Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply,  brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

"I need a hug" please and thank you!

Hi friend! Here it is! Remind me to never commit to a fic a day for an entire week again lmao

Happy last day of National Storyteller Week to everyone who creates or consumes stories! Jump over to my ao3 for 5 ridiculous parkner fics 👌✨💛

Peter, no

He probably should have clued in sooner, a lot sooner.

Him and Peter have been attached at the hip for three years, ever since Peter ran into the lab in the middle of a video call with Tony, shouted something about an arm-wrestling tournament with the Avengers, and begged, “You gotta come trash talk them for me! Please, Mr. Stark! No one roasts as good as you!” Then, after receiving Tony’s resigned agreement, exclaimed, “I’m gonna dislocate Captain America’s shoulder!” turned tail and sprinted back out, ignoring Tony’s, “Peter, no!”

It was over in under a minute but he was bewitched.

“Who was that? And why haven’t I met him?”

“I’ve been avoiding this day,” Tony said in a world-weary tone. “You’re either going to hate each other or get on like a house fire. Either way, I’ll never know peace again.”

In usual Tony Stark fashion, he was right.

He thought he’d seen every side of Peter there is. He’s seen him soft and sleepy under the blue glow of the television. He’s seen him wired and manic as he pursues a project on little to no sleep. He’s seen him broken and bleeding in more ways than he cares to count. He’s seen him laughing until he cries, crying so hard the only thing he can do is cry with him, too exhausted to feed himself, too angry to speak, and he’s been there when he’s on the cusp of dropping dead from embarrassment (usually pointing and laughing but hey, somebody’s gotta keep him humble).

He knows him like he knows his sister, like he knows his mom, like he knows himself.

His point is, it shouldn’t have taken this camping trip to put the pieces together. Realization shouldn’t have hit him like a log to the face when Peter rolled up the sleeves of his borrowed flannel and suddenly he couldn’t breathe for wanting to kiss him stupid.

Well, stupider.

A moment later, Peter picked up the bag of tent poles like they weighed nothing and somehow managed to dump them all over the side of the road like a can of pick-up-sticks.

It’s gonna be a long weekend.

~*~

“What’s this thing for again?” Peter asks, raising his arms high over his head to hold up the long swath of fabric two times his height.

“It’s a rain fly, Peter. It keeps out the rain.”

“It’s not supposed to rain. Trust me, Aunt May checked the weather like 50 times before she would let me leave.”

“We still need it.”

“But why? We could sleep under the stars.”

“It traps in heat.”

“Sounds like another tally in the cons column. It’s hot as fuck, dude.”

“Not tonight it won’t be. Temperature fluctuates a lot in the mountains, especially when the sun goes down.”

“Temperature fluctuates in the mountains,” Peter repeats mockingly.

Harley stops what he’s doing. “If you really wanna sleep under the stars I don’t have to share my tent. Enjoy the skeeters.”

“You love me too much to leave me to sleep with the wildlife,” Peter says, voice muffled from under the rain fly as he attempts to drape it over the erected tent.

His heart skips. Does he know? Has he been that obvious even while oblivious to his own feelings? Did Peter figure it out before he did? Has he been graciously not saying anything about his huge undeniable crush while—

Peter squawks and tumbles forward, the tent collapsing under him with a snap that echoes through the trees. The rain fly flutters over him like a burial shroud.

“Please tell me whatever just broke was a part of you.”

“Uhh, sorry.”

He sighs. He’s in love with an idiot.

~*~

The tent leans a little to the left when they’re done with it but he’s pretty sure it’ll hold up through the night. Just in case, they limit how often they go in and out of it (which, in his opinion, is the way it should be done regardless).

A breeze rustles the trees, scattering pine needles as birds chitter and small unseen wildlife scurries around the underbrush. He breathes in deep, savoring the scent of dirt, pine, and fresh air. He’s been in the city far too long.

Peter stands with his hands on his hips, dirt crusted on the knees of his jeans, his borrowed flannel pulling tight across his chest as he watches a puffy white cloud scoot by with a befuddled expression.

He turns to Harley. “So umm, now what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want. You’re the one who’s never done this before?”

Peter stares at him blankly.

“Right. Forgot who I was talking to.” He shakes his head and walks over to the car with a sigh. “This way, city boy. It’s time you learned to fish.”

“Sounds smelly.”

“Mmm.” He pops the trunk and pulls out two fishing rods—one old and dinged up, the other brand-spankin-new—and he passes them to Peter so he can grab the tackle box and a white plastic bucket with a lid on it.

“And slimy,” Peter continues, wrinkling his nose at the bold ‘WORMS’ printed on the side of the white bucket.

“That it is, but there aren’t any rats and no one has pissed on the place you need to sit so it’s automatically better than anything the city has to offer.”

“We’ll see about that,” Peter grumbles.

~*~

“Y’know,” Harley drawls lazily, eyes half-lidded as he watches Peter jump from rock to rock along the shoreline, “usually when people are lookin’ to catch a fish they cast their line into the water rather than leavin’ it on the ground.”

“Oh is that how it’s done? I had no idea,” Peter says, stooping down to peer into a small pool sequestered away from the rest of the body of water. “What do tadpoles look like?”

“Uh, little squirmy guys.”

“Very descriptive, thank you.”

“Mhmm. Anytime, darlin’.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed and he jolts under the sudden scrutiny.

“What?” he asks. He always calls him darling. It’s just a thing he says—a southern thing. So what if over the years he’s stopped using the name for anyone else? It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not weird.

“Are you falling asleep?” Peter asks.

“Pfft, no,” he says. The sun is deliciously warm, seeping into his skin and turning his bones to butter as the katydids buzz and birds sing. A warm breeze ruffs his hair and he finds himself blinking slowly.

“Dude, you’re totally falling asleep.” Peter grins playfully and hopscotches across the rocks back to him as he teases, “You know, usually when someone wants to catch a fish, they do it while they’re awake.”

“I am awake, dummy.”

“Not for much longer.” He comes to a stop at his side and tweaks the brim of his hat. “Look at you. You’re like an old man falling asleep in his recliner in front of the big game.”

“Napping is a perfectly respectable part of fishing,” he argues.

Peter throws back his head and laughs. Backed by blue sky and thickly forested mountain, sunlit from above, he’s never looked better.

Should he tell him? Is now the time? He can’t imagine living like this—knowing how he feels but bottling it up and keeping it a secret from his best friend.

Then again—

His fishing rod dips and he sits up with a start, hands already moving for the reel.

“Woah, is that a fish?” Peter exclaims, peering into the lake.

“Sure hope so. Can’t imagine what else it’d—,”

“Can I pull it in?” Peter asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excitable puppy.

“No, you if wanna get a fish you have to put in the work.”

“What work? Laying around half-asleep?”

“Yeah, exactly. I’ll let you take it off the line, how ‘bout that?”

“Eh, that’s okay. I’m good.”

He wrestles the fish out of the lake, a bass about two hands long, and then holds the flopping fish, hooked through the lip, out to Peter.

“There you go. Just pop that puppy off the hook and toss ‘im back in.”

“Wait, you don’t even keep the fish?”

“What would I do with a fish?”

“…eat it?”

“That’s a whole song and dance I ain’t got the tools or the patience for. Just grab the fish, Pete. Preferably before it suffocates.”

Peter makes an unhappy sound in his throat but reaches for the fish. Just as his fingers brush the scales, the fish gives a mighty wiggle and Peter flinches back towards the lake.

“Eep!” Peter squeaks and goes into the water with a splash.

Harley hunches over, laughing his head off as Peter sits up, water streaming down his face and dripping from his hair.

“I hate you.” Slipping and sliding in the muck, he makes his way through the mid-thigh deep water, back to dry land, and then keeps walking past Harley and up the hill to the trail that will lead him back to camp.

All the while Harley laughs and laughs, taking a moment to free the fish back into the lake before he sits down and tips his face to the sun, chuckling and committing to memory the way Peter’s soaked jeans and flannel clung all over his body.

~*~

“I still don’t see why—,”

“Shush,” Peter snaps, frowning in concentration over the tiny flame he’s been babying to life for the past fifteen minutes.

He sighs. He tried to convince him to wait until supper for a campfire meal but Mr. Eager Beaver insisted on trying his hand at it now. Had they made sandwiches they’d be done by now and could be hiking. But no. Peter wants to play Boy Scout so they’re going to sit here and starve until he gets a fire built just to spend five minutes roasting hot dogs and then have to put it out again.

To make matters worse, Peter’s no longer wearing his shirt since it got soaked in the lake. He’d gotten attached to how he looks in his clothes. Now he’s wearing on one of his standard nerd-pun tees and a wrinkly pair of khaki cargo shorts and he’s going to have to convince him to at least put on long socks before they hike or he’s going to risk getting poison ivy or poison oak all over his calves and ankles.

“There it goes! There it goes!” Peter exclaims, sitting up tall and motioning at him to look at the little flame as it eats up the pile of twigs and tinder.

“Very good, dear,” he says dryly. “Now see if you can keep it going with some real wood.”

Peter cocks his head at him. “Was that a double-entendre?”

“Why on earth would I imply that we should put a part of my human anatomy in the fire, Peter?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, squatting beside the fire as he breaks up a stick. “Dick jokes are funny.”

“You’re a child.”

“And yet you— Shit!” He flinches back from the fire and falls on his backside.

He comes alert with a spike of adrenaline, rushing forward to— to— pat out flames with his bare hands? He doesn’t know. “What happened?” he demands, checking Peter over for damage and finding nothing, not a burn or singe in sight.

Still sprawled on the ground, Peter looks up at him through his eyelashes with an embarrassed grimace. “I don’t want to say.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” he sits up cross-legged and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He stares down at him as he looks down in his lap. “You’re really not going to tell me what just happened? I already saw you fall in a lake because you were scared of a fish. It can’t be worse than that.”

Peter looks up, neck crimped and mouth screwed into an unhappy pucker. “I thought something was on me but it was just the grass.”

Harley stares. “So, you thought a bug was on you.”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this place.”

What has he gotten himself into?

~*~

Peter hasn’t stopped chattering about everything under the sun since they left camp. And considering where they are, there’s a lot to chatter about. From bugs to birds to types of trees and identifying clouds, he’s heard it all. It’s why he’s not paying attention to the path like he should, too busy watching the way Peter waves his hands animatedly as he rambles, the way the sun lights his eyes and makes his hair shine, the way his lips shape the words.

He hasn’t taken in a word he’s said for the past twenty minutes but he’s watched him with rapt attention while his mind churns through his options. He’s not one to ignore something once he knows about it. He doesn’t want to keep this a secret. There’s no reason to. It’s nothing shameful and if Peter doesn’t reciprocate then… well, nothing changes, right? He’s fine with that. Best friends is still good. Great, even.

But if Peter does reciprocate…

His breathing quickens at the thought. How did he not notice this ridiculous crush sooner? It’s like something has been awakened inside him and now it refuses to shut up and go back to sleep. He gravitates towards Peter like an orbiting moon. He’s a moth to Peter’s beam of light. Helpless under the thrall.

Peter suddenly looks right at him. “—you know what I mean?”

“Huh?” His foot lands wrong and rolls over a root. His ankle screams out and then he’s dropping as it gives out.

“Woah!” Peter catches him, one arm around his back and the other fisted into his shirt at his shoulder. His brain goes offline, only processing the way Peter is pressed against him, the way his face is angled over him like he’s on the verge of dipping him into a kiss, the way neither of them moves or speaks, staring instead with startled realization.

He thinks he imagines it when Peter’s eyes dilate but then they fix on his lips and there’s no way he’s imagining that.

Lights flash in his head and he forgets to breathe as they hang suspended in time.

Then Peter bites his lip and his cheeks flush dark pink as he yanks Harley upright.

He stumbles, unprepared, and his ankle gives out a second time.

Peter catches him by the elbows babbling, “Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to—,”

“I’m fine. I…” The rest of the sentence vanishes from his tongue as he looks into Peter’s eyes. He loves his eyes—warm and affectionate, they always give him away. Whether they’re bright with curiosity, sparkling with delight, wide with embarrassment, or narrowed in anger, he’s an open book. That’s why the look in his eyes now gives him pause. He’s never seen it before—or maybe it’s been there all along but he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re dark and focused like he’s seeing through him into his soul and likes what he sees so much he wants to eat him alive.

His heart thunders as he lifts a hand to Peter’s cheek. This is it. This is the moment he tells him and finds out where they’re going to go next.

Peter’s eyes go wide and he swallows thickly, but then his gaze shifts beyond him and he freezes except to carefully grab his forearm in a too-tight grip.

“Bear,” Peter breathes.

His awareness of their surrounding returns so suddenly it hurts. Birds sing, bugs buzz and chirp, somewhere nearby a creek burbles, and behind him on the path, something scuffs the ground and then snorts and sniffs harshly.

“No,” he says quietly. No, he refuses to allow this to be his reality. This cannot be happening. He won’t allow this to happen.

“Harley, bear,” Peter repeats, grip tightening.

Oh my God, this is happening.

“Don’t run,” he says in an undertone. “You’re not supposed to run.”

“We gotta run.”

“Peter, no.”

“Harley, there’s a fucking bear.”

“Listen to me—,”

“I’m gonna grab you—,”

“—we gotta stay still and—,”

“I’ll carry you and—,”

“—non-threatening so—,”

“I’m going to get you up a tree and then—,”

“—it won’t chase us.”

“—the bear will chase me.”

“Peter—,”

“It’ll be fine.”

“—no.”

~*~

He waits in the tree for over an hour, ankle throbbing, sick to his stomach with worry, wondering if he’ll ever see the idiot he stupidly fell in love with ever again. Even if he didn’t get eaten by the bear, he’s no good out here in the woods. He could be lost. He could be too hurt to move. He could be—

—covered in what smells like animal shit and standing balefully at the base of the tree.

“I need a hug,” Peter says, voice small.

“Did you—,”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“So that’s—,”

“Don’t say it. Do you need help getting down?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t touch me.”

“That’s fair. I’ll be in the lake. Will you bring me all of the soap and soap-like products we own?”

“Yeah. Gimme a minute.”

“Thanks, Harley.”

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

I love you. I’m glad you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back. My life wouldn’t be the same without you in it. You’re everything I want.

“You’re an idiot,” he says.

Peter nods. “Yeah.”

~*~

“Black bears can run 35 miles per hour,” he says conversationally. They’re sprawled on a blanket while the fire crackles nearby (but not too close, they’ve had enough disasters for one day). His foot is propped on the tackle box, elevating his ankle and Peter is beside him, flat on his back staring up at the stars through the trees, close enough that their arms brush.

“Trust me, I know.”

“They can also climb trees,” he continues reading from his phone. “You should never climb a tree to avoid a bear.”

“Harley—,”

“If a bear notices you, stay calm. Most bears don’t want to attack you.”

“Dude, I get it.”

“Move away slowly and sideways. Do not run. Do not climb a tree.”

Peter snatches the phone out of his hands and sits up. “I panicked, okay? I can’t lose you! I had to get you out of there.”

He goes still, the crackling of the fire and the crickets the only sound in the night.

“Say again?”

“Don’t,” Peter says harshly, still holding his phone far out of reach. “Don’t make fun of me about this one. You don’t get it, okay?”

This isn’t how he expected this to happen. Hyper aware of his heart beating in his chest, he asks, “What don’t I get?”

“I was terrified.”

“And you think I wasn’t?”

“Not in the way I was. I was— It was like— It was like if anything happened to you, nothing would be okay ever again. I don’t—,” He pulls in a deep breath, chest heaving as his eyes shine uncommonly bright in the firelight. “I don’t know. You’re— Ever since we met things have just felt right and good in a way they hadn’t before and I’ve already lost so many people and then you were in danger and I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” he says gently, sitting upright and scooting over on the blanket. “Okay.” He takes the phone and sets it aside then takes Peter’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Peter says miserably, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand. “I think I have been for a long time.”

“Well, that’s lucky because I think I’m in love with you too.”

“You— What?”

“Mhmm. Since at least this morning.”

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch. “This morning? For real? Are you teasing me?”

“A hundred percent serious. It hit me right before you dumped my tent poles all over 36th street. Unrelated, you should wear my clothes more often.” He pauses and then says, “I think today was the universe asking me if I was sure I wanted to be tied down to your dumb ass for the rest of forever.”

“And?” Peter asks, eyes wide in the firelight.

“Yeah,” he says, smoothing a curl away from his forehead. “I’m sure.”

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and quick. “Is that okay?”

Heart in his mouth, he says, “I think you can do better.”

Peter laughs and smooths his thumb over his cheekbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too, darlin’.”

Into the Thick of It (Ugh) | Eilidh & Nicole

SETTING: White Crest National Park. TIMING: Recent. Late at night. PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Eilidh and Nicole go on a search to find Bigfoot. They run into his weird cousin.  WARNINGS: N/A

With the light of the moon to guide her way, Eilidh trekked further and further within the wood. The cosmic luminescence looked gently down upon her, but with each step, it grew weaker and weaker. Trees blended with the sky until nothing separated the two. Before the darkness could fully engulf her, claim her in its wide embrace, she stopped. And waited. The only indication she was there was her flashlight—a beacon.

Typically, Eilidh wasn’t one for the night shift. Personally, she’d rather be snuggling with Tulip. Especially for something so trivial. What was this, the fourth case of boy-who-cried-bigfoot? What first caused excitement and wonder, now caused a scoff. Not that she was a skeptic. Anything was possible, and Bigfoot was not beyond the limits of her imaginations. But, with that fear locked into everyone’s mind, anything lurking in the corner of your eye could be a ‘monster’. So it very well could be a bear. The past three times it was a bear or something else of the sort. But there had been multiple sightings of this specific ‘Bigfoot.’ A part of her dared to hope that finally, finally she’d be able to see it. Regardless of its name, it had been seen earlier heading the very same direction Eilidh stood now. It was her job to help investigate the whatever-it-was, give it a name and show what it truly was—just another creature, supernatural or not. Or, at the very least, make sure whatever-it-was wasn’t causing any harm to the local flora and fauna. As of yet, she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Especially by White Crest’s low standards.

The sudden return of light caught her eye, and she directed her own at the source. “Hey, Nic!” Eilidh offered a brief wave. “Would’ve waited for you further back. But got bored.” With her flashlight, she motioned forward. Enveloped in illumination, the forest was almost inviting. “Let’s go check on this B-b-b-biiigfoot.”

Nicole thought going back to work would fix most of her problems. Less time sitting at home with nothing to do, meant less time to deal with the demons in her head. So work? A pretty fucking good distraction— in theory. But in reality, it didn’t turn out that way. She was doing terribly at her job too. But she was still adjusting, right? She was still adjusting, she kept telling herself, despite being back for weeks now. It didn’t help that the Park was nothing but chaos after the news of a Bigfoot sighting broke out. The same reports that happened every couple of months or so, Nicole had learned after the first few the dozens of briefings she had attended over the years. Yet the bastard was never found. And they were left to deal with the chaos that was dealing with the increase in visitors flocking to the park in hopes of catching the monster with their cameras, putting themselves in danger in the process. 

 Apparently the Park wanted a more hands on approach this time, and Nicole ended up getting roped into the investigation the foresters were supposed to do. Her first field activity since coming back to work. The night shift was always dangerous, but never as terrifying as the office hours, so to walk around the woods searching for a non-existent beast looked like a fine alternative. Finally being back on the trails would be a good thing. 

 Nicole ventured deep into the forest,  swaying her flashlight lazily. She had no use for it when she had other senses to pick up on anything strange. And soon enough, she found her companion for the night. She liked Eilidh, even if her very tense demeanor didn’t read that way. “Hey…” her lips pressed into a thin smile, unsure how to feel about the nickname. But that ship sailed the first time they met. “Right” she nodded, following the woman a few steps behind. “You know...this is the first time they’ve wanted us to see what the fuck is out there. I’m not sure if that’s— you haven’t heard any rumors...right?”  

Eilidh quirked an eyebrow. “Rumors?” The location this supposed creature kept frequenting was a bit concerning, or a bit intriguing, depending on your mindset. It was in one of the many parts of the forest that seemed to attract supernatural creatures like flies to a corpse. And it was peculiar its classification had yet to be determined. The Park was typically so quick, so determined, so desperate to uncover the source of odd activities. Activities they would only be publicly hinted at—only enough to maintain safety. So, talk of the truth was discouraged. Having too many noses sticking themselves into where they didn’t belong always led to issues. Curiosity may kill the cat. Or exposure of the supernatural community, and with the popularity that Bigfoot carried, such publicity would be far and wide and deadly. Either way, death could be found at the conclusion.

Despite the concerns, tales still circulated around the town, as they always did. She couldn’t help a chuckle as she recalled one. “Aye. Supposedly some guy saw this ‘Bigfoot’ digging up flowers near here. Maybe he fucked up. Needs a bouquet for Mrs. Bigfoot.” The scenario played in the back of her mind, and that chuckle twinkled again in the back of her throat. Without breaking her stride, she fished out a handful of wildflowers from her backpack. “So, I brought this as a peace offering.” There was a pause, and it was here that her stride did falter for a moment, as she replayed the conversation in her head. “Or, wait. You mean this place?” The two found themselves heading into a part of the Park shrouded in mystery, especially to regular citizens. And mystery always gave birth to hearsay. 

Nicole already assumed that anyone who worked at the National Park knew about the supernatural. One way or the other. It was just the way the job went. Every now and then, weird shit was bound to happen. People died. Rangers died. So she didn’t second guess herself, the usual apprehension gone from her voice as she caught up to Eilidh. “Rumors...” she repeated, redirecting her flashlight to the ground. Wasn’t Bigfoot supposed to leave giant footprints? “Before—  the last couple of times this happened… I don’t know if you—” she trailed off. The other woman was newer at the job, she couldn’t recall if she had dealt with it before. “The park used to ignore the whole Bigfoot shit”. Their plan always entailed warning people about bears to keep them away. And add more patrolling, so much more patrolling. It hadn’t been exactly successful. So she couldn’t fault the Park for wanting to try a new approach. “So I was thinking— I don’t know, maybe... they really do think there's a monster out there this time. And it’s not just… a wild animal”. 

Nicole couldn’t remember being so deep into that side of the park before. Perks of the job. She was never done discovering things. Her partner's joke felt out of place, considering the danger they could be dealing with, but somehow it managed to ease the tension she had been carrying for most of the day.  She made sure to keep her chuckle quiet enough. It was a good thing that Eilidh seemed in good spirits at least. It would make the night shift more bearable. “And we’re about to walk into them having a fight? Ah shit... it’s not too late to go back” she mumbled, eyes darting quickly around the dark. She had to keep her senses open if she wanted them to stay safe. She was ready to run at the first sign of the beast. No more playing hero for her. A branch snapped at the distance, and Nicole tensed immediately. “Heard something move” she held her arm up to stop Eilidh. “I think…” she added, because fuck, she couldn’t be sure of anything in her life anymore. She nudged the flashlight in the direction of the sound, but took no steps. “Probably just an animal, but...” she hated that she couldn’t go ahead and investigate. She was scared of many things, but it had never interfered with her job before.

Monster. Unless she meant some great evil decided to spend its free time spooking and inconveniencing tourists, Eilidh assumed what Nicole meant was something supernatural. Eilidh hated when it was used that way. To describe a creature beyond normal human comprehension; to look at a living being’s nature and condone it for something it couldn’t control. “It wouldn’t be a monster.” Her voice was suddenly curt. “Just another animal. Supernatural or not.” Hopefully, whatever it may be, it was something they could handle. 

Eilidh perked at the continuation of her quip. It was still exciting when Nicole decided to play along, indulge her, so she wouldn’t waste this moment. “If we don’t help, how will they save their marriage?” But as Nicole’s hand rose, her brief return to good humor was cut short. She stopped, perplexed. Her head began to swivel, trying to pick up anything on her end, but her ears only perceived the typical ebb and flow of a forest at rest. Even when the direction was pointed out to her, nothing new became apparent. So, she sought help from her secret friend. With the slightest of motions, she jerked her chin forward—a signal, a command. After a tense moment, answers were brought, but they weren’t very enlightening. It was very dark, after all, and James had trouble seeing much of anything. But he still could hear. Eyes locked on the invisible figure, Eilidh’s expression became even more confused as he laid out what he heard. “Oom oom?” She mouthed. 

Ooooooom ooooooom answered. Within seconds, some of the distant trees illuminated by Nicole’s light began to shake, overwhelmed with a sudden weight. Eilidh looked up. Something looked back. 

“Yeah, you don’t know that…” Nicole mumbled to herself, aware of how unconvincing she sounded. Maybe Eilidh did have more knowledge, but she didn’t want to have the monster argument with anyone else. She couldn’t see herself changing her opinion on that. “Just hope you’re right” she let out a weary sigh, knowing hope hadn’t been on her side lately.  “I don’t think they’re paying us enough for that” a laugh caught in her throat. The atmosphere changed so quickly between them that she had no time to wipe the grin off her face. “Shit...shit” The forest floor shook under them, and the rustling of the trees was followed by an ominous—  Voice? Nicole wasn’t sure. A few months ago, the noise wouldn’t have stopped her. The noise would’ve been an invitation to go on and get more answers. Meet the mysterious creature in the heart of the woods. God she used to be stupid. The realization wasn’t new, but it was good to add more proof to it. 

“Back up” Nicole tried to grab Eilidh’s shirt, but she was out of her reach. “Hey!” she called again, the ground shaking made it hard to keep her balance. She lowered her flashlight. She could make out the tall shadow — much taller than both of them— pacing between trees. The thought of switching to her night vision briefly crossed her mind. No, no. There was no point in doing that. She’d draw more attention glowing in the dark. The creature, monster...whatever it was continued to approach, coming to a sudden stop right when Nicole was ready to pick up Eilidh and bolt. “Whatever that is— we should fuck off” words spilled out of her mouth with urgency. Fuck that. She had learned her lesson. But the giant figure didn’t seem interested in them, instead lowered its body to the ground and poked with a giant hand something she couldn’t make out. Her nostrils flared, hoping a scent would clue her in. It was something familiar. Something she had been close to recently. Something she could smell on her partner’s clothes sometimes. “Eilidh” she whispered, and for once she didn’t think about how uncomfortable it was to call someone by their first name. Shivers ran down her spine when she finally processed the smell. “Uh, do we— you know of any missing people reports around the area?”

