Ms. McCall continued, spinning around to face her son with a disappointed look, "The completely bizarre behavior, the late nights coming home, having to beg Mr. Harris to let you make up that Chemistry test that you missed-"
"I missed a Chemistry test?" Scott questioned in genuine confusion.
"Really, Scott? Really?" His mother shook her head with a deep sigh, "I- I have to ground you. I'm grounding you. You.. Are grounded."
Amber blinked in surprise. She couldn't remember a single time in their lives when Scott's mom had been angry enough with him to do such a thing. He'd been punished, sure – lots of times – but never to the point of a grounding.
"What about work?" Scott questioned immediately.
"Fine. Other than work." His mother acquiesced, "And no TV." She added as an afterthought.
Scott merely shrugged, "My TV's broken."
Amber shook her head silently and tried to catch his eye, pleading for her best friend to shut up.
"Then no computer." Ms. McCall said easily.
"..I need the computer for school." Scott said slowly.
His mother's face pinched in annoyance, "Then no, uh.." Her gaze drifted over Scott's shoulder, eyes catching on her son's best friends. Her face seemed to light up with an idea, "No Stiles and no Amber."
Amber squeaked in protest, "Wh-"
"No Stiles?" Stiles repeated, voice high.
"No! No Stiles! No Amber!" Ms. McCall repeated with more authority than before, looking back to her son again, "And no more car privileges. Give me your key-"
Scott reared a small step back in response to his mother's words, "But-"
"Give 'em to me!" Ms. McCall snapped.
Scott pulled his keyring from the pocket of his jeans and handed it over weakly. The three teens all watched his mother pulled frantically at the split ring, trying to separate the pieces enough to slip the car key off of the loop with clumsy fingers and working herself up further the more that she struggled.
"Oh, for the love of God." Ms. McCall muttered with a frustrated sniffle.
Scott reached out toward her with caution, "Mom, do you want me to-"
"No." His mother snapped.
"Mom, come on. Just let me- Mom!" Scott pleaded, his hand wrapping around her shaking ones to grip the keys, "Mom."
Ms. McCall sniffled again and Amber took a small step back, her knuckles knocking lightly against Stiles' before he tangled their fingers together wordlessly.
"What is going on with you?" Ms. McCall asked quietly, "Is this about Allison?"
Scott turned his head to shoot his friends a pleading look and Amber instinctively chewed at her lower lip, knowing exactly how badly Scott wanted to come clean about all of the supernatural crap that had suddenly infiltrated their lives.
"Do you really wanna know?" Scott asked his mom slowly.
Stiles began to shake his head vehemently at Scott as Ms. McCall begged her son to explain what his problem was. Scott looked to his friends desperately once more and Amber gave him a small shrug as Stiles continued to silently display his disapproval.
"-Is this about your dad?" Ms. McCall asked weakly.
The question seemed to catch him off guard and Scott was still trying to decide on his next words when his mom continued.
"It is, isn't it?" Her gaze caught on Amber and Stiles still hovering just a few feet away and her posture straightened up with a final sniffle, "Okay, you know what? Um, we'll talk about this at home. I'm- I'm gonna go get the car."
They all watched her go with varying expressions of dismay and Scott waited until the door at the end of the hallway sealed shut with a click before turning to face his friends fully.
"I'm the worst son ever." Scott said with a shattered look.
"Well, I'm not exactly winning any prizes either." Stiles countered easily.
"It's gonna be okay," Amber assured them, her voice coming out sounding less firm than she'd intended, "It- It is gonna be okay, right?" She asked after a moment as she looked between them anxiously.
Stiles wrapped his arm around her neck, their joined hands coming up to rest at her shoulder as he pulled her into his chest, words muffled slightly in her hair, "Yeah. Yeah, everything's gonna be fine."
Upon arriving home, Amber was entirely surprised to find her brother standing in their living room. His shift had only started at the fire station a few hours before, so she wasn't expecting to see him for another eighteen hours, but he was currently dragging his feet across the hardwood restlessly as he paced back and forth across the space.
His attention snapped up at the sound of the front door closing as Amber dropped her keys onto the table in the entryway, his face pinching in a tight frown the moment his gaze found her.
"Jase..?" She asked cautiously as she toed off her shoes, "Is uh, is everything okay?"
"Get in here. And sit." He demanded, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the couch.
"Okay.." She said slowly, stepping into the room, "What's-"
"Amber Evangeline Callisto-"
The girl's eyes widened at the use of her full name, something she was nearly certain she hadn't heard in a scolding since their mother had been alive.
"-Sit. Down." Jason finished sternly, the volume of his voice was wholly surprising and Amber's butt landed on the couch immediately.
"I- Um, I'm going to take a wild guess from the fact that you're, y'know, here, and the deeply pissed off look on your face.. And assume that Sheriff Stilinski called you?" She pulled her socked feet up underneath herself on the cushions nervously, eyes focused on her brother's stiff jaw as he clenched it in anger.
Jason ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as he looked around the room and neither confirmed nor denied her assumtion, "Am I supposed to confiscate your phone and take away your car keys?" He questioned frantically, "Lock you in your bedroom and just.. Homeschool you? Is that what it's gonna take to keep your ass out of trouble, or what?"
She balked, "I- I'm not even in trouble! Jackson only filed for restraining orders against-"
"If you honestly think that I am gonna believe you didn't have anything to do with this so-called 'joke' your knucklehead best friends pulled-" He took an angry breath that sounded loudly through his nose, "Do you think that I'm stupid? Or just insanely fucking unobservant?"
"Well, I -"
"Amber, I am fucking trying here, okay?" His voice cracked and Amber felt a little like her heart might have cracked too as she watched her brother's internal struggle, "I feel like I'm just watching you kids spiral out of control and I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it-"
"You don't- You're not doing anything wrong-"
"Well clearly I am!" He yelled suddenly. His own shout seemed to catch him off guard and he sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her with a sigh, "I- I don't know what I'm doing. It's been four years and I still feel like I'm fucking drowning sometimes, trying to be your parent and your brother at the same time."
"I'm sorry." She spoke quietly, her voice thick with unshed tears as her eyes welled.
"I don't want you to apologize. I want you to stop getting into trouble.. To stop showing up at all of these crime scenes, and inserting yourself into murder investigations, and-"
"I- I don't know what to say." She admitted quietly as a few tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks.
Even she were to try and explain, Amber didn't know where she could possibly start.
She could start with Derek; how he'd come back into town and started showing up everywhere all suspicious-like before revealing that he was a werewolf and that Scott was no longer her sweet best friend, but instead, a genuine danger to be around. She could tell him about Peter; explain that he hadn't been as weak and incapacitated as everyone had initially thought and that, really, this whole thing had all started with him. She could mention how Allison's family played into it all; the heinous things her aunt had done before her demise and all of the things her father and grandfather were still a part of now. She could tell her brother about all of the new teenage werewolves running around town and the murderous rampage her classmate had unknowingly undertaken and okay, yes, she'd helped kidnap him but they'd had no other choice because Jackson was seriously dangerous and he didn't even know what he was doing-
Amber couldn't find it in her to voice any of those things, however. Instead, she gnawed on her lower lip and sniffled quietly as she guiltily avoided her brother's gaze, settling back into the couch with the acceptance that the evening was only destined to get more difficult.
"Did Lydia finish translating the entry about the kanima?" A hushed voice questioned from only a few inches behind Amber, causing the girl to flinch in surprise.
"Jesus," Amber exclaimed as she spun around, locker door slamming shut when her shoulder collided with the cool metal, "A bell. You need a bell."
Allison rolled her eyes with a fond smile and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well? Did she?"
With a nod of her head, Amber pulled a crisp, brand new composition notebook from her bag and held it out toward the other girl.
"She did. I went over first thing this morning to get it. She's, uh, pretty annoyed with us, but she did it."
Allison studied the words on the pages with determined focus for a few moments before pulling a tablet from her own bag and motioning for Amber to hold the journal for her. Amber dutifully held her arms out to display the pages, flipping through them slowly as Allison photographed the information to create a digital copy.
"Have you shown Scott or Stiles yet?" Allison asked as she finished.
Amber slapped the book shut and slipped it back into her bookbag with a shake of her head, "I was on my way now. They're waiting in the library."
"I'll come with you." Allison said easily, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag and moving in the direction of the library while still studying the photographs she'd taken of the notebook pages.
As they pushed through the double-doors, Amber's eyes peered through the spaces between bookshelves, flicking over the students spread out at tables trying to finish up last minute assignments before the start of morning classes.
She toyed with her lower lip between her teeth as she searched for her best friends and when she finally spotted them, Scott and Stiles were tucked at the back of one of the stacks having a hushed conversation. As she approached, hand absentmindedly dragging over her boyfriend's shoulder and up to his neck, her fingertips dug into his skin softly as she stepped up beside them.
Her backpack hit the ground at the base of the bookshelf and their attention turned to her, Stiles' eyebrows raising a fraction as he took her in for the first time that morning.
"Hello," He greeted with emphasis, reaching out until the backs of his fingers could skim over the soft material of her sundress, "You're looking spring-y."
He pinched the hem between his thumb and forefinger, his knuckles brushing against the smooth skin of her bare thigh as he idly rubbed at the fabric.
"Thanks," She said somewhat breathlessly. Her own hand dropped to wrap lightly around his wrist in warning and she waited until he let the skirt fall back down against her legs before she continued, "I, uh, I'm trying to manifest warmer weather or something."
His lips pulled into a small smile and she felt slightly overwhelmed by the butterflies that bloomed in her stomach.
"Well, you look really beautiful." He told her softly.
"Can you guys be disgusting later?" Scott interjected in clear impatience.
The couple flinched as they were torn from the romance-heady bubble they'd somehow managed to slip into.
Amber was quick to recover and she laced her fingers with Stiles as her eyes narrowed in Scott's direction, "You're just jealous because of the whole Romeo and Juliet thing that means you can't flirt with your girlfriend unless it's in a dark creepy corridor or, like, a janitor's closet-"
"Ha," Stiles said in amusement, seconding her assessment, "What she said. The green monster's not a great look on you, buddy-"
A soft throat clearing from the other side of the bookshelf caught Amber's attention and she spotted Allison peering through a gap from the next aisle over.
"Lydia's translations.." Allison prompted gently as she pulled a book from the shelf and pretended to look at it in interest.
"Right, yeah," Amber nodded, "So Lydia gave me her translations this morning. She was up pretty late last night writing it all down for me-"
"Apparently she's not thrilled about still being left in the dark." Allison supplied quietly, sliding her tablet through the gap in books so that Scott and Stiles could peer down at the photographs she'd taken of the translated pages.
"Oh, yeah," Scott realized as his gaze found Amber, "What'd you tell her?"
Amber winced, rolling her shoulders and tightening her fingers around Stiles' hand, "Um, I'm only about thirty percent confident she bought it.. But I, uh- I told her we were a part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."
Stiles perked up, "I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." He said quietly, the words fanning out over his girlfriend's neck as he peered down at the tablet.
A breathy laugh slipped from her lips and she knocked her hip against his lightly, "Yeah, I know. I helped you figure out that part with the evil goblins, remember?"
"They were actually gnomes." Stiles corrected immediately.
Scott was shaking head at his friends in clear exasperation, "Okay, does it say how to find out who's controlling Jackson?" He questioned in an attempt to redirect the conversation.
"Not from what I read." Allison frowned, swapping the book in her hands for another as she tried to hide the fact that she was conversing with them.
"But Stiles was right about the murderers." Amber revealed.
"Yes!" He cheered excitedly, dropping his girlfriend's hand to punch the air at the small victory.
Scott and Allison both narrowed their eyes at him for his slightly too loud reaction and his hands slowly lowered under the weight of their glare. Amber shuffled closer as he deflated and his arm slipped beneath her cardigan to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his side as she continued to share the information she'd recently obtained.
"The bestiary calls the kanima a 'weapon of vengeance'," She recited quietly, "There's a story in there about this South American priest who used the kanima to execute murderers in his village-"
"Alright, see?" Stiles interrupted, "That's not so bad."
Amber leaned more heavily against him with a grimace, "-Until their bond grew so strong that it eventually just killed whoever he wanted it to. Murderer or not." She finished.
"All bad," Stiles backtracked, "All very, very bad."
"Thing is, though-" Amber continued quietly, dragging her finger lightly over a sentence displayed on the tablet, "The kanima's actually supposed to be a werewolf. But, it can't be until-"
"'Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.'" Scott read aloud.
"Okay, if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." Stiles said with a roll of his eyes.
Amber sighed, "Yeah, no shit. The guy's basically unresolved anger and toxic masculinity all wrapped up in a stupidly handsome bow-"
"Euck, handsome?" Stiles repeated with a displeased frown.
"Oh, be quiet," She scolded him, turning in his grip to brush her lips lightly over the corner of his mouth, "You're the most handsome." She whispered quietly against his cheek.
With a satisfied huff, Stiles slid his arm up around her shoulders to tug her back against his chest, releasing his exhale into the loose waves of her hair to hide his grin.
"What if it has to do with Jackson's parents?" Allison pondered, "He's adopted, right? So maybe its something to do with his real parents."
Scott nodded in agreement, "Does anybody actually know what happened to them?" He questioned, eyes flicking to Amber curiously as he spoke.
"I mean.. I know he never really knew them. He was adopted as a baby. Like, really young, I'm pretty sure-" She said slowly, face pinched up in thought, "But, I- Lydia might know more."
"Great," Stiles nodded, "You guys talk to Lydia and Scott and I'll talk to Jackson-"
"Nope. Not gonna work." Amber interrupted with a shake of her head. "Restraining order." She reminded him.
He sighed in annoyance, "God, fine. Then what-"
"During free period, you go talk to Lydia," She told Stiles, "Allison and I will team up to talk to Jackson. And Scott-" The boy in question looked at her with wide eyes, ready for whatever job his best friend was about to dole out, "Scott's gonna go and ace his Chem make-up test."