Like the first sight of the sun after a storm, the scent overcame Eilidh—blinding. Flesh spiced with death. Oozing sweet liquids she wished to lick. Her teeth gave an involuntary chatter before it was cut short as she dug her nails into her hands, threatening to puncture. If Nicole weren’t around, she’d be tempted to play tug-of-war with the meal, test this creature’s might. Or perhaps even share. She only really wanted one part, anyhow. But eating a corpse in front of a coworker would doubtfully result in anything positive. Damn. Instincts were gripped tight and dampened—the action made part of her feel hollow. Doubt that’s the infamous Bigfoot. She couldn’t recall ‘eating hikers’ being mentioned in that Bigfoot conspiracy documentary James made her watch. Double damn. But, this was still turning into a fascinating mystery, because the question still remained: what the fuck was that? Captivated by the mystique of the unknown, eyes wide in wonder, she almost was left unaware of her companion’s high nerves. The use of her first name brought her back. Momentarily she felt exposed, anger arriving as a defense. But distraction soon came. Missing people. Right. Where did the body come from? It seemed like this creature was scavenging, not hunting. Where was the hunter? “Nothing specific,” she lied, though she truthfully had no idea who the corpse once was, “but people disappear all the time. There’s plenty options.”

Eilidh wanted, needed, to get a closer look. At least a small peek. What was the cause of death? Could this be chalked up to a creature or being that couldn’t finish a meal. A freak accident. Or something unneeded, something out of passion rather than survival. Something human. Ignoring Nicole’s signals to retreat, she took a step forward. Craning her neck, trying to see the body without notice. As the creature whipped its head back, it was evident she failed. She froze. It simply flared its nostrils in response: a sniff. Then, it stood. She bared her teeth, a hiss whistled passed her exposed canines. It sniffed again. Disregarding its previous engagement, the creature inched closer. It was only then she began to back up, to the best of her ability as the ground shivered below her under its might. Despite that, she remained focused on the creature. Her hand quickly moved to the dagger hidden under her skirt. Though unsheathed, she kept the weapon close to her hip. She did not want a fight. 

Nicole let out a grumble in agreement. People disappeared all the time. There was a reason everyone signed the waiver at the entrance. The bodies they were able to find were the lucky ones. “Right,” like the one in front of them, about to become food for a mysterious creature. Yeah, so fucking lucky. They remained quiet, watching the beast poke the body. Maybe it wasn’t that good of a meal. She swallowed, considering the very real possibility that maybe, it prefered fresher food. She reached for Eilidh's arm again, not taking her eyes off the danger. Only then she noticed her partner had gone and moved closer. Her hands balled into fists, resisting the urge to yell at her. She hated the small part of her that couldn’t blame the woman for her curiosity. Not long ago, she would’ve loved to be close to what was one of the biggest mysteries in the world. If it was Bigfoot at all. But she wasn’t sure how willing she was to risk her life at the park after everything she had gone through. 

The thought of not fitting the job she loved so much anymore wasn’t something Nicole wanted to deal with yet. She couldn't consider it. She gripped the flashlight tighter, forcing herself to step forward to meet Eilidh.

The creature picked up on their presence, but it wasn’t until Nicole heard Eilidh’s hissing that she dared to say anything. And— she really had to wonder if she heard that right. “Are you... out of your fucking mind?” she scoffed, eyes wide as she looked between the monster and the woman. “Macleod” she called, her voice colder. She was addressing a coworker, not the person who made her feel more comfortable than anyone at the Park. The beast examined them for a moment. Or rather, it examined Eilidh. It was as if Nicole didn’t exist. She held her breath until the beast lost interest and started munching on the dead body’s...hair?  It was a nasty sight. 

She couldn’t be the person who stood behind and let other people take the lead anymore. Nicole grabbed Eilidh’s cold hand, giving it a forceful pull.”That’s it, we came—  we saw — we can go back a-and warn everybody else. Let’s just get the fuck away. Or— or we’re gonna be the fucking main course!”. Her sudden movement alerted the creature once again. It discarded the rest of the body, eyes glowing with new interest at the sight of Eilidh. That was it, they were about to be eaten. It was safe to say she didn’t think what she did next. Blurting out a quick apology, she swiftly wrapped her arm around Eilidh’s mid section and lifted her off the ground. The flashlight shaking in her hand pointed everywhere but ahead, but Nicole knew to just get one step in front of the other as fast as possible.

Glowing eyes locked onto ones of the dead. Eilidh met that gaze in full, unbreaking—I’m a threat, leave me alone. Perhaps taking the hint or perhaps finding the action as a bluff, the creature returned to its half-finished meal. But instead of flesh, hair was the food of choice. Interesting. The large and impressive figure, the hair covering every inch, the selective diet. Why did this feel familiar? While the reciprocity was lost, she continued to stare, to watch. A thought started to form, a forgotten memory. Wiggling its way to the surface.

A grasping hand broke the recollection, slamming her back into reality, as the memory returned to the back of her mind. The sudden change left her momentarily disoriented; she moved to slap the offending hand on instinct. But a familiar voice came to her ears. Worry was clear in Nicole’s words, and for a moment a small pang of guilt rested in Eilidh’s chest for keeping her in this situation. Guilt quickly boiled into anger as her world turned topsy-turvy, body hoisted—unwillingly—onto Nicole’s shoulder. “Hey!” But the heated yell was cut short by the sight before her. The creature had entirely disregarded the body, choosing to pursue them instead. Usually if an animal discarded a meal, it was due to surrounding dangers, realization of spoiled parts, or a tastier option presented itself. The way the creature stared, as if trying to find her soul and judging her acceptable, at her and only her—it looked to be the third option. Sensation prickled down her spine. Maybe it was fear. But it was mostly excitement.

Feet crashed down onto the helpless ground. Hands reached out for her. Almost touching the strands of hair that whisked into view by the moving air. Before it could grab hold, the knife that still sat gripped in her hand struck out, hitting the creature on the palm. “No.” It let out a bellow. The other enlarged hand shot out, quicker this time. Tension riddling the fingers, whether preparing for an attack or preparing to attack. But instead of striking again, Eilidh slashed at her own hair. A few pieces detached, floated in the hair for just a moment. Until they were swallowed whole. Momentarily stalled by the action, the two were able to gain some distance from the pursuing animal. But the moment passed, and it snapped its attention back to her. In turn, she craned her neck back to look at Nicole. “‘Preciate the help but let me down.” There was no reason to drag Nicole into this. So, she started to wiggle out of the grip, but found the hold stronger than anticipated. Huh? Another attempt was made; more force was applied, but not much changed. A growl escaped her: a pinned animal. Kicking and scratching wasn’t off the table. 

The monster decided to follow them. Of course it did. Why would anything be easy when it could be a shitshow? Navigating an unknown part of the woods was never simple, even for Nicole who always seemed to find her way around the trickiest of forests. Doing so while giant feet made the floor shake underneath them sure added difficulty to the experience. “Stop! Moving!” Carrying Eilidh on her shoulder while she tried to fight the beast? really pushing it. And— why was she trying to fight the creature? Nicole didn’t know. Being stupidly reckless had to be a requirement for the job. The monster was hot on their tails, and judging by Eilidh’s roar it had managed to touch her. Why was it obsessed with her? She just squeezed the woman tightly and focused all her energy on not taking a false step, because it would be the end of them if she did. For some reason, the giant steps halted briefly and Nicole didn’t hesitate to twist between trees, making it harder for it to follow. Blood pounding in her ears, all she knew was that she had to keep going, until they reached ground even enough to run at full speed. Then she’d find the jeep she left at the entrance of the trail and they’d be safe. 

Initially she didn’t hear Eilidh’s complaint, her attention narrowed to one particular goal: escaping. It was only when she to wiggle her way out of her grip that her focus shifted. She huffed. Fuck that, if she was gonna run back to fight the beast, she wasn’t letting her touch the ground again. But as Eilidh twisted with more persistence she relented, forgoing any gentleness before she put her back down. She gripped Eilidh by the shoulders, standing tall to shield her in case the beast pounced again. “What the fuck were you thinking?” she panted harshly, but worried eyes scanned the woman’s hair. What kind of beast had that fucked up diet? “We need to warn—” at the distance, it was hard to miss that the creature was on the move again. What were they going to do? Wait and attack now prepared with a plan, or retreat? Her mind was made up, she wanted to go, but she was not going to leave Eilidh behind. She had the means to outrun the beast again if it came down to it. She met the woman’s gaze, regretting the words already forming in her head. “Whatever it is that you’re— that’s already going through your fucking head... it’s gonna include me, no matter how insane. So... all I’m saying is— really think about it”.

Wish granted, Eilidh was plopped onto the ground. But before she could turn attentions back to the pursuing beast, hands were placed firmly upon her shoulders. Pinned again. But a growl did not escape like before. It was tempted to, as Nicole’s sharp words greeted her ears, making herself sharp, prickly as well. “How ‘bout you–” But when she looked up, saw the worry in Nicole’s eyes, she couldn’t fuel the irritation for much longer. She paused for a moment—not sure how to answer the question. She had just been… reacting. And it was no time to try and come up with any form of reason. Thud, thud, thud, the creature’s feet banged against the helpless floor, tremors underfoot growing stronger as it closed the distance. Thuds like the tick of a watch, each sound indicating their time was running out.

Legs itched to run, to act, to no longer be stuck waiting and pondering, but that hold on her shoulder still remained. But it no longer acted as an anchor; with Nicole’s words, it became a link, binding the two together. Acting on the first thought that moved to the forefront—since Nicole insisted on involving herself—she placed the blade back against her hair. It cut into her braid, severing the end from the rest. With the secured ribbon removed, her hair unfurled, wild and untamed against her neck, and several inches shorter than earlier that day. She handed the detached braid to Nicole. “I’ll go left. You go right. Lead the fucker so far into the woods no one will see ‘em again.” She smacked her lips. “Hopefully.” The creature was reaching out for her again, two meters away, then one, then none. Before it gained a hold of her, she leapt back. In its momentum it stumbled forward, trying to make that sharp corner but long limbs prevented such agility. Not waiting for it to regain its footing, she turned to run, back amongst trees. “Keep ‘em off me and I’ll keep ‘em off you!” Her yell bounced off the trees, the only reminder of her presence as she disappeared into the darkness. 

Nicole was firm on her decision. She was not going to play hero again. She was not. She was n— except, even in the dim light she could tell that Eilidh was absolutely thinking about going back. Fuck. She flinched at her swift move, not expecting the woman to lift her blade again and slash her own hair. “Jesus, what—” she raised her hands to stop her, but she ended up grabbing her braid instead. Nicole stared at it with a blank expression, unsure on how to feel.  Thanks? She didn’t have time to process any of it, because Eilidh was talking again, this time to explain her plan. “You—you want me to…” brows furrowed, she waited in silence for more details, until she realized there was nothing more to the plan. It was short and straightforward. Confuse the fuck out of the beast. She would be doing her job, really. Keeping visitors safe by running the creature off. She understood then, the meaning of Eilidh’s hair in her hand: the scent would attract the creature to her, while her partner did the same on the other side. It was smart enough. At least they wouldn’t be trying to fight against it. 

She let out an exasperated sigh, realizing she was already convinced. There wasn’t certainty that the creature wouldn’t come back, lured by the scent of corpses, but if they could do their part to keep it as far away from the trails and the visitors’ cameras, it was worth a shot. The floor shook again and Nicole knew there was no time to discuss anything else. She watched Eilidh escape the creature’s grasp and take off in the opposite direction, following her part of the plan. All by herself, she wondered what was it about Eilidh's hair that made her so irresistible compared to her own. As they predicted, the giant monster went with its favorite. “Hey!” she called, lifting her hand and waving the braid. She took a few steps, preparing for a run, hoping it would be enough to get the beasts attention. Luckily for them, the creature stumbled and turned in her direction. Nicole had to keep the surprise to herself, jogging through the trees to keep the beast away from her colleague.  

Darkness began to envelop them again, the trees shielding the moonlight as they entered unknown territory. Even when Nicole could hardly see anymore, Eilidh’s light steps were easy to pick up in comparison to the rumbling caused by the beast. They just had to keep going— for how long? she wasn’t sure.

The creature was in pursuit, mirroring Eilidh’s pace step for step. But its gait was wider, legs a great pine to her samplings. The space between shortened with each thud of its feet, shortened even further as those desperate arms reached out. Just as fingertips grazed the hairs on the nape of her neck—threatening to close, caught in its trap—her own trap sprung. Nicole baited the creature her way, the same enticing hairs, her hairs, waving in the air. The creature followed. As the same fate began to fall upon Nicole, Eilidh beckoned it her way. It followed again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Delicious hairs always so close and yet so far. Equally compelled to chase both, it found itself somewhere in the middle: never able to meet, never able to feed. Eilidh stifled an amused snort as it came and failed once more to secure a hold on her. 

The darkness grew thicker, tighter. Sometimes it felt like she was stuck in an abandoned realm. A single dot in a sea of black expanse. The periodic calls of Nicole and the shake of the earth and the heavy breath from behind the only reminder there was more than just that small circle of trees her light illuminated ahead. Kept the darkness from becoming suffocating. That heavy breath grew labored, strained. The creature was growing tired of their game. It growled and snapped and barked out that strange call. But these sounds slowly grew distant. The space between them grew wider. Stubbornness and hunger forced it to continue, but feverish interest began to wane with its stamina. It would settle for anything. Now was their chance. “Throw the braid and let’s go!” Her direction turned, circling back to the beginning. Back to the light. 

It was pitch black. Nicole’s eyes darting in the dark desperate for any light. It was like running blindfolded and she wasn’t calm enough to use her other senses at best capacity. Not when they had a giant beast chasing them.  Blood pounded in her ears, knowing there was a solution. She could see in the dark, why wasn’t she doing it? Fueled by the adrenaline, she didn't have time for measured thinking, her temples burned demanding a switch. Amber eyes glowed in the dark forest, exposing the path in front of her. So much easier.  

Eilidh’s command reached her ears clearly, and Nicole didn't need to be told twice. She searched around, considering her options. She couldn’t imagine a braid traveling a long distance, instead she swung it upwards and prayed it would land on the top of the trees. The monster’s attention changed again, but she didn’t stay to see the results, as soon as the braid was released she turned, circling around the beast and heading back to where they came from. At least, the ground had stopped shaking. It was a good sign. She spared one last look behind her, just to confirm the beast was reaching for the top of the trees. Good. Maybe after the braid snack, the beast would settle for the corpses in the area, instead of following them back. She could only hope. 

With the threat gone, Nicole’s first thought was to switch back to her human vision. Eyes on the ground, she blinked fast and hoped for the best. The switch back was always a gamble. Sometimes she could get it down in seconds, other times required a lot more concentration. The fear she’d get stuck with those eyes was always present. That it would start with the eyes, and then the teeth, and then— fuck, now it wasn’t the time. She breathed out deeply, contracting the muscles her eye muscles. Only when it was pitch dark again, she slowed her pace, catching up with Eilidh on the other side. “Good plan...good plan” She breathed out, stopping herself in time before she did something stupid, like hug her. She really was relieved her colleague was in one piece. “Can’t complain about surprise cardio but—  enough for the night... I think. Can we... stick to the trails... from now on?”

Eilidh could hear footsteps approaching. But these did not shake the ground in their wake. These were fainter, friendlier, familiar. Her head turned, attention split between the trek onward and that steady advance. After a few moments, Nicole broke out of the darkness, into that circle of light. She smiled at the sight. “Good game!” She clapped an affectionate hand onto Nicole’s shoulder. Chuckle whistled out at her statement. “Sure thing.” As the excitement subsided, cravings twisted her stomach. And she noted the hints of exhaustion painted on Nicole’s movements, too. It was time for their departure. “Sounds like that Kera–” She blinked. Feet hesitated. “Kerashag.” Her hand now clapped against her face. While her conscious mind had been at work keeping her safe, her subconscious finally let that elusive memory slip out. Return to the surface. Sharing some enlightenment. It had been decades ago. It hadn’t even been her own tale. But she recalled a conversation with a zombie; one where she relayed her own incident with such a beast. A hair eater. A moth for death. It had harassed her just the same as the one Eilidh just faced. While the other woman was left with a bald head from the ordeal—she remembered how it glistened in the sunlight—Eilidh had managed to retain some of her hair.

“Fucking figures.” Eilidh mumbled under her breath. “Anyway. Sounds like they’re distracted. Let’s go before they want dessert.” Flashlight aimed at the ground, she scanned the surface for that change in texture. The light traveled across the grass, until the grass stopped, revealing dirt. Dirt that stretched onward into that darkness, until the darkness stopped too. Leading them back. She beckoned Nicole to follow as she hopped onto that trail, letting it return them to civilization.

It was reflex to smile back at Eilidh. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, she could bask in their success for a brief moment. It was nice, being helpful again. Even if the stakes were a lot higher than guiding someone through a trail. Nicole picked up on the hesitation, on the word that was uttered, but she kept her head down. She wasn’t going to ask. Not until they were back on the trail. She didn’t object as Eilidh voiced her exact thoughts. Better get the fuck away when their legs could still go.

The road back was understandably more quiet. Eilidh didn’t have time or energy for funny quips. And well, that was never Nicole’s thing. She did notice how her companion’s heart didn’t seem to be pounding like her own, though. Undetectable. It reminded her of her friend Griffin. She wished to be as cool under pressure as them. 

There were no more surprises for them on the way back, and soon enough they were back on the original path. Their vehicle had to be close. Nicole couldn’t wait to be back at the station. It was hard to erase the monster from her mind. She would’ve liked to shrug the experience off. Like she had in the past with other strange beasts. Just call them quirky White Crest things and roll with it. But she had to know, didn't she? She had to learn. Because the town was a dangerous place, and she couldn’t keep turning a blind eye. She didn’t want to get hurt again. She didn't want to lose more things. “So… kera what?” her voice broke the silence. She nudged back to the forest, where she first heard her utter that word. She decided to give the woman the option to pass on the question, giving a one shoulder shrug. “Sounded like you knew what the fuck that was, that’s all”.

The thrill of the chase waned, and in lieu of an ache—such a rare thing for Eilidh to feel—her legs grew heavy under her own weight. Hunger pricked at her stomach. The smell of that corpse like a phantom in her nose, calling her back with its intoxicating memory. But turning around would lead her all the way back to that and repeat the cycle all over again. Despite the logic, the temptation still bubbled inside her, and if Nicole weren’t near, she might’ve tried her luck. Who cares about being bald if it meant scoring an easy meal—perhaps meals considering the creature’s proclivities. But it was less fun utilizing such a method, and with that deciding thought, the urge went away. Her focus returned to the trail, to the station that waited for them at the end.

Eilidh chuckled into the crisp night air. “Kerashag. They eat–” Dead almost slithered from her lips, but she quickly bit into the word before it could manage. “–hair and nails. Don’t know much else ‘bout them. Beyond the nice example we just got.” Her head motioned to the darkness, to where the forest was ever vast, to where that creature still lurked. “Glad to be back on the force?” There was a genuine, albeit playful, curiosity in her question. But it also served as a distraction. 

The moonlight filtered through the trees with more intensity as they began approaching their starting point. It was a testament to how deep they ventured, that they still couldn’t see the lights from surrounding camping sites. Nicole glanced at her partner, noticing the exhaustion on her face with more clarity. Then, she noticed the mismatched length of her hair. For a blade cut it was pretty decent, she almost said out loud. “Kerashag” she repeated awkwardly, word foreign in her tongue. Her face wrinkled with disgust. So she wasn’t imagining the weird diet then. Why go for corpses then, and why was Eilidh’s hair more alluring? Should she be offended? “No Bigfoot... fucking knew it” she added, letting out a huff. She decided to ignore the rest of the questions forming in her head. She had a name, and that was enough for now. 

A laugh caught in her throat when Eilidh broke the silence. Her smile grew. The woman’s tone made her feel welcome. But as she processed the meaning behind the words, her expression began to falter. Nicole considered the doubts that filled her the moment the beast appeared. Her reluctance to investigate. The fear coursing through her at the thought of Eilidh getting hurt. She bit the inside of her cheek, stomach sinking with dread. It was probably too soon. Maybe she should’ve stayed doing office hours. That was it. That’s why she still felt shaky in the legs, right? It would probably take her some time to feel like herself again. “Yeah, yeah—” she cleared her throat, voicing her own conclusion. “Hoping for less action next time, though...still rusty” she spotted their vehicle at the distance, nodding her head towards it. They’d be back at the station soon, safe from what lurked in the woods. Safe from the questions she had to start asking herself.

today i bring you ray lore

aka, how he met idia, and his motivation to have that “assistant” role uvu

1.4k words ish, beware of portrayal of shitty mom

“You haven’t gotten a haircut yet. The carriage should be getting here anytime this week, and you’re going to Night Raven like this?”

Having just left his room that morning, Ray shrinks before he even truly steps into the black tile floor of the kitchen -- His mother’s contralto fills the room that looked so vacant, lacking in any true decoration, as she looks up from the newspaper.

“It doesn’t look that bad.” He mutters. Gray eyes too similar to his glare at him through her glasses.

“It’s unprofessional for a man to have long hair like this, and not do anything with it.” She sighs. “It’s too short to be tied up properly, but too long to be kept neat. You can’t expect to get an internship looking like this.”

“I’m just a first year…”

Head shaking, she sighs once more. “It doesn’t matter. What if any corporations go there to scout? You already stand out enough with that eyepatch.”

Ray’s lips press into a thin line, turning his back to get a cup and a teabag from the cupboard. She looks back down onto the newspaper, no good morning, as usual, and he watches hot water spill out of the kettle she left on the counter into the white cup.

She’s not supposed to be here, or at least he thought so. Ray wishes she had a good reason for it, but judging by the sharp remark being the very first thing he heard, maybe her morning meeting was just cancelled.

Mrs. Máire is an intimidating woman who looks too much like her son.

The intimidation is a subjective one. She isn’t tall or particularly strong looking -- The Máire lineage being one of gathered health issues, a handful of which had been passed to Ray -- but there’s something on her light, silvery gray eyes, framed by the metallic rectangles of her glasses, that just made one painfully aware that they were being judged. Her long, pure white hair always done up pristinely, wavy locks around a slender, surprisingly youthful face, she’d rarely be seen out of her workwear, all black like a lady in mourning. She looked more like a ghost than a woman, and Ray supposes that had been passed down to him too.

He feels awkward, standing in his baggy sweater, hair in disarray. Even though it’s a weekend, even though he lived in that house.

The tea is ready, but it doesn’t warm his hands much. He sits by the table in tense silence, nursing the cup as he watches the bag carefully, the way it sank into the water.

“Have you heard about that Shroud boy?”

About to lift the cup to his lips, Ray sets it down again instead. It’s rare for her to make any conversation at all--

“That Shroud?” He asks. There’s a pause as she flips through the paper.

“Which other would it be?” She asks, and sets the paper down too. The name, Shroud, hangs heavily in the air. Ray doesn’t reply. “They haven’t appeared in public for a while, but the boy is going to Night Raven too. He’s apparently in your year.”

He stays quiet, and takes a sip of tea.

“You’ll have to work an internship in your fourth year.” She states, like she hadn’t done that a billion times before. “The Shroud family could use a good lawyer. If you get in that boy’s favor, you can make something out of yourself. It’s an opportunity.”

Setting cup down slowly, like he was in any risk of handling it too roughly at all, Ray continues to stare at the table’s white surface.

“I guess it is.” He mutters. The uncertainty in his voice doesn’t seem to faze her, and she checks her wristwatch.

“Get a haircut today. I’ll leave money on the counter, I need to leave for my meeting now.” She gets up, the small heels of her shoe clacking quietly against the floor as she begins to leave. “Don’t forget to talk to that boy. You know you won’t be a kid forever.”

No goodbye, either. In the cold house, Ray leeches off the warmth of his steadily emptying teacup, not even near to being enough to cure the freezing feeling that seemed to stick to him.

. . .

He stands in the corner of the room, blue flaming hair glowing even though most of Ignihyde was that color, shrinking into himself--

Ray has books and a folder in hands, just coming back with a conversation with staff regarding his extracurriculars. He’d signed up for the Science Club -- That should be fine, he knew how to work his way around potions decently, it’s a death he’d rather subject himself to than something like Track and Field.

The thought of a sports-focused club gives him chills. He doesn’t need to use String to know that would entail running straight into trees and fainting in the summer heat. If he wanted to give off any good impression at all, he couldn’t put himself through that.

Shroud taps away at his phone anxiously and Ray tries to figure out how to talk to him, staring. String tugs at his energy a bit miserably, he can’t quite find the moment he’d walk up to him yet, he’d take that long to do it, apparently.

But he doesn’t want to be harsh on himself for that. When was it the last time he spoke to a classmate? He’d spent all of middle school gladly fading into the background, so much that he’d been hoping he’d get into Ignihyde when he read up on the dorms online, before getting there.

Making friends isn’t something he does, or has ever felt the necessity to do. People wouldn’t… understand his condition, he never expected them to. The flower that Prunella boy gave him sat on his nighstand nicely now, but, that wasn’t exactly friendship. There’s a gap between that and friendliness, he’s sure.

...he shouldn’t be. It’s not like he’d know.

His finger pulls and releases the strap of his eyepatch until he can see himself walking up to Shroud and saying anything. He sees a displeased, anxious face, suspicious who are you stuttered after amber eyes look up from the phone. Well, that’s not surprising either.

Ray wonders what draws the line between friendship and networking, and that’s something he doesn’t understand at all either. At least he’d come to know the latter, soon enough…

The small heels of his loafers -- The nicest one he could get, without his mother poking any holes into the pricey purchase -- clack quietly against the floor as he makes his way to Shroud.

“Excuse me.” He speaks up, and the blue-haired boy jumps. Ray gives him a bit of a stare, sizing him up in a way.

They’re not that different looking, are they? Maybe the blue lips set them apart. But Shroud wasn’t strong, wasn’t too tall.

“W-What do you want?” He stutters out the question. Rude, Ray narrows his eye at him, but he lets it go.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” He pushes out the line like he’d been reading a script. “I’m Ray Máire. Since we’re in the same year, we may have to work together in the near future, so do feel free to rely on me.”

Ray bows his head slightly. He’s a bit out of breath when he’s done talking. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s unused to it, or he just spoke too fast.

“...right.” Shroud mutters. “Uh. It’s Idia.”

“Shroud, yes. I know you.” He nods. “I’m from the Isle too.”

His expression twists further, an extra dose of displeasure trickling.

“Um. Sure.” He says, again in that muttery voice. “I-I’m busy now, so…”

Ah. So he really is rude, isn’t he? He supposes it’s to be expected too. Shroud was from a rich family, he probably wasn’t used to being around… all those different people.

“Of course. I’ll leave you to it.”

He steps away. For some reason, he tastes something bitter on his tongue, like that had gone poorly.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to do it at all.

But, well, does it even matter, what he wants to do?

Starstruck Velma, Chapter 2

Diiiiid someone say they wanted a sequel to my Fantasy story??? No??? Well TOO BAD THIS IS A FULL-BLOWN FIC NOW. 

I really loved writing that story for Writer’s Month, and really wanted to expand upon this world @tanookiroxx had created for her amazing story Starstruck, and the world I was able to write for in the Fantasy story. So after discussing it with @tanookiroxx and also @cosmicrealmofkissteria I decided to give it a go! Here’s hoping it goes well! Thank, you two, for bouncing around ideas with me on this! Hope you all like it! Please go back and read the first chapter for a refresher because I don’t give much context. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It seemed sleep was what Velma needed, because she ended up sleeping for most of the day and woke up in the early afternoon. A quick message to the gang’s groupchat confirmed they had all done the same thing. Luckily Daphne had called ahead to Demon and told him they would let him know when they could come in and debrief with him on how the night went. 

Velma still wasn’t looking forward to that; she knew the minute she told people she had been knocked out and probably hypnotized by Starchild, panic would ensue. Even if she insisted nothing had happened, they would insist she had no real way of knowing that. And really she didn’t—she didn’t have any memory of what happened after Starchild lulled her into closing her eyes. All she had was a strange certainty that nothing had happened. But that wouldn’t be enough for people. 

Even so, she knew it had to be done. So she dragged herself out of bed, got dressed, grabbed a quick breakfast/lunch, and waited for Fred to text her that they were outside her apartment building. It wasn’t hard to spot Fred’s van that had become their designated mode of transportation; it was reminiscent of a black government van, except it was painted a robin’s egg blue and had neon green hubcaps on the wheels. It was incredibly outlandish, but Fred stubbornly refused to repaint it, so bright blue it stayed. 

She got into the backseat, Shaggy and Scooby moving over for her, and buckled her seatbelt. Daphne passed her a white paper bag. “Here. I went to that cafe by our office building and got us breakfast.” 

Velma opened the bag to find a small egg, ham, and cheese sandwich inside. “Thanks, Daphne,” 

“Like, you okay, Velma?” Shaggy asked as Fred pulled out of his parking spot. 

“I’m fine,” Velma nodded. 

“You sure?” Fred asked, glancing at her in his rearview mirror. “You did get knocked out by Starchild last night.” 

“Really, guys, I’m fine,” Velma assured. “I checked for any injuries or bruises when I got home, and I didn’t find any. Let’s just get to Demon’s office so we can tell him what happened.” 

Fred still looked skeptical. “Okay… If you’re sure.” 

“I am sure,” 

But as Fred continued driving, Velma put her hands in the pockets of her coat... and her fingers brushed a folded piece of paper. And then she remembered; she hadn’t taken the note Starchild had left for her out of her pocket. 

See you soon, pretty thorn.

She didn’t want to think about when “soon” was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When they arrived at the K.I.S.S. agency building they headed straight up to Demon’s office on the top floor. They stepped out of the elevator and headed for his office, when suddenly someone turned the corner and almost ran into them. It was a man, older than them, with a build that was so slender it bordered on skinny, pale skin, rather feminine features, and long black hair. He was about as tall as Daphne. And as he was walking he appeared to be straightening his clothes, but stopped when he saw them. 

“Hi,” Fred said amiably to him. “We’re here to see Demon. Is he in his office?” 

The man tilted his head at them, then nodded in recognition. “Ah, you’re Mystery Incorporated, aren’t you? We had heard Demon called you. Demon is in his office right now. I was just there… debriefing on a case with him.” 

Fred was silent for a moment, then he grinned. “Great! Thanks. Hope to see you again.” 

The man was about to walk past them when his eyes suddenly fell on Velma. A funny look came to his face. “You,” he said, “you’ve encountered Starchild, haven’t you?”

Velma stood there for a second as she tried to think of how to respond. But she couldn’t think of what to say. How did he know? 

He answered before she could ask that. “I can feel it on you; his hypnotic touch always radiates off of those who have been caught in his trance. Be careful, Velma; once he has put you under his spell once, he will never let you go. It has happened before. If you aren’t careful, your next encounter with him will be your last taste of free will.” 

And without another word, he walked briskly away. It wasn’t until he had disappeared around the corner that Velma realized she had never told him her name. 

“Who was that?” Fred said aloud. 

Shaggy was visibly shaking, as was Scooby. “Like why did he have to be so creepy?” 

Daphne scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I swear, this place is full of weirdos. Come on, let’s just go to Demon’s office.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When they entered Demon’s office, they found it was still as shrouded in shadows as it was before. But strangely, as they entered, they were just in time to see him straightening his shirt and wiping his forehead with his sleeve. He looked up at them. “Ah, there you are.” He sat down at his massive oak desk as the gang sat down in the chairs in front of them, and his face turned stern. “So… What happened?” 

The gang all glanced at each other, and then Fred decided to speak. “Well… We set everything up the way we planned. And then at some point Starchild broke into the museum.” 

“And? Did you catch him?” 

“Well… No.” 

Demon frowned darkly, and Velma heard Shaggy whimper in fear. “Then what happened?” 

“Starchild must have figured out our trap,” Daphne said. “He managed to lure Velma into a trap of his own, then knocked her out with sleeping gas.” 

Demon’s eyes widened and he rounded on Velma. “You got captured by Starchild?” 

Velma sighed quietly, but nodded. “Yeah. He knocked me out, and when I woke up, I was tied up in the Japanese wing on the third floor.”

“Did he hypnotize you?” 

Here Velma paused. How was she going to say it? 

Her silence was enough for Demon. He cursed. “Goddammit. I can’t have anyone else getting hypnotized by that…” he sighed in frustration and sat back. “I suppose you don’t remember what he did to you?” 

Velma shook her head. “No, I don’t. But nothing happened.” 

“How do you know that for sure?” 

“I just… I just know nothing happened. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but I know nothing happened after he got me to close my eyes.” 

Demon sighed heavily. “Fine. Did you at least figure anything out concerning him?” 

Everyone looked over at Velma. “Yeah, actually, I did,” she said, steeling herself for what was about to happen. “I figured out you know Starchild. From before you started this manhunt. And that he knows, or used to know, you too.” 

Demon’s face went blank, but he still calmly replied, “Of course I knew who he was. He’s a criminal, but he never became a bigger threat until a few months ago.” 

“But what about the part where Starchild used to know you?” Daphne reminded him. “Is that true?” 

“That isn’t relevant,” 

“But what is relevant is that we didn’t get enough information on Starchild,” Velma spoke, unaware of where this newfound bravery was coming from. “We need more than we’ve been given if we’re going to catch him.” 

“Velma’s right,” Fred nodded. “If we knew more about him, maybe we could set a better trap.” 

“Much of the information you want is classified,” 

“But, like, how’re we supposed to help if we, like, don’t know anything?” Shaggy pointed out. “L-Like, no offense, Mr. Demon, sir.” 

Daphne nodded and gestured to Shaggy. “See?” 

Demon looked like he wanted to argue and throw them out of his office. But finally, he just sighed heavily. “Fine. I’ll give you more information. Is there anything specific you want?” 

“The files on the three missing agents would be nice,” Velma piped up. 

“And details on Starchild’s other robberies would be good too,” Daphne added. “So we can see if there are any patterns.” 

“Your best profile of him, psychological and physical and biographic information included,” Fred threw out. 

“And like, visual cues so Scoob knows what to look for so he can attack,” Shaggy finished, scratching Scooby behind the ears. 

Demon raised an eyebrow. “It seems you’ve got everything figured out,” 

“We wouldn’t be as great as we are if we didn’t think ahead,” Fred said proudly. 

“Fine. I’ll get you the info you want, and anything else I think you may find useful. You’ll receive your files tomorrow.”

His tone of voice left no room for argument, so they all accepted that and walked out. They headed out of the building and piled back into the van. 

“Like, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starved!” Shaggy said aloud as Fred turned on the ignition. “Let’s get lunch!” 

Daphne laughed at him. “We just ate our breakfast not even two hours ago,” 

“Like, exactly!” 

Velma laughed with the others, but couldn’t help falling quiet as Fred began to drive, no doubt looking for somewhere they could eat. The words that that agent had said to her were still playing back in her head. 

Once he has put you under his spell once, he will never let you go. 

If you aren’t careful, your next encounter with him will be your last taste of free will.

See you soon, pretty thorn.

What was she going to do?

Scenes from that novel I’ve been working on!

Yes, I have been working on this.  In disjointed chunks.  But, I’ve been working on it.

So ya’ll can have some out of context scenes from my Invisible Man romance novel!

“Oh, we’re here.” She seemed as startled as he was when the walk, and conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Griffin followed her gaze to the small cottage half shrouded by trees, and frowned under the bandages.

“So we are.” Griffin agreed, not sure what else to say, only trying not to sound disappointed by the fact. The conversation leading up to this had been a heated one. Aster was absolutely insistent on the whole giant octopus thing, which was of course, unlikely. Beyond unlikely. But he’d been enjoying the debate, the distraction from more pressing matters back at the inn.

“You could come in if you want. Have some tea?” She said, starting towards her doorstep, only to pause and wait for him.

Evidently she’d been enjoying herself too. The invitation came as a shock. It shouldn’t have. After all she was about the only person in this miserable little village who didn’t flee at the sight of him. More often than not she seemed to actively seek him out.

He’d just never really considered that before, that she might actually be enjoying these walks. Griffin’s face felt even hotter than usual under the bandages, and he was, just for the moment, very glad to have them.

“I can’t,” he answered, a knee-jerk reaction, he regretted it immediately watching Aster’s face fall in disappointment.

“I’d like to, but,” He gestured vaguely to his swathed face. “Tea’s not really an option.”

“Oh, right, forgot that, sorry.” She offered a half mumbled apology. Her frown was still there, only for an instant more before she brightened.

“Some other time then. When you get those off. We can make it a celebration.” She said, flashing a quick grin as she did so.

Griffin returned it hesitantly. “Yes. That would be...excellent. Really!” It was a foolish thing to agree to, and so earnestly at that. But perhaps the added incentive would help speed along his work.

Aster positively beamed when he agreed. “It’s a date then.” She said, taking the last steps to her doorway and disappearing inside before he could protest terminology, tossing off a quick see you tomorrow as she did so.

Griffin turned around and headed back towards The Coach and Horses, returning in what Mr. Hall would later note seemed to be suspiciously high spirits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The month of May had been an unremarkable one in Iping in as a whole. And for Aster it had been an awkward one, shaded by a quiet melancholy and frustration, as the mystery of the bundled up stranger had been replaced by the more immediate mystery of what, exactly she’d done to upset him.

She’d apologized of course. Not an easy feat when you can’t tell what particular nerve you’ve struck. But she was a big enough person to do that much. Still his absence on her evening walks persisted. And when they did cross paths at The Coach and Horses he was notably terse.

Well fuck Griffin then. His loss really, after all, he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. Whereas Aster at least had Lily and the crows.

She was in the middle of feeding them actually, enjoying Whit Monday in a manner most would count as decidedly unchristian, and not thinking about Griffin. When the birds grew agitated and with the kind of din only a dozen startled birds could muster departed.

Aster had flinched visibly and covered her ears, initially, relaxing when the small murder had receded to a taller tree and staring up at them perplexed.

“What’s wrong?”

Incomprehensible crow noises.

“Very elucidating.”

A quiet cough pulled her attention from the one sided conversation, she whirled to try to find the source finding her yard empty.

“I suspect I upset them.”

She recognized the voice immediately, although the source-

“Griffin?” It was definitely him, she was after all very familiar with that gravelly voice by now, although she’d never heard it quite so tentative, apologetic even? A girl could hope.

“Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” He sounded vaguely exasperated now, if she wasn’t imagining this whole interlude she had probably been imagining the tone before. “About four feet in front of you.”

Aster squinted took a few steps forward, and paused, realization dawning on her.

“As you can see, or, can’t, I suppose... You were right.”

“You’re invisible? Actually invisib- Wait, what’s that.” Aster extended an arm to point at a transparent glob of something floating at roughly stomach level, and was halted, invisible fingers curling around her wrist tightly.

Aster’s heart fluttered at the unexpected contact, whatever else she might have had to say catching in her throat. Tentatively Aster used her disengaged fingers to feel the invisible hand and continue to explore a firm, goose pimpled arm, and pat a muscular chest. Starting as she realized how close they now were, and that Griffin wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Yes. Actually invisible. And that, would be the remains of my breakfast. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go pawing at me” Griffin snapped, pulling his arm away from her, indentations in the grass indicating he took some hasty steps backwards.

“Oh.” Aster managed, suddenly breathless.

“Oh?” He scoffed. “Is that all?”

She bit her lower lip, staring at the disturbance in the grass that demarcated his feet. “Are- Why aren’t you dressed?” Her tone was tremulous of some emotion she could place.

“Because my clothing isn’t invisible.”

“Oh.”

“I hardly think this is the most pressing thing to focus on.” Griffin groused.

“Now that it has been brought to my attention I won’t be able to focus on much else.”

Griffin sighed, she could imagine him tensing his shoulders before hissing out a breath. “Yes. It’s very inconvenient for all involved parties. But there are more important things we have to discuss. I’ve-”

“You’re probably cold, do you want to come inside?”

Being cut off was infuriating in ways he could hardly articulate. Griffin stifled an urge to scream and instead nodded. Remembered the gesture was futile, and spoke.

“Yes.”

Aster felt something brush past her lightly and watched transfixed as the door to her home opened itself and remained ajar waiting for her to follow.

Aster directed him to the kitchen, and put a kettle on.

“You can put down a throw pillow if you want to sit. Can’t imagine the chairs are too comfortable.”

Aster was treated to some vague noise of agreement and the sight of one of her couch pillows drifting to the kitchen table and then being crushed by an unseen weight.

She joined him with a tea tray and two glasses.

“You don’t want to watch me drink.”

“Why not.”

“Because food and drink are visible inside me as it digests.”

Aster nodded. “Makes sense.” There was a pause for her to add sugar to her tea. “Though, I do want to see that. It sounds fascinating?”

“Later then, I’m sure you’ll have the chance. Right now, for the work we need to do I can’t afford to be seen.”

“Work?” Aster looked up at him from the cream she was pouring, quirking a brow as an invitation to elaborate.

“Yes. That’s why I’ve come to you. What I was trying to say outside- although this is better really, a conversation that should be had without risk of interlopers- what I was trying to say outside is that I’ve come to realize I need help.”

Griffin sighed, taking the steaming mug she had prepared for him. In the rising vapour she could make out hints of a face staring pensively into the dark liquid.

“It’s not half as marvellous as it seems.”

“Marvel enough for me.” Aster sipped her tea and waited for Griffin to elaborate.

“I’m glad you’ve taken this calmly. I couldn’t stomach any more hysterics today. I should have- I’ve made a mess of things at the inn. Mrs. Hall was going to evict me!”

“You haven’t paid rent in a month.” Aster was rarely one to take her employer’s side. But technically the woman was well within her rights.

“I was awaiting a remittance.” He grumbled, toying with the mug making it slide around the table in strange motions. “Moreover I’d paid her this morning!”

“It’s a moot point now,” Griffin took a sip of his tea, apparently deciding that whatever it was he needed help with could wait until his digestive track did it’s work.

Aster watched with fascination as he swallowed. It was, admittedly, a bit grotesque when one thought about it. And she imagined watching him eat anything more solid would be far more unpleasant, but still, fascinating.

They drank in silence for a moment, Griffin seemed on the verge of saying something, but was still trying to put it clearly.

Eventually, when Aster had watched enough to satisfy her curiosity she spoke up again.

“What exactly happened at the inn?”

Griffin let out another agitated sigh before he explained. Summarizing briefly his face off with The Halls, attempted arrest and the dramatic reveal of his secret.

Aster listened attentively, interrupting only once to laugh, saying that she would have paid good money to see the look on Mrs. Hall’s face when he handed her his fake nose.

Griffin had admitted it was rather funny. At least until she started in with the shrieking.

By the end of the tale he was pacing the floor from the motion of the tea that had yet to absorb into his system.

“And those fools down there still have my books! All my work in the hands of buffoons!” Fists slammed the table with violent force.

Aster winced at the outburst, and the string of cursing that followed.

“You have to help me get them back.” His chair pulled itself out and presumably he sat. “You will-” There was a desperate edge to his words. One absent from his next order. “You must.”

She was a willing enough accomplice in theory. Watching, or listening to Griffin explain his plight had her won over to his side entirely, but she was contrarian by nature, and couldn't let him think she'd be forced into anything.  No matter distressed he might sound.

“And if I don’t?”

The silence was like she’d struck him.

“If you don’t-” he spoke carefully when he did, as if he hadn’t considered this option. “If- Aster you’re the only one who can. Don’t you understand. I’ve chosen you for this. You’re the only one who understands, who I can trust!” His words were shaky, he rose again to continue pacing.

“I should have revealed myself when you guess. I know I’ve not been- I was- I didn’t know how you would react- You are wasted on this town!”

He ended his disjointed speech abruptly and Aster could feel eyes boring into her, and she flushed at the intensity in his compliment. Too stunned to come up with a response before Griffin could start again.

“And you know it! You’re clear-headed, and clever! While those imbeciles floundered with their inane gossip you had me figured out. I know you can see what invisibility can mean. He moved toward her taking her hands in his and pulling her to her feet. “The power I hold. The things I- we could do. But I must have a confederate. Someone to help with all the trivial inconveniences. Please Aster. Help me, and I will do great things for you.”

They were close now, close enough that Aster could feel the heat of his breath on her face.

“Yeah.” she said quietly, exhaling a shaky breath, not sure wholly what she was agreeing to, only that she couldn’t imagine saying no.

“Yes!” Her second affirmation banished any hesitation and her eyes shone with excitement.

“Absolutely. What’s the plan!”

Olly Olly Oxenfree (part one)

An fic based on the indie horror game, OXENFREE!

or: Joan and Cathy are step-sisters and fuck shit up for everyone, the AU

Also it’s super dialogue heavy I’m so sorry-

also also- Cathy has a beanie

TW: Underage drinking and one (1) weed brownie that’s vaguely mentioned

———————

Ask A Man About A Dog

“It used to be a military base! Well...it used to be a ranching thing, then it turned into a military thing, then it became a bird thing and museum and- whatever! Henry Fonda found a station here for a bit. Unless that’s wrong...”

“Who’s Henry Fonda?”

“And around Christmas time, this little breakfast place used to sell these AMAZING polar bear sugar cookies! MAN, those were good! But then they had to go and change the recipe and ruin it.... Joan, hey? Still with us?”

Joan blinked and looked up from the wine-dark waves lapping at the side of the ferry. She turned, feeling the sensation of pins and needles spreading up her arm thanks to how long she had been leaning against the guard rail, and faced the two girls standing a few feet away from her.

The first was familiar- she was around her height, pale, and had her hair done up in magnificent spacebuns that just screamed that her personality was eccentric. She was grinning like a mischievous gremlin- or maybe a raccoon, to be more realistic, however “monkey” jumped out at Joan, too.

The second was less familiar- very tall, dark skin, and her hair done in a way that would make Joan’s head hurt if she attempted it with her own. At first glances, this girl gave off a bookish appearance, but she seems more extroverted than Joan had been expecting, probably because of the beanie she was wearing (it was most likely just there because of the cold). Still, the image of an owl still remained.

“Yeah, sorry,” She finally said, learning how to speak and enunciate again. She pulled her grey coat closer around her. “My mind drifted for a second.”

Anne scanned her for a moment. Despite being outlandish and wild, she still worried over her friends when she thought something was wrong. That’s one of the many things Joan liked about her.

After the frisk with her eyes, she nodded, then wheeled around on her heels so she would be facing the other two.

“So, you’re all moved in?” She asked.

“Uh— not- not really.” The second girl answered. “I just got in this morning.”

“And how did her mum meet your mum again?” Anne continued with the questioning.

The girl laughed slightly. “They met on vacation in Scotland. She got lost in a— actually, I’m not even gonna tell this story.”

“Uhh, yes, please don’t,” Joan jumped back in. “We don’t need to relive their meet-cute anymore than we have to.”

The waves of the ocean jars the boat slightly. Joan doesn’t miss the way the dark-skinned girl clenches one hand on the guard rail. Anne, however, doesn’t even stumble as she makes her way to the deck to look out on the nearby island.

“And you guys just met tonight?” She asked.

“Yeah,” The girl swiveled around to keep Anne in her sights. “I was, umm... Out of school and the time just had never worked out, so...”

“And what does that make you, then?”

Joan and the girl exchange looks, blinking. They both turn back to Anne, whose eyebrows are raised in interest. That gremlin side of her was coming out strong.

“A, uh...” The girl uses her free hand to scratch her head. “A second cousin?”

“She’s my step-sister.” Joan said cooly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the girl smile at her slightly.

“Oh yeah,” Anne laughed. “I forgot that was even a thing!”

Once again Joan and the girl give each other glances. Joan notes how she seems more relaxed after her step-sister statement, which makes her oddly happy.

“Well, you seem cool!” Anne began again, “Cool girl, cool hat...you get a cool new sibling living right in your house!” She smirks, “Sharing your toothbrush...wearing your clothes...”

“No, that’s-” Joan’s voice falters. She hears the girl snort into her hand. “That’s the weird part. Don’t make it weird, Anne! Getting a new sister isn’t like- like getting a puppy or something.”

“No, yeah, it’s been totally bizarre.” The girl said. “But, for the record,” She looks at Joan, “I don’t consider you to be a pet.”

Those words are left awkwardly hanging in the air before the waves seem to wash them away with another bob to the boat. The girl clenches her hand on the railing again, and uses the other to straighten her beanie, which the wind had been trying to rip right off of her head.

“So...” She started. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh, from way back when! Like, Paleozoic! Grade school era!” Anne said enthusiastically. “Young enough that I’ve seen her naked in a bathtub and it wasn’t sexual at all. I mean, we both looked like little skinned potato blobs-”

“Ahhh, Anne!!” Joan squealed. She could feel her ears flaming red. The girl at her side gave a laugh. “Why are you even talking about that?!”

“It’s humorous!” Anne giggled. Before she could go on and possibly embarrass Joan again, a voice on the ferry’s loudspeaker speaks up.

“PASSENGERS, WE WILL BE ARRIVING SOON. CHECK UNDER YOUR SEAT TO MAKE SURE YOU HAVEN’T LEFT ANY OF YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS.”

And, as it did so, Anne repeated the speech in a bored, stoic voice.

“How do you-?” Joan tilted her head.

“It’s a recording. They always play it.” Anne tells her before she could even finish. “Oh!” A new idea has already popped into her head. “We should get a picture! All of us!”

“Sure, why not.” Joan shrugged. “Come on, Cath.”

The girl nodded and finally pried her hand loose from the guard rail. They both walked over to Anne, who held up her phone and snapped a photo of all of them.

“There, great!” Anne beamed. “Also...it’s Catherine, right?”

“Yeah,” The girl nodded. “But just call me Cathy.”

“Cool! Oh, hey, Joan! You brought the radio, right?”

“Of course,” Joan said, then pulled a small, portable radio out of her pocket. “What’s it for, exactly?” She craned her head around to look at Cathy, “She sent me around twenty messages in all caps to bring this thing.”

Cathy laughed.

“You’ll see,” Anne said. “Trust me, it’ll be cool!”

A horn blares as the mist rolling over the ocean in its own waves of white parted so they could see an island coming up. The ferry begins to slow before coming to a halt at the docks. Anne eagerly bounced off, followed by Joan and Cathy.

“Smell the clean air, boys and girls! Err- Girls! This ain’t city livin’.” Anne said, “So, the others should be up and around the bend and...”

“Actually-” Cathy started abruptly. “I don’t mean to break us up already but- Anne, can I have a moment with Joan?”

“Uhh-” Anne blinked. “Really? I-”

“Is something wrong?” Joan looked up at Cathy- it was only then that she realized how tall the older girl really was. “What is it?”

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong,” Cathy said, sensing her worry. “It’ll take, like, two minutes. Super fast.”

“I really don’t want to go up by myself-”

“No, I need to hear this, Anne. We’ll meet you up ahead, okay?” Joan said.

Anne’s mouth hung half open for a moment before she blinked and scratched her head.

“Umm- Alright. This is a weird way to start out...splitting up...” She said as she began walking away. Soon, she was out of sight, shrouded by the dark fog, and only the sound of the waves lapping the rocky shore was left behind.

But only for a moment.

“Listen,” Cathy started. She looked sheepish. “I just wanted to catch you ahead of time and say you’ve been...cool...about everything. And I guess just for me I’ve- you know, I’ve never moved around anywhere, and getting a new family during it all feels like I’m skipping the training wheels.” She pauses, then hurried to continue, thinking that that was a bad place to stop. “Not that it’s bad it anything! You and your mum have been great.”

“Eh, we’ll make do.” Joan said, shrugging her shoulders to try and mask her own anxiety with the whole thing. “Lemons, lemonade- however that goes.”

“An optimist.” Cathy said bitterly. “Oh, Christ.” She laughed. Joan laughs, too.