He made a face like he was going to argue but his girlfriend cut in quickly.
"Scott, she's right." Allison said softly, reaching through the gap in the bookshelf to take Scott's hand.
He sighed in reluctance, "If he does anything, you both run the other way." He said seriously, looking back and forth between the two girls.
"We can take care of ourselves." Allison whispered with a frown.
"I'm serious," Scott whispered, "If either one of you gets hurt while I'm taking some stupid test, someone's gonna need to take care of me," His jaw clenched, hand tightening around Allison's as his eyes continued to bounce between them, "If he does anything-"
Amber scoffed, "Like-?"
"Anything.. Weird. Bizarre. Anything-"
"Anything evil." Stiles interrupted finally, arm
tightening around his girlfriend.
"We'll be fine," Amber told both boys, "This is serious, okay? If either of you guys get in trouble for breaking the restraining order, it could mean serious, like, legal consequences. And, Scott, You know you need to retake this test to bring your grade up." She said firmly.
Scott groaned but nodded, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders as they all slowly broke away from one another and filed out of the library.
"We, uh.. We're totally sure it's safe for you and Allison to be talking to Jackson alone?" Stiles worried privately as they stopped in front of his locker.
"We'll be fine," She assured him in a soft voice, "And besides, it's kind of our only option right now-"
"Yeah. Because those are reassuring words." Stiles muttered sarcastically, yanking his locker open to grab his books for English.
"Okay, worry wort. I'm pretty sure we've established that he doesn't actually want to kill any of us," She reminded him as he slammed the metal door shut again, "I mean, if he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead like three times over at this point, right?"
His face scrunched in clear reluctance to agree with her, "Yeah, I guess."
She reached out to cup the side of his face, her thumb skimming over the tiny constellation of moles that created a path toward his mouth. The tip of her finger had barely brushed the corner of his lips when Stiles leaned in to press them to her own in a quick kiss.
As they finally turned to head in the direction of the English classroom, they only managed to get a few steps from Stiles' locker before a familiar voice was calling out loudly behind them.
"Stilinski! Amber! Wait, I- Hold up!"
They both turned as there was a loud crash. Ben Davis slammed his shoulder into the lockers beside them in what both looked and sounded like a painful collision. He rubbed at his shoulder with a frown as he righted himself and looked between Amber and Stiles wide-eyed.
"Davis," Stiles greeted with a wince, "Listen, if this is about the ball that almost hit you in the junk this morning at practice, you should know that I haven't perfected my backhand and I swear it was-"
Ben shook his head in surprise, "What? No. Stilinski, you're fine." He assured the other boy before turning his attention toward Amber, "I actually, really need to talk to you, if that's cool-"
She frowned at the urgency in his voice and began to step forward when Stiles pulled her back with a hand fisted in her cardigan.
"And what exactly do you need to talk to my girlfriend about?" Stiles questioned suspiciously.
"I, uh-" Ben's gaze flicked between them nervously, "Just.. A thing?"
Amber held up a finger in a signal for Ben to give her a moment and spun around to face Stiles, stepping close to give them more privacy as she spoke, "Stiles. Babe, I'll catch up with you in a few?" She whispered in question.
His eyes flicked between her and the spot over her shoulder where Ben was standing behind her and a small noise of distress slipped past her boyfriend's lips.
"But he-" When Amber brought a hand up to rest on his shoulder, he continued in a whisper of his own, "I could stay.. Just as backup, y'know. In case you need me. In case he tries to make a move or-"
Ben's snort of laughter from behind her let them know that he'd heard the hushed comment.
"Dude, when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about between me and Amber-" Ben started in amusement, "I am very, like, keenly aware of how into you she is. I know we went on a date but I mean, she literally said-"
Amber could tell that he was only a second away from bringing up her embarrassing slip of tongue at the end of their tragic date the month before and she turned her head to shoot him a warning glare, causing Ben's words to cut off sharply. When she deemed it safe, she turned back to Stiles again.
"You're sweet and it is stupidly cute, but you really don't need to worry about Ben, alright?" She said even more quietly.
Stiles' lips pulled up reluctantly, "Yeah, okay."
She couldn't hold back a grin, endlessly endeared by his protectiveness. She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips before giving him a pat on his cheek, "Okay, cool. So I'll catch up with you later then."
Stiles pinched her chin between his forefinger and thumb to tip her head back up again and she went easily. Their lips met in another kiss, this one lingering for a moment before she pushed him away with a flustered laugh.
"Alright, I'm going!" Stiles said, raising his hands in surrender as he turned to leave.
When she turned to face Ben again, she was still sporting a faint blush and giddy smile that wouldn't seem to fade.
"So, what's up? What's the gossip?" She joked, hoping to lighten the mood when she noticed the stressed expression on his face once again.
"I wanted to talk to you about Matt." He said in a hushed voice.
"Daehler?" She asked curiously, frowning when he nodded, "What about him?"
Ben wiped his hands on his jeans as if his palms were sweaty and he looked around them cautiously before speaking, "I, uh.. I saw some pictures on his camera that were kinda.. Um. Well, they were of you-"
"Oh!" She relaxed, "That's what you're all worked up about? It's fine. I know about the pictures."
Ben blinked, faltering for a moment, "You.. You know about the pictures?" He repeated slowly.
"Yeah," She waved off, "He's good with a camera.. It's art — No big deal. It's kinda flattering, honestly, the way he knows how to frame his pictures just right? It's like I'm a model or something except, y'know, all his photos are candid."
"So.." Ben drew out the word, eyes squinting in disbelief, "You know he's been taking these.. Candid pictures, and you're.. Cool with it?" He asked slowly.
She reached out to pat Ben on his broad shoulder with a laugh, "Yes. I'm totally cool with it. He was worried I would think it was creepy, but like I said, it's art. I can appreciate that, y'know? I was actually thinking that if he gets another really good one, I might ask for a copy? Get it printed out and maybe I could frame it and give it to Stiles as a part of his birthday present or something.. That might be cool.." She shook her head as she began to get lost in her thoughts, laughing again quietly, "Anyway, my point is, don't worry about it."
Ben's previously tense shoulders seemed to slump in relief, "I- Okay, then. I just- My bad, I guess." He blew out a long breath through his lips and shrugged awkwardly.
"I seriously appreciate your concern, though," She said honestly, "It was really cool of you to come to me."
He nodded with a serious look, "Yeah, of course. I'm just glad I came to you first instead of, like, immediately confronting Matt and giving him shit about it-"
"Oh, god, yeah!" She nodded in realization.
Ben shook his head, taking a small step back, "Right. So, y'know.. See ya later-"
She waved and bid him goodbye, watching him go with a small smile, grateful that things had been cleared up.
When free period rolled around, Amber and Allison followed as stealthily as they could manage behind Jackson, lurking in the nonexistent shadows as they waited for the right moment to corner him. They kept a safe distance as he walked into the east wing of the school, heading toward the locker rooms and the gymnasium, on his way to get more lacrosse in even after the team's morning practice.
As they entered the more deserted area of the school, devoid of voices and the laughter that had drowned out their steps before, Allison slipped her heels off to quiet her footfalls beside Amber, opting to hold them in her hand instead.
The two girls loitered as he practiced shooting on goal with Danny. When they finally headed back inside, the girls peeked around a corner to watch Jackson enter the boy's locker room as Danny headed in the opposite direction down the hall.
Amber reached for the door handle as they got to the already closed locker room door, but both girls reeled back in shock and a touch of fear when it swung open from the other side just as Amber's fingers brushed the metal.
"You just scared the hell out of me!" Matt Daehler laughed as he exited the locker room while Amber tried to calm her now-racing heart.
"Sorry!" She apologized with a breathless laugh, "Holy shit. I, uh- We we're just-"
"-Nothing," Allison interrupted weakly, "We were just, um, nothing.."
Matt blinked at them in confusion and shook his head, gaze dropping down to the shoes still clutched between Allison's fingers, "Uh, nice heels." He commented with a curious eyebrow raise.
"Oh!" Allison realized, having forgotten she was holding the footwear at all, "Yeah, uh-"
"Her feet were hurting." Amber supplied quickly.
Matt shrugged with a grin, "Same reason I never wear mine." He agreed jokingly.
Amber laughed in surprised amusement and Matt's smile seemed to brighten at the sound.
"Uh, hey.. Did you hear about the underground show?" He asked, eyes focused solely on Amber as he fiddled with the strap of the backpack over his shoulder, "Apparently they've got some big names spinning."
"Spinning-?" Amber repeated the word in confusion.
"Yeah, y'know.. DJ's." Matt clarified.
The pieces clicked together slowly in Amber's mind, "Oh, like a.. Rave?"
Matt scoffed with a smile, "Is it still a rave if you don't roll?" He questioned, "I just call it a party but- Hey! I've got a friend who can hook us up with tickets, if you're down. Y-you want me to get you one?" He asked her hopefully.
"Oh, um-" She frowned, "I don't- I mean, y'know Stiles and I are together-"
"Oh sure, yeah," Matt interrupted, "No, I know, but.. We could still go together as friends, right?"
Amber hesitated, "I mean, yeah, but- Parties like that aren't really my-"
"It'd be really fun, I swear." He promised with a hopeful smile.
Allison nudged at Amber's shoulder anxiously with a nod toward the locker room door to remind Amber of the task at hand.
"I, um- Just as friends?" Amber repeated quickly.
"Yeah, yeah. Just friends," Matt agreed, "I, uh, I could get both of you a ticket?" He suggested, gaze finally drifting over to Allison.
"Uh, fine, yeah," Amber agreed finally, her eyes flicking anxiously toward the locker room, "Sure."
"Cool! Um, it's Friday so I'll get the tickets and-" Matt stepped around them to begin his retreat down the hallway toward the main part of the building, "-Looking forward to it."
As he disappeared around a corner, Amber locked eyes with Allison and saw the other girl was frowning, "That kinda sounded like a date." Allison said quietly.
Amber scoffed, "Which part, exactly? The part where we talked about how I have a boyfriend, the part where we both agreed to go just as friends, or the part where he offered to get you a ticket too?"
Allison's lips were parted with a retort at the ready when there was a sudden ragged coughing from inside the locker room as if Jackson were choking.
"Shit-! Go get Scott," Amber told Allison with wide eyes. The other girl looked like she wanted to fight her on it and Amber shook her head as Jackson's choked noises grew more pained, "Alli, come on. He could be either hurt or going full kanima in there- I'm serious. Jackson won't hurt me but you need to go and get Scott. He's more attuned to you anyway, he'll probably hear you coming before you even get out of the stairwell."
Allison scrunched her face, "Fine. Just.. Be careful." She huffed before turning to run down the hallway.
Amber dropped her unzipped backpack to the ground carelessly, throwing the locker room door open with a bang as she stumbled through the doorway. She listened for sounds of distress, but the noises that Jackson had been making only moments before were gone, now replaced with the quiet sound of running water from the showers at the far side of the room.
"Jackson?" She called out cautiously, slightly worried for the boy as she moved through the rows of lockers in search, "Jackson?"
"In here." Jackson's voice supplied casually from the direction of the showers.
Amber's feet carried her that much faster, converse slapping against the tiles as she headed toward his voice. As she rounded the lockers and came to a stop in the entryway of the showers, she stumbled over her feet in surprise, quickly spinning away at the sight of Jackson's very naked body beneath the spray, staring in her direction with a blank, unaffected gaze.
Amber was staring at the row of lockers across from her with wide eyes as she leaned against the tile wall outside of the showers.
"Something wrong?" He questioned from behind her.
"I- Shit, Jackson!" She exclaimed in disbelief, "A little bit of warning when your dick is out, maybe?"
There was a high-pitched creak as he turned the knob to cut off the flow of hot water and Amber tried desperately to erase the image of Jackson's privates from her brain.
"You're the one who walked into the boy's locker room." He pointed out blankly.
"Wh- I thought I heard you-" She began to defend automatically, thinking back on the horrifying choking noises she'd heard from the hallway, "I mean, I thou- Whatever. Nevermind." She shook her head.
"Did you want to talk about something?" He questioned, his voice sounding from directly behind her now, prompting her to flinch in surprise at his close proximity.
"I- Yeah, but we can-" She huffed out a disbelieving breath as she began to step past him, "We can talk later-"
"No-" Jackson's arm shot out in front of her, his palm pressing against the tile as he caged her back against the tiled wall outside of the showers. Amber immediately forced her eyes upward to avert them from his still-naked body as it dripped with water. She was staring up at the ceiling while he quickly continued, "-Let's talk now."
Her gaze fell to his and she watched Jackson's jaw clench as he glared at her with an especially dark look. She found her heart stuttering slightly in her chest at the coldness behind his eyes.
She licked her lips in thought, "You know? I, uh- I actually should probably start heading to my next class-"
"Oh, no, no-" His face pulled into an irritated snarl and he immediately blocked her attempt to step around him, "No, you don't. You have perfect grades. You can skip one class."
She swallowed audibly at the sudden closeness of the boy's wet body to her own, their torsos practically brushing against one another. A small flash of fear filled her and she felt suddenly stupid for being so blinded by the noises that had sent her barreling into the locker room worried for Jackson's well-being and unafraid of the kanima.
The way Jackson was acting now – the way he was looking at her – It had her feeling suddenly afraid of him for reasons entirely unrelated to the kanima-fueled dangers that she'd mentally prepared herself for earlier in the day.
His gaze fell to her sternum and his lips pulled into a smirk before his eyes returned to hers, "You okay?" He asked condescendingly, "Your heart's beating like crazy."
"I'm fine." She said in a rush as she moved past him, her eyes glued to the tense lines of his body as she began to back away slowly.
"I thought you wanted to talk?" Jackson questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows and matching her steps.
"I, uh, ch- Changed my mind." She stumbled as she spoke when she backed into one of the wooden changing benches, arms flailing for a moment as she caught her balance.