It feels nice to laugh with a sister.

“Oh, and thanks for setting up the attic for me. It’s cool how it’s like a little bedroom!”

(It feels nice to laugh with a sister again)

“That was, uhh-”

A pang of pain stabs right into Joan’s heart, wrenching it until it was mush in her chest. She glances wryly at the dark ocean water nearby and then can’t pry her eyes away. If she squints, she swore she could see a flailing figure...

“Joan?”

Cathy’s voice cut through the roaring waves in her ears.

“That was Maria’s room.” Joan whispered.

Breathe. She told herself, Like mum taught you. In five, hold three, out five... Breathe.

“There, uh-” She found her voice again. “There wasn’t that much to set up.”

Cathy’s hands, which had been on Joan’s shoulders to steady her, pulled back. They clench as she seemed to internally cringe for what she had accidentally made her new step-sister say.

“Oh. Oh, man. I’m so sorry.” She said. “I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s okay,” Joan said quickly, “You didn’t know.”

An awkward silence came between them. Instead of looking at the other, they both were scanning the island.

The only thing on the “bottom level” of the island was the docks, some cars, a bookstore, and a large tunnel that was closed off. Once the sisters decided to head back to Anne, they walked up some stone steps planted into the earth and onto the “second level”, where a stone statue of a wave and bird, an antique store, and a café stood. They passed these buildings and met up with Anne after a short hike up a small hill.

“Hello, kids!” Anne chirped, seemingly over her temporary exile. “Listen, the others should be close, so let’s hurry it up. And, as we hightail it, I’ll give you a speed-read of Edward’s Island!” She pauses, then leaned in, whispering, “That’s where we’re at.”

“I know.”

“We got that.”

“Good! Good!” Anne trotted the rest of the way up the hill. “This is a tourist trap with shops and a beach! Nobody lives here except for some geriatric named Mrs. Lee. But, with God as my witness, I will never mention her or any other old person tonight ever again! We are here to drink and be stupid.”

It seemed that their first “stupid act” was using a dumpster to jump a fence because Anne went on to tell them they were not allowed there after dark.

The three of them made their way down a mountainside path, chatting idly and getting to know each other better on Cathy’s part, before a slick, honey-laced voice chimed through the air.

“Reginald! I hear you over there!”

“H-hey, guys!” Anne smiles sheepishly, hopping down from a ledge to get down.

Two more girls now stood before them. One was significantly older than all of them. She had dark skin and curly brown hair that framed her unblemished face perfectly. The other girl was younger than Joan, with brown hair dyed pink at the tips and eyes like a kitten.

“Hey,” Joan waved slightly.

“We started a fire down at the beach.” Said the older girl. “But Kitty here wanted to play beach nanny.”

“I just wanted to make sure they got here before it was completely dark.” The younger girl said.

The older chuckled then looked over at the stranger in the group of three. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cathy.”

“That’s Cathy.” Anne said helpfully. “She’s Joan’s new, fresh-as-a-daisy step-sister! Cathy, that’s Katherine and Catherine. Confusing, right? Three girls with the same name! Except this little one goes by Kitty- she’s my cousin, actually- and the tall one goes by Catalina. Because she’s Spanish...or something.”

“Wait wait wait- Step-sister?” Catalina said. Joan just barely managed to bite back a groan of annoyance at her upcoming attitude. “How does that even work?”

“Her mum married my mum, so...law.” Joan said.

“Well, this is happening, now. This is a thing that is happening.” Catalina said, exasperated. She began walking down the path that led to the beach. “Where’s everybody else?”

“Maud had that thing and then Jane Parker-”

“We’re it.” Joan said for Anne.

“What.” Catalina momentarily swiveled her head around to analyze the whole group. Then, she gave a biting laugh. “Oh my god! It’s just Anne, Joan, and the new step-sister!”

“Yeah, we took the last ferry.” Anne said.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

Everyone looked at Cathy. Then they exchanged scattered glances.

Catalina began leading again, marching her way down to the beach.

“I’m friends with Kitty,” She said. The younger girl gave a gleeful smile at that. “And I’m downgrading Anne to a creepy neighbor.”

“I’ll take it!” Anne said.

“And I just met you.”

“Hey!” Joan barked, “What about me?”

“What about you?”

Joan clenched her jaw, then sighed. She feels Cathy gently nudge her in a friendly way and give her a warm smile as if to say, “I’m your friend.”

Joan smiles back.

The five teenagers get down to the beach, where there was, in fact, a bonfire set up, along with some towels and a cooler. Joan hopes nobody saw the way she nervously glanced at the water.

“So... what’s the thing to do here?” Cathy asked, scanning the area.

“Whatever,” Kitty shrugged. She plops herself down by the fire and smiled at Catalina when she joined her.

“Hey, where does that old woman live?” Cathy asked another question.

“You mean Maggie Lee? She’s dead.” Catalina answered.

“What?” Anne snapped her head over to her.

“Yup. Keeled over three days ago. It was all over the news.” Catalina said. “And to answer your previous question, Cathy, the ‘thing to do’ is lay on the beach and drink until you can’t remember where your are.”

“And,” Kitty piped up, steering the topic away from very illegal underage drinking. “Sometimes play Truth or Slap!”

“Yeah!” Anne perked up. “Let’s play that! We can inaugurate Cathy. Ease her into the festivities.”

“Truth or Slap?” Joan asked stupidly, which prompts Anne to began to explain how it was like Truth or Dare except you just ask questions and get slapped if you’re lying about your answer.

“It’s a good getting to know each other game!” Anne concluded. “I’ll go first!” She turns to Joan with a smirk, “Joan!”

“Uh oh,” Cathy laughed.

“Lay it on me.” Joan smirked back.

“Okay. Kiss, Screw, Kill: Me, Kitty, and Catalina!”

“What?!” Kitty yelped.

“No!” Catalina barked.

“Calm down! Besides, I can’t include Cathy! They’re siblings!”

“Okay, okay... I’d probably marry you, Anne. I’ve known you the longest. Not a lot of surprises!” Joan said.

“Ha! Stay-at-home-wife!”

“Then I’d screw Catalina. Obviously.”

Anne laughed loudly. “‘Obviously’! Not gonna call her out on that?”

“No, I believe her.” Catalina said. “Look at me.”

“And that means you would smother poor little Kitty with a pillow,” Anne said, clutching her heart with one hand and wiping away an imaginary tear with the other.

“Oh shit- Sorry, Kit! It just worked out that way, I swear!” Joan said.

“It’s fine,” Kitty shrugged before snuggling up closer to Catalina’s side.

“So, Joan’s turn now?” Cathy asked.

“Right,” Anne nodded.

“Okay...Uhh...Kitty! Have you ever...peed in a swimming pool?”

Both Anne and Cathy erupt into laughter. Catalina snorts and shook her head, clearly not surprised. Kitty wrinkled her nose.

“Ugh, no!”

“Nice question,” Catalina snickered. “I wanna go now. Joan. You got a new sister. Pretty exciting. I’m sure Cathy is pretty excited, too. Or maybe ‘excited’ isn’t the word. Maybe a little unsure...overwhelmed...”

“No, I’m- I’m fine. I’m fine.” Cathy said.

“Yeah, see, she’s-” Joan shook her head. “What’s the question?”

Catalina took a sip of the beer she’s holding, then looked Joan directly into the eye and asked, “Why’d your mum finally decide to get married?”

Joan’s heart twisted.

“Just so Cathy can hear it from you.”

Kitty and Anne immediately began giving each other anxious looks. Cathy appears to be a little shocked until she calms her expression.

“Catalina, I don’t care why her mum-”

“You know why.” Joan said. Her eyes are dark, just like the nearby water. Just like the water on that- “Maria- died and it broke everything and she just needed someone there to try and pick up the pieces. The end.”

(Water roars in her ears- water rushes down her throat- water chokes her and holds her and consumes her until- until- until-)

(She’s screaming so loud SO LOUD WHY WON’T ANYONE HELP WHY IS SHE SLIPPING AWAY SOMEBODY HELP-)

“Well, now you know, Cathy. Don’t die and everything will be fine.” Catalina said.

Once again, there was a tense silence. Anne breaks it by saying she wanted to go check out the nearby caves, which Cathy and Joan agree to.

One quick hop over a fence (and a weed brownie eaten by Anne) later, the three of them find themselves inside of a large cave with three small rock piles set up.

“So, what you gotta do is stand right here and tune your radio until you find a ‘signal’.” Anne explained. “That’s why we brought it.”

Joan nodded and took the radio out. She began to rotate the little dial around, mainly getting plain static for a few minutes before a strange sound cut through the white noise.

Well, there was that and an ominous blue flickering from a crevice in the cave wall.

“Holy crap!” Cathy yelped.

“It worked!” Anne cried. “That was so cool! Do it again!”

Joan nodded and walked over to the next pile, tuning in her radio. Once again, the thing sputters loudly and the nearby light flashes.

“This is so cool!” Cathy exclaimed.

“I know!” Joan beamed excitedly at her.

“Do the last one, Jo!”

“I will! I will!”

And she does.

And, like the last two times, the sound returns, but this time more garbled and grating.

“Agh-” Cathy winced. She sees Joan press a hand to her ear. “It sounds so...”

“It sounds, agh-” Joan’s temples pulsate. She pulls her hand back, surprised to see no blood because she swore her eardrums ruptured. “It sounds, like...painful.”

A sound returns- however, this one was different, like a staticky moaning noise. Almost...human.

“There’s something in there.” Cathy said, walking over to the crack in the cave wall.

“Yeah, I see it, too.” Joan agreed.

“I’m gonna go check it out.” Cathy suddenly said. A moment later, she’s gone.

“Wh- That’s such a bad idea!” Anne cried.

“Cathy! Wait up!”

“WAIT UP?!” Anne looked at Joan like she was insane.

“I’ll be fine,” Joan assured her friend. “Wait here.”

With that, she slips in through the crack.

Immediately, the feeling of claustrophobia embraces her as the passageway was a lot longer than she had been expecting. She shuffles awkwardly through the tight space, feeling the cold, biting stone chafe into either sides of her. She could barely even breathe completely because the rock pressed against her chest, almost like it was trying to suffocate and trap her.

Right as she was about to panic, or maybe turn back, Joan pops out and into a large tunnel. It’s lit up by bioluminescent moss, but it’s far too bright, even with the glowing plants...

“Cathy?” She called out as she began to walk down the passageway. “Cathy, where are you?!”

No answer.

Not even an echo.

Chills ran up and down Joan’s spine. The feeling of eyes bearing down on her followed her through every twist and turn she took in that cave, but whenever she turned around, there was nobody there.

“Cathy?” Joan said again, this time more frantic. “Cathy, are you okay? Can you, like, scream or something?”

Nothing.

“Cathy?”

A shadow stretches across the jagged, rocky ground.

“Cathy!”

“AH!!”

Cathy leapt backwards as Joan just about charged her like an angry (but fuzzy) little lamb. She put a hand on her chest, reintroducing her lungs to oxygen as Joan tears strips off of her.

“What were you thinking?!” Joan barked. “I was so worried! I thought you, like- like died or something! Do you know what that would have done to me? How would I explain that to mum? Your mum- my mum- both!!”

“Okay, okay, I get it! You’re mad!” Cathy held her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I just- I thought I heard something down here. A voice.”

Like that, Joan’s rage vanishes. Cathy wished she had led in with the whole voice thing.

“A voice?” Joan tilted her head like a confused puppy (or a lamb).

“Yeah.” Cathy turned and began walking further into the cave. “It was so...weird...”

Cathy’s voice trailed and died off as she and her sister ducked under an overhand and passed into a large cavern filled with huge crystals. An underground lake day in the middle, glistening in an unknown light source. The only ruddy-looking thing in that beautiful space was a rusty locker on the opposite of the shore.

“Oh my god,” Joan whispered.

“Holy- Joan,” Cathy grabbed and shook Joan’s elbow frantically. “Do you see that?!”

Joan blinked and looked up. It didn’t take long for her to realize what ‘that’ was.

A floating triangle.

A fucking floating, spinning triangle in the middle of the air.

“It- it must be some kind of...reflection...a rainbow...” Cathy was at a loss for words. “Those-those are things, right? Cave...triangle rainbows.”

“Sure,” Joan said slowly. “Let’s go with that.”

“I think this may be caused by when you ‘tuned in’ back at the beach.” Cathy said. “Maybe try it again?”

Joan glanced up at her, then nodded and took out her radio. She began to twist the dial until the triangle in the air shuddered and started to pulsate. A small, iridescent line stretched out from one of the tips.

“Oh- my god.” Cathy whispered. “Is this— are you— is this— YOU? Are you doing this?”

“Uhh- I-I think?” Joan stammered before tuning in again.

The line grew longer until it formed a second triangle. Joan felt a beating against her brain, almost like a second pulse that wasn’t hers and, by the way Cathy winced at her side, her sister felt it, too.

“I can’t even, like— what is— what?!”

“I-I know! I know!” Joan cried. She tuned in one last time and-

-and the triangle was complete.

Within the glowing shape, all there was was murky green. It was shuddering in the air, pulsating visible red vibrations.

“What the...”

“...hell...” Cathy finished for her sister.

̵̥͍̮̯̙́̈́́͆͋ ̵̧̬͓̆̈́̒͋“̶̼̈́̎̏H̵͖̓̒̅ͅę̴̥̥͇̌͊̏l̴̲̟̼̜̭͝l̸̛̜̩̖͚̜͝ő̷̞̎̓.̶̪̭͕̊̔̒ ̶̡̧̮̿D̸͓̍ȩ̵̻̰̖̲͐͋̄̈́͝å̴̲̽͝͝ͅṟ̵̟̐̀͗̽̕.̸̢̘͕͔̲̄͂͛ ̶͚̥͉̤̊̎̌͑͠T̶̪̏ê̶̢̯̩̻l̶̛̉̎͜ĺ̶͈̻̯̱̓̈́̕̚ ̴͎͍̆̀̐̍̀è̸̛̥̀̈́̈́v̶̩̯̯͠e̷̮͌̕͜r̷̤̍̉͝y̵̠̰̙͔̏ọ̵̠̠͗ͅn̶̢̯̥̎͜e̶̻̘̰̯̳̾̌́͝ ̸̛̘̪̬̤ȟ̴̨̢͎̺͆e̸̢̺̹͆̎ͅl̷̢̜͝ĺ̵̞͖̬͙̃͆̋͜͝ö̸̬́̊̄.̴͓̱̝͚̗̔̀”̶̰̝̠͓͋̂̐ Spoke an unknown garbled voice. It sounded as if snippets from radio programs were ripped out of their channels and used to form the words. There were tons of people talking at once, tons of voices. And, when it- they- speak, the pounding in Joan’s brain beat in time with each word.

“H-hello?” Joan said. She glances anxiously at Cathy, who is stunned into silence.

̵̨̠͍̄͛ ̶̱͆̀̾͂̂“̵͕̃͝S̴̟̰̊͌̕͜l̶̥̬̃̿ë̷͇́̏̈́̇́e̷͍͎͚̎p̷͕̼̠͂̾̀̑ȳ̸̦́ ̶̩̔͋̃t̵̬̞͉͍͆̐̓͘ĭ̶̢͓͇̇̉̎͝ṃ̴̡͕̔̏̎̑͜͝ḛ̵̙͉̘̿̃̀͊̓ ̴̢̫͈̟̓̒͠ͅg̵̣͂̿ͅą̵̞̙̺̈́̇̿l̴̥̰͇̠̇̃.̸͔̏ ̸̟̗̺̋͛́̑̕E̶͙̙̫̠̮̾̄v̷̗̯̯͙́͒͛͛̑ē̵̢̧͉̻͌͝ȑ̸̨̖͜ỵ̷͕̳̮͒́͊̑̔t̵̬̩̭̤͖̓̍̍͋h̷̙̤̼͑̾͜ï̸̻͇͊͜n̵͎̈́g̸̢̤̻̝̕͜ ̵̡̛̼͉̒͝f̶̙̌͠i̷̯͂n̷̗̪͆e̷̩̪̫̺̒̿̔ͅ.̴̗͒́͜ ̵̨̛̟̻̄̓͝͠H̷̢̳̪̣̓̋ő̷̧p̴̧͕͕̗̯̂e̷̘̬̯̿̀͗ ̸̲͍̟̞̱̈́̌͊͝t̷̫͆̈́͆̓̆h̶̩͎̠̜̎̐͝i̶̠̳͒͗̔̽ǹ̸̹̻̣͍̀̽̚g̵̯͇̗̋s̷̢̡̞̖̾̀̕ ̴̳̲̾͋̏a̸̡̼͍̓̑r̶̫̪̮͖̾̍͋̂̇e̶͖̯͖̹̓̌́ͅ ̵̭̪͔̬̟͐͌̒̈̕s̶̭͇̞̬͐͑͂a̶̖͎̣̓̆͆̽͠m̸̫̙̺̈́ḙ̵̢̥͖̓͂͐̀̚͜.̸̢͓̖̓̋͊ ̴̭̞͓̺̱̔̾͒̾D̴̳͚̅͊́͒ŏ̵͖̫̥͚́̐͆n̵̢͔̭̬̂’̴͇̼̔͑t̶̫͑ ̴̛̹̹ḱ̵̡͎̄n̴͖̓̔͝ő̷̺͓̬̺͌̍w̸̡̥̖̼͋̽̌ ̸̱͓̞̀̈́͌͗̚ḯ̵̫̫̘f̸̡̫̝̖͊̈ ̸̗̠͉̖̹͊̎͝ļ̵̱͗̃͐͆͘e̴̡̡̲̬̙̓̄̑͝ȃ̷͓̜̈ͅv̷̡̠͇̠̀e̴̯̯̞̜̖̕ ̴̢̬̮͂̐̈́͘̚i̷̩̰͇̐̌͒s̴̬̥̫̤̒ ̸̘̝̬͑͜p̸̦̺̕ọ̶̟͕̞̱̈͠s̵̢͙̩͈̩͒̕s̵̼̍̈́̑͘i̴͚̠̖̯͗̓͝b̵͔̰̆͝l̷̨͍̝̻̍́͑̊͗ȩ̶̞̻͗́͋͘.̶̡͕͚̱̭̌͝”̷̩̳̼͍̓̀͠͠ Said the voices.

“This...is insane.” Cathy breathed out. Her hand takes Joan’s and squeezes it tightly, reassuringly.

̴̫̲̦̬̐̓̍̕ ̴͎̓̏̀̄͝“̵̝̬̝͖̩͊̂L̴̠͚̐̑̅̿͝ī̶͇̦͌͑s̷̤͈̩̈́͗̇̇̽t̷̨̺̰̄̌̇͘ͅe̵͙͊̃n̶̟̝͙̎̋̒̾̈́.̴̯̝̋̈̍͝ ̸̨̦͍̰͇̅̽B̵̗͙̝͋̍͜ò̶̙̺͙b̴͚̯̻̄͊̔͠ ̷̙̫̲̣̙̈́̑͊̚͝t̸̞̬̜̰̉̐͝ä̴̝̥̗́̎i̸̡̔̎l̷̝͇̳̩̮̓.̶͙̭͓̏́ ̷̻̣͓̽̓̋͒S̶̖͂̄h̵͕̘͗ă̴̗̱̤͙͙̆̒͝v̴͙͓͉̗̎͊ͅė̷̟̪̦ ̵̻̙̱̠̿̈́̈́ṯ̵̥͗́́͘͜ã̴̼̰͚̞̕͝ȋ̴̲̝̘͖̟̉͌̀ľ̷̪̜͕̜͍̈́̐͋͠.̴̢͎̼͛̓͜͠ ̵̛̘̉̅͠Ṩ̷̝̉̍l̵̝̘̞̼͛͌̈́͊ẹ̵̐̂̍͆͗e̵̥̔̅̏̓́͜p̶͈̜͈͍̂̌͜y̸̟̖͔̣̕ ̸͎͙̖̞͗̈̍̚t̸̗̤̻̏ỉ̴͔̅̇m̷̨͖̠̍ͅḛ̵̛ͅ ̸̡̱̰̲͕̋̉̾̾g̷͈̀͠a̴̛̛̠̒l̵͖̹̅̌͝.̴͉̥̫͖͆͑̅͜”̷͉͑̉͆͠ ̵̞̦̥̄̓͂̀ Said the voices. “̴̢̰̗̯̎́̀̔͒͜Ỉ̶͙͔̖̃ś̶̖̫̣̥̿̔̎.̵̲͊̽͝ ̷̻̭̯̬͍͐̕͘L̷̮̜͖̯̀é̸̬̬̓͗ͅå̶̖͔̈v̷̳̖͖̈́e̸̖̪̿̏͝.̴͎͍̫̪̿ͅ ̵̢͔̥̗̥̀̀̊̽͝P̷̖̞͐ọ̶̏̾̕s̶̖͒͒̍̆š̵̝̭͓̌̏i̵̖͂b̴̛̜͂̀͝l̸̖̑͑͋͛e̵͓͓͑͑̐.̶̥̟̦̳̆̓͠”̶̱̇͊̍

Joan swallowed thickly. She could taste blood on her tongue. Her brain is being turned to mush inside of her head.

“Umm...” She looks at Cathy unsurely. Her sister is pale and visibly in pain. There’s a thin line of blood trickling out of her right ear. “M-maybe?”

̶̳̠̮̦͈̏̃͝ ̵̧̤̠̥̳̽̾̇̚“̴̘̽̏̆B̶̧̗̹̤̻̏̕o̶͖͈̟͗̊̂͐b̵͉̙̝̯̜̾͆̈́ ̶̢̈́͊͘ẗ̸͚́a̶̮͋i̸̥͐͒̅̀̈l̵̞̓̄̕ͅ.̴̟̻̯̤̘́̌ ̸̥̱̉L̶̨̻̗͐͒e̷̜͔̎͒̂̅́á̵̩̤v̸͎͍̮̟͍̒̄̓è̷̼̜̓͐ ̵̡͆́͝c̸̻̹̺̬͐̀̑͋̓h̶̟̤̊̋i̸͙̲͎̞͒̈́̈́l̴͕̞̗̦̍d̴͓̹̿̽̑̕͠r̸̦̍͠ȇ̷͇ṉ̵̨̬͇̽͆͝.̴̣̩̯͇̦̏̔̅ ̴̪̖͓̖̿͊̚M̸̱͛͐͘ý̶̢̛̙̳͍̑̍͘ ̴̯̣̄͌m̷̖̟̜̬̺͌̄͆͌͘õ̴̰̜̹͌̈́͜t̷͎̾͊̇h̶̗̗̬̅̿̉͗͐ę̸̳̤̞͎͝r̶̞̝̲̩̤̽ŝ̸̞.̷̨̩̻͇̤̌ ̸̨̣͔͕͙̂̒W̸̱̤̮̹̜̉̈́̃͝ȋ̵̺̪̽l̶͔̞͈̺̐̐̉̿l̴̤̭̈́̒͐͌͝ ̸̡̤̉̿s̷̹̘͆̈́́̂͝e̴̢͇̹̭̭͑e̷̘͓͛̑͝ ̶̀́̚͜t̷̗͔̔͛̂̈́̚h̶̼̖͌̍è̵̲̲̞̼͖̀̓͝m̴̗̣͗́̄̕͜ͅ ̸̣̞͎̑̏s̷̻͐̈́̕ỏ̴̜͚͔o̸̪̜̓͋͋̕n̸̢̲̖͙͚̊̿͝.̷̮̈͂”̵͙̘̝͎̤̉̿͐͝ ̶̪͙̟͖͐̋̉̆̆

The ground began to shake. The triangle shudders harder. Cracks shoot through all the crystals and they crack and break into razor sharp shards. The pulse in Joan’s head turned into roaring, painful white noise.

“JOAN!!” Cathy shrieks.

A force seems to be ripping them apart.

“CATHY!!”

Her vision distorts. The feeling of phantom water rushes down through her eye sockets- she’s underwater.

Joan is underwater.

And down with her is debris.

Debris falling at an agonizingly slow rate.

She screams.

Bubbles explode from her lips.

A chunk of metal falls down, down, down.

The spray of bubbles turn red.

As Joan is cut in two by the debris.

She just barely feels it slice into her belly when-

“̷̝̋̈́Ḃ̷̩̒͋̍ō̵̱̖͔͙̄̓̊̅b̸̡̤̀̈́ ̵̪͕̮̌̏̈́͛̃t̵̰̪̬͕̹̕ȁ̷̘̌͆į̴͚̹̿̕l̵̡̗̬͈̗̎͑̿͐̚.̶̧̉͗̅̏ ̷̠̋͝S̸̢̗͙̞̔̈́h̴̙͉̥͚̑̊̾͝a̵̺̖̼̲̲͊̀̈́v̷̫̲̖͙̓e̸̼͑͂͐̑͌ ̵͔̬̑ť̵̛̖͘a̶̡̫̭͌͋̿͐͘ḭ̶͕̀̔͒l̴̡̩̮̲̩̑.̴̨̛͍͙́̀”̵̭̤͍̠̄́̐

-all goes black.

Hi, ladies! Just wanted to say I love the stories, and one of my favorite ones is Come Hell or Helwater, and I'd love to see more of it ♥️��️

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Come Hell or Helwater - Part Nine

Claire tried to get more information from Isobel as she followed the girl through the mud of the yard to the main house. The rain had let up earlier that afternoon but clouds shrouded the moon suggesting that the reprieve would only be a temporary one.

“Your sister sent you to fetch me?” she asked.

“I wanted to send for Mother but she said I shouldn’t bother her and that I wasn’t to wake anyone in the house, so I asked if I could come for you and she said I could if it would make me feel better,” Isobel explained, rambling in her anxious state.

Claire felt the surge of adrenaline begin to abate as they came to one of the servants’ entrances near the kitchen in the back of the house.

“Wait,” she urged Isobel in a whisper. “If we need to be quiet about this, I want you to tell me now what’s happened. Why did you want to fetch anyone? You said there was blood?”

Isobel looked longingly at the door for a moment before turning back to Claire and taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what woke me exactly. Usually it doesn’t take too much—the wind or the rain. That’s what I thought it was at first—the wind picking up because the rain was starting again. It sounded like it was howling but as it went on, I realized it wasn’t the wind at all.” Isobel blinked back at the sympathetic wetness gathering in her eyes. “It was Geneva. She was crying, trying to muffle it in her pillow. My room is across the hall from hers. We used to sneak out of bed and climb in with one another when we were younger and had difficulty sleeping or if we heard the other wake with nightmares. I found her in bed but there was some blood too—on her hands and on her shift.”

“But she was conscious and coherent,” Claire said, clarifying and reassuring Isobel. “We’ll be as quiet as we can but from what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like she’s in immediate danger. Now… lead the way.”

Isobel seemed calmer as she led Claire into the deserted kitchen. Claire held her back a moment, grabbing a towel and urging her to clean her feet, which, to Claire’s horror, were bare. She also did her best to wipe the mud from her own shoes and minimize the evidence of their trail through the house. Satisfied, she nodded for Isobel to continue showing her the way up the servants’ stairway to the side of the house where the family’s sleeping quarters were.

It was strange to be in that part of the house and not encounter another soul. Each time Claire had gone to see and treat Lady Dunsany there had been housemaids and other servants scurrying around—tending fires, replacing flowers, dusting, carrying clothes to be washed and mended… The carpeting was thick and muffled the sound of their footsteps, even when they passed over spots where the floorboards beneath groaned under their weight.

Isobel didn’t knock, just tried the handle and then the door eased open on silent hinges and Geneva stood before them looking composed and annoyed on the surface, but Claire noted the puffiness around her eyes and the strain in the way she held herself ushering them in and closing the door behind them.

“You… you’ve changed,” Isobel whispered, glancing at Geneva’s crisp shift.

“Go to bed, Isobel,” Geneva instructed her sister. “I let you go for Mrs. Mackenzie, now please, go to bed.”

Isobel looked to Claire with uncertainty and reluctance. Claire took one look at Geneva and smiled at Isobel to reassure her. “Go on,” she said warmly. “I’ll make sure she’s alright and then I can see myself out. You’ve done everything you should’ve and now you need your rest.”

Conceding, Isobel slipped back to the door and across to her own room, Geneva going to peek into the hallway to see that Isobel’s door closed as she’d been bid before shutting her own once more. Claire noticed the momentary ripple of relief through Geneva’s shoulders before she turned and the tension was back holding her straight and tall, that polite smile on her lips.

“I’m sorry my sister pulled you from your bed and wasted your time. I assure you I’m fine. I don’t know what notions she got into her head but I’m sure it was some dream that she couldn’t shake once she woke,” Geneva told Claire, her voice quiet and apologetic.

“If that were true you wouldn’t have put the fear of God into her about waking anyone up,” Claire challenged her as gently as she could, “and the shift she said was stained with blood wouldn’t be in your fireplace now. You’ll need to be sure every last scrap burns or it’ll start gossip. Now, first things first, are you injured or in any pain?”

Geneva held Claire’s gaze, defiant and proud for a moment but her eyes were beginning to shine in the darkness. “No,” she yielded at last.

“Will you tell me what happened and let me examine you? If there was bleeding, I just want to be sure it’s safely stopped and if it needs to be dressed that it’s treated properly so you don’t contract an infection,” Claire explained.

Geneva remained tight lipped but Claire could see flickers of the war she was waging with herself.

“I swear to you that anything you say to me in this room will be held in complete confidence,” Claire assured her. “It was part of the oath I took when I became a healer. I won’t share anything about this with anyone—not even your mother. You are my patient and your needs are my priority.”

A dam inside Geneva cracked enough for silent tears to begin weaving their way down her cheeks. Claire took slow steps toward Geneva, realizing again just how young she truly was behind the bravado. She loosely put her arms around Geneva and gave the girl her shoulder to cry on. Geneva remained stiff for a moment but the crack in the dam split wider and she needed to grab hold of something or risk being swept away. She clung to Claire while her body shook with silent sobs.

“I have an idea of what might have happened,” Claire whispered when Geneva had transitioned from jarring shakes to a more controlled trembling. Claire pulled back so she could look Geneva in the eye. “I know you said you’re not injured but I need to know, were you attacked?”

Geneva failed to look indignant though Claire had the impression she was trying as she shook her head and pulled out of Claire’s grasp. She turned to the bed, staring at the bedclothes, still rumpled from sleep… and perhaps more.

“I… asked him to come,” Geneva said quietly. “It was my choice. I thought…” her voice wavered and there was an audible hitch as she drew in a deep breath before continuing. “I thought… it would be easier… marrying Lord Ellesmere and… I thought it would be easier if I could at least choose for myself…” She turned to face Claire again, tears shining in her eyes and her expression furious and terrified. “But how can I go through with it now? I thought, one night. I thought it would be enough to have that first time be someone I wanted.” She sighed and dropped onto the bed, leaning forward, her hands curling in the fabric of her shift. “How am I supposed to share that man’s bed when I know what it’s like to…”

Claire crossed and eased herself down beside Geneva, careful not to touch her or otherwise spook her.

“I thought my husband was dead for ten years,” Claire told Geneva. “I had a child who needed a father… so I was married to another during those ten years… and shared that man’s bed. I had known him before and he was a good man.” Not as good as she’d remembered or maybe it was that their time apart had changed them both. It didn’t matter anymore. “It’s… different… Physical desire is only one part of the equation when it comes to sex. Even that… the body reacts sometimes, whether you want it to or not. But it’s different when it’s with someone you truly care about… someone you love,” Claire said gently. “I lay with my other husband during those years and… even when I enjoyed it… it was never quite what I have now.”

“I fancied him when we were younger but assumed he saw me as a sister because of how close he and Gordon were. I didn’t know he fancied me too. I was just… desperate… when I hinted at what I wanted… But he agreed. And when he came earlier… he told me he loves me and if he could have… he would have said or done something. But he has nothing to offer that my parents…” Geneva rambled, the words pouring forth, carried along by the combined weight of the burden and the swirling emotions.

“It wasn’t an attack but did he hurt you?” Claire asked. “He wouldn’t necessarily have meant to…”

Geneva shook her head. “Not more than he’d warned me about. He… he started with kissing me and then we moved to the bed and he touched me too.” Geneva’s legs clamped together tight, trapping whatever sensation her memory conjured. “And it felt… so good,” she sighed.

She wasn’t looking at Claire but rather at the shift slowly burning in the hearth. Claire wasn’t sure Geneva registered her presence at all.

“He told me that from what he’d heard it would probably hurt the first time but that he’d try to be gentle and quick about it. And he was right. It did hurt a little at first but then it started to feel good again and I didn’t want him to stop. He told me to lie still and he took a cloth to clean me up… there. I bled a little but it had stopped. I asked if he would come to my room again and he smiled and said we had more time before he had to leave—that the next time would be better. And it was. He said he loves me and I told him I love him and… we made love.”

Claire could just make out the color rising in Geneva’s cheeks and suspected it wasn’t from embarrassment or her own presence.

“I fell asleep after and when I woke… he’d gone. It was like I’d woken from a perfect dream and then I realized… I had.” She turned to Claire again, her self-consciousness beginning to return. “It’s like it didn’t really happen. It’s not going to stop my wedding or change anything except now I know what it should be like, what it is I’ll never have.” The tears were winding their way silently down her cheeks again, her attention shifting to the few bloody scraps of fabric that remained in the hearth. “I realized I was bleeding again and I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I must have been making some noise because that’s when Isobel came to check on me and… you know the rest.”

Claire slowly extended her hand and took one of Geneva’s, giving it a squeeze of sympathy.

“As I said before, I won’t breathe a word. But you should consider telling your sister. Aside from the fact that she’s worried for you, I think it will help you to have someone more than me to share this with,” Claire suggested. “Now… I’d like to give you a physical examination to be sure the bleeding isn’t a sign of something more but I’ll need natural light for that. I can give you some herbs that will help ease the soreness—because trust me, even if you don’t feel it right now, you will feel sore. You need to let them steep in warm water and use a cloth to apply them—not soaking wet, but rung out and tucked between your legs like you would during your courses for a few minutes at a time. Say you have a headache and ask if I can come make something for you. That’ll give us a chance to get in a physical exam.”

Claire rose from the bed and carried the medical bag closer to the hearth, so she could use its light to find what she was looking for.

“Thank you, Mrs. Mackenzie,” Geneva said with a sincerity Claire had never heard from the young woman before but the formal edge was beginning to return. “Your discretion is appreciated.”

Claire merely nodded as she pulled the corners of a scrap of cloth around the little pile of dried herbs, twisting the ends and tying them with a bit of leftover twine from her bag. Then she carried it over and held it out for Geneva to take. “For ten years I believed my husband was dead and that I’d never again have what Jamie and I shared… But I was wrong and it’s still there and is even more precious for having thought it lost.”

Geneva looked up at her, the reluctance to hope raw in her eyes but its spark sinking in nonetheless.

“I wouldn’t entirely give up on your young man if I were you. Life has a way of surprising us and Mr…?”

“Daniel,” Geneva murmured.

“Ten years is a long time but I guarantee you’ll be in a different situation then than where you find yourself now.”

A/N: Hey there! So, we already posted this but we noticed its now blocked, even though written stuff is supposed to be ok. So, here it is again. We have more things we’re working on so stay tuned!

Taehyung x Reader x Jimin Office! au

Word count: 5,060

Warnings: Dirty talk, blow job, fingering, semi-public sex, threesome, double penetration, Hard Dom! Taehyung, Soft Dom! Jimin, Sub! Reader

Summary: Office gossip spreads quickly. When one of the geekiest guys in the office hears you making fun of him and his friend, they decide to prove you wrong.

You sit at your desk, rubbing your eyes, taking a break from staring at the computer screen. “Miss Y/L/N, can I see you in my office?” Your boss, Mr. Kim said. You sigh, knowing if he’s calling you into his office it’s anything but good. “Yes, sir.” You say, standing up and straightening out your skirt and blouse before strutting to his office, a false sense of confidence shrouding you. You step into the office, and he closes the door behind you. You take a seat, and he circles around to his desk chair. “Y/N.” He sighs, fixing his hair slightly. “Namjoon.” You reply jokingly. You had to admit, you enjoyed being in his office, although it didn’t happen often. You two had been close friends for years, but once you got to work that had to change. He wasn’t allowed to show favoritism, so you both kept things professional around the other employees. “I’ve been getting complaints about you gossiping about some of your colleagues, is that true?” He asks seriously. “Joon, everyone gossips, you know that.” You reply, leaning back in the seat and crossing your legs. “Who was it, anyway?” “Well, Park Jimin said he overheard you and a few others talking about him and Kim Taehyung.” He says. Those bastards. The two dorkiest guys in the office. They didn’t talk to anyone except each other, and whenever approached by a female colleague, they’d freak out like school kids, dropping their paperwork with a yelp. “Those guys? Who doesn’t talk about them?” You chuckle. Namjoon looks at you, his face expressionless. “Y/N, you can’t do that anymore. Got it?” He says. You roll your eyes, nodding. “Yes, sir.” You say before standing up. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, want to come over later? Yoongi and Jin are coming over, we’re having a little party. You in?” He asks, completely slipping out of his boss persona. “You know it.” You smile, giving him a high five before leaving his office. The rest of the day passes by slowly, and you thank any god that exists when the clock hits 5 pm. You sigh in relief, shutting down your computer and packing your bag. You say your goodbyes to a few of the co-workers you tolerate, your heels clicking as you make your way to the exit, when you’re stopped by someone calling you. “Y/N! Miss Y/N! Wait!” You hear. You turn around, seeing Park Jimin waving his arms above his head. You sigh, rolling your eyes and turning to meet him. “Yes?” You ask, irritation laced into your voice. “Um, can we talk? In uh, in the break room?” He stutters, looking everywhere but your eyes. “Fine, but make it quick.” You sigh, following him to the room. He opens the door for you, and you see Taehyung sitting at the table, his hands folded. He doesn’t look like the normal Taehyung you know, though. His glasses are placed on the table in front of him, his normally slicked back, blond hair tousled, and his over sized jacket hanging on the back of his seat, along with his tie. You had to admit, he looked really good. You heard Jimin lock the door behind you, and watched as he walked around, closing the blinds around the room. The whole time you felt Taehyung’s gaze on you, and you were very confused. “Y/N, sit down.” Taehyung says, his voice octaves lower than normal. “Um, okay.” You say nervously. You sit down in the seat across from him, watching Jimin as he paces towards the seat next to Taehyung. He takes his glasses off, messing up his soft crimson hair. He slides his jacket off, and you watch as his fingers loosen his tie, pulling it off and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. He sits down, taking on the same position as Taehyung. You look between the two men, confused. The two quiet guys you’ve grown to despise were gone, and what was left before you were men that you would gladly get on your knees for. “Um, I’m confused here, what’s going on? Why do you two look so different? If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re totally different people.” You chuckle, leaning back in your seat. “Nope, I can assure you that we’re Jimin and Taehyung. Crazy, huh? How someone can look so different by just a little clothing.” Taehyung smirks. “I mean, you guys should dress like this, you’d be eye candy for the office instead of being jokes.” You sass, annoyed that they’re wasting your time. “Well, if we dressed like this all the time no one would be able to concentrate.” Taehyung says. Cocky son of a bitch. You liked it though. The difference between the Taehyung you knew and the one sitting before you excited you. You liked him. Jimin sat next to him quietly, his eyes roaming your body for a moment. “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about, Y/N. The jokes. You’re spreading things about us that aren’t true at all.” Jimin pipes up. “Yeah, Mr. Kim told me you tattled. So?” You ask, crossing your arms. “Well, why don’t you tell us what you said about us?” He asks. You laugh at this. “Are you serious? I don’t have to tell you two anything.” You laugh. Taehyung huffs in irritation. “Well, Jimin, looks like we have a brat on our hands.” He says deeply, looking at you while running his tongue over his teeth. “You’re right. We definitely know how to handle brats.” Jimin says with a smirk. “Now, I’ll ask you one more time, Y/N, tell us what you said about us.” “No.” You say, standing your ground. “Hm. Okay then. Well let me just say what you said.” He says, sighing. Taehyung turns expectantly towards Jimin. “Y/N here said we can’t talk to women. She said we’d probably apologize for dirty talk since we’re so shy, and that we’re probably so shy because of how small our dicks are, and that we’d never get laid.” Jimin repeats your words from you conversation at the water cooler. Taehyung scoffs at the words, turning back to you. “Oh, baby, you have no idea how wrong that is.” He says deeply, causing chills to shoot down your spine. You have to admit, you have a thing for deep voices and nicknames, and you couldn’t help but seeing the two men in a different light. “So why exactly am I here. You want to whine to me about it? Ask me to stop?” You ask. “Oh no, baby girl. We’re here to prove you wrong.” Jimin says. “Prove me wrong? Ha! That’s not gonna happen. I bet you guys are small as hell and this ‘baby girl’ shit is just you trying to pull some joke on me.” You scoff. “Oh really? Hm. Ok then.” He says, sighing and standing up. He walks over to your side of the table while Taehyung keeps his eyes trained on you. “Baby, don’t you think your shirt in buttoned a little too low? It shows a lot of cleavage. Who are you showing off for, huh? Is it Mr. Kim? I saw you went to his office earlier. He’s fucking you, isn’t he?” Taehyung says, raising his eyebrows. “No, I’m not fucking him. We’re friends.” You reply, feeling Jimin’s presence behind you. “Friends? Friends with benefits? I wouldn’t be surprised, you do seem like the kind of girl who’d do anything for some good dick.” He smirks. “Are you calling me a slut?” You ask. “Hm, I don’t know. We have to find that part out. What do you say? Do you want to see some good cocks?” He cockiness pisses you off and turns you on at the same time, but you refuse to give in. “Your tiny baby carrots? Yeah, right. But sure, I’ll play along. Come on. Why don’t you guys 'prove me wrong’.” You say, adding the quotation marks. “Really? Alright.” Taehyung says, standing up and moving next to Jimin. You turn around in your chair, the two men standing side. You can already see the imprints of their hard cocks through their pants, and you have to say, you’re quite impressed. “Hm, alright then. I was wrong. You guys are alright. Are we done here now?” You ask, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Ah ah ah, no no, baby, we’re far from done.” Jimin says, grabbing your bag from you as Taehyung pushes on your shoulder, making you sit back down. “There’s more to prove wrong. What were the other things you said? That we can’t do dirty talk and we never get laid? Isn’t that right?” Taehyung asks, his finger placed under your chin. “So what, you want to fuck me? Is that how you plan to prove me wrong?” You ask teasingly. “Still going to talk like that, huh? Brats like you get me so fucking hard. It’s so nice to put a brat in her place.” Taehyung growls, causing your heart to skip a beat. Fuck, just his voice is going to be the death of you. “Alright, so what, are we going to my house?” You ask, standing back up. You’re quickly spun around, being bent over the table. “Oh no, baby girl, we’re gonna fuck you right here, right now.” Taehyung growls, his fingers intertwined tightly in your hair. “Well, might as well get the shit show started so I can go home and enjoy the rest of my night.” You say, only provoking them even more. “What a brat. You know what, kitten? Brats like you deserve to be punished.” Jimin says. You can’t lie, their dominance is making you wet. You feel a harsh smack land on your ass, causing you to whimper. Another slap echoes through the room, your knees becoming weak. “Eight more, baby girl.” Jimin whispers in your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth as another smack rains down on your ass. It’s only then you realize that its Taehyung spanking you. You yelp each time his hand connects with your ass. When he’s done, he lifts the bottom of your skirt, bundling the fabric around your hips. You’re embarrassed, the cool office air hitting your wet core. Taehyung leans back, admiring the red marks blooming across your ass cheeks. You feel exposed, remembering only now that you’re wearing one of your skimpiest pairs of panties. Its laundry day, and you ran out of your comfortable panties, so you sucked it up and put on your black lace thong. “Shit, baby girl, do you always wear stuff this pretty?” Jimin says softly, tracing his finger over your clothed core. “So wet too, such a dirty girl. Did you like your punishment?” He asks, his finger pressing gently against you. “Of course she did. I bet this little slut just loves being put in her place.” Taehyung says, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Why don’t you get on your knees, baby girl? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” Jimin says deeply. You instantly comply, dropping to your knees as your face becomes level with his clothed erection. You watch as his fingers fiddle with his belt buckle, hearing Taehyung take a seat next to you. “Look at how eager she is, Jimin.” He says, his index finger tracing over his lips as his dark eyes watch you intently. “I know. She looks so pretty, doesn’t she? Too bad such a pretty face has such a bratty mouth.” Jimin says, pulling the belt out of the loops, working on his button. He lets his pants fall, bundling around his ankles. You can’t help but stare at the tent in his underwear, your mouth watering at the sight. His hand palmed over him member, his eyes hooded as he looks down at you. “Well, baby, why don’t you get to it?” He smirks at you. You waste no time, slipping your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down to join his pants. You watch as his thick cock bounces once its freed from its confines, hitting his toned stomach. You stare in awe, a chuckle sounding from next to you. “Baby girl, if you don’t suck his cock soon you might end up getting punished again, and this time we wont go so easy on you.” Taehyung says, his deep voice causing your panties to get even damper. You reach up to wrap your hand around him, the weight of it causing your breath to hitch. He wasn’t too long, pretty average, but he was very thick. Your fingers couldn’t even touch when you wrapped around him. His head falls back, a soft moan slipping out of his lips at the contact. You can’t wait any longer, leaning forward, your tongue sticking out to give a small lick to his red tip. He hisses, looking down at you. “Don’t tease, kitten. If you tease me anymore Tae will tease you until you’re crying for release.” Jimin says, his fingers tangling in your hair. You still don’t entirely believe his words, and you’re interested to see if they’re true or not. Even though they transformed in front of your eyes, you still don’t believe that the two dorks you’re used to could turn into these two sexual demons before you. You decide to wait a little bit to test if they mean it or not, and wrap your mouth around Jimin’s member. His fingers tighten in your hair, a groan sounding as you take him all the way in. His girth has your eyes watering and jaw already aching. You pull back, making sure to press your tongue against the large vein that runs on the bottom of his shaft. You bob your head on him a few times, enjoying the beautiful moans that tumble from his lips. You suck harshly as you pull back, your tongue flicking over the slit. “Fuck, ah, dammit kitten, I said no teasing.” He moans. “Don’t worry, Jimin, she’ll get what’s coming to her.” Taehyung smirks. You feel Jimin’s thighs start to shake under your fingertips, his cock twitching slightly on your tongue. His hips move gently with the rhythm of your head, thrusting softly into your mouth. It doesn’t take long before he doubles over, his hands forcing you to take all of him as his cums down your throat, the salty sweet taste something you think you could get addicted to. He pulls away, breathing heavily, his face flushed. “Damn, your mouth feels so fucking good, kitten.” He gasps between deep breaths. “Stand up.” Taehyung says, getting out of his chair. You do as he says, his tall frame towering over you. “Bend over the table.” He orders. “Am I gonna get spanked again?” You ask. “Did I say to talk? No. I said bend over the table. Disobey me again, baby girl, and you won’t like what happens.” Taehyung growls. You decide not to test him, turning to bend over the side of the table, your bunched up skirt leaving your clothed pussy on full display. “Spread your legs, baby girl.” He orders, and you comply. You whimper as a warm hand cups your core, fingertips gliding over you as it pulls back. “You’re fucking dripping, baby girl. Did sucking Jimin off really get you this wet?” Taehyung whispers in your ear, his body leaning over yours as he presses his bulged against you. You bite your lip as he grinds against you, griping your hips tightly. You whine into your arm, pressing back against him. “Damn, baby girl, I can’t wait until we’re balls deep in that tight little pussy of yours.” Taehyung growls. His words startle you. We? They both plan on fitting inside of you? Taehyung pulls away, kneeling on the floor behind you, his face mere inches away from your core. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good.” He says. His fingers hook into your panties, sliding them of and tossing them to Jimin. “I want to taste you so bad, but you’ve been such a fucking brat I don’t think you deserve it. Do you?” He asks, his hands gripping your ass cheeks. You’ve given up on testing them. These quiet men have made you more needy than you’ve ever been, and all you wanted was some sort of release. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said that. Please, please just touch me.” You whined loudly. “Aw, look, she’s so needy now. Begging for a touch.” Jimin chuckles, sitting in a chair across the table from you. You cry out as you feel a harsh slap to your swollen clit. “Do you think you deserve it? How much do you want it? Tell me and maybe I’ll be nice.” Taehyung says, rubbing the area slowly now. “S-so bad! Please, Taehyung! I need it so bad! I can’t take it anymore!” You cry out. “So needy. Alright, don’t worry, I’ll give you a little something.” Taehyung says, his warm breath fanning over your pulsing clit.  You whimper, your back arching, your body chasing for contact. You feel soft fingertips circle your entrance before dipping inside of you. Two fingers slid into you easily due to how wet you were, and you sighed at the pleasure of having something inside of you. Taehyung’s fingers are long, reaching all the right places inside of you. He quickly starts to pump in and out of you, curling his fingers inside of you as he pulls them out. He stands up, leaning over your body as he finger fucks you. You moan, hands gripping the side of the table as you feel his hot breath on your neck. His fingertips press against your sweet spot, causing you to arch your back. “There it is. Such a naughty girl, still tight. We have to loosen you up a bit before we really get to the good part.” Taehyung says in your ear. He slides a third finger in, causing you to gasp. Your hands search for something else to grip on, ultimately one finding Jimin’s hand and the other tangles in Taehyung’s hair. The force of his pumping has you rocking against the table, and your head raises, giving Taehyung access to your now exposed neck. He bites down on your neck softly, leaving rough, open mouthed kisses all over it. Your mouth hangs open, your eyes opening as well to meet Jimin’s. You see him biting his lip, his hand wrapped around his hard cock again, pumping it slowly. The way Taehyung’s fingers are working on you, stretching you out and pumping at an unbearable pace, you feel so close to your end. “Look at you, taking his fingers so well like a good little slut you are. But, you did tease me. I told you that you’d regret it.” Jimin smirks. “T-Tae…” you moan, too lost in the feeling to listen to Jimin properly. “What is it, baby girl? You wanna cum? You wanna cum all over my fingers? Want Jimin to take a taste too? Is that what you want?” Taehyung asks. “Yes! Yes, please!” You cry out, so close to losing yourself. “I want to cum so fucking bad!” “Too bad.” He growls, pulling his fingers out of you completely and stepping back. You’re left standing there, your high quickly disappearing as Taehyung walks around the table to Jimin, two of his fingers in his mouth. You stand there catching your breath, completely shocked as Taehyung pulls his fingers out of his mouth, popping the last one into Jimin’s. “What the fuck?” You cry, standing up. Jimin hums around Taehyung’s finger, pulling away when hes done tasting you. “Like I said, kitten. Don’t tease me, or Taehyung would punish you.” Jimin smirks. “But, that was torture! I was so close! That’s not fair.” You pout. “Its entirely fair. I may not be too nice, but I’m always fair.” Taehyung says. “Have you learned your lesson now, kitten?” Jimin asks. “Yes, sir.” You stress the sir sarcastically, but you see him noticeably tense. “Hm, well normally, Taehyung is Sir, just call me Daddy, kitten.” Jimin smirks. “Wait, what?” You ask, taken aback. “Yeah, yeah I like that. Every time we meet privately, you address me as Sir, and Jimin as Daddy, that way we know who exactly you’re screaming for.” Taehyung says with a wink. “Wait, what do you mean 'every time’?” You ask. “What, you thought this was a one time thing? Trust me, once you get a feel of our cocks inside of you, you’re gonna be begging for more.” Taehyung says, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. They both circle the table,  Jimin hopping up and sitting on the edge while Taehyung stands behind you. “What do you say, kitten? Are you ready for us?” Jimin asks, his fingers running over your sides. You nod, still a little uneasy about the situation, but you’re so worked up from Taehyung’s fingers earlier you need something. “Why don’t you go in first, Jimin? I’ll slide in after you. Let her get used to you first.” Taehyung mumbles into your neck, nipping lightly at the skin. Jimin grabs you by your hips, your legs straddling his on top of the table. His cock sits upright between your stomachs as his fingers quickly unbutton your shirt. His lips connect with yours in a heated kiss. You realize this is the first kiss this entire time, and you relish in the feeling. Jimin’s lips feel like absolute heaven, not even breaking apart as you shimmy off your shirt, Taehyung quickly fiddling with your bra and sliding it off. Jimin pulls away, causing you to whine. “Its alright,  kitten, you want another kiss?” He asks softly. You nod, pouting. “Aw, don’t worry, kitten. I’ll kiss you again soon. I just really need to be inside of you right now. It’s almost painful l how hard I am.” He says. Taehyung lifts your hips, hovering over Jimin. Jimin grips his cock, lining up with your entrance. He lowers you down, and your mouth hangs open at the feeling of being full. “Oh my god.” Jimin says softly, throwing his head back. “How does she feel, Chim?” Taehyung mumbles into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you. “So, so fucking good.” Jimin groans. “You think she’s good for me to slide in?” Taehyung asks. The words make you whimper, the idea of being stretched out even more both scaring and exciting you. “Its gonna be a tight fit, but go ahead.” Jimin says, lifting your hips until just his tip is still inside of you. “Hold onto me, kitten, its gonna get uncomfortable, but I promise it’ll feel good after a little bit.” Jimin says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You do as he says, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing your hand on his shoulder. Taehyung’s hand rests on your waist above Jimin’s, and you can feel his tip at your entrance. They lower you slightly and you gasp loudly as he slides in next to Jimin, you holding onto Jimin tightly. “Sh, kitten it’s okay.” Jimin coes, turning his head to connect his lips with yours. It’s a deep kiss to distract you from the pain of Taehyung sliding all the way in, a deep groan escaping his lips. “Holy fuck.” He groans. He places hot kisses on your neck, both of then staying in place, allowing you to get used to having both of them so deep inside of you. After a while you feel the need to move, desperately wanting to be fucked. You lift your hips, causing all three of you to moan at the feeling, then lower yourself again. You keep moving your hips, going slightly faster each time. You lean back against Taehyung, your head resting on his shoulder as he nibbles on your neck, his hand playing with one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple. Your fingers tangle in Jimin’s hair as he takes your other nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping at it as his thumb rubs circles over your clit, both of them simultaneously thrusting into you. The sensations are overwhelming, noises spilling out of your lips, not caring who can hear or even where you are. “You feel so fucking good, baby girl. So wet and tight. Do you like it, baby? Do you like Jimin and I stretching out your slutty little pussy?” Taehyung growls into your neck. “Y-yes!’ You moan. Taehyung’s fingers roughly pinch your nipple, causing you to gasp in pain. "Yes what?” He asks. “Yes sir!” You cry. “Good girl.” He growls before going back to sucking on your neck. You can feel the build up, Jimin’s thumb on your clit and both of them pounding into you causing it to approach rapidly. “D-Daddy, I need to-” You moan, causing Jimin to lift his head. “I know, kitten. We both know. God, we can feel you clenching around us. Tae, do you think she can cum now? I’m so close.” Jimin says. “Yeah, me too. Where should we cum, baby girl? Do you want us to cum in you or on you?” Taehyung asks. You remember that neither of them are wearing condoms and you stopped taking your birth control a few weeks ago. “O-on me, sir.” You reply. “Alright, we’ll hold it in so you can cum on our cocks.” Taehyung says. Jimin’s thumb rubs you faster, both of them pumping into your faster. Soon you’re falling apart on top of them, causing both of them to stop as you clench around them, Jimin’s thumb continuing to rub you to ride out your high. After you’re done they lift you quickly, pulling out entirely and placing you on your knees on the floor. You look up at both of them, ready for what they have to offer you. “Where, kitten?” Jimin asks, both of them pumping themselves over your body. “Anywhere.” You smirk. “Good. Open that pretty mouth.” He groans. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out as both of them move closer. A few more pumps and they both let out deep groans, releasing mostly into your awaiting mouth, some getting on your cheeks and chin. Once their completely milked you close your mouth, them both watching you intently as you swallow every drop. You all sigh in exhaustion, you standing up with Jimin’s help. Taehyung holds your panties, kneeling down to help you into them, your legs too shaky to do it yourself. He pulls them all the way up, holding your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek before steeping away. Jimin holds onto you, helping you into a chair. You sit and watch as the get dressed back into their clothes, deciding to do the same. You reach for your bra and shirt, pulling them on and grabbing your skirt, standing up slowly and getting all fixed up. You look up to see Jimin in front of you. “You did so well, kitten. Probably the best we’ve ever had.” He smiles. “Would you want to do this again?” He asks, both him and Taehyung looking at you, their eyes full of hope. You smile and nod, the idea of having them inside of you again already turning you on again. “Perfect. We’ll let you know. Be ready for any time. You’re our toy now.” Taehyung smirks. “See you around, baby girl. Very soon.” He says, waving as he exits the room, Jimin following behind him, leaving you alone in the break room. “You’re late! What took you so long?” Namjoon asks, pulling you into the apartment. “I had to go home and shower, relax.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at him as you join the others in the living room. “Oh, I saw you with Jimin and Taehyung earlier.” Namjoon says, causing a shiver to shoot down your spine. “What, were you telling them how dorky they are to their faces?” He chuckles, sitting down next to him. “Those nerds? You actually talked to them? I’ve never met them, but from what you guys say about them I’d be too creeped out to even go near them.” Yoongi mumbles, grabbing a chip from the bowl on the table. “Yoongi! That’s rude!” Jin shouts, hitting him with a pillow. You can’t talk, your cheeks bright red. “They…they’re not as dorky as you think.” You mumble, looking at the ground. “Um, yes they are. You’ve seen them, Y/N. They’re super nerds.” Namjoon says. “No, that’s just them at the office. They don’t always looked like that.” You say, instantly regretting it, knowing you’ve said too much. “In the office? How do you know that they aren’t always nerdy? What, did you hang out with them?” Namjoon asks, looking at you intently. All eyes are on you, and you’ve never felt so embarrassed in your life. You were never good at hiding things, and they all knew it. “Holy fuck. I know what it is. She fucked one of them.” Yoongi shouts, pointing at you accusingly. “No way! She’d never do that! Y/N isn’t like that!” Jin shouts, hitting Yoongi again with a pillow. You curl up  into yourself, unable to answer. “No way.” Namjoon gasps. “Which one?” You can’t answer, only hiding even more. “Y/N, which one? As your boss I need to know this.” Namjoon says. “Why do you need to know? A boss doesn’t need to know that!” You cry, slapping his arm. “Ouch! Fine! As your friend I need to know!” He cries. You sigh deeply, gathering all of your courage to answer. “Both.” You say quietly. “Both? What, at the same time?” He asks, the others looking at you in shock. You nod slowly, burying your face in your hands. “When? Today? I didn’t see you guys leave the office though. You guys went into the-” he cuts himself off, his eyes wide. “Joon, what is it?” Jin asks, you scooting as far away from Namjoon as possible. “You fucked them in the break room? Where everyone eats lunch?” Namjoon screams. You don’t dare to look at him, the fear of his wrath terrifying you. “Well, I take back what I said. Y/N is a lot dirtier than we thought.” Jin sighs.  