"You sure? Because you look a little stressed-" His face contorted into anger again and Amber took a shaky breath, still backing away as he continued, "Is it Stilinski? Things falling apart between you two already?"
She shook her head slightly, lips parting to speak but cut off before she could say anything.
"-Can't say it would surprise me. It's not like you two are gonna last," Jackson scoffed meanly, "You know that one day, he and Scott are gonna decide they don't need a little cunt like you always dragging them down. I mean, what teenage guy honestly wants a chick for a best friend, huh? Now that Stilinski's gotten into your pants, it's really only a matter of time."
His words cut deeper than they probably should have, and she was surprised to find her back thumping blindly against the far wall of the locker room. Amber's eyes went wide when she realized she'd unintentionally caged herself again, Jackson's naked frame towering over her as he stepped close enough that patches of her dress darkened with the water from his still dripping body.
"You're being a dick." She told him.
Jackson scoffed cruelly, "I'm being honest. And if you don't realize that then you gotta be the stupidest bitch in this town. Well, other than Scott and Stiles because they seem to be pretty stupid bitches themselves-"
"Just stop." Amber demanded with a clenched jaw, gaze drifting toward the door to the locker room as she contemplated whether or not she could make it into the hallway before he caught up to her – she wasn't entirely confident that the odds weighed in her favor.
"What are you gonna do, Amber?!" Jackson shouted, his anger seeming to grow as he leaned even closer, "When your stupid bitch of a best friend- When Scott turns on you! What are you gonna do!"
His fists slammed into the wall on either side of her head and she couldn't hold back a quiet whimper as she flinched in fear, her wide eyes glued to the blind rage that had overtaken his face.
"They almost killed Lydia!" He spit the words in her face in sharp reminder, "Who do you think's gonna be next! Hm? Not you, oh no- Because you're in love with Stiles, and Scott's your best friend and he'd never let you get hurt-?" He shook his head condescendingly. His face was flooded with anger and his nose nearly brushed against hers as he continued to tear into her, "Is that what you tell yourself? Huh? If that's what you tell yourself then you're already dead."
One of Jackson's hands left the wall behind her, sharp claws now on display. He stroked them delicately down the length of Amber's cheek before pausing at the edge of her jawline, the sharp points poking at the skin of her throat just light enough that, while they didn't cut through her flesh, the threat was evident. Jackson's lips pulled back in another terrifying snarl and Amber found her heart racing anxiously at the combined feeling of the tips of his claws against her cheek and his naked body against her.
"Tell me, if your big bad werewolf of a best friend really cared, would he really let you walk around without any way to protect yourself?" Jackson's hand drifted, claws lightly skimming farther down the length of her throat as he spoke.
"I, um," She licked her lips as her body trembled anxiously, trying to work up the nerve to do what she needed to, "I wouldn't say I'm totally helpless-"
She threw her arms up and out to shove his hands away from her, thrusting her leg up sharply in the same moment to slam her knee into his naked groin. When he stumbled back half a step in surprise, she moved to rush past him, but she was yanked back roughly by her arm before she could make it more than a step away. Her cardigan tore from her shoulder as he spun her back around and suddenly they were falling through the air. Her back slammed down onto the ground and a pained grunt slipped past her lips as Jackson's weight landed heavily on top of her.
The moment they collided and his naked body pinned her to the floor, Jackson's eyes were widening, lips parted in surprise as if he'd suddenly been broken from a trance.
"Amber?" He questioned in panicked confusion as he scrambled to his feet frantically, "What are you doing here?"
The girl's heart was sill pounding in her chest too heavily for her to formulate a response. Her lips parted in a loss for words as she shuffled along the floor to put space between them. Her back hit the wall and the cold tile pressed against her bare shoulder where her sweater and the thin strap of her dress were still askew, the fabric dangling loosely down her arm. She watched as Jackson reached for a discarded pair of athletic shorts on the changing bench and moved to cover himself.
The locker room door swung open before she could respond and her wide eyes cut across the room to see Scott standing in the doorway, his gaze flicking back and forth between where she was on the floor, looking disheveled and afraid, and where Jackson was still pulling a pair of shorts over his naked legs with frantic movements.
"I- I'm fine," She assured her best friend quickly, "I'm fi-"
Her words didn't seem to quell the way that Scott's face morphed into one of blind fury. It was only then that Amber realized exactly how bad the scene in front of him appeared.
Without a moment of hesitation, Scott was storming toward Jackson furiously and Amber clumsily climbed to her feet as she watched her best friend shove Jackson back through the air with enough force that a row of lockers caved when the boy's body slammed into them.
"No, Scott! Scott, stop! I'm fine!" She repeated quickly.
Jackson righted himself with a renewed rage, "I. Have. A. Restraining order!"
"Trust me, I restrained myself." Scott retorted angrily.
In a blink, Jackson was tackling Scott and Amber watched in distress as they began to throw one another around the locker room with superhuman strength. They moved toward the showers at the back of the room and she heard an unmistakable crack as the tiles shattered from the force of their brawl.
Jackson stepped back into view, breathing heavily and scowling at Amber where she was still standing wide eyed at the front of the room, but before he could make it more than a few steps toward her, Scott was launching himself out of the showers and sending him hurtling back toward the weight benches.
"You guys, seriously! Stop!" Amber pleaded as she watched Jackson grab a forty-five pound weight, his fingers wrapping around the plate and launching it in Scott's direction as if it weighed nothing at all.
Amber squeaked as her hands came up to cover her mouth, but Scott caught the weight before it could crash into his chest.
He didn't get a moment to recover. Jackson rushed forward to kick him back into the wall, tiles cracking beneath Scott's weight only seconds before he was thrown into the row of sinks along the wall.
The porcelain shattered with a loud crash, water spraying from the burst pipes as the boys continued to throw one another back and forth across the room.
"Guys!" She tried again, voice hitching slightly. Her back hit the wall when they moved closer as she tried to stay away from the action, "Guys, stop!"
As if she hadn't spoken at all, the two continued to shove and kick at each other and Amber's heart pounded anxiously in her chest with each minute that passed, growing more and more worried that one of them might truly get hurt. Her hands scrambled as she patted herself down in search of her cell phone, a disbelieving whine leaving her lips when she realized it was in her backpack in the hallway due to the lack of pockets in her attire.
Jackson sent a final hard kick to Scott's chest and Amber watched her friend slam against the locker room door with a loud crash, the door tearing from its hinges as Scott fell back on top of it and into the hallway.
Amber rushed behind Jackson when he immediately stormed out of the room after Scott, the girl finding Erica already restraining Jackson and pulling him off of Scott. Stiles was attempting to hold Scott back while he tried to charge forward again and Amber pushed her hands against Scott's chest as Stiles wrapped his arms around him.
"Scott!" She pleaded, "Seriously, Scott, I-"
"What the hell is going on!"
Amber's eyes pinched shut in disbelief of their luck as she heard Mr. Harris yelling down the hallway, his footfalls growing louder as he stormed toward them.
"Hey!" The teacher shouted when he saw the boys still fighting against the students that were attempting to keep them apart, "Enough!"
Jackson and Scott seemed to deflate at the sound of their Chemistry teacher's angry yelling, both boys slumping against the arms holding them back as they finally stopped fighting.
"What do you idiots think you're doing?" Mr. Harris yelled, looking between the group of teens with a scowl, "Mr. McCall? Care to explain yourself?" He questioned sharply before his eyes drifted to the two teens who had released him but were still standing beside their friend, "Callisto? Stilinski?"
Amber swallowed loudly and looked around, but the entire group remained silent for a long moment.
"..You dropped this." Matt's voice cut in awkwardly, stepping from behind Mr. Harris and handing Amber's unzipped backpack to her.
Her notebook of bestiary translations was laying at the top of her books in a way that she hadn't quite remembered it being when she'd stuffed it into her bag earlier. As she took her backpack from him, she winced at the water dripping from the fabric due to the leak that had flowed out of the locker room and into the hallway.
"You, and you," Mr. Harris pointed between Jackson and Scott before shaking his head and letting his eyes rake across the group again, his gaze even drifting to where Matt was hovering behind him for a moment, "Actually.. All of you. Detention. Three o'clock."
They all slumped at the announcement of their punishment, Jackson shooting them a dark glare before storming off behind their teacher and Matt as they retreated. The moment that the hallway had cleared out, Scott was rounding on Amber with a furious glare.
"What the heck were you thinking?!" He snapped.
She flinched underneath his anger suddenly directed at her and took a small step back from him, "Wh-"
"Why would you guys split up?" He asked loudly, barely glancing at his girlfriend before he was glaring at Amber again, "That was the stupidest, most reckless-"
"Hey, Scott.." Stiles interrupted Scott's enraged scolding to move between them, nudging Scott back a step, "Take it down a notch, man."
"You didn't see the way-" Scott shook his head, his anger seeming to fade suddenly into concern in the time it took him to inhale and exhale. He moved forward again, "I- Amber, are you alright?"
"I- I'm fine, Scott," She promised, taking Stiles' hand gratefully when his fingers nudged against hers in offering, "I told you-"
Scott's chest heaved as he took a breath to keep calm, "If he.. I swear to god I'm gonna kill him-"
"Scott, stop." Amber interrupted, "It seriously wasn't what it looked like, okay? He didn't-"
"What did it look like?" Stiles questioned in confusion, he and Allison both slightly lost in the conversation.
Scott let out another sharp breath, "It looked like Jackson was-"
"I know what it looked like!" Amber cut him off again frantically, not wanting to hear the words, "Scott he was just yelling at me, okay? He was being an asshole but he wasn't going to- He-" She took a shaky breath, "He wasn't going to do anything. Not what you're thinking. He wasn't going to do.. that."
"Do what?"
Allison and Stiles voiced the words at the same time, the former still sounding confused and the latter simply exasperated at being left out.
Scott didn't speak, but he held eye contact with Amber for a long moment as if he were trying to search her face for any trace of a lie, even after having listened to the way her heartbeat remained steady while she'd spoken the words. He nodded slowly in indication that he believed her, his shoulders slumping from their rigid stance. Amber took a small step forward to pull him into a one armed hug, her other hand still extended behind her with Stiles' fingers trapped in her grip.
"I'm okay," She murmured quietly into his ear, "But regardless, I'm glad you came when you did," She said slightly louder as she released him and stepped back, "Did- Did you do okay on your makeup test? Did me and Stiles' flash cards help?"
There was a pause before he responded and she frowned at his moment of hesitation.
"I, uh, yeah. Totally. They definitely helped!" Scott said after a moment with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Amber groaned, her head rolling back on her shoulders, "You weren't finished and you bombed it to get down here and help me, didn't you?"
Scott winced, "Yeah."
Amber sighed, her grip tightening around Stiles' hand as she shook her head to clear away negative thoughts, "It's fine, it's totally fine! Y'know why? We- New game plan! Stiles and I will help you with some extra credit work instead and your grade will just-" She pulled at Stiles' wrist as she slapped her free palm against their joined hands, imitating something shooting up into the air, "We can still fix this."
At the end of the day, Amber was surprised by a pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind, warmth filling her chest as the scent of Stiles' cologne washed over her. His mouth pressed softly against the side of her neck and Amber's breath stuttered at the feeling. She abandoned the book she'd been pulling from her locker to reach back toward him, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck as she tipped her head at an awkward angle to catch his lips with her own.
"Mm, hello." She greeted quietly against his mouth.
"Hi," Stiles grinned, his arms tightening around her ribs as she turned back to collect her World History textbook, "You ready for detention?"
"As ready as one can be for punishment in the form of forced labor." She zipped up her backpack and closed her locker as she turned in her boyfriend's arms. Her back hit the lockers softly as Stiles leaned into her space to press his lips against hers again in a quick kiss.
"We're going to reshelve a couple books. It's not exactly punitive labor." He commented in amusement, prying her backpack from her fingers and releasing her so that he could drape the strap over his shoulder atop his own bag.
She took his hand in hers and rolled her eyes, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're supposed to agree with your girlfriend no matter what? Even when you think she's wrong or being ridiculous or batshit crazy?"
"I dunno, I think that might be a myth.." Stiles teased with a barely concealed grin as they headed toward the library.
"I'm just saying.. Maybe you should look into it-" She couldn't fight the smile that pulled at her own lips as his thumb ran softly back and forth along the back of her hand. She changed the subject with a quiet huff, "D'you think Erica really kept all the kanima stuff about Jackson a secret after you talked to her earlier? That she didn't tell Derek?"
Stiles sighed, "I freakin' hope so. You guys only just convinced me that we shouldn't kill him, it'd be a real bummer now if Derek just ripped his throat out anyway."
She winced, "That's.. Graphic."
"Sorry," Stiles made a face, "But, I mean- Wouldn't be the first time, would it? The guy didn't even hesitate when it was his own uncle-"
"That's a little different, I think-" She defended weakly, "I mean, his uncle was a psychopath whereas Jackson's technically one of Derek's Betas. Or, y'know, he would be if he didn't have so much repressed shit-"
"You think Derek being the one to give him the bite would really make him think twice?" Stiles questioned, pulling open the library doors and letting Amber step through first.
She shrugged, "I wouldn't necessarily count on it, but there's no harm in hoping, right?"
She dropped into a chair across the table from where Scott was already sitting and Stiles was quick to claim the one beside her.
"Oh, um, we can't be in detention together," Jackson told Mr. Harris as he sat down in the seat behind Amber, "I have a restraining order against these tools."
"All of these tools?" Their teacher asked with an unimpressed look, eyes flicking over their table.
"No, just us tools." Stiles supplied with a sigh, pointing between himself and Scott.
"Fine. Jackson, sit there," Mr. Harris said with an eye roll, gesturing to the empty seat at the table where Matt and Allison were sitting on the other side of the room before focusing back on the other teens as Erica sat down at an unoccupied table behind the teacher, "You two keep your distance from him."
Their teacher's attention left them to focus elsewhere and Scott took the opportunity to lean across the table, his face pinched tight in anger, "I'm gonna kill him." He stated, eyes flicking over to Jackson before refocusing on his best friends.
"No, you're not." Amber whispered.
"You're gonna find out who's controlling him." Stiles reminded him.
"-And then you're gonna help save him." Amber finished seriously.
"No," Scott whispered with a determined look, attention drifting to Stiles, "You were right. Let's kill him."
"He was not right," Amber whispered sharply, "You two are killing me. Get it together."
"Hey, I'm on your side now, remember?" Stiles defended, reaching out to pat her leg beneath the table as he spoke.
Amber gripped his hand over her bare thigh and squeezed it with a grateful nod.
"Hey, what if it's Matt?" Stiles pondered aloud after a few minutes, his eyes focussed on the boy sitting across the room beside Allison, "-I mean this whole thing comes back to the video, right? It was his camera-"
Scott shook his head, "Danny said that Matt was the one that found the two hours of footage that was missing-"
"Exactly!" Stiles whispered, raising his eyebrows as he continued to make his point, "He's trying to throw suspicion off himself."
Amber and Scott let their gazes drift across the room to watch the boy in question as he crunched on a chip from the snack bag he'd been picking at since the start of detention.
"..So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your Jeep?" Scott deduced in confusion.
"Yes!" Stiles hissed.
"Why would he do that?" Amber questioned incredulously.
"Because.. He's evil." Stiles supplied slowly.
She peered across the room again and watched as Matt shook his bag of chips across the table at Jackson in offering.
"Yeah, he looks like a real criminal mastermind." Amber whispered sarcastically.
"You just don't like him." Scott told Stiles with a shake of his head.
"The guy bugs me, I dunno what it is," Stiles agreed quietly, "Just.. Look at his face."
Amber pulled her hand from Stiles' with a wince and bit down on her lip, "Does that mean now is a bad time to mention that he asked me to go to that rave concert thing with him on Friday-"
Stiles shot her a look of disbelief, eye twitching as he searched for words, "He what?"
"I mean, as friends, obviously-" She added, feeling slightly guilty from the look on her boyfriend's face.
"But you said no, right?" Stiles whispered, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to scowl at Matt before returning to her face.
She scrunched her nose, "Not exactly."
Scott listened in on their interaction silently, eyes bouncing between his best friends as if he were watching a tennis match while they went back and forth.
"Well what exactly did you say, then?" Stiles followed up.
"..Yes?"
"What!" Stiles said a little too loudly, shrinking back as everyone looked over at him and repeating himself in a hushed whisper, "What?"
Amber dropped her hand over his knee with a sympathetic frown, "I made sure he knew you and I were together and that we'd just be going as friends. And in the end he offered to get a ticket for Allison too," She promised quietly, "I didn't realize you despised him quite so much or else I would've-"
"Well if I disliked him before, I freakin' loathe him now." Stiles glared over her shoulder once more.
She sighed, grip tightening on his leg, "Babe, I'm sorry, but.. I'm not canceling on him after I already agreed to go-"
"I didn't- I'm not asking you to-" Stiles huffed with a shake of his head, "Just, be careful, alright? There's something off about the guy."
She turned her head to look back at Matt again and watched as the boy finished his chips and began meticulously folding the empty bag in half over and over until it was shaped into a small square of trash that he proceeded to tuck away in the pocket of his jeans.
"Right.." Amber drew out the word quietly, unconvinced.
A silence fell over their table, the quiet stretching on for a few minutes before Jackson suddenly pushed out of his chair and began to stumble toward the library doors with a mumbled excuse about needing to use the bathroom.
"Are you alright?" Mr. Harris questioned, looking genuinely worried for the boy in a way that had Amber very nearly rolling her eyes, "You don't look so good-"
Jackson merely pushed past the teacher when they crossed paths, "I just need to get some water." He muttered as he pushed through the doors and exited the library.
Mr. Harris watched him go for only a moment before he moved to follow behind him, pausing at the doors to turn back and glare at the rest of them, "No one leaves their seats." He warned.
The moment the doors closed behind him, Amber, Scott, and Stiles all shared a look in silent communication before they wordlessly pushed up from their chairs and rushed over to the table Erica had taken up by herself.
"Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died." Scott addressed the blonde, wasting no time with beating around the bush.
Erica looked between the three of them as they sat down and shrugged in nonchalance, "Maybe."
"Talk." Scott urged quickly.
Erica flipped her notebook closed with a sigh and leaned over the table on her elbows, "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator, and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he turns eighteen."
Stiles narrowed his eyes in disbelief, "So, not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?"
"Yup." Erica grinned at the annoyance in his voice.
"There is something so deeply wrong with that." Stiles muttered.
"The last thing that boy needs is more money to further inflate his ego." Amber agreed quietly.
"You know what?" Erica murmured, opening her laptop and clicking around on the trackpad as she navigated the screen, "I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox.. He keeps everything."
"Scott McCall, Please report to the principal's office. Scott McCall. Principal's office."
Amber had pushed out of her seat and was headed to the opposite side of the table where Stiles and Erica were sitting when the announcement rang out loudly through the PA system. She frowned as she looked at her friend in question but Scott shrugged in response with a frown of his own, patting her on the shoulder as he stood and moved to head down to the front office.
Stiles spread his legs over the sides of his wide chair and Amber settled between his thighs easily so that they could both peer at the computer screen while Erica did a deep dive through her father's old emails.
As the blonde finally pulled up the message thread they were looking for a few minutes later, the doors to the library reopened with a quiet click as Jackson and Mr. Harris came back into the room, but the three teens paid no attention, continuing to read through the attachments as Erica opened them up on the screen.
"Wait, wait-" Amber whispered, her eyes suddenly catching on the words written on the copy of the insurance claim, "Look at the dates."
"Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA-" Erica read from the middle of the page, "The estimated time of death - 9:26 P.M., June 14, 1995." She finished with a questioning lilt to her voice, eyebrows lifting as if she wasn't sure what could be possibly important about that particular piece of information
"Jackson's birthday is June 15." Stiles pointed out, pulling the words straight from Amber's mouth.
Erica turned to blink at them in surprise.
The sudden zing of a zipper rang out through the room and everyone's attention was drawn to where Mr. Harris was pulling his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his things as he moved to leave early. The teens all followed suit in collective relief, beginning to gather their own belongings together before the sound of their teacher chuckling quietly made them pause.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry-" He laughed, not sounding the least bit apologetic, "Uh, yes.. I'm leaving. But none of you are," He explained, stepping up to one of the many wheeled carts stacked high with books, "You may go when you're done with the reshelving. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
Mr. Harris chuckled again as he left the room and Amber's face pinched up in disgust.
"I genuinely hate that man." She muttered, dropping down into the seat again and leaning back into Stiles' chest with a sigh.
Erica's eyes were flicking over the screen of her laptop again, still searching for something following the discovery made by Stiles and Amber.
"What?" Amber questioned after a moment.
Erica closed the lid to her computer and blinked, "They kept his mom on life support until they could get her body prepped for surgery." She explained quietly.
"Jesus." Stiles muttered.
All of their gazes drifted over to where Jackson was leaning heavily over the top of his table, looking slightly sweaty and feverishly unwell.
"You think he's good?" Amber questioned in a whisper, head tipped back onto Stiles shoulder so she could speak quietly into his ear.
Stiles shrugged behind her, "Maybe the bite's finally gonna kill him." He joked.
Amber pinched his arm between her fingers in reprimand, "Cut that out. Now, c'mon. Let's do some reshelving. I'd like to go home at some point today."
Erica rolled her eyes at the couple just as the doors were thrown open once again and Scott reemerged. He immediately came to stand where Amber was already beginning to roll one of the carts of books in the direction of the stacks, nodding his head toward Allison in a motion for her to follow them. Stiles stepped around Amber to pull the cart from the other side, grabbing a book at random once they were hidden away between the shelves and peering down at the sticker on the bottom of the binding as he searched for the place where it belonged amongst the shelved books.
"Did you guys find anything?" Scott questioned his friends as Allison stepped up beside them.
Amber grimaced as she grabbed a book of her own, "Yeah, kinda." She supplied weakly, pushing up onto her toes to shove the book onto a high shelf.
"You guys found something?" Allison repeated curiously, "About his parents?"
Amber and Stiles both nodded, looking at one another silently as they debated who should speak and eventually the girl caved with a sigh, "Well, you know they both died in a car accident-" She whispered, fighting against the flashes of painful memories that cropped up at the reminder of how her own parents had been taken from her, "But it was only a couple of hours before Jackson was born." She continued.
"What does that mean?" Scott asked in confusion.
"It means he was born��after his mom died," Amber explained, "..By c-section."
"They had to pull him out of her dead body." Stiles supplied grimly.
"Oh my god." Allison whispered.
Amber nodded in agreement as she reshelved another book, "So, yeah. His parents were killed before tiny Jackson was even born into the world."
"Killed.." Allison repeated slowly, "So, was it an accident or not?"
Stiles shrugged, "The word all over the reports is 'inconclusive'."
Scott leaned on his elbows, resting his weight onto a stack of books with wide eyes, "What? His parents could've been murdered?"
Stiles nodded with another noncommittal shrug, "If they were, then it falls in line with the kanima myth, right?"
Amber nodded in agreement, "It seeks out and kills murderers but.. What, because it had a loved one who was also murdered?"
"Would that go for Jackson? Or the person controlling him?" Allison questioned in a hushed voice.
"Maybe both?" Amber pondered, "I mean, maybe that's why they bonded in the first place."
"Could be." Stiles agreed easily.
"Regardless, I don't think Jackson wants to kill anybody," Amber whispered, "I mean, if he knew what he was-"
"We have to talk to him," Scott interrupted, moving around the book cart to walk to the front of the aisle, "We have to tell him."
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Amber countered, stepping forward to follow after him, "I don't think he's gonna listen to-" Scott left the row of shelves without another word and Amber sighed as she turned back to Allison and Stiles, "-And he's gone.. Y'know, he used to listen to me."
"Yeah, him going Teen Wolf and no longer being such a pushover is a real pain in the ass, isn't it?" Stiles lamented in agreement.
"Yes." Amber agreed in discontent.
A loud crash from a few rows over had Amber flinching in surprise, head whipping toward the commotion as another crash immediately followed, the second one sounding out slightly closer.
"Erica!" Scott yelled from another row.
Amber took a nervous step back toward Stiles as her heart picked up in her chest. The next crash sounded from directly above them as a dark blur jumped from one towering bookshelf to another, slamming into the ceiling and shattering lights as it moved. Amber brought her hands up to cover her head as small shards of glass along with styrofoam and dust from the ceiling tiles rained down over them and Stiles pulled her to the ground, wrapping one arm around her waist and positioning the other protectively over their heads.
They heard Erica let out a small scream from the next row and as Stiles lowered his arm slowly, Amber looked between him and Allison with wide eyes.
The shattered light bulbs above were sparking dangerously as electricity continued to flow into them and Amber took ahold of Stiles' wrist as the sound of wood splintering and loud crashes continued from beyond the stack that they were tucked away in.
The familiar screech of the kanima sounded out only moments before Scott was tossed back into a cart of books in need of re-shelving at the end of the bookshelves. Amber made a small, unconscious move to go toward her friend to help but Stiles tugged her back into his arms without hesitation, scolding her quietly.
Scott groaned as he righted himself and he slipped into the row of shelves upon spotting the three of them still ducked down beside the other book cart. He came to a crouch in front of them all, blocking them off from the end of the row and stretching his arms out protectively as Allison flocked to her boyfriend's back.
It was only then that Amber's eyes fell on Jackson. He was stood in front of a blackboard across the room, half-shifted in a way she'd only ever seen when he was unconscious outside of the nightclub, his skin lightly covered in scales though he remained looking mostly human. His head lolled to the side limply as he gripped a piece of chalk and began to write on the board, showing no indication that he knew what he was doing, like a puppet controlled by someone pulling at its strings.
The chalk clicked loudly against the board in the sudden silence as Jackson's unfocused yellow eyes gazed at nothing in particular across the room and Amber gripped onto Stiles that much tighter in unease. Jackson finished his messy scrawl of large letters on the board, remaining still for a terrifying moment before he launched himself out of the second story library window in a loud crash of shattering glass.
Amber let out a shaky exhale and Stiles pressed his mouth to her temple, not quite kissing her but simply panting anxious breaths into her skin as they all took in the message that had been left behind on the blackboard.
STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU
The four rose to their feet, slowly stepping out from the row of bookshelves as the lights continued to flicker and spark above them. Amber's gaze drifted to the next row over as it came into view and she stumbled over her own feet at the sight of the blonde werewolf convulsing on the floor.
Amber pushed past Stiles and fell to her knees, rolling Erica over onto her back until she could see the other girl's face.
"Woah, woah- Hey!" Stiles alerted the others immediately as he followed his girlfriend's footsteps and helped her hold onto Erica while the girl thrashed.
"She's having a seizure-" Amber shouted in confusion, "She's a werewolf! How- How is she having a seizure?"
"Hey, we need to get her to a hospital." Stiles announced obviously.
"Derek-" Erica disagreed in a quick burst, "T-To Derek."
Their grip on the blonde tightened further as she twitched and Scott dropped down to the floor alongside them, looking over to the next row where Allison was checking on an unconscious Matt.
"He's alive." Allison declared.
Scott sighed in relief, his eyes meeting Amber's panicked ones before his gaze dropped down to Erica for a moment. He looked back at Allison, "When we get her to the hospital-"
"To Derek," Erica was quick to repeat, jerking beneath Amber's hands, "To Derek."
"Okay," Amber agreed easily as Stiles sat Erica up in his arms, "Okay, we'll go to Derek." She promised.
Scott was still looking at Allison longingly and he stood suddenly before rounding the bookshelf to drop down beside his girlfriend.
Stiles' head snapped up in annoyance, "Hey, Scott!"