Saving Grace

Level Two, Part Two

@whore-of-socks

Ok. Not too creepy. 

The marketplace is bright and half-bustling, half-meandering. There is a dragonic couple selling chocolate nearest the entrance, their tails entwined as they bellow “Mellow Sweets, READY FOR TREATS?”. Your low health bar grumbles at you for food, but something about this stall doesn’t seem right to you. It does not help how terrifying they appear. You decide to waddle over and Investigate both their questionable chocolate, and any info they can give on what the h*** is going on in this game. The dragonic lady pleasantly trills at you and her gentlemen smiles warmly down on you. Grace notices their  darker scales, and mumbles to herself something about them being from a Nightmare Realm.

“What can we do for you, sweet child? We have a fine selection of chocolate from all over our world; jepsi, edelwood, petalwood, dark, white, you name it! Oh, but if you for some reason can’t have chocolate, we have candy sticks that are just as scrumptious!” They spoke together, each taking every other word without missing a beat. Well practised, in harmony, as if they’d done it a million times. And they probably have! You look behind them. The candy sticks seem to be actual sticks. Oh ho ho ho.

“Hi, can I have a dark chocolate and a petalwood stick, both for the road? Oh, and I love your wing piece Mrs. Mellow!” Grace asks pleasantly, laying the sugar on thick. Huh. You don’t get any option to dig for info before she says that. Oh well. Mrs. Mellow hides into her husband’s chest, “Oh, stop.” He hands Grace what she ordered. The list checks off itself at the same time you unlock an achievement: Never Judge A Book By Its Cover! They both sweetly wish you farewell as you shuffle off into the market ‘street’ again. 

“What nice Nightmares. I want them to adopt me.” Grace says to herself, sighing wistfully.

The next closest stall has a very small, very cute duck. Not as small as Deku, but is a dwarf compared to Grace who is about 4’7”. You do not expect the following:

“What do ye want, ye fugly pixie? Can’t ye see am run’n a respectable business here, selling my hunts? Yer scare’n away mine customers!” He says in a heavy, rough country accent. Grace glances up to his stall sign, Gregory’s Predator Produce, looks behind him at the various animal parts, spots a pair of rams horns, and says, “I can punt your sorry tailfeathers all the way back to the human world, Gregory.”

“Oh pa lease. Get out if yer not going to buy somethin’.” 

Grace grins her baby fangs at him. The next thing he knows, he has a sword against his ringable duck throat.

“I’ll take your ram horns. Free.”

“O-f course, anythin’ for the lady! Hehe. No need for a duck feast tonight. Hehe.” She lowers her sword a smidge, to let him scurry back to get the horns. He plops them on the wooden counter. Grace sheethes her sword to put the horns in the bag. She takes him by the vest collar, leans in close.

“And you don’t have any customers because you can’t even tell the difference between a flore and a pixie, Gregory.” She pecks him on the bill before shoving him and walking away calmly.

You look around. There is a girl approaching you, a witch? You try to get away from her. But somehow the Game Knows. It slows Grace down, the girl gets faster, practically floating off the ground with her face covered. Another cutscene fast approaching, you get to the other side of the market before she catches you. F***, you pressed the key to throw a barrel!  

Grace turns around and smiles at her, “Hi Mia! What’s up!”

Her face is no longer shrouded by the huge witch hat. The first thing you notice is her bright, void eyes. She steps closer, and you see tiny multicolored galaxies stuck in a technicolor beat. It distracts you from her sewn-shut mouth until she starts signing “Hi, bitch.”

Grace squeals and pulls her into a crushing hug. 

When the two girls seperated, after much giggling and suffocating, Mia asks why Grace was here by herself. 

“Well, I’m not really alone now.”

“That’s not what I mean Grace. Why are you out with no adult watching your every move? Did you sneaky sneak out?”

“You’re half right. I’ve actually run away and become an apprentice since now I can legally make my own decisions.” She bowed her head to show off her soft, dark petals peaking out gently from her warrior styled hair. Mia oo’d. 

“So what are you studying? And do you have a good place to stay?”

“Uhh. Uh. I’m studying to take care of magical creatures in the woods, and I guess how to use their magic for stuff? Yeah. Um, this is actually my first day so I don’t have a place yet. My master sent me to shop for new clothes for me and to get it- sorry, uh HIM stuff too.” Grace started to sweat as Mia squinted her suspicion at her. She idly wondered if the Wood Beast cared if she referred to it as a he.

“You can stay at my place for a year, you know. It’s not like you didn’t practically live there for most of your life. You can even sleep in my old room.” Mia offered. Grace noticed that a group of customers were starting to flood past them and took Mia’s wrist to get them out of the way. They watched the swarm of other faefolk march and flit past from a dark corridor between two stone buildings. The deeper into the market, the bigger and sturdier the building merchants sold from. You notice Mia’s face glows neon, stitches bright and smiling wider than her mouth. Her hands have a heart pattern in a line, neon purple lining where her phalanges would be under her fabric-y skin, allowing you to see in the dark what she’s saying.

“I can’t. I don’t want my aunt to harass you. She means well, but you know how she gets when she’s told no. And besides, the last time I was over there my dad was still here. I don’t want to wake up to your favorite Sleeping Poppet and cry because I remember my dad saying she was the ugliest thing he ever saw.”

“She’s not that ugly!”

“Listen, Mia. I love you, but her face could make a Nightmare cry.”

“Stop bullying my daughter, bitch. She works perfectly fine, who cares what she looks like when you’re sleeping soundly all night?”

“Yeah, that’s why you face her away from you before you sleep.” Grace rasps between terribly hidden laughs. Mia salutes her with a certain ‘sign’. The last ropes of Grace’s self control fray, and both girls lean on each other as they belly bellow. 

When they settle in a tender silence, Mia leans over to Grace’s wall of the small alley to touch their sides together, to line up from the sides of their feet to the tips of their shoulders. Grace thinks that they fit together not quite perfect, but perfectly right. 

“Are you sure?”

“About what?” Grace murmured back.

“About what we were talking about.”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

The silence resumed. They breathe out of synch, the noises of merchants haggling with their good neighbors wash over them. It was nice. Quiet.

“You said earlier you moved out. Did you get the apprenticeship you wanted?” Grace asked gently.

Mia hmm’d, looking up at the mid day sky in thought, before slowly responding, “Not exactly what I wanted, but I think it’s what I needed. Six moons of Mr. and Mrs. Mellow has taught me many things about candy, but it’s also taught me how to talk to people; with kindness. I believe that may be better than what any professional wizard could teach me.”

Grace hmm’d back, “Oh. But you always were kind to people.”

“If they were kind first. But I mean, even to people who hurt too much for their words to not spill over with hurt.”

“You mean rude ba*****s.”

“...yes.”

“I never could do that. Maybe I should.”

“Maybe you should.” 

“Yeah...” Grace sighs.

“Bitch.” Mia signs, stepping away. She takes a pendant from under her shirt and then off from around her neck. It is a cork bottle with a clasp, and she uncorks it to down the mysterious liquid before corking and re-clasping it to the black leather cord. “I’ve been gone too long. I have to zoom. Good luck with your new master, the year will fly by I promise! Juuust don’t bite his head off.”

“Don’t worry, we’re already passed that phase. Probably. Love you!” Grace says somehow through her chuckling.

“Love you too!” Mia mumble-calls through her binds as she gracefully floats from wall to wall, bouncing to get higher as the potion starts to activate. She is gone like a cat across rooftops, back to the start.

You step out into the sun, Grace’s Determination Bar grows. She is ready to get home early. 

The Escape Room Part 1 (With @V_Bloodletter)

V: I was off patrol tonight and doing my diligence behind the wall of monitors. It seemed relatively quiet out. At the moment I hadn’t seen any things that go bump in the night. I was itching to get into something tonight, fuck anything. My boredom was at an all time high and nothing good came from me being inactive. I was randomly searching out areas through the helpful eye of Caldwell electronic eyes. Tapping into the city’s system had been too easy, especially in this day and time. Either way, I had access to everything Caldwell did. My fingers slid over the pad, scrolling through various alley ways. Nothing was out of order, the streets as per usual had your pedestrians that preferred the dark and your drunks stumbling down the sidewalks and of course there was your common back alley fucks going on. Absently I realized I was humming a beat and just when I was trying to figure out exactly what song it was, the phone line to the Brotherhood broke my concentration. Usually I let the Doggen at the Manse filter through the calls but yeah, I needed a distraction so here I was listening to the voice mails. ‘IT WONT STOP...THE FLOOR…….EVERYWHEREEE… PLEASEE HELP US!’ And that was what greeted my extremely fucking sensitive eardrums as soon as the recordings started. I sit up, grabbed the only info that was left behind which was the number, the call was too short for the trace to pick up. But that was cool because in under sixty I had the address where the phone was presently at, pulled up. I might have gotten a little excited when I quickly realized that for some odd as fuck reason I couldn’t bring the location up on my monitors. Now now now, I was just going on about how I had full access into the city street cameras and here I am now, unable to see anything surrounding the address where the phone is. I was on my feet and checking to see who was inhouse and not on patrol and lucky Dehv got the drawl. I shot a text to Mr. Suave “Yo, meet me at the location I’m pinging to your GPS now. V.” I wasted no time and gearing up and dematting.

Dehv: ~ I’d just settled in for the day when the door sounded like it was about to be broken down. The knocking was so loud that the fists would happily come through the wood without much persuasion. Qhuinn and I had frozen in the bed, hardly daring to breath in case they heard us. Not that it changed anything. Qhuinn had been marched off to the Mansion with barely a couple of hours until sunrise and that had left me at a loose end. I demated home and crashed around the place before my phone peeped. I felt my heart jump as I rushed to dig it out of my pocket on the hopes that it was Qhuinn. I felt disappointment flash through me when I saw it wasn’t Qhuinn, but my smile was still huge when I saw that it was Vishous. Though it quickly turned to a frown when I realised that he wanted me to meet him somewhere asap. Was he insane? It was almost daylight outside. We’d barely make it there and back before we were scrabbling to try and find shelter away from the death rays. I arched a brow and contemplated for about half a minute before shooting back a thumbs up. I quickly changed into a pair of jeans, proper boots and a heavy jumper over a lighter long sleeved tee. I shoved phone and keys into my pocket and then checked my phone, frowning even harder when I saw that it appeared to be in the middle of an industrial estate of some kind. What the actual hell was V thinking wanting me to meet him out there. I had to hope that he was just picking something up and needed an extra pair of hands. I didn’t mind if he wanted to take me back to the mansion afterwards to wait out the daylight. It meant that I could be there when Qhuinn finally got done with whatever he was needed for, and it meant that I could ensure Vishous was home in one piece while also catching up with the guy. I tried not to go overboard to talk to the Brothers when they were training us. Not that Vishous did, he just lurked now and again. I didn’t want to be different to the other trainees, and being wtih Qhuinn already meant I stood out. But with the amount of time it took to train and learn in the field and sleep around that I barely saw any of them. It would be good to see the male and possibly we could crash with his favourite poison and a good film while the sun did its thing.

Once I was sure that my place was locked up tight, I took a slow breath and dematted to the coordinates that Vishous had given me. I landed in a small enclosed area that was probably once a bus stop across from a run down looking building. I instantly settled my hand against the knife I’d had the foresight to hide under my arm before stepping into the flickering streetlight. “Vishous, you get here yet?” ~

V: While I was waiting for Dehv, I patrolled the area, checking out for any obvious signs of issues. At the present time there wasn’t anything that stood out. Not sure what I expected to find but absolutely nothing at all, was not it. Okay yes I didn’t think whoever was causing the disturbance was going to leave me a bloody trail to the crime scene. Although it would have been mighty helpful if they did, ya know, considering how damn close the rays of sun busting out were. But no such luck was laid at my feet this time. The location had been closed down twelve years ago, since then it had been bought and sold a few times and the newest owners had procured it about five years before. Public records fed me that info but as to the company that was holding the lease on the land now, I came up against walls. I would have delve more in depth but Dehv’s voice cut into my scrolling for info. I stepped out of the shadows, entering the barely illuminated area he was now occupying. “Evening, Dehv. Long story short, a 911 call came into the Brotherhood and I was able to trace the phones location to here.” I blew out a breath and glanced at the concrete structure that definitely had seen its better days before and my shoulders came up in a shrug as I turned my attention back to the male. “Let’s do a clean sweep, retrieve any bodies, alive or dead or remove any threats, whichever the case may be and then get the fuck out of dodge. True?” It my head it sounded like a simple enough job but my gut reaction to the place was not completely on board with that assessment. “Usually with the size of this place, I would say let’s split up and cut the time in half, but yeah this time around let’s stick together and see if anything goes bump in the night.” I moved out of the dim lighting and headed towards the entrance. “It use to be an auto parts factory and then after that it was transformed into a tire treading company and they leased out the upper floors. But that all seized years ago and it’s been abandoned since. Once one business started to close down around here, others followed soon and it seemed it has been deemed the ghost yard of factories.” I stopped at the double door entrance and cast Dehv a rakish smile. “If we find a ghost, I am for fucking real going to figure out how to keep it.” Chuckling low key, I turned back to the task at hand and what do you know, the doors were not even locked. Big surprise, not. “No wondering off, I haven’t had time to go over the blueprints and there is no fucking telling how many reconstructions have been done under each new owner.”

Dehv: ~ I turned at the sound of the voice behind me, my entire body telling me that I should just tell V where to stick it rather than go anywhere close to checking out the place. “That sounds like a solid lead. But I guess if they called and had to hang up fast, that would make sense. Though you’d think we’d see something.” I swept my arms in a circle, gesturing at the area that was quieter than I’d ever heard. I’d been to a lot of places growing up in the human world, and rarely to never was it basically silent. Normally there was birds, wind in trees, the hum of electricity as it moved through the wires. It was basically like a dead spot here. It was not normal and it was giving me the creeps. “You get signal here?” I tapped at my phone and tried to send a message, though nothing happened. I was glad I’d managed to let Qhuinn know that I was with V, and the coordinates he’d given me. Though he’d been stuck with Wrath all day, at least we’d have something to talk about when he got back. We’d started checking in on each other when the shit had hit the fan and we’d been pulled away every night to patrol or train or any other number of things. I liked it, and it made me feel a little safer for when the sun went down. Right now though I knew we only had a matter of time before the sun came up and trapped us inside one of these places.

I followed on after V as he made his way towards what was obviously the main entrance to the huge building that seemed to be shrouded in darkness. Even more so than the rest of the place. I snorted at his instructions and jokes, my lips twitching in amusement. “We see a ghost, you’re welcome to it. I’ll try not to scream like a pansy.” I grinned and pulled a gun out of its little holder at my back, keeping it trained on the floor while I stood behind Vishous, knowing that I wasn’t any good if I was nervous or uncertain. The plan to get in and get out was a good one, and it was something that we needed to do fast, without distractions. I nodded along and then chuckled. “You mean you weren’t 100% prepared when you came here. You’re slacking. If I walk into a room with no exit, I’m going to blame you.” I winked and then nodded towards the doors that separated us from whatever horrors were inside. I swallowed hard and rolled my shoulders. I’d been with the Brotherhood long enough to see my fair share of weird and horrible. I’d fought a few of my own horrors. But this was unknown, something neither one of us were prepared for, and I just had to hope I didn’t embarrass myself and throw up all over another Brothers boots. “Ready when you are. I’ve got your back, and I can follow instructions. Check it out, pull out bodies whether they are dead or alive and then get back to the Mansion before the sun comes up.” I nodded again and stepped in closer, thankful that my eyes weren’t bothered by the dark as the doors opened. It was pitch black inside, no light at all, had I been human I’d have been walking in blind. As it was I could see a wall ahead of me, and a corridor to the right. “Looks like we’ve only got one way in, one way out. Lead the way.” ~

V: I didn’t say anything back to Dehv after we walked inside and saw at first the simple layout. My brows drew down and I scanned the vacant lobby for anything. Not exactly the setup that I expected but that thought lasted about as long as it took to blink. Because with the next breath all hell broke loose and I had no fucking time to react. Doors slammed lock, walls that weren’t there before, were suddenly dropped in place and the corridor vanished with one of those spontaneous walls. My head was spinning in every direction as I heard all the strategic mechanisms clicking into place and then it was total quiet except for the sound of our own breathing. “What the actual fuck.” I had a blade in hand and cautiously approached one of the new walls that was decorated as if we had been yanked right back to the fifties. “We are gonna go with staying extremely in close proximity, Dehv.” I ran my leather covered hand across the hideous mustard yellow wallpaper, seaking out any kind of hidden lever, button or what the fuck ever might send this shit back to where it came from. But nothing, I fingered and rubbed all over that damn wall as if I was going to bend it over and fuck it next. I looked over my shoulder at Dehv. “We might have a small issue here.” That was putting it fucking mildly. It was as if we were in lockdown in one of those cheesy as fuck escape rooms. This shit was done with some severe elaborateness and more importantly, made to lock us in with no obvious way out. “I hope you like figuring puzzles out at a breakneck speed while killing what the fuck ever set this shit up because it looks like we might be a tad fucked.” And then those words were followed up but a stream of curses when I tried to demat and not a fucking thing happened.

Dehv: ~ I followed V as he moved slowly into the space. It wasn’t big, and I instinctively moved towards the one way deeper into the huge building. I’d barely taken more than a couple of steps when the noise rose in the building until even if V had spoken I was unsure I’d even hear it. I stepped backwards to put my back to the wall as I watched and waited for whatever was making the noise to appear. The wall disappearing from behind me made me stagger, and with effort I kept myself on my feet and the gun in my hand. “Fuck it. What is happening?” I spun on the spot and watched as walls appeared that hadn’t been there before, and others disappeared. No longer was there a space with an obvious corridor into the building. We now had a box of a room with apparently no exits. I felt my chest tighten at the thought of being trapped. This really was not the time for a panic attack. I heard V comment about sticking in close proximity, and my body complied with the request before my brain caught up. I moved in to cover as much of the room as I could while Vishous checked out the walls. I blinked slowly, eyes scanning the space, though it was just four walls and not much else. I focused on keeping my breathing even and my thoughts away from the fact we were about to be stuck in a tiny space for all eternity. “Small? Yeah, I would say that was the understatement of the century.” I turned in a small circle, eyes darting up and down as well as along the walls. I watched Vishous work his fingers across the wall in an attempt to find something that might help us. Then I blinked a few times and moved further into the middle of the room, there was something faint on the floor. It was glowing just enough that I could see it, and I was glad that I wasn’t a human in this place, no way would it be visible to them. “I have no experience with puzzles, but I do design for a living, so hopefully I can pick things apart and put them back together. Tad fucked is yet another understatement, Vishous. We have less than an hour until the sun comes up. So we either work to get out in an hour, or we’re going to have to fight to stay IN here for the rest of the day. I’m not sure which is worse.” I tipped my head and walked in a circle around the weird glowing markings on the floor. No matter which way I went, I couldn’t figure out what it was trying to tell me. “Found anything on the wall? This floor things isn’t really telling me much……oh no, wait, it’s maybe an arrow, but some of the paint has worn away completely.” I crouched and ran my fingers along the faint line. “You think that phone call was some poor humans who are stuck in this place, or a way to lure us here?” I followed the weird point of the arrow with my eyes to the wall, then up to the ceiling. Squinting once again at what looked like cut outs in the ceiling. Though it was higher than either one of us could reach or jump to. I couldn’t quite figure out why the lines seemed to line up with the glowing mark on the floor. “We’re completely fucked!” ~

V: “This was definitely a set up. By who is the question, because this is way fucking more elaborate than those pale fuckers get credit for.” My eyes narrowed and I drew in a series of breaths because this lock down thing was a head fuck. I wasn’t going to voice that out loud. The facts of the matter, was any kind of confinement was not going to go easy on me. If it was just me here, I’d burn this fucker down around me and take my chances on if I made it out or not. But it wasn’t just me, I had actually for once followed Wrath’s laws about doubly up on patrols or any Brotherhood business. I’ll blame the King for this shit. I blew out a breath and went about searching for any damn thing. I was coming up empty handed. No matter where I looked, felt or checked out, not a fucking thing. And then luck shined down on us, or as the case was, it shined up from a place in the false floor that Dehv found. I followed his line of site up the wall and onto the ceiling where markings are etched in place. “Alright, Dehv…” My face already had a smirk on it even before I spoke. “I’ll hoist you up and you see what those marks do or don’t do.” I closed the distance between us, which in this enclosed space it didn’t take long before I was right in front of the male and directly under the markings. My diamond eyes bore into Dehv’s and my tone was dry as fuck. “After this night, no talks of me giving you a piggyback ride. True.” I ended that with a teasing smirk before I turned around and crouched down.