"Asshole." Amber muttered under her breath as she pushed a clump of curls from Erica's face and tucked them behind her ear, "Scott!" She called out again in frustration.
She could hear the hushed whisperings between Scott and Allison but couldn't quite make out the words that were being said and her eyes went to her boyfriend's to meet Stiles' own irritated gaze.
"Scott, go." Allison said loudly.
"Yeah, Scott, get your ass over here!" Amber snapped as she helped Stiles get to his feet with Erica draped in his arms bridal style.
Scott finally approached them again a few seconds later and immediately took Erica's weight from Stiles' arms, carrying her effortlessly as he rushed toward the exit. Stiles huffed quietly in annoyance as they followed behind Scott with quick steps and Amber's hand found his back as they moved through the empty halls.
"I had that." Stiles muttered quietly.
"I know you did." Amber assented, rubbing her hand over his shoulder blades as they rushed down the hallway.
"I wasn't struggling that much. I could've carried her-"
Amber nodded empathetically, "I'm sure you could've."
Stiles huffed as they rounded a corner to head toward the front doors, "Why do I get the feeling you're just trying to appease me?"
"Because I am." Amber said easily, grabbing his hand to pull him to move faster.
"Wh- I mean, I've carried you plenty of times! You know I could-"
"You're very strong, baby, okay?" She placated quickly as they followed Scott through the doors and down the steps to the sidewalk, "But we both know Scott's stronger. There's no point in wearing out your human muscles, right?"
Stiles frowned as he pulled out his keys, "Yeah, I- Okay."
She knew that couldn't possibly be the end of it, the very last thing Stiles was known for was his ability to let things go, or concede in a fight — but it seemed he was willing to drop the subject for now, and Amber rewarded him with a tender stroke of her thumb over his cheek before she climbed into the vehicle.
As sickening as it was to watch Derek snap the bones in Erica's arm to jumpstart her healing process, it was nothing compared to the positively blood curdling scream that Erica let out when he sunk his claws into her flesh to squeeze the kanima venom out through the broken limb.
Amber had never had any real problems with the sight of blood, but as Derek dug his fingers into the skin of Erica's arm and thick red streams of it poured out onto the dirty floor of the train car, she had to hold back a gag as nausea flooded her body.
Stiles' warm breath against her neck as he shielded his own eyes from the gore-y scene was a welcomed comfort. She reached to cup the back of his head and he burrowed his face further into her hair with a wince when Derek tightened his grip once more and Erica's screams started up again.
"Derek-" Amber choked out, tightening her other hand around Erica's as a few tears leaked down the blonde's cheeks.
"I'm almost done." Derek promised them.
The next few minutes were painful for everyone involved and their ears were still ringing with Erica's cries of pain by the time Derek released his grip on her arm. They all slumped in relief at the sudden silence while Erica caught her breath and Derek and Scott were quick to rise to their feet and exit the ratty train car.
Amber stumbled to her own feet, temples throbbing slightly from both the anxiety and the screams that had filled her head for the last couple hours. She gave Stiles' shoulder a squeeze before she followed the path out of the train car in search for where Scott and Derek had wandered off to only moments before.
"You knew who it was." Scott accused Derek as Amber stepped up behind the two werewolves.
She watched with a sick weight in her stomach as Derek wiped Erica's blood away from his hands with a rag before he nodded and spoke, "Jackson."
"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?" Scott asked in annoyance.
Derek nodded again but Amber took another step into their space before he could respond, "You're not going to hurt him."
"I'm not?" Derek crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.
"Face it, Derek. You need help from Scott and his worthless pack of humans," Her words were laced with venom and she almost felt satisfied by the look of surprise on the older werewolf's face, "And we'll help you, alright? But we're not hurting him."
"Amber-" Derek's words were cut off when Scott cut in.
"She's right," Scott nodded seriously, placing a hand on Amber's shoulder in a show of support, "We'll help you stop him. But we do it on one condition; we're gonna find a way to catch him, not kill him."
Derek sighed, "So what's your plan then?"
Silence.
"You want to do things 'your way', but neither of you has a plan?" Derek huffed in exasperation.
"The rave on Friday.." Amber said after a moment.
Derek shook his head immediately, "There'll be too many people-"
"Exactly," Scott agreed immediately, "Jackson won't be expecting us to corner him in such a crowded location and he'll be a whole lot easier to catch if he's not expecting it."
"So, Mr. I'm A Werewolf And I Know Everything-" Amber looked at Derek expectantly, "How does one set a trap for demented lizard-wolf?"
"We could use mountain ash, maybe.." Derek said with a shrug, "But I don't have any."
"Well who would?" Amber asked immediately.
Derek frowned, "Scott's boss might-"
"You think Deaton has this stuff?" Scott questioned.
"There's a lot you don't know about him, Scott," Derek supplied unhelpfully, "And I doubt he'd give it to me, but he might be willing to give it to you."
"Okay," Amber said easily, "So we ask Dr. Deaton for this ashy shit.. What exactly is it though? How is it gonna help us catch Jackson?"
Derek sighed a long suffering sigh before giving them a painfully undetailed run down of how they might be able to use the mountain ash to trap Jackson, but voiced that he was unsure how they'd subdue the kanima once they had him trapped. Scott was quick to insist that Deaton would be able to help them come up with a more thorough plan and that he, Amber, and Stiles would go and speak with his boss after school one day.
"Cool. So we have a week to come up with a plan, then," Amber said, bitterness seeping into her voice as her eyes drifted to Derek again, "I guess we'll just have one of your precious Betas let you know once we have it all hashed out, since you've made sure that it's impossible for any of us to get a hold of you."
She turned away with a huff and made her way down the dark, dirty hallway, needing just a moment by herself as anger pulsed violently in her chest. She flinched when a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her to a stop in an empty stretch of the abandoned railway cars.
"Amber, hang on a second." Derek said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed, hurt creeping up inside her as she recalled what he'd said just a few days before to shed some light on why he'd entirely cut off contact with her.
I didn't want you to be a part of my pack if you wanted to stay human.
"What?" She sighed weakly.
"I know I hurt your feelings," He said slowly, "And I-"
"You didn't," She lied with a small shrug, "Why would I be hurt?"
Derek gave her a look as if she were being wholly ridiculous, "I know I hurt you," He repeated, "When I told you I didn't want you to be a part of my pack-"
"I'm a part of Scott's pack, remember? You said so yourself. I don't want to be a part of your stupid agro-pack anyway, okay?"
He appeared sad as he frowned at her and she couldn't quite tell if it was hurt or pity swimming in his eyes, but her throat tightened regardless.
He sighed, "I just wanted to apologize, alright? My mother never really considered the human family members to be part of the pack and until I saw the bond that Scott's formed with you, and Stiles, and Allison, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. I didn't-"
"Didn't want a sixteen year old little girl to get in the way and ruin your perfect pack of werewolves?"
She refused to even look at the older werewolf as she spit his words back at him, her eyes focussed on the dirty cement wall behind him instead. She hadn't even been truly angry when he'd initially said the words, but now that her frustration had pushed its way to the surface, she felt her emotions taking over for the first time since the night she'd turned down his offer of the bite.
"I shouldn't have said that," Derek confessed quietly, "I didn't mean it. I was angry that you turned me down but I shouldn't have pushed you away the way I did."
Her jaw clenched, "No. You shouldn't have."
"I'm sorry."
At his apology, her eyes finally flicked back to Derek and her stiffness loosened slightly at the genuine regret on his normally stoic face.
"All I ever wanted was to help you." She said quietly.
"I know."
"I- I was starting to think of you like a brother and you just.. You said you didn't want me anymore and you left." Her voice caught in her throat and Derek's eyes widened at the shift in her emotions, "I cared about you."
"I.." Derek's face scrunched up like he was struggling entirely too hard with his words before continuing, "I care about you too."
Her face broke into a grin accompanied by glassy eyes as she threw her arms around his shoulders, "Aw, Sourwolf.. I forgive you. For being such a big stupid dickhead."
Derek chuckled quietly as he returned her hug and Amber's chest felt decidedly warm.
"Oh, come on! Alpha paws off my girlfriend. For the love of God." Stiles' voice exclaimed as he rounded the corner.
Amber laughed as she released the werewolf and she took Stiles' hand in hers as soon as he was at her side, "How's Erica?" She asked.
Stiles smiled sadly, "Healed. She passed out but she looks a lot better than she did."
Derek nodded at his words before moving past them and Amber's arms looped around her boyfriend's waist the moment they were alone. She nuzzled her head into his neck and he huffed an amused laugh as he returned her embrace, combing his fingers through her hair in a familiar motion.
"What's up?" He asked quietly.
She shrugged and attempted to bury herself deeper in him, "Are you and Scott ready to go?"
Stiles hummed a confirmation before dropping his arms around her waist, "Should I carry you to the Jeep? To prove my more than adequate human strength?" He tightened his arms and lifted her until her toes could only just brush the ground but she shoved him away with a squeal of laughter.
"No," She said quickly as she moved down the hall, "Nope, no carrying necessary. Let's go get Scott. We can start planning Operation Capture Jackson on the way."
Stiles ran up behind her and she broke into laughter again while dodging his attempts to get his arms around her, tangling her fingers with his instead as she pulled him along.
"Stiles!"
Amber fisted the fabric of his flannel between her fingers in the scramble for something substantial to hold onto as her voice rose.
"I'm serious! Put me down!" She demanded in a shout.
"Nope," He slammed the passenger door of the Jeep closed and turned to head inside the house, his hands gripping her thighs tightly to ensure she didn't fall from the place where she'd been thrown over his shoulder after insisting he help her from the vehicle in what she'd thought had been an act of chivalry, "Not until we're upstairs. I'm-"
"You have proven your point!" She found herself laughing despite the way his shoulder was digging somewhat painfully into her gut.
"Not yet."
As he stepped into the house, Stiles took a moment to toe off his shoes while using one hand to pull Amber's from her feet and dropping them to smack against the floor one at a time.
"I'm wearing a dress!" She squealed when he still didn't set her down. She suddenly found herself desperately hoping that none of his nosy neighbors had been looking through their windows at the right moment to receive a full view of her ass as he'd carried her inside.
"You sure are," Stiles agreed as he moved past the entryway and deeper into the house, his right hand sliding dangerously further up her thigh as he went, "Thanks for that, by the way. It's a nice view."
She pinched his backside in retaliation as he began to climb the stairs and his knees buckled worryingly for a moment in surprise on the bottom step.
"Do not drop me, Stilinski-" She threatened seriously.
"Don't distract me!" He countered.
"You're being ridiculous!" She argued, watching with unease as the distance between her head and the floor grew, "And you're lucky I don't get motion sickness because looking down all of these stairs is mildly terrifying-"
"I'm not gonna drop you." He promised.
He made a point of tightening his fingers around her thighs further to reassure her but his actions had an entirely different effect. She had to bite down on her lower lip painfully to hold back the quiet moan that threatened to escape as his fingers dug into the soft flesh just beneath the roundness of her ass, his thumb dipping torturously between her thighs as he squeezed, the tip achingly close to pressing against her lace-covered core. So close, she could very nearly taste it.
When they made it to his bedroom, Stiles unceremoniously dropped her down onto the bed and she quickly propped herself up on her elbows to look up at him in disbelief, her cheeks flushed with heat.
"That.. Was so unnecessary." She said breathlessly as she pushed herself to sit up at the edge of his bed.
Stiles only grinned, "Told you I could do it, though. I'm not even winded. In fact, I could've-"
His words cut off in surprise when Amber dragged him forward with a hand fisted in his shirt, his knees bumping the mattress as he stumbled to a stop between her parted legs. She blinked up at him while she continued to catch her breath, tongue poking out to wet her lips unconsciously as her gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth.
Stiles watched the movements and leaned down suddenly with one knee on the mattress between her thighs to pull her into a kiss, his hand gliding over her jaw to cradle the back of her head until his fingers could tangle in her hair.
She groaned into his mouth, her arms sliding across his shoulders to loop around his neck so that she could pull him down against her as she fell to her back on the bed. The sparks that had pooled in her belly crept lower, fluttering excitedly between her legs as his weight settled on top of her and she sighed contentedly through her nose when he deepened the kiss.
His fingers skimmed with the ghost of a touch over the skin of her biceps, dragging up past her elbows where he untangled her arms from around his neck to push them down against the mattress. His hands trailed back toward her own to tangle their fingers together once her arms were splayed out on either side of her head. When his lips left hers, she tipped her head back while his mouth left a wet trail of kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.
Her hips canted up reflexively as his teeth scraped softly over the sensitive skin of her throat, his warm breath tingling along her skin, and Stiles groaned into her neck when her pelvis made contact with the growing bulge at the front of his jeans.
"Stiles-" She breathed as his hands tightened around hers, arching up against him again in a desperate search for friction.
The scratch of denim was rough against her bare thighs as he shifted between her legs. The smell of his body wash still lingered on his skin from his morning shower and it filled her lungs with much needed oxygen while simultaneously filling her head with a giddy static that left her reeling, like the black and white fuzz of a channel that didn't come in on the television.
His lips trailed lower to leave hot kisses along her collarbones, his hands releasing her only so that he could slide her sweater from her shoulders, the strap of her dress following suit and slipping down past her elbow. His mouth was quick to find the newly revealed skin of her chest and she groaned while he stripped her of her cardigan completely, allowing him to tug it down her arms and toss it blindly over the side of the bed.
She pushed his own overshirt from his shoulders in response and his hands gravitated back to her skin the moment it was stripped away so that he could hike the fabric of her dress up, his thumbs pressing into her flesh intoxicatingly when he reached the tops of her thighs. She helped him drag the fabric up over her stomach and chest, tearing the dress over her head in a quick movement.
Stiles stared at her in awe for a moment before he was crowding her back against the bed to recapture her lips. Their tongues danced between hot breaths but eventually he was leaning down to reattach his mouth to the skin of her chest with wet kisses instead.
She felt his hands slip beneath her back to tug at the clasp of her bra. His mouth paused distractedly where he'd been kissing at her skin and the offer to assist him was on her lips when the fabric suddenly fell loose around her chest.
"Got it," Stiles boasted quietly, pulling the article from her body and throwing that behind himself as well, his lips immediately gravitating back to her chest, "Stupid demon contraption-" He muttered against her skin before sealing his mouth around a pebbled nipple.
The moan she let out was pornographic as her spine arched up from the mattress, chasing the feeling of his mouth, of his teeth scraping lightly against the bud while his thumb brushed lightly over her other breast.
It felt all too sudden when he pulled back and she blinked at him in confusion, feeling ridiculously disheveled from just fifteen minutes of kissing and a few seconds of his mouth on her tits.
"Hickeys," Stiles said simply as they looked at one another with lust-filled eyes. He licked at his swollen lips before continuing, "How do you feel about hickeys if they're not on your neck? Y'know? Is that still a no, or-"
She nodded wildly, "'S fine, that's fine."
An excited grin spread across his face and Amber wondered for a fleeting moment if she'd later regret granting him permission, but the thoughts were cast out of her mind the second he bit down on the sensitive flesh on the side of her breast, teeth sinking into the softness with a sudden and pleasurable sting.
She keened and gripped at the back of his neck as he sucked harshly on the sensitive skin before moving on to a new spot, his mouth leaving a smattering of biting kisses over both her breasts, littering her with spots in a wide array of pink and purple. He gripped her waist tightly, one hand holding her still as he worked while the other trailed down the outside of her thigh to pull her leg up around his hip.
When he finally kissed his way back up to her mouth, she angled her head to deepen the kiss immediately and reached between them to press her palm against the bulge beneath the zip of his pants as their tongues tangled. Stiles groaned into her mouth and she was quick to begin working at the button on his jeans, tugging it free and yanking down the zipper before pulling at the fabric at his hips.
He leaned back to rid himself of his jeans and slipped back into the space between her thighs in a flash, his hips rolling down against hers lightly as he reattached their mouths. He didn't waste any time before his lips were dragging back down her neck and chest, leaving a wet trail in their wake as he kissed and licked at her skin.
She was about to plead with him to do something but the words died on her lips when he moved lower, kissing a line down her stomach and nipping lightly at her hip bone before trailing lower still and repeating the treatment he'd given her breasts on the skin at the top of her thighs with teasing bites and kisses.
His fingers finally hooked beneath the waistband of her underwear and he slipped the fabric down her legs until they were out of the way, absentmindedly leaving them hooked around just one of her ankles in his rush to get back to the task at hand.
His head dipped down between her thighs tongue first and Amber cried out, gripping desperately at his shoulders over his shirt as he began to work his mouth against her clit.
"Yes," She praised simply in a low whisper, "S-shit."
He slid a hand up her stomach to massage her breast and she found herself having a hard time holding back the breathy noises that left her as he alternated between licking down at her entrance and moving a little higher up to flick his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves there instead. He swirled around her clit a few times, warm and soft and so fucking incredible, before he was flattening his tongue to apply more pressure.
"Sti-" She gasped, "Shit, y-yes. Just like- You- S-shit-"
Her chest was heaving with strangled breaths, fingers digging into his shoulders desperately as she tried to vocalize how good he was making her feel.
Her thighs began to tremble with the build of her orgasm, legs tightening around his shoulders as he worked her closer and closer to her peak. She was teetering on the edge, gasping and whining slack-jawed, when Stiles closed his lips around her clit and sucked lightly, his tongue still flicking against the nub, and her orgasm suddenly crashed over her in a wave of white-hot pleasure. Her hips twitched beneath him and his name spilled from her lips as her whole body jerked with her release.
He didn't back off until she began to wriggle uncomfortably beneath him from overstimulation. He haphazardly wiped the slick covering his mouth off against the love-bitten skin of her thigh before he crawled his way back up her body to drop his forehead against hers, their noses brushing lightly as she caught her breath.
"It- It's almost annoying how good you are at that." She murmured, tipping her chin up to catch his lips against hers lightly.
Stiles grinned in satisfaction at the compliment and he leaned down to slot their lips together more firmly, the taste of her own arousal lingering on his mouth.
After a moment of recovery, Amber reached down to wrap a hand around the hard line of his cock over his boxers, a surprisingly large patch of precome dampening the fabric, his length warm and heavy in her hand. He huffed a sharp breath into her mouth and she pulled back from the kiss slightly to peer up at him, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered and his lips parted as she tightened her fingers around him and worked her hand slowly.
Stiles groaned weakly when she released him but she ignored his noises of protest, forcing his boxers down his hips and pushing at his shoulders determinedly until he was laying on his back. She pulled her own underwear up over her thighs again before discarding his and settling between his spread knees.
He was achingly hard now, his cock long and thick where it curved up his stomach, the head of it red and leaking a small trail of precome into the dark hairs of his happy trail. She took him back into her hand while pushing the fabric of his shirt up his chest slightly, her fingers scratching through the damp trail of hair that led up from his groin before pressing into the tensed muscles of his stomach.
She fought not to cringe at the action as she spit over the tip and began to jerk him off in earnest, thumbing away the strand of connection to her mouth. Her embarrassment washed away in a flash of confidence when Stiles let out another devastatingly weak groan, the sound of it high and breathy.
Her hand tightened at the head, collecting the precome leaking from his tip and combining it with her own spit with an easy twist of her wrist before slipping her fist back down his length, the glide smooth and noisy with the slick of the makeshift lubricant.
She leaned down slowly after a moment of simply pumping him with her fist, guiding the head of his cock to her lips. She watched him watching her — watched the moment his eyes slipped shut with a curse and his thighs twitched as she wrapped her lips around the tip.
"Oh, shit." He hissed, hands tangling in her hair, his fingers fumbling to gather her it away from her face so he could watch her move with no obstructions when he looked down again.
She swirled her tongue around the head once, relishing in the stuttered noises of desperation that Stiles was letting out, the way his thighs twitched as he tried not to thrust up into the heat of her mouth, the muscles of his stomach growing firm beneath her palm as he tensed.
"Babe. Baby, I'm-"
As he moaned, she was tightening her fist around the base, sucking lightly at the head and suddenly, Stiles was coming with a groan, warmth coating her tongue as his muscles tensed further and his grip tightened in her hair. She pulled back slightly in surprise, swallowing what was in her mouth, the taste of it salty and slightly metallic. She rubbed her thumb over the slick tip while come continued to shoot out in weak spirts, watching her boyfriend twitch with the waves of his own release, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed rapidly beneath dark hair and pale skin.
"Holy.. shit." He whispered, hips jerking and eyes closed as the last dregs of his release coated her fingers.
She waited, momentarily mesmerized by the rise and fall of his chest with labored breaths, before she reached past him to grab a tissue and began to wipe the mess away from the bottom of his stomach and her hand. When she reached back up for a second tissue, Stiles halted her movements to look at her with wide eyes.
His thumb rubbed along her jaw softly, "Oh my god," He whispered, "I'm.. So sorry. I just.. Shit. I'm sorry." He repeated quietly, looking adorably flushed from embarrassment or his orgasm or possibly some combination of both.
"What exactly are you apologizing for?" She asked curiously, her hand trailing up his cheek as she reached up to drag her fingertips through the softness of his short hair.
He grimaced, "Well first off for having, like, zero restraint whenever you're on top of me and always embarrassing myself by coming in like ten seconds-" He began quietly, "But mostly for just coming in your mouth without any warning-"
Amber knocked their foreheads together as she snorted an amused laugh, "Mhm. Totally unforgivable.." She teased, "But I guess.. Just this once.."
She leaned down to give him a kiss but his head tipped away to avoid her lips as he continued.
"I'm serious. I swear I usually last longer, but-"
"Usually?" She repeated the word playfully, "What, when you're jerking off in bed all by yourself?"
His nose scrunched up cutely in annoyance, "Well, I.. Yeah."
She laughed, "Aw, Sti. I'm sorry that having a real life half-naked girl on top of you is proving so detrimental to your sexual stamina."
"It's just not the presence of a naked girl that's been ruining me. Y'know, just for the record," He said quietly, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear as he continued, "It's that it's you."
"You're ridiculous." She blushed despite herself.
"I'm serious," He corrected, "I've wanted you for as long as I can remember and as if listening to the sounds you make when I'm eating you out aren't bad enough, then you actually get your hands on me, tits out, and you look up at me with those freakin' eyes while you put my dick in your mouth?" He shook his head with a small smile, "Nope.. No fuckin' way. I don't stand a chance."
"You're a pretty smooth talker aren't you, Stilinski?"
"I'm not trying t-"
She silenced him with a kiss, their mouths separating and quickly reconnecting in fluid movements until she had no choice but to lean back so that they could both catch their breath again.
"We should probably get started on homework if we don't want to end up like Scott." She commented reluctantly.
"I'm not sure it's even possible to fall as far behind as Scott," Stiles squeezed her hip lightly, "But you're probably right."
Amber leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve his underwear, passing them to him before crossing the room to dig around in his dresser for something comfortable to wear, "What do you want to do for dinner? Is your dad working late or should we maybe wait for him-?"
As she spoke, her eyes caught on a rolled up bundle of white cotton at the back corner of the drawer and she pulled it out excitedly, rubbing her thumb over the faded logo on the front before tugging it over her head.
"Working late. Again." Stiles sighed as he stepped up behind her, swapping the drawers to pull open the one stuffed with his sweats and pajama bottoms. He paused in his search for a pair of pants and grabbed at her shoulder curiously, "What shirt-?"
His words cut off as she was turned to face him with an excited grin on her face. She stretched her arms out at her sides with a flourish as she showed off the shirt she'd uncovered from the depths of his dresser.
"How long d'you think it's been since this even fit you?" She laughed.
Stiles was staring distractedly at the way her hardened nipples poked out beneath the faded Star Wars logo covering her chest and he shook his head after a few seconds of deafening silence before responding, "I, uh.. I dunno. Maybe when I was twelve? Thirteen?"
The soft worn cotton of the shirt only reached the tops of her thighs, not quite long enough to cover her underwear completely and Stiles was weak to do anything but immediately crowd her back against the dresser. He toyed with the loose collar, fingers brushing against the column of her throat, and her heart stuttered at the warmth of his body pressed against her. His free hand slipped beneath the hem to run along her stomach, sliding back to the bottom of her spine while he tugged the collar to the side and dipped his head to press his lips softly to the base of her neck.
"Sti, we.. We're supposed to be getting dressed-"
"Maybe we should get undressed one more time, and then get re-dressed." He suggested before kissing her neck again.
"Homework. Studying.."
She sighed, closing her eyes and tipping her head to the side in contradiction to her words so that she could bask in the feeling of his mouth just a little longer. The knowledge that they needed to be responsible did nothing to quell the heat that pooled beneath lace as he nipped lightly at her skin, just soft enough to teasingly suggest the threat of a real bite.
She gripped the warm skin of his hips, fingernails digging into pale flesh as she let out a breathy sigh and relaxed back against the dresser.
She let him continue for a long minute before pushing him back slightly, cupping his face in her hands, "Homework. We'll do homework and eat something and then maybe, before bed.."
Stiles groaned, "Fine."
She kissed the pout on his lips lightly, "We're making good choices."
"Yeah, yeah. I know."
#selenophiles#2x07#stiles stilinksi fanfiction#stiles stilinski#stiles fanfiction#stiles imagine#stiles x oc#stiles stilinski imagine#stiles stilinski fic#stiles stilinski x oc#stiles stilinksi x reader#dylan o’brien fanfiction#dylan o'brien fanfiction#teen wolf fanfiction#teen wolf fic#teen wolf stiles#*
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part two of Please for God's sake, rest
tumblr has a character limit so im copying and pasting shit and lose some i have to rewrite it
about an hour and a half later, Clay gently knocked on the door to the bedroom before pushing it open and stepping inside. Clay bit back a laugh when seeing his brothers. John hadn't moved much since they put him to bed, his arm drapped over his head and his mouth slightly open. Bruce sat in the chair, book laying across his chest as he slumped forward, snoring loudly. Clay quietly walked across the room to the bed and moved John Dory's arm down by his side, knowing it sucks to wake up with pins and needles. clay then set the books he brought with him on the nightstand before turning towards Bruce, he was always a light sleeper so it wasn't hard to wake him up. Clay gently shook Bruce, him shooting up for a moment. "Oh hey Clay, that time already?" Bruce asked as he stretched his arms above his head. "Yeah it is, time sure does fly when you're snoozing." Clay teased. Bruce gave him a slightly angry look, Clay just shot him a cheeky grin. Bruce dropped the look, knowing his brother was playing before turning to ruffle Clay's hair. Clay batted Bruce's hand away, starting a play fight. After a few moments, Bruce turned to leave "Ok, ok, I'll leave you to look after the blockhead." said Bruce teasingly as he walked out the door. Clay snickered, enjoying the teasing and light heartedness, he missed that and so much from his brothers. After a moment of reminiscing, Clay picked up one oof the books and began reading, it was one he had read before. About halfway through the book, JD started to stir. John yawned and rubbed his eyes before turning to look at Clay. "Well good morning sleeping blockhead." Clay teased, placing a bookmark in his book. JD groaned as he stretched, feeling the ache in his back. "How you feeling JD?" Clay asked, crossing his legs and leaning on his knee. "Ugh, sore. My back hurts. When did i get here?"JD replied as he rubbed the sore spot on his back. "Yeah that checks out, considering you pulled the muscles in your lower back. Branch was right, that sedative was strong if you don't remember us moving you in here." Clay answered. "Yeah I guess. Anyway, I'm gonna go check on Rhonda." JD said as he went to sit up. "Ah, ah, no you don't. the doctor said bed rest, that means bed rest. she'll be fine, we'll make sure of it." Clay said, quickly standing to prevent John from getting up. "Clay, I'm fine. I can handle going to check on Rhonda." John Dory scoffed as he went to sit up again when a sharp pain shot through his back. John bit back the yell and laid back down. Clay stood over him with his arms crossed, knowing exactly what was going to happen. "Oh ClaY dOn't WorRy. I'm fiNe, I cAn HanDle It." clay said mockingly before sitting back down to continue reading, ignoring the angry look John shot him. Clay offered the other book to John, who read the cover and scoffed. "what is this, a chick book?" John teased while flipping through the book. Clay had to hold back the hostile response he'd usually use when troll judged his taste in literature. "It's not a 'chick' book, its just a book. I haven't actually read that one yet so don't spoil it for me, Hold on, I'll be right back." Clay responded, putting a bookmark in his book, setting it on the chair and leaving the room. Once Clay was out of the room, JD decided to try and get up again. He had enough rest and didn't need his baby brothers doting on him. John Dory tried pushing himself while grumbling about how he didn't need taken care of. that same pain shot through John again, this time leaving the sore ache a dull throb. John laid back down, hating how his brothers had to take care of him. He's the oldest, he should be able to take care of himself. He doesn't need them taking care of him. Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain and the emotional turmoil. John Dory didn't fight the tears, in too much pain and too tired. God he felt so useless, he shouldn't be resting, he shouldn't need to rest. He had pulled the muscles in his back before and just walked it off just fine, why now did he need bed rest?
next part soon, i didnt realize i made it so long
#trolls#brozone#trolls 3#trolls band together#trolls clay#trolls floyd#trolls bruce#trolls john dory#branch trolls#fluff with angst#idk how to write#idk how to tag this
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Ch 9 - The Top Hat Job
Series Rewrite Masterlist
Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader
Description: The team has to play as magicians to get into a food company that has contaminated food on the shelves. *Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about magic, so don't come for me*
Words: 5377
A/n: So I've burned through my stock of chapters after this and I've been having a bit of a tough time for the next couple of weeks. I've got final weeks and then surgery to fix my wrecked knee, I want to get back to this as soon as possible, but I'm not sure when that will be. Thank you all for reading this far, it means so much to me!