Dehv: ~ I nodded at Vishous’ assessment. It would appear that the phone call was a way to lure us here, but was the person in charge of this weird ass game human or vampire? If they were vampire, why were they targeting the brotherhood, without picking a specific target. If it was human, was it by chance they got us, or was it someone who knew our secret and was deliberately playing with us? I checked my watch and saw that we’d been wandering around and looking for clues for nearly 45 minutes. We were not getting out of here before the sun came up. I opened my mouth to tell Vishous that when he came up beside me. Those intelligent eyes of his looking over the weird shape on the ceiling, and I hoped like hell he’d see something I couldn’t. The smirk didn’t bode well, and I felt my jaw fall open when he suggested that I get up on his back. Two 6 and a half foot plus males doing piggy back rides was not exactly how I’d seen my day going. But I’d learned a lot when I was training, and the first thing was that usually you had to think outside of the box if you wanted to get anywhere. I turned to look at the Brother beside me and met his gaze, nodding grimly as I tried not to laugh at the entire prospect. “No talks at all, unless of course it’s to tease you where you can’t kill me.” I winked, trying to lighten the mood before I moved around behind Vishous. “I am not sure I’ve ever done this before, so apologies if there’s a bit of a false start.” I cleared my throat and then placed both hands on Vishous’ shoulders, using them as a spring board to try and jump high enough to get my legs wrapped around his waist. At least then he could hold my feet and help me get higher if I needed to. The additional height gave me enough leverage to feel across the ceiling and poke gingerly at the little shapes in the blacked out surface. I pressed at one, and felt it give under the pressure, “They seem to open, though I’ve no idea why. Hold on.” I took a slow breath, willing my heart rate to go down as I talked myself into poking my fingers into the space without knowing what was beyond the little flap of metal. “If they take my fingers, I’m blaming you.” I snorted and looked down briefly to the male who was taking all my weight and holding me steady before shoving my fingers past the barrier and into the ceiling. I felt around for a minute, hitting what felt like a little box with a hole in the top. I gently poked until I felt the box tip. I indistinctly tried to stop it, jerking Vishous below me as I did. “Shit, sorry. Hang on.” I felt something under the bottom of the box and I pressed my finger to it, pain instantly shooting through the nerves with enough force to make me pull my hand back. My body jerked and I stuck my finger in my mouth to stem the flow, numbing around the digit “Feels like boxes with gems under them. The gems fit in the holes and then the boxes go upside down to connect the whole thing. All without being able to see a fucking thing. The little stone thingies are sharp and I am not entirely sure I won’t lose a finger doing this. If you want a break, warn me before you drop me so I don’t leave a finger behind.” I snorted and shook out my hand before sticking it back through the ceiling to try and work the little, stupid fucking puzzle out. ~

V: All I could say is I was glad as fuck that noone was around to see this display. I mean here we were, warriors giving piggyback rides. After this night I will just black this shit out of my mind and pretend it never happened. The problem with that was, I needed to make sure there was an ‘After tonight’. It was clear as fuck that whoever arranged this elaborate setup, had at least some brain cells. So far, I was slightly impressed. I mean yes, Dehv and I were the rats inside of this maze but still, it was hard not to give props where props were due. Even if the detailed trap was mostly devised to end our lives. I was a sick bastard like. I huffed out a breath and snorted when Dehv situated himself on my back and I locked my arms around his legs and glanced up periodically to see how things were progressing. Every minute felt like an hour. I was keeping the rage locked down. The one thing that would always fuck me up is having my freedom taking away, in any form, bondage or that of a prison. I blew out another breath, focused my diamond eyes on the wall before me, using it as a focal point. I was already devising ways to tear our captors apart in my mind. Taking my time seemed like a good a place to start as any. As a matter a fact, I think I will draw it out for however long it takes Dehv and I to get our asses out of this fucked up place. I just about missed what all he was saying as I was too caught up within my own head devising death techniques. “I’m used to taking the blame. Just get that fucker to open because it is not that noticeable yet but…” The ground shifted only slightly when Dehv yanked his hand free and I inhaled the slight scent of his punctured finger. I was pretty fucking positive that if he didn’t get that fucking puzzel figured out within minutes if not seconds, that the floor would do a lot more than barely shift. “I don’t want any kind of break. I’m pretty sure if you don’t get that unlatched up there, this ground is going to open up and swallow us whole...Literally. No pressure though man.” I looked up at the large as fuck male attached to my back and gave a smirk.

Dehv: ~ I could feel the blood slowly dripping from my fingers as I fiddled around with the tiny boxes. I had to feel for the little gem they hid, then try and figure out which box that went with before slotting into the right groove. Each time I touched the smooth gem thing, it’s sharp edges cut into the pads of my fingertips. I was going as fast as I could. Though Vishous was pretty stoic as males went, when he sounded like he did, I hurried. That smirk was there to reassure, or that is how I was going to take it, and I really didn’t want to go through the damn floor. Each time I tried to lock them in place I’d slip off the wood because of the blood. They never got a chance to heal before another was opened up. They weren’t even big slices, but they strung and hindered how hard I was able to push at each of the little locking mechanisms. I was not at all sure Vishous was going to toss me on my ass at any moment, with each shift causing me to grip a little tighter to the opening in the ceiling, which only meant more of my hands were cut open. I was glad that I was wearing a long sleeved shirt, it meant the blood trickled down to my wrists and then soaked into the material. Saving me from messing up the floor. After what seemed like an age I clicked in the last piece. I signed heavily and then jerked backwards so quickly that I managed to dislodge myself from Vishous and land with a loud thud on the floor. It took me a minute of gasping like a fish out of water to convince my lungs to inflate again, when they did I was up and on my feet. Eyes squinted to dispel the blindness and try and figure out what was happening. After another minute I realised that the windows on the main doors we’d come through had been blacked out, and they were now very much not. Letting in a stream of sunlight that slanted across the room like two death rays. I reached out to check Vishous was still with me, unsteady on my feet as I looked around for the escape. I spun and saw it behind me. “Thank fuck. Keep watching those doors and move with me.” I kept a hand on Vishous’ shoulder as we’d been taught in training, watching where I was going while trusting him to have my back. As I moved into the next room I had to blink slowly to get my eyes to focus again. “Holy shit.” I’d just passed the threshold of the room when I felt something snap against my ankle. I had a split second to tighten my grip on the Brother at my back before I threw myself forward and to the ground. “MOVE”.

I landed with another thump, wincing at the awkward ankle against my already bruised hip. The minute I did, my eyes started stinging again at the sudden brightness. I turned away and waited until the room started to dim again before trying my luck to look back towards the door. A shaft of light shone stark and unyielding across the doorway, which was now also closed. No way were we going back that way. And I had no choice but to slowly sit up and look around the place. The noise from the machines drowned out my thoughts. In any other circumstance I’d be like a kid in a candy store, but instead I just felt dread settle in my gut. “This shit isn’t made for humans is it? We’ve stumbled onto something specifically designed for our kind. Is it just me, or is that worrying?” ~

V: Time went from feeling like each sixty seconds that passed by, felt more like they lasted five minutes or more, to suddenly things were happening way to quick and I barely had time to catch my breath. I had been standing there, trying to keep my feet rooted in place while Dehv worked his magic on the puzzle hidden from sight in the ceiling. Then in the blink of an eye he was dislodged from my back and I was stumbling around, trying not to land on my ass which I was not too successful at. I knew the male had managed to slice himself up pretty good, I could easily smell his lifes blood in the air. But there was absolutely no time to dwell on anything because once the puzzle was solved, all things started to move and re-adjust in the makeshift room. It was pitch black and then there was light but fuckkkkk was it the wrong kind of illumination that we needed right now. My internal clock had already been screaming at me that the big ball of sun in the sky was approaching, so I knew we had missed our window to bail out of here at a decent time. Now the point was to survive this fucked up maze and hunker down until it was safe to travel outside again. I got up off my ass and followed the male out of the first escape room, keeping close as fuck to him but the second I heard that one word shouted from Dehv, I did just as he said. I moved without thinking, nose diving pretty much over his shoulder and eating the ground as I face planted and the once opening was now sealed up as if it had never been there. I rolled over onto my back, taking a moment to take full stock of myself before calling out to the warrior. “Thanks for the heads up, Dehv. Now tell me, what did you break?” I came up on my knees and closed the distance between us. “Yes, you hit that assumption on the fucking nose. This place is evidently designed to take out vamps and not humans.” On the tale end of those words the semi dark space we were in came to life as if someone had flipped a switch on. Lights of all colors flashed on and off, coming from various signs hanging on the walls and that was nothing of all the noises and blaring special effects that was bouncing off of each arcade game and pinball machine. If you were and eighties kid, then this place would be right up your alley, from the pacman game to the hair metal music pinging from the surround sound system setup in the room. “I really fucking hate games.”

Dehv: ~ I blinked again and let my eyes run around the room slowly. It really could have just been picked up and transported from one of those little seaside arcades. It had everything, from the pinball machines to the little air hockey tables and more. They were all crammed in together, and each one seemed to be numbered. I shook out my hands again, happy to see that they weren’t bleeding any more, and that the cuts weren’t as pronounced as they had been. Thank fuck for faster healing. Now if only the blood would work on my damn shoulder and hip I’d be a happy camper. I looked at Vishous, showing him my hands so that he could see I was fine. “Nothing broken, but I landed hard on my shoulder and hip. Nothing a little blood once we’re out of here won’t fix. I can move, so that’s all that we need to be worried about.” I moved to my knees as well and then stood, holding out my palm to help the Brother up if he would allow it. “It is for sure, the sunlight over all the entrances and exists tell that story. I wonder how many have gone through here, and when whoever designed it decided to involve the Brotherhood. Fucking dumb ass move on their part.” I snorted and then winced, “This place has been bleached to within an inch of its life. I’m guessing that means at some point there’s been blood spilt in this room. Watch your back.” I turned in a slow circle, not bothering to look for cameras or wires, I knew that Vishous could do that without thinking, and far more easily than I could do it. Instead I tried to see past the sunlight at the door into the other room. It was impossible though, the shaft of light was concentrated and fucking bright. Instead I moved slowly around the room, fingers drifting over each of the machines without clicking anything. The metal music that was blaring was really starting to wind me up, and I found my body practically vibrating with uncertainty. “I’m not bad at them, but they don’t look like they’re rigged. Can you see anything I’m missing? This air hockey table is set up for one player though, which is weird.” I exhaled hard and then stepped up to the pacman machine, rolling my shoulders I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to Vishous and then reached up to press the button to start it, swearing loudly at the electric shock that was delivered to my finger. “Fuck! Well that doesn’t look good if these aren’t even wired properly. They didn’t have you around to get it all sorted.” I shook out my hand again and then used the various buttons to move my little munching man around the screen. I realised quickly that the game was set up so that the levels were melded into one. The game got faster and faster until I was inevitably consumed by ghosts. The minute the GAME OVER came up on the screen another shock was delivered. Forcing my fingers into a fist with the power that zapped up my arm and constricted every muscle. It took every ouch of control to successfully pull away without breaking the various buttons as I scraped my fingers off the panel. I couldn’t speak, instead just curling in on myself while cradling my arm, breath coming in harsh pants while I tried to get myself back under control. ~ #TheEscapeRoomPt1

When the Devil Cries pt. 28

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Author’s note: Sorry about the longer wait for this chapter, guys. I hit a bit of a writer’s block with this one, but I hope you enjoy it now that it’s done! Also, real quick, I wanted to thank you all for the support you’ve been showing me on this story. I’m still getting messages from you saying how much you’re liking the fic and I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate it. It really makes this worthwhile :)

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

BEAVER HOLLOW

Finishing my drawing of this camp, I flipped to the next page and began writing a few words on it, hopin’ to scribble down some of my thoughts while I had the opportunity to relax for a moment.

The new camp wasn’t as bad as I was expecting it to be -- considerin’ Micah picked it -- but despite all of his assurances, something still felt...off...about the area.

I couldn’t quite place it, but when the caravan arrived at Beaver Hollow, one o’ the first things I noticed was the multiple bloodstains decorating our new home. Micah insisted it weren’t nothing to worry about -- and Dutch seemed more than okay with settling down here -- but it was still pretty obvious that someone else had been livin’ here before we moved in. 

The dried bloodstains, the ominous cave, the random crates of weapons and dynamite that were left behind by the previous owners...it was clear that this wasn’t exactly a “sanctuary.” And there was also the fact that most of the locals avoided Beaver Hollow like the goddamned plague.

I had no idea what made this place so portentous, but regardless of whatever dangers we was gonna have to deal with out here, Beaver Hollow was still a helluva lot better than Shady Belle. It may not’ve had a big manor for us to sleep in, but it also weren’t riddled with old bullet holes, gators, marshlands, and for the first time in a while, we actually had some fresh air to breathe.

Perhaps we’d make a home of this place yet. I just hoped it wouldn’t be for very long.

Putting my pencil down, I shut the journal closed and slipped it back into my satchel, only to be stopped mid-action when I overheard some commotion goin’ on at Pearson’s wagon.

It didn’t look like Pearson himself was involved with whatever was happening, but Eddie had just brought in a deer carcass and was now arguing with Micah at the moment. Things were still civil, and I doubted Eddie would let it escalate too much, but I listened in anyways, hopin’ to at least hear something that would give me a good enough reason to strangle Micah if need be.

“--and Dutch said you was gonna be useful,” Micah retorted, gesturing to the deer. “Look at this thing. It’s almost as skinny as you. Who the hell’s this gonna feed? Jack?”

Eddie sighed in annoyance, stabbing his knife into a wooden table. “Well, I don’t see you feeding anyone. When was the last time you went out hunting in the woods?”

The other man chuckled in a condescending tone, pointing to his head. “I’m too busy helpin’ Dutch come up with plans. Someone’s gotta help the old man, after all, now that Hosea’s gone. He just needs a little...guidance. But we all have to pull our weight, Ryan. We all have to earn our keep. At least...” Micah glanced over at Uncle, “...that was the idea.”

Yanking his knife out the table, Eddie took hold of the deer and started skinnin’ it, doing his absolute best to ignore Micah.

“If you think you can do better, be my guest. Now, shut up and go bother someone else. I have to get this thing ready for Pearson.”

Micah laughed at that and began sauntering in Dutch’s direction, wavin’ a casual goodbye to Eddie as he took his leave.

“Whatever you say, Ryan.”

Waiting for the man to disappear from sight, Tilly suddenly joined the conversation once Micah was outta earshot and tried to reassure Eddie, holdin’ her book close to her chest as she spoke.

“Don’t listen to him, Eddie,” she encouraged. “We all see the work you’re doin’ for this gang. I know Arthur certainly does.”

The pianist softened his voice slightly and wiped some sweat off his brow, taking a break from the skinning.

“Thanks, Tilly...but Micah’s right. This deer hardly has any meat on it. In fact, most of the animals in this region don’t. It’s rare to see a healthy buck in these parts.”

The woman let out a concerned breath. “I hope not. We got a lotta mouths to feed. Anyway...I’ll let you get back to work. And I probably should too, before Grimshaw threatens to tan my hide again.”

“Sure.”

Returnin’ to their chores, Tilly wandered to a different part of the camp while Eddie stayed behind and continued slicing at the deer, causing me to walk over to him now that he was by himself.

I didn’t know what the hell Micah’s problem was with Eddie, but it seemed as if things had grown more tense between ‘em over the past few days. I mean, nobody in the gang was particularly fond of Micah anyways, but it felt especially uncomfortable when those two were near each other. 

Fortunately however, I was around camp most of the time, so Micah usually left Eddie alone. Though I still couldn’t help but wonder where this sudden hatred was comin’ from. Was it ‘cause Eddie was the youngest? Was it because he was close with me? I really didn’t know. Maybe the boy would have some answers.

Walkin’ up behind the pianist, I peeked over his shoulder and displayed a small smile, hoping to cheer him up a little.

“You okay, Eddie?” I asked. “What was that all about?”

Turning around to face me, Eddie stood up from the ground and squinted as the sun hit his eyes, makin’ him look even more annoyed than before.

“Oh, it’s nothing...” he brushed off. “It’s just -- the camp was running low on food so, I went to go hunting earlier, but...” Eddie glanced at the deer, “I dunno, Arthur. This place is strange. All the animals...they look sick. They’re so...weak and fragile.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was fishin’ at the Elysian Pool the other day. Caught a nice pike...but the bastard looked like it had been dead for a week already.”

Eddie cleaned his hands with a rag. “That’s what I’m talking about. Everything looks diseased here. Even the people. Have you been to Butcher Creek yet? The residents there are even worse than the deer.” The pianist let out an uneasy sigh. “You don’t...you don’t suppose there could be some illness going around Roanoke Ridge?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I certainly hope not. Our people are hungry already. Last thing we need’s for them to be sick, too.”

“Then we should stop eating the animals here altogether. We’d be safer sticking to the canned foods, but that stuff costs money. Which is another thing we’re low on.”

I paused out of confusion. “What? What happened to the money we just robbed from the riverboat?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently, Dutch has stashed most of it away somewhere...in a...secret box, or something.”

A scoff escaped me. “Ah, o’ course. He does that with every camp. Just to make sure our money’s safe. But...hey, tell you what. Why don’t you keep skinnin’ that deer, and I’ll head into town? Buy some more provisions. Also see if I can’t find another place to hit in Annesburg.”

The boy quickly put a hand on my chest, stoppin’ me in my tracks.

“Wait, don’t go alone. I’d feel better knowing you were with someone.”

I briefly scanned the camp with my eyes, choosing a partner to come with me.

“Alright,” I agreed. “What about Sadie?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well, she might start another shootout if there are any O’Driscolls in town, but at least I know you’ll be in good hands. Just...be careful, okay? Both of you.”

“Of course.”

Sayin’ goodbye, the pianist pecked a short kiss on my cheek and playfully patted my face, making me turn a bit red since most of the gang could see us here.

“Eddie--!” I mumbled awkwardly. The other man did nothing but laugh.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Anyways,” he gestured outta the camp, “I’ll let you go. Stay safe.”

Nodding at Eddie in response, I began headin’ to the camp’s entrance and called for Sadie along the way, urging her to join me.

“Mrs. Adler!” I exclaimed. “You free? Could use a hand.”

The woman happily accompanied me and followed along at a brisk pace, clearly eager to get outta this dreary forest.

“Sure. What we doing?”

“Nothin’ fancy. Just picking up some supplies in town, lookin’ for tips to investigate. You know the drill.”

Sadie smirked. “Didn’t think you’d ever go shoppin’ with me again after what happened in Rhodes.”

I climbed onto one of the gang’s wagons and helped her onto the seat, taking hold of the reins as a chortle escaped me.

“Oh, you know me, Mrs. Adler. Chaos has a habit o’ finding me anyway. May as well have a friend along when it comes.”

A LITTLE LATER

ANNESBURG

Ridin’ into the gloomy town, Sadie and I already started to see gigantic clouds of smoke blanketing the factories in the distance as they blocked out the white sun and darkened the settlement below, shrouding everything in shadows.

It felt like the entire place was covered in coal dust, and all around me, I could hear folk coughin’ up a storm as they breathed in the toxic air, powerless to prevent the damage they was causing to their lungs. 

And if they weren’t workin’ for the mines, most of the people here preferred to stay inside their drab lil’ houses as a way to escape from all the crime littering the streets. 

As for the ones who were outside though, they all looked lifeless and completely devoid of any vigor. It was like no one here had seen the sun in decades, and judgin’ by the condition of most of Annesburg’s residents, I doubted there was gonna be any money for us to steal.

Well...I still hoped we’d at least find something. 

The gang had been struggling even more ever since that incident with Rodrick, and if we didn’t find a decent score to take soon...we weren’t gonna last for very much longer. It was now or never. We’d have to rob someone eventually...or die off.

“So...” Sadie said, observin’ the dead town, “...any ideas on where to start in a god-awful place like this, Mister Morgan?”

I scoffed, bringing the wagon to a stop. “The exit, probably. Still worth a look though. I imagine these factories require a whole lotta money to stay up and running. Someone’s gotta be funding them.”

She climbed down from the wagon. “True. Well, why don’t you get to searching? In the meantime, I’ll head to the general store and buy some provisions for the camp.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in a while. Oh, and Mrs. Adler?”

The woman quirked a brow at me. “Yeah?”

I sighed. “...Keep that gun holstered, will you?”

Sadie snickered playfully. “What kind of a woman do you think I am?”

I chuckled, waving her goodbye. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met another like you.”

Wanderin’ around Annesburg’s muddy streets, I carefully investigated the different establishments in this place and listened closely to every group of strangers I passed, hoping to overhear any sorta tip or lead.

So far, it sounded as if the only building worth checkin’ out in this hellhole was the gunsmith. Apparently, the people in this town took better care of their firearms than they did themselves. Spent all their money stockin’ up on weapons and ammo, and didn’t have much need for anything else. 

I supposed it only made sense with the ridiculous amount of crime in Annesburg, but at the same time, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of robbin’ the only guy in this town who had an entire shop full of guns. There had to be something else.

Hugging a corner, I found myself roamin’ towards the harbor as the smell of salt water hit my nose, and an impressive display of boats came into view. I could hear seagulls cawing, boat engines humming, waves splashing against the pier, and most importantly, an interesting discussion seemed to be taking place among the people there.

I took a step back and concealed myself behind a wall, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“I believe I’ve made myself more than clear, Mister Rose. I have no intentions on getting involved with yet another gang. I have enough problems with outlaws as is.”

I froze. Did that man just say Mister Rose? As in Atticus Rose? 

I couldn’t goddamned believe it. What the hell was that bastard doing here?

Peeking around the corner, I squinted through the sunlight and caught a glimpse of the two men participatin’ in this meeting, only to find -- not one -- but two familiar faces talking near one of the boats.

Atticus was here, alright. 

And so was Leviticus Cornwall.

“I would encourage you to reconsider, Mister Cornwall,” Atticus said lowly, his tone drenched in venom. “We may stand on opposite sides of the law, but we share the same goal.”

Leviticus let out an amused scoff and addressed one of his employees, hardly listenin’ to Atticus as he ordered his workers around. 

“What, money? Well, I can assure you, Mister Rose, that everyone in America shares that goal. Janson! Send a telegram to Goldberg in New York. Tell him I won’t borrow at more than three point two percent...”

“Yes, sir.”

“...And double the security on the stagecoach coming in from West Elizabeth! It’ll be two days before it arrives, and I don’t want anyone laying a single finger on it before it reaches Annesburg!”

“Right away, sir!”

Atticus stood by patiently and thoroughly observed the businessman, his expression barely changing as Cornwall brought his attention back to him.

“Like I said,” Leviticus continued, “outlaws are already making a mockery of me, and I’ve spent a considerable fortune trying to help those...useless Pinkertons find them! The last thing I need is to cross paths with another criminal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mister Rose...” the man straightened his tie and began walking away, “I have many things to attend to. Good day.”

But Atticus wasn’t done yet. He simply stayed put and carried on with the discussion, bringin’ up a topic he knew Leviticus wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“Things more important than Dutch van der Linde?”

Cornwall paused at that and glanced over his shoulder, suddenly interested in what Atticus had to say.

“...Van der Linde?” He repeated. “Why? You know something about him?”

Atticus linked his hands together behind his back. “I know he’s in this area. And I also know that now is the perfect time to strike. Dutch is weaker than he’s ever been, Mister Cornwall, but it seems that even now, the law fails to apprehend him. Why not let someone outside the law take him down?”

Leviticus slowly found himself slinkin’ back into the conversation due to Atticus’ persistence and eyed the man up-and-down, his curiosity now piqued. 

“Alright, Mister Rose...” he granted, “you have my attention.”

Atticus stepped closer to Cornwall, almost unable to hide the victorious smirk creepin’ onto his face as he proposed an idea.

Before I could listen to anymore of what they were sayin’ however, someone else suddenly snuck up behind me, causin’ me to instantly reach for my gun.

“Relax!” They whispered in an alarmed tone. “It’s just me. Sadie.”

I sighed out of relief. “Jesus, Sadie. I coulda killed you. What’re you doin’ here?”

She smirked. “I was gonna ask you the same thing. What you listenin’ to?”

Tilting my head in Cornwall’s direction, I averted Sadie’s focus to the pier.

“Both Rose and Cornwall are in town.”