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While Nate and Sophie were downstairs in the pub meeting with the client. I was watching as Eliot, Hardison, and Parker were starting recon on the target: Lillian foods. From what brief background we already had, their frozen food was contaminated, but one of the higher-ups calculated the risk and said that the amount of deaths was acceptable relative to cost in lawsuits vs pulling the food off the shelves. So, a real dirtbag, like all the rest of them.
Hardison and I were in Nate’s apartment monitoring all of the tech stuff while Eliot and Parker were doing the leg work. Eliot was posing as a pizza delivery man with comms and a button cam, going into the heart of the beast. We watched as he approached the front desk where a pretty brunette sat taking phone calls.
“Her name is Katie,” Hardison told him as he balanced a tennis ball on his forehead casually, “Likes wild horses, dislikes vanilla toothpaste.”
“Please stop talking,” Eliot responded.
I laughed a bit, “The fact you can find those things is wild.”
“Hey,” Eliot greeted the receptionist, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “How ya doin’?”
She didn’t respond to him, only lifting a finger signaling for him to wait a moment.
He turned away from her in a way that I could visualize him leaning against the counter. “Oh, I’m so in,” he said a bit cockily.
My smile soured a bit, remembering just how much of an eye for pretty chicks Eliot had.
“Hey Eliot, what’s that blocking your button cam?” Hardison asked him. I furrowed my brow, as while it was a bit warped because of how small it was, it wasn’t too bad. That was until Hardison finished his thought, “Oh yeah, it’s your ego!”
That made me smile a bit again before moving it along, “Parker? Whatcha got?”
“First ten floors are free climbing heaven, but after that, it's a slip and slide,” she responded easily before a random person started to vaguely harass her, saying she had pretty hair.
“Uh, Parker, maybe don’t stay next to that person.”
I didn’t get a response from her as Nate and Sophie walked in bickering.
“When was the last time you had a date?” Sophie asked him which caught my attention. “A real date… with food?”
“Stop,” Nate responded before his attention turned to us, “Hardison…”
“I don’t think that counts,” Sophie commented before turning to me to answer her question.
I only shook my head to indicate that it had been a long time.
“Are you running recon on Lillian Foods?” he asked us.
“Uh, yeah?” Hardison responded for the both of us.
“Don’t you think you should consult with me first?”
“Did he just…?”
“We do this all the time, Nate,” Sophie defended.
“Hey, look man, where do you think all my intel comes from? For the last time, there is no blueprint fairy.”
“Yeah, well, I want you to pull them out. Do it now,” Nate told him as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Why? What’s up?” I asked him. He seemed a bit more strict than a usual job.
“Look, we know what we’re doing, man. It’s a food company,” Hardison rebuffed.
“No, you don’t. No. Not with a place like this. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Nate insisted.
I watched on the screen as Eliot started to get escorted away, “Eliot?”
“Give it exactly two seconds before this becomes a train wreck.”
And just like that Eliot responded, “Hardison, we’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” He asked.
“They’re MRI-ing my pizza and their stance says ex-CIA.”
“You could tell somebody worked for the CIA just from how they stand?” Hardison asked before I could.
“It’s a very distinctive stance,” he whispered back.
I watched anxiously as a bunch of red flags and alerts popped up on Hardison’s screens. Hardison started to hack back with a vengeance to try and take back some control. I had faith in him, but the beeping and buzzing and flashing lights really didn’t make me feel better. Suddenly it took a turn for the worse where the screens said system lock out.
“Uh, Eliot, I think you should get out of there,” I said into the comms before the power in Nate’s apartment went out.
“Right now,” Hardison added on.
I glanced back to where Nate was sitting at the kitchen table with his hands raised as if to say, ‘see? This is what happens.’
“I’m working on it,” Eliot responded, accompanied with the sounds of fighting. “Parker, I’m comin’ out hot.”
“Okay, all clear out here. Just me-” she started to respond before the same person from earlier’s voice came through.
“Copy that, I think I got one out here, too.”
“Parker, did you stay next to that guy? That doesn’t sound good,” I commented, partially to her, but mostly myself.
It sounded like Eliot got through the worst of his escape as he whispered, supposedly to the receptionist, “I’ll call ya.”
I rolled my eyes to myself, of course he would do that.
“You know when I said you had pretty hair?” the guy next to Parker asked, “I was lying.”
I gagged, what a creep.
“Yeah, well, so was I when I said you didn’t… wait, damn it.” Parker responded before it sounded like she made her escape.
“Hardison?” Nate asked him after a little bit.
“Wait for it,” he said as he typed on his keyboard before the lights came back on. “See? There wasn’t no problem. I mean, I had it under control.”
He rambled on for a little bit longer, clearly flustered, as I laid my head back against the chair I was sitting in, letting out a sigh of relief that it was okay.
Later, when Eliot and Parker were able to make it back to the apartment, we sat around the kitchen table as Nate talked to us. I was still trying to figure out if he was going to chew us out or be nice and just explain what went wrong.
“So, pizza delivery guy was your big plan?”
“You know what man?” Hardison said, “It was recon, okay? Information gathering has historically been a very safe and peaceful business. It was a food company! Wasn’t like they were making weapons.”
I glanced at Eliot as he shifted an ice pack he was holding to his arm.
“Listen,” Nate said, “I’ve worked insurance for companies like this. Anyone gets their hands on the company’s food patents could cost them billions. And by the way? The guard that stuff better than defense contractors.” Nate explained.
Hardison looked at me in disbelief, but I shook my head, “Hey, I didn’t know that.”
Parker poked at Eliot’s arm, “does that hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Well that explains all the ex-spooks hanging around the lobby then,” Sophie commented.
“You know what?” Hardison said a bit aggressively, “Ya live and ya learn.”
“No. I lived, alright,” Eliot cut in, “You sat behind a computer and acted like Kool Moe Dee.”
“What’d you call me? Kool Moe Dee? Like you even know anything about Kool Moe Dee. I was gathering very crucial information.”
“Does that hurt?” Parker poked Eliot again.
“Yeah.”
“How about now?”
“Alright!” I stood from my seat and smacked my hands on the table, a little overstimulated with all the arguing, which stopped it. “Parker, please stop poking Eliot, assume that it hurts. Eliot, we are very glad you lived, and Hardison…” I sighed, the little bit of adrenaline that I had worn off already, “what crucial information did you happen to gather in this train wreck?”
“Yes,” Nate said, backing me up a bit as I slowly sat back down, “How about you share that crucial information with the rest of us.”
I glanced up at Eliot who was looking at me with a softer expression, but I looked back down at the table, my hands in my hair.
“You know what?” Hardison answered Nate, “You ain’t said nothin’ but a word.” He pulled a remote out of his pocket, starting up the screens.
We all started to make our way to the living room to hear what Hardison had gathered.
“Hey, you heard y/n, stop it,” Eliot said to Parker after she poked him one more time.
“Eliot, what are you doing?” Nate asked, walking around the table towards him.
“She’s poking me,” he replied, watching as he came closer. “Don’t man…” He said, shrugging him off as Nate grabbed his hurt arm too, rubbing it in a little more.
I chuckled, “Come on Eliot, I’ll protect you from the meanies.” I walked ahead of him and was pleasantly surprised when he sat down so I was next to his injured arm.
He tapped his knee to mine, “you better.”
I tried to fight the smile that was growing a bit too wide as Hardison began the briefing.
“Lillian Foods is the third largest food company in the world. Last year it made 12 billion dollars,” Hardison started. “This is the vice president of the frozen food division, Erik Casten. Erik with a K, Casten with a C.”
“How is that relevant?” Nate asked.
“Oh,” Parker answered, “Eric with a C, nice and friendly. Erik with a K, evil.”
“I mean, she has a point,” I corroborated.
“I didn’t know that,” Sophie commented.
“Everybody knows that,” Parker replied.
“According to Dr. Jameson,” Hardison continued, “Erik with a K is trying to cover up salmonella in the frozen dinners so his division doesn’t have to pay out for the recall.”
“That’s why I grow my own food,” Eliot said next to me.
“How do you find the time?” Sophie asked.
“You make time. I only sleep 90 minutes a day.”
“I didn’t know that,” I whispered to him, “The growing your own food part. That’s super cool. I only have a basil plant on my window sill. But I don’t think that that little sleep is good for you.”
“The basil’s a good start,” he whispered back, not addressing my sleep comment.
I could never tell what the next thing I was going to learn about him was. I’ve started to seriously wonder what this man couldn’t do. I already knew that failing to steal my attention was not on that seemingly shorter list.
“So what we have to do is, we have to get a hold of Casten’s report and make it public,” Nate said. “It’s on the servers. How do we get into the building?”
“I think pizza delivery guy is off the table, for the record,” I commented, nudging my knee against Eliot’s, purposefully avoiding his gaze, but I heard him huff a laugh anyway.
“I am so far ahead of you, man, it’s scary,” Hardison told Nate. “Look, I can’t hack their system from the outside, so I sent a Trojan phone. It’s hacker 101.”
I pulled out my phone, “Oh, if this is a course, should I be taking notes?”
“You might as well be,” Hardison answered before continuing, “What I did was messenger a smartphone with an extended battery to an employee that’s on vacation. The package sits in the mail room. It scans for wireless and bluetooth access points. Unfortunately, even their internal servers are locked down like the CIA. So all I was able to get was employee emails.”
“Oh, anything useful there?” Sophie asked.
“Oh yeah, you know what?” Hardison sat on the edge of his seat, leaning towards her, “Marie from Payroll has a crush on Steve from Accounts Receivable.”
She and I were more invested in this gossip then we probably should have been.
Hardison pulled up a picture of a shirtless below average guy, “Look, that’s Steve right there on his vacation in Florida from a month ago.”
“She likes him? Really?” Parker asked half-heartedly, voicing my own thoughts as well.
“Oh yeah. That man is a sexy man-beast right there” Hardison half insisted before moving onto the next piece of gossip. “Now, Shannon and Chris from Marketing, they got a little fight going on with Lauren from Ads.”
“Office politics,” Sophie concluded, “God. It’s lucky we don’t have that.”
Eliot and I shared a look that showed we were both skeptical of that. It was just different kinds of politics.
“Everybody’s up in there complaining about this state of the company thing tomorrow,” Hardison continued, “And Brian from IT-”
“That’s it right there,” Nate cut in, “That’s our way in.”
“Brian from IT?” Hardison asked, “No, he is not a team player.”
“No no no no no,” Nate responded, “That’s our way in… yeah. Yeah yeah. That’s it. The state of the company meeting. Here we go.”
“What is that?” Eliot asked, “I don’t know what that is.”
“Me neither,” Parker said.
“It’s like State of the Union?” Hardison offered.
“What is that?” Sophie asked as well.
“Nate,” I said, “You’re the only one here who’s had like a traditional corporate job. Even with me, the places I worked never did that.”
“Oh right, right,” Nate said, finally understanding, “You guys have never had real jobs.”
The rest answered in the affirmative while I gave him a pointed look. He nodded apologetically as if to say, ‘I know you did, but yeah.’
“Alright,” Nate began to explain, “so when I used to work for IYS we would do this all the time. The company, big companies, they make their employees sit for an entire day listening to these boring speeches, lame entertainment, bad food. It’s…”
Parker huffed a sigh, “I’m so glad I don’t live in the real world.”
I nodded in agreement.
“It’s mandatory,” Nate added. “It’s the only time that all the employees are away from their desks at the same time.”
“Alright, so we go in as caterers. We download the report while everyone’s chucking back the mini quiches. Easy,” Sophie concluded.
“No,” Hadison contradicts, “see, it’s a food company. All the catering is in house. The only outsiders involved in the whole big operation are the entertainment.”
“And who would that be?” Nate asked.
“Oh, you gonna love this… It’s a magician.”
Nate perked up, looking at me, “ah…”
I, in turn, deflated, “no…”
The now former entertainment was a magician, and from what Hardison told us, he was pretty slimy. A couple of sexual harassment charges didn’t help. It didn’t take much for Hardison and Parker to dismantle his show and get him arrested for punching Hardison in the face.
The next day Sophie called Lillian Foods to explain the problem and give us an in to replace ‘Chronos the Magnificent.’ Nate went in first as ‘head magician’ talking to the head of security.
“Harry Turner,” he said, handing the security guard a business card.
“The magician, I know.”
“Illusionist,” Nate corrected, “Magicians do kid’s parties. I do Fortune 500 companies.” He waved us over, “Uh, right this way gang.”
“Woah, and who are these people?” The security guard asked.
“Oh, this is my team, I believe you spoke with my manager, this is Nell Carver,” he waved towards Sophie who was rolling in a cart of supplies before introducing the rest of us, “my illusions designer, Frank Brunner, my lovely assistant Clea, and of course my beloved apprentice Miss Birdie.”
I fought to not roll my eyes at Nate introducing me as such, hoping we could get past security without me blowing it.
Hardison stepped forward towards the guard, “Hey man, I hope you have a doctor in the house, because this man right here is gonna blow your mind.”
“Alright, come on, we’re on a very tight schedule,” Nate said as he started to walk forward.
“Nothing gets in or out of this building without being scanned,” the guard said, stopping him.
“These crates contain my illusions, my life. I’m not gonna reveal my secrets. Come on.”
“That’s not my problem, is it?”
“I’ll take care of this,” Sophie said, stopping Nate from continuing, “Mr. Markland, I’m sure we can figure something out. It’s not possible-”
“Let’s pull up the van, Frank, and let's get out of here,” Nate said.
“Harry, are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Then an older man walked up to the commotion we were making, “what is going on here?”
“Mr. Price, sir, this is…” the guard started.
Nate turned and introduced himself with a business card, “Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire, you are Mr. Price, CEO of this company?”
“I am, what’s going on here?”
“I would like very much, sir, to give your people a wonderful show, but your doorman here would like to look at our boxes of illusions and destroy the illusion.”
I bit my lip to try not to laugh at the obvious manipulation that Nate was pulling, particularly with the context of us being magicians. I never would have dreamed of us being in a situation like this.
“Markland, just lighten up, will ya?” the CEO asked. “It’s a magic show for Pete’s sake.”
Nate repeated him as he followed Mr. Price and led us through security into the building.
Once we were on stage Nate said, “Okay, we’re clear, let him out.”
Harison opened the giant upright box to let Eliot out. He was dressed in his black stealth related outfit with a beanie on his head that I liked a little too much. He held a classic white rabbit and hat in his arms and carefully stepped around a bird cage at his feet when getting out.
“It’s a good job you’re not claustrophobic Eliot.” Sophie commented.
“I was when I was a kid,” Eliot said, shoving the rabbit into Nate’s hands, “take this damn thing.”
“Really? How’d you get over it?” Parker asked while taking the rabbit as Nate handed it to her.
“I locked myself in a woodshed behind my house for a couple nights. After that I was fine.”
I looked at him in disbelief, pausing my task of unpacking the bird cage and checking on the birds inside, “That is the worst form of exposure therapy I have ever heard of… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“That is so funny,” Parker said, “I was scared of the dark and did the exact same thing.” She then relayed a story of how her friends buried her alive in a wood chest when she was a kid.
“That is not the same thing,” Eliot responded. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I take it back Eliot, Parker’s is worse.” There were moments like this where I questioned where my life path has taken me to get to the point where my friends are these people. Then I remember that it is my own damn fault for willingly following Nate’s hard left turn in life. I shrugged to myself before continuing to prepare.
“So, you’re actually enjoying this,” Sophie said to Nate.
“You know, being a magician, it’s the next best thing to being a con artist, you know? It’s all about misdirection and control.”
“So no one actually told you that you can’t control life. You see, this is why you’re not in a relationship.”
“No, Sophie, I’m just very focused on my work right now. You know, I was out of control before. Now I’m in control, it's a good thing.”
Hardison turned to me, “You do not seem very pleased about this, but you are kinda confident right now, so I’m confused.”
I glanced at him as I kept unpacking stuff, “Uh, yeah, because when I was in middle school, Nate and I went through a magic phase where we worked together and learned a lot of this stuff. We got pretty good at it, not gonna lie…” I then pointedly said, “Though I don’t understand why I have to go by Miss Birdie like I did when I was like 12 and Nate can’t go by Monsieur Kitty!”
“Do you hear yourself right now, y/n?” Nate asked.
“Yes, and I can be petty when I want to be, you’re using my childhood nickname against me.”
“So you know how to do all this magic stuff?” Eliot asked.
“Absolutely,” Nate answered, “Positively, yeah. It’s all about the rabbit. You know having… by the way, where’s the rabbit,” he asked, turning around before shrugging it off. “Hardison, let’s go over the plan.”
We all gathered around Hardison as he started to outline the plan. As he did so, I couldn’t help but notice how my heart was beating faster than it should be. I knew I was nervous about this, the stage, performance, how much the team was relying on this distraction, and every little thing that had to go right, but I maybe didn’t realize how much until we were here and I took the moment to stop.
“Okay, the show opens with our friend Erik Casten delivering the state of the company speech,” Hardison said. “The speech is scheduled to last an hour, giving myself, Eliot, and Parker enough time to go down to the server room, hack the servers, download the report, and get back downstairs.”
“So, massively there will be no magic show,” Sophie said.
This helped calm my nerves a little bit, but something in my gut told me something was going to go wrong.
“Oh no, there might be a magic show. Absolutely,” Nate said which counteracted Sophie’s statement and its effects. “We might want to treat these people to the illusionist extraordinaire!”
Eliot and Nate laughed a bit as Nate bowed to the empty auditorium. I tried to laugh with them, but all that came out was a shaky breath. To counteract this, I turned my attention back to the props, including the birds, and pantomimed the motions of making them appear and disappear. I vaguely heard Sophie say something about Nate getting a girlfriend, but I was too focused on practicing the few tricks that I remembered.
My gut turned out to be right, unfortunately. Instead of giving an hour long speech, Erik Casten’s speech was barely five, keeping it ‘short and sweet.’
“...and let’s give a warm welcome to… Harry Turner, illusionist extraordinaire,” Erik finished.
“Shit,” I said, mostly to myself.
“That’s you,” Sophie realized. “Hey, you’re on.”
“Parker, I need my assistant,” Nate said into the comms, as the other three were somewhere in the building going to hack the servers.
“How come Parker gets to be the assistant?” she asked.
“How come Nate gets to be the magician?” Hardison asked. “I do card tricks too. I do great card tricks.”
The rest of them were bickering over comms, asking about doing each other's jobs, while the stage was sitting empty. I eventually shoved past Sophie and Nate to get on stage, ignoring the nerves and my rapidly beating heart. I approached the center of the stage and looked at the crowd of people sitting in the previously empty auditorium.
“Hello Lillian Foods!” I said, trying to decide if the waver in my voice was noticeable to anyone else. “As you might suspect, I don’t quite fit the name ‘Harry Turner.’”
To my relief, the crowd laughed a bit which drowned out the bickering still going on in my ear.
“To everyone’s relief, as well as my own, that is not my name. I am Harry’s apprentice. You may call me Miss Birdie.” The thought of changing my stage name crossed my mind, but I thought it was easier this way. As some people in the crowd said hi to me, using the name, it made me smile. “I think I am on the same page as most of you when expecting a big long speech from your vice-president. And while you may all have been relieved…”
The crowd cheered and laughed as they could see where this was going.
“My mentor was not as prepared as he should have been to be on stage this soon, that is where I come in. I’m sure any interns in the audience know the feeling.”
That got a particularly large roar from the crowd. I glanced off stage where Nate and Sophie were arguing still, though not as much as before. Nate gave a pointed eyeroll and shrug at me which encouraged me to continue.
“I must apologize as I am a little more familiar with close up magic, so let me know if you can’t see anything and I’ll try to make it work. Do you see what is in my hand?” I raised my hand to show some quarters pinched between my fingers.
The crowd responded in the affirmative before I continued. I did some subtle disappearing tricks before making them reappear with the exception of one.
“Hmm, it seems I lost a quarter somewhere… Any ideas?”
The crowd booed a bit with the skeptics yelling out where the quarter could be. ‘In your hand! In your pocket!’ etc etc.
“In my pocket?” I asked, I pulled out my pockets inside out and a few coins came out. “There's some coins, but they look like pennies to me, how about my coat pockets?” I took my blazer jacket off and shook it upside down. A comically large amount of pennies fell out of it. “I need some help examining all these coins… Is there a Dave Bickle in the audience today?”
There was some cheering in one corner as he stood up.
“Dave, do you mind coming up here and helping me?” He started to walk over before I added, “Bring your coffee, I know you can’t live without it.”
The crowd chuckled as he came up, coffee in hand. I asked him if he saw my missing quarter anywhere in the spread coins, which he said no. When he wasn’t paying attention, I was able to slip the ‘missing’ quarter in his coffee mug. I was glad it was a mug rather than a covered cup or tumbler, which made it easier. I made sure there was no splash and that it was out of sight for most of the audience.
“Well, I guess I’m too good at making things disappear, but not great at making them come back… You know something about that, especially with coffee, huh, Dave?” I knew I was milking this bit, but Mr. Price didn’t give us much to work with for crowd work. When Dave laughed and took a sip of his coffee he came out with the quarter in his mouth. I held up my handkerchief to take it back from him, “Oh! You found it, thanks, that’s my bus money for later!”
The crowd laughed and gave a little applause as Dave went back to his seat. I glanced over to Nate to see Parker had joined him and Sophie backstage. I took this as an okay for me to finish up since they seemed a bit more prepared now.
I quickly introduced Nate as Harry Turner and had him come on stage for his performance. He graciously brought me a broom to sweep up all of my pennies so they wouldn’t interfere later.
“That was really good, y/n! You have all the skills of a pickpocket with sleight of hand, why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Sophie congratulated me once I got off stage.
“I have blocked out those memories up until yesterday and to be completely honest, I can only half hear you over the blood pumping in my ears right now, how is everything else going?” I kind of laughed to myself, I couldn’t believe I had done that. As I picked up the coins from the floor I could see that my hands were still shaking.
“That’s natural after being in front of a lot of people, we’ll get you trained up as a grifter and thief in no time!”
I smiled at her sentiment, but didn’t encourage it. As I slowly calmed down I could hear that things were not going great upstairs; Erik had the same idea as we did: accessing the server room while everyone was downstairs. Except he was deleting the files we were trying to access.
Hardison and Eliot were able to make it up to a higher level to gain access to the computers but they needed higher clearance authorization to gain access. Nate was able to gain Mr. Price’s fingerprints by simulating a trick on stage, but then Hardison said we needed him for retina scanners as well. Nate caused Mr. Price to ‘disappear’ in a magic box by switching it out for an empty one. Sophie and I pushed the box Mr. Price was in to the elevator and shipped him up to Eliot and Hardison.
It wasn’t long after Sophie and I returned to the backstage that Hardison gave an ‘uh oh’ in addition to the fact that Erik had deleted all of the files before he could get to them.
“Uh oh? What do you mean uh oh?” Eliot asked.
I heard a security guard demand that he get out of the elevator.
“Oh. That uh oh.”
Sophie and I looked at each other in worry and returned to the elevator as we heard Eliot beat up some guards.
The elevator opened and Eliot stepped out over the guards, “Show’s over. We’re blown.”
“Nate, bring down the curtain,” Sophie said.
“We’ve got to go!” I added.
The three of us made our escape and listened for the others to do so. We all made it out with the exception of Hardison who had been caught in the locked junction room where he accessed the servers. They had brought Hardison out of the building to try and find the rest of us when Parker swiped Erik’s phone.
Nate proceeded to call one of the guards and talk to Erik on his own cell phone and blackmail him into removing the frozen food line that was contaminated off the shelves. He did so by planting the company’s patents on Erik’s phone. The client was there to stick the final nail in the coffin by informing Mr. Price and getting Erik fired.
When we rendezvoused at Nate’s apartment, the rest of us were unwinding and eating dinner while Nate continued to research clients… Working.
Sophie voiced her concern about him.
Eliot shrugged her off saying that he’s fine. The fact that we pulled this one off proof that he’s at the top of his game.
“Well that’s the problem. He keeps winning.” Sophie said, “And everytime he wins he believes a little bit more that he can control… life.”
“It’s what gets him through the day,” he replied.
“What happens when he loses? The last time he lost, it broke him. He breaks again… I don’t think even we can pick up the pieces.”
I didn’t know what to say to that since I thought she might be right. Instead, I stood and moved to the fridge behind Eliot to see if there was anything there that tickled my fancy. Eliot followed me with his box of takeout, leaning against the counter beside me.
“Do you want some of this Kung Pao?”
I looked at it for a second before grabbing some chopsticks off the counter and grabbing a bite.
“So, you really know some of that magic stuff, huh? I heard it over comms, the crowd was digging it,” Eliot said between bites.
I laughed, “Yeah, a little bit.” I took another bite before saying, “I didn’t get to do my signature trick though.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiled, “show me.”
I thought about it for a second before obliging him. I moved to tuck some hair behind his ear, a slight misdirection. He watched me closely, eyebrow raising slightly at my movement. When my hand was slightly out of his sight, I flipped my wrist and released the dove that was sleeping comfortably in my sleeve. It made a louder rustling noise than I had anticipated, but he didn’t even flinch. I pulled my hand back so I could show him the bird sitting on my finger.
He smiled as he looked at it. He then looked between me and Nate, “birdie.”
I nodded, “Birdie, but he’s the only one that can call me that.”
He laughed and stroked the bird, “That’s alright. I’ll stick to sweetheart.”
A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!
Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle @technikerin23
#eliot spencer x reader#eliot spencer#leverage#rewrite#slow burn#multichapter#nate ford#sophie devereaux#alec hardison#parker#ford!reader
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