Her eyes widened at the news. “The hell? Ah, shit.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It sounds like they’re teamin’ up against Dutch. They both want him dead.

Sadie shook her head, muttering to herself. “...Son-of-a-bitch. Why is that we can’t take one step without Atticus or his gang showin’ up?”

“I don’t know, but we gotta let Dutch know what’s goin’ on. C’mon, we should head back to camp...before either of them figures out we’re here.”

Mrs. Adler followed me. “I’m right behind you.”

BEAVER HOLLOW

Storming back into camp, Sadie got to work on delivering the provisions to Pearson while I hurried over to Dutch and Micah, admittedly a bit shaken now that I knew Atticus was nearby.

At first, I dismissed Micah’s idea of there bein’ a rat in the gang, but after seeing how quickly Rose seemed to move -- especially when it came to interfering with our plans -- I couldn’t help but concede that he might’ve had a point.

Who would sell us out like that? I mean, sure, not everyone in the gang always saw eye-to-eye with Dutch, but I highly doubted any of them would go as far as to betrayin’ us. 

It couldn’t be Marston. Dutch was like a father to him, same as me. It couldn’t be Williamson either. He practically worshipped the man. And it sure as hell weren’t Eddie. This gang was the closest thing to a family he had left. He wouldn’t risk our lives like that.

I supposed that’d be another question for another time. Right now, I just needed to inform Dutch on what the hell was happening between Atticus and Cornwall, and hopefully, convince him to lay low.

“Dutch!” I called out, approaching his tent.

The man stepped out from the shade and walked up to me, eager to see if I had learned anything as Micah tagged along. 

“Arthur! There you are. Eddie said you was lookin’ for a tip in Annesburg. You find anything useful?”

I hesitated. “...Well, yes, but--”

“--Let’s hear it, then!”

I breezed through the subject, wantin’ to get straight to the point. “...There’s gonna be a stagecoach comin’ from West Elizabeth in two days. I dunno what’s in it, but apparently it’s gonna be under heavy guard. Must be something valuable.”

Dutch picked up on my anxious tone. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I stuttered for a moment, unsure of how to deliver the news. “...This stagecoach belongs to Leviticus Cornwall, Dutch. He’s in town. And so is Atticus. They’re both here.”

The spark in the other man’s gaze instantly vanished at that and I could see his brow crinkling in anger, leadin’ me to worry about how he was gonna react.

“...Is that so?” He questioned darkly, his jaw clenching.

“Unfortunately.” I confirmed. “I saw ‘em with my own two eyes. They wanna kill you, Dutch. It’s what they said.”

Glancing at Micah for a second as he processed the situation, Dutch nodded in an assured manner before turnin’ back to me, clearly not taking this as seriously as I expected him to.

“Then I guess we’re gonna be visiting an old friend,” he said with a grin. “You said the coach arrives in two days?”

An irritated sigh escaped me. “We can’t be robbin’ no Leviticus Cornwall stagecoach, Dutch!”

“Why not?”

I spread my arms out, gesturing to the entire camp. “We have enough attention on us already! We rob someone as big as Leviticus, and all we’ll be doing is signing our death warrant. If we wanna leave this country, we gotta do it as quietly as possible.”

Micah hopped into the conversation, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh, what’s happened to you, Morgan? I thought you was a tough boy. Not one of those...gentlemen...trying to protect his ridin’ clothes. But now look at you. You’ve turned yella.”

He chuckled, lookin’ at Dutch. “It’s like I said, boss. That Ryan boy is makin’ him soft.”

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. “All I know is that we’ve lost three of our men in no less than a few weeks. Hosea, Lenny, Strauss -- we keep goin’ on like this and I guarantee we’re gonna lose more.”

Micah put a hand on Dutch’s shoulder. “No, no, no, no. If we wanna leave this country, see, we gotta make a whole lotta noise, Dutch. Think of it as a smoke bomb. While everyone else is all confused and distracted by this mayhem, we’ll just slip away as if nothing happened! Easy as that.”

I glowered at him. “You’re a fool if you think that, Bell. Dutch?”

Staring at the ground in concentration, Dutch considered his options while the two of us waited for a decision, already somewhat suspicious of whose advice he was gonna go with. 

I knew Dutch and Leviticus had a bad history with each other -- and truth be told, I wasn’t fond of the man neither -- but I never thought he’d be so reckless as to consider Micah’s plan of robbing the stagecoach. 

Lord only knew how many men would be guardin’ it. And on top of that, we didn’t even know what the coach was goddamned carrying in the first place! The cargo might’ve been valuable to Cornwall, but was it valuable to us? As far as I was concerned, it could’ve been worth shit. But clearly, that didn’t matter to Dutch. All he cared about right now was takin’ revenge on those he hated, and part of me feared I was slowly makin’ my way onto that list.

I just prayed he would come to his senses soon. For all our sakes.

“Get ready, boys...” Dutch announced, causin’ me to tilt my head in disappointment as he smiled deviously.

“...We’re gonna be rich.”

jake/amy + number 5 from the smut prompt list? ;) - @thehoneymoonbinder

Prompt: “Try to stay quiet,understand?”

It’s a thing they do sometimes, when they wanna have a little fun. They don’t tell each other in advance, what their aliases or backstories are going to be. When they wanna do something kinky and roleplay as strangers meeting in public for the first time.

_____

Amy shifted on her bar stool, tapping her fingers on the counter in disinterest, waiting for her boyfriend to approach her (she’s looking forward to seeing what persona he made this time, wondering what he’ll think of hers).

Then she heard a familiar voice from behind her. “Waiting for someone?”

Amy smiled.

AO3 Link

Mr. Laufeyson's Ward

TITLE: Mr. Laufeyson’s Ward

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 18

AUTHOR: goddessofmischief

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit.

RATING: T

NOTES: This unexpected chapter shall probably come as a surprise to most of you. I have been super busy: applying to grad schools, getting into my preferred one, and beginning my studies. I can’t say that my updates shall be regularly posted from now on (which they never were any way), but here is something to dissipate the ongoing silence since I last posted… 7 months ago. Wow. I really am sorry for the delay, but thank you so much for sticking around. Enjoy! ♥︎

I began to take notice of a change in Loki shortly after my eighteenth birthday.

At first they were little things that I did not initially question, such as the way in which Loki would fall into a sort of trance while I was talking to him, his index finger brushing his upper lip in deep contemplation. Or how I would find him in the morning sleeping soundly at the desk in his study, his head resting on a plethora of mighty volumes: a clear sign that he had never retired to his room the previous night.

On one particular morning, I padded quietly over to him to gaze over his shoulder at the books he had been reading and found that all of them were filled with peculiar diagrams and archaic runes that were completely indiscernible to me. One diagram stood out to me though: it was that of a man being transfigured in some way. The illustrated figure on the page seemed to be in mid-transformation and the diagram was not unlike Michelangelo’s Vitruvian Man.

I then turned my head slightly to analyze another book placed next to it but instead came face-to-face with Loki. I gasped, and he answered with a soft, amused chuckle. “Well aren’t you a nosy little mouse.” He muttered in a raspy, just-awoken tone, as his hands quickly took my waist and settled me onto his lap. I gave out a squeak, which caused him to laugh even more. I calmed down as his arms wrapped tenderly about me, and he rested his head beside mine, inhaling deeply. The relaxing scent of his bergamot and sandalwood based cologne enveloped me in a warm cocoon. “You never pass up the opportunity of getting your head stuck in a book, hm?” He asked, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

My curiosity got the best of me as I posed a question for him. “What are those runes, Loki?” He paused, before closing the book that was directly before him: the one that I had questioned. “They belong to an ancient language. One that is only used by a civilization that is highly dissimilar to yours - I mean, ours.” He quickly corrected himself, and I knew that he had hoped this had gone unnoticed by me, but it did not. Was this society the one that he belonged to? The one that he had returned to on account of a threatening war? The one that he was keeping hidden from me?

Something was consuming his thoughts, and I intended to find out just what it was.

In the meantime, I was continuing my visits to the Blythe’s farm. Agnes and her parents were getting on splendidly, and on those days of my visits, I would assist them with the farm work while wearing my orphanage uniform and an apron. As I didn’t mind getting my hands dirty, even though Agnes continuously urged me that it was not proper for a ‘lady’ to get herself involved in such proceedings, I happily tended to whatever needed to be done. They also had assistance on most days from Benjamin, the hired farmhand - who Agnes had developed a deep affection for that had yet to be requited.

Loki, who seemed busier than he had ever been before, even persuaded me to accept the Blythe’s invitation to stay for supper on most nights. As it was summer and the days were much longer, it was still light outside when it was time for me to mount Arabella and return to Heathcote. Even though I took great pleasure in the simple comforts of Agnes’ home, as well as Mrs Blythe’s savoury meals, I was slightly saddened by the notion that Loki was attempting to push me away, and that he had more important matters to tend to.

As I didn’t want to be considered a nuisance in the eyes of my future husband, upon returning home I would convey Arabella to Dickon in the stables and then hurry up to my room, not bothering to take my bonnet and light cloak off until I was once inside. And then, I would wait. For any sort of call that would indicate that I was sought by Loki. That I was wanted. But nothing would come.

I refused to shed a tear, even when one evening I opened up the cherished book of poems that Loki had composed for me and traced my fingers over his fine handwriting. Even when I cradled the single carnation in the palm of my hand: the one flower that had been the first to bloom in our garden. I had cried too often ever since I had come to Heathcote and had, in countless instances, let down my guard. I had to be strong, and self-reliant, once again.

Upon safely storing the book away into one of my desk compartments, I noticed a peculiar movement of light out the window closest to me, as I had forgotten to draw close the curtains earlier that night. It had been a transitory flicker at first, but then I noticed it again out of the corner of my eye. It had shifted slightly more upwards this time but was still clearly observable from my viewpoint. I trained my eye to outside the window before finally detecting where it had come from. The tower in the far wing of the house. I had only been in this wing on that day that I assisted Elsie with her task of cleaning those neglected rooms, which had turned out to be just a cruel assignment from Loki, as no one had stepped foot inside them since then.

Mabel, who was seated on a tufted velvet pillow on a chair nearby, gave out a soft whine, and I reached out my hand to comfort her - not allowing my eyes to leave the appointed spot through the window.

There it was again. The silhouetted individual carrying the candlestick passed by another window at the uppermost part of the tower staircase, before the light finally escaped from my view and was seen no more. I closed the drapes with surrender, and unable to keep my eyes open for long, I found my feet and crawled inside my bed, drifting to sleep at once due to my exhaustion from all the farm work I had done earlier that day.

The following night and many nights after that, the light going up that winding staircase was seen time and time again, usually just before midnight. I decided to question Loki about it one morning at breakfast, which was usually the only time I saw him as Mrs Cunningham provided me with a packed lunch to bring with me to the farm and I never encountered him upon my return in the evenings.

He did not usually act indifferently to me, as you might think, reader, but was instead most doting and attentive. But on this morning, his demeanour had altered when I raised a question. “I wish to ask you something, sir.” “What troubles you, my darling?” He asked while buttering his toast. His green eyes steadily looked at me from across the table, which situated amongst the sumptuous array of breakfast foods was an exquisite crystal vase filled with white lilies from the garden. As I met his intense gaze I slightly tensed up, but immediately found this reaction to be foolish and stoically proceeded. “Is the tower in the wing opposite from mine currently in use?”

Before replying to my question he languidly took a bite of his toast and regarded the front page of the newspaper that was, as customary, positioned beside his plate. It was as though he had been expecting this question all this time, for he was not startled by it in the least. “Tower? What tower?” He replied, his eyes still on today’s headlines. “I believe you know exactly which tower I am referring to.” I folded my arms across my chest in frustration. He shook his head in opposition. “No, I do not, Victoria. The only tower I know of has been locked up for years.” With this he took a final bite of his toast, leaving the crust on the toile patterned dish before him. “Well, I best be going. I have got a lot of reading to do. Please give my warmest regards to Agnes and her family this morning.” He touched my shoulder as he walked past my chair and then departed for his study, which he would lock himself inside for most of the day unless he had a meeting with one of his tenants.

We no longer kissed, nor did we embrace. He only acknowledged me with platonic gestures, and these signs of fatherlike affection, if you were to even classify them as such, led me to believe that nothing had transpired to alter our relationship. It made me feel that I was still just his ward.

¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨

Time passed, as it always does. I slipped into a state of deep melancholy, yet nobody suspected any change in my feelings, for I had become an expert at disgusting them. I acted before others as though a veil of happiness was permanently shrouded over me.

But it was not easy for me to remain nonplussed when Loki was before me. Because when I was with him, all of those happy moments came back to me. They were replayed in my mind as though I was watching them through the stereographic viewer we once looked at together: when one memory disappeared from view, it wasn’t long until another one was set into place.

On a hot morning in early July, I was picking strawberries in the far corner of the Blythe’s property. They had been planted earlier in the year by a farmer at an adjacent farm, who had been paid by Loki to maintain the fields until a new tenant could be found. Agnes was tending to a nearby row, while her parents had started at the opposite corner.

Agnes was not foolish. She could always see right through me and knew that something had changed just about a week after my birthday.

“Any signs of improvement?” She asked me, as she plucked a ripe strawberry off of a nearby vine and placed it into her basket. I shook my head as I also continued to add more of the fruit to my growing batch. “No, there have been none.” A strong gust of wind then came that practically blew my straw hat off of my head, but I quickly caught it and tugged it firmly back down. She sighed dramatically. “What is wrong with men? One minute they shower you with fancy gifts and an adorable puppy, and the next they decide to ignore you completely!” She articulated this in a fiery whisper so her parents couldn’t overhear the content of our conversation, but then she showed remorse by kneeling beside me and taking both of my hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Vic… but the wedding is a little less than two months away, which leaves plenty of time for things to fall back into place.” “Yes, perhaps you are right. Thank you.” I gently squeezed her hands to show my gratitude for her words before returning to my work. I didn’t wish to dwell on the matter for too long. To lighten up the conversation, I returned to a subject that was sure to make Agnes blush. “So how is it going with Benj-” “SHHH,” She hushed at once. “He’s just over there!”

She was right. I had initially thought that he was not working today, for I hadn’t seen him earlier. But he was tending to the farm animals, in his fresh, unsoiled clothes, as if was still early in the morning, and wearing his trusted bowler cap. His golden hair stood out against the black matted felt of his hat and his blue eyes attentively regarded each of the chickens that were situated in the pen before him. “He’ll come around soon,” I remarked, after which we fell into a fit of laughter that only ceased when he looked over at us a gave us a friendly wave, in which he then smiled tenderly at Agnes in particular. She smiled back sweetly before returning to her strawberries. “Perhaps you might even be wed before me!” I added in a whisper. A small mound of dirt was inconspicuously flicked onto my skirt in response.

After our day’s work, and a tasty supper, I shared my gratitude for the Agnes and her family’s hospitality. Before going to collect Arabella in the stable, they presented me with a wrapped bundle of strawberries to take back home with me, which I securely placed in my small carpet bag that attached to Arabella’s saddle. Arabella was well taken care of by Mr Blythe and Benjamin throughout the day and received many carrots and bales of hay to feed on. Benjamin had just briefly groomed and saddled her moments before I was set to head out. She always whinnied when I approached. “Hey there Arabella, ready to go home?” Another neigh from her prompted me to lead her outside before I mounted and urged Arabella forward in a canter. Going down the dirt path, I then turned right towards the road that led me back towards Heathcote.

Night had yet to descend, but the skies had turned overcast: a clear sign of an oncoming storm. The powerful moorland winds rushed past my face, disheveling my pinned up hair and singing a harsh cacophony into my ears. And then there was a distinct call from my right.

“Miss! Miss! Please help!” I immediately pulled on the reigns, bringing Arabella to a sharp halt. After looking briefly around, I detected a figure lying down amongst a nearby plot of heather, which was now in full bloom. From my viewpoint, I could see that it was a heavy set man settled hopelessly on the ground, a few feet away from the road. He let out a cry of agony before he continued to speak, his voice was in a thick Yorkshire dialect. “Miss, I’m injured! Please help me to the village. My horse ran off after I fell.”

I quickly got down from Arabella while commanding her to stay in her place. I hastily went over to where the man was lying and inquired about what had happened. “My horse got startled when he spotted an adder on the road and I have twisted my ankle.” I got down on my knees to examine his injury, but then things became all a blur.

The man took me by my shoulders and threw me backwards. He then swiftly took his small pistol out of his pocket and shot a round into the sky to frighten Arabella. She ran off pell-mell down the road, leaving me deserted and without any means of returning home. But my thoughts were only momentarily positioned on this, for something else was happening. An excessive force was pushing me down onto the grouse, as a hand was fumbling to pull up my skirts. “Mhm, it looks like my days of planning for this moment shall finally pay off. It became like clockwork eventually. You have always been quite punctual.”

I screamed as loud as I could and began to squirm excessively underneath him as I finally knew what his true intent was. But my scream could only be heard for a second, as a large, sweaty palm was clamped over my mouth. With a sharp tilt of my head, I evaded his hand just enough to allow me to bite down forcefully on his index finger. He yelped as he shook his hand in pain and from my position I could see that I had drawn blood. However, he did not withdraw his body weight from on top of me. “You little bitch!” He shouted bitterly. He then fumbled for the pistol in his pocket and aimed it towards me. “Don’t make me use this on you!” He warned.

I immediately froze and shut my eyes closed in fright, cowering my head down towards my chest. “Loki…” I desperately whispered to myself, but the man had overheard me. He laughed maliciously at my pitiful call for help. “He can’t help you out here, sweetie. No one can.”

A husky, menacing voice answered with a growl. “You’re wrong, Lawrence.”

Duplicity: Ch 5/?

Notes: So.... it has been a long time since I updated this story. And I could list all of the reasons why, but I won't. Instead I will leave this chapter here and promise to do my best to get on a regular schedule with it again.Writing has always been and will always be a passion of mine, but it's easy for me to let day to day life get in the way of that. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy what I put out in this story (and others in the future) and I am forever grateful for all of the support.The next chapter will not take so long to be posted, that much I can guarantee, so stay tuned and let me know what you think! Thank you :)

A special, special thanks to my beta @resident-of-storybrooke who is a gift and also to @shady-swan-jones for the incredible art and also to @onceuponaprincessworld for keeping me accountable and reminding me to keep writing

Summary:  Secrets shroud the homes of the idyllic Willow Lane. Its newest resident, Emma Swan is no exception. In a place where perception is everything, the facade begins to crack. And Emma finds herself staring down the deep, dark secrets that the neighborhood was built on and that nothing is as it seems. Not even the blue eyed gardener.

Read the whole thing on AO3 and ffnet

For as long as Killian could remember he loved being on the water. It didn’t matter if he was in a canoe, a speedboat, or just swimming around he was at ease. He and Liam used to spend as many weekends as they could, off fishing in their favorite spot. A lake not far from Storybrooke that they had gone to as children. It was the only example of a vacation they had ever known. Their family never had much, so anywhere that required planes or trains was out of the question.

The day he had told Emma about the cabin, and how it had been the inspiration for what his current home looked like, was the first time he had ever said that sentence out loud. Making it all the more real.

All of that changed seven years ago. His comfort on the water completely disintegrated when Killian lost his brother. Liam’s death altered the entire course of his life and even now, standing near the small creek behind his house, he felt the crippling anxiety of being near water. Which was why it was surprising to him that he had even uttered the words aloud to her. To Emma.

It was Saturday morning, and the day was crisp. Overcast. Chilly. The warm April weather had shifted quickly, as it sometimes did in the northeast. So today he wore Liam’s old Storybrooke High sweatshirt. It was ripped and threadbare but it kept Killian warm. And his family didn’t exactly have heirlooms to pass down, so he kept their memory alive in little ways that he could.

An old tree sat, tall and gangly near the creek where his old fishing boat rested in the grass.

Old was an understatement, as the small boat looked as if it hadn’t been used in thirty years. Grass growing around it, like an ornate lawn sculpture that was intentionally planted there to make it look rustic.

From the creek he looked up at his modest home and compared it to the cottage he had once loved so much. The pitched roof. The simple stonework that made up the walls. The modest back porch with two rocking chairs where he used to sit every morning. The green shutters, where the paint was now peeling. He would have to redo those eventually. But it hardly seemed worth it. He had no neighbors and never any guests.

It was interesting to him how he spent his days making the outside of other people’s homes so lovely while his appeared to be falling into disrepair.

What he should do was sell the house. Between losing Liam and Milah, there was too much history. Too many ghosts lingering in the floorboards. And all of it was painful. At least the most recent ones were. It was why he hid in the apartment above Robin’s bar for so long, and why he went back there on weekends when he needed to not feel so alone. The one room, impersonal space with a stranger was about all he could bear.

A gentle breeze rustled the trees around him. His house was surrounded by foliage that had been there for years. And at one point he found it to be peaceful on a Saturday morning like this, when there was a chilly breeze bringing it all alive. But today all he felt was morose.

His phone rang, bringing his attention away from his general bad mood. The caller ID told him it was Will… and that the time was already almost 9 am. Bloody hell. He was going to be late.

“Top of the morning,” Will said on the other end. “Can I expect to see you at any point today or should I tell your friend you aren’t coming?”

“My friend.. What… who?” Killian was startled by the question. His friend couldn’t possibly mean….

“Mrs. Gold.”

Her last name is Swan, Killian thought to himself, but chose not to correct Will over the phone. The last thing he wanted to hear was the relentless teasing about Emma Swan. Who he found himself thinking of a lot, especially when he shouldn’t be.

“The pallet of bricks arrived at her house this morning and are good to be laid for next week, but she hates them…” said Will. “I told her you had said her husband already gave specific instructions about the brickwork…”

As much as Killian normally would have rolled his eyes and made some comment about the unimportance of the tile pathways, he softened a bit. He remembered the last time he had seen Emma, and how unsettled she looked. Like a deer in the headlights, in her own home.

That had been on Monday, and Killian hadn’t been over there since. Now that it was Saturday, he figured he had avoided checking in at the Gold project for as long as he could. It was hard, he felt torn between wanting to know everything about Emma Swan and wanting to keep a safe distance.

“Tell her I’ll be right over,” Killian said quickly hanging up the phone. He took one more look around his own backyard. There were no gazebos or hand laid brick. There were no intricately plotted flowerbeds. No fountains. But when he and Liam had bought the place all of those years ago, it had been the proudest day of his life.

So perhaps all of the memories here were not bad, perhaps he just had to work a bit harder to uncover the good ones.

The plumbing for the sprinkler system had gone in the front and the backyards during the week. When Killian’s truck pulled up to the curb, he could see his workers putting the wooden fence in place. It would all be fine if he avoided the place, he knew that. Still though he wanted to be there.

“There he is,” Will said removing his gloves and walking over to Killian. He had been making his way around back when Will had caught sight of him. “Thought I would have to take over the business if you didn’t start showing up here.”

“It’s a busy time of year, you know that.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Will’s arm pointed to the pallets of bricks that had been ordered weeks ago to be used in the yard. “She’s not pleased.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Killian said looking toward the house. Emma wasn’t outside so he would have to go to the door. He would use the back, safer from prying eyes that way. He caught enough shit for following her in on Monday, he didn’t need to amplify it.

The back porch was not as empty as he had last seen it. Gone were the empty moving boxes that had scattered the space that was now filled with furniture. A bench with colorful pillows and a small table with a candle on it. A yoga mat sat in the far corner with a dog eared book and a bottle of water. All of which he assumed belonged to Emma. He could oddly picture her out here, even amongst the chaos surrounding her yard.

She just seemed like one of those people who was immune to the insanity, but allowed it in her life anyway.

“Killian… hi,” Emma said when she answered the door. Her expression was surprisingly readable to him, if he didn’t know any better he would say she was happy. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had seen her. “I’m sorry to make you drive all the way out here, I know you’re probably busy…”

“Don’t worry, love, it’s my job.”

Her face fell a bit but not for long. In an instant she was back on, pleasant even and guiding him into the kitchen. Her long hair was tied in a braid that fell down her back, and she was dressed in jeans with a sweater in a lovely shade of pale pink. Everything about her reminded him of a doll, so poised and careful.

This time he felt a bit better about being inside her house. He wasn’t covered in filth from work, and he didn’t have on dirty work boots. Killian was still in his jeans and ragged sweatshirt. But it also meant he forgot to put on his gloves before coming to talk to her. He had left his truck so quickly he didn’t cover his prosthetic hand.

“I saw the bricks and they’re terrible…” she started, heading over to the circular dining table in the kitchen nook. The surface was scattered with her laptop and some papers and home magazines. Clearly she had done some research before arguing the yard’s design. “I found some other examples that I like better….”

“I see that,” he laughed. For someone who didn’t care too much about living here, she certainly managed to keep a pristine home and gather a lot of ideas. He tried to tuck his hand in his pocket to hide it from her view. In the gloves or in dim lighting he could normally get away with the fake hand, but he had forgotten to put on the gloves and it was broad daylight… so it was pretty obvious.

“I know Neal gave you instructions already but do you think we could use those bricks in the front and maybe this limestone in the back?” She pointed to an image of a lush backyard garden with a limestone path in grass leading to a bird bath. Her hands were so soft looking, her painted fingers gliding across the glossy page as her bracelets dangled.

Killian was uneasy. It had been her husband who ordered them in the first place, and if the Gold’s were as powerful as Killian suspected they were, he didn’t want to go against them. Even in such a seemingly small way.

“If it makes you feel any better, all of the homes on this street used those bricks for their pathways…” Killian chimed in. He remembered putting them in across the street at the Mills’ house and then at the Nolan’s and even at Ruby’s grandmother’s house. It was all part of the uniform structure that was the cul de sac.

Emma looked up at him, her green eyes were lighter today. Not quite so concerned as the last time he had seen her. From that alone he was relieved. It was interesting though that, even in her most relaxed state, she appeared caged. Like there was so much more she wished she could say and do.

“I can talk to him if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said finally. Behind her was the bay windows that looked out toward the backyard where he saw the fence being put up. Normally he would just allow the wife to start the fight, to bring up her dissatisfaction with the landscaping design choices the husband made, but the look in her eyes made him want to be the one to take that hit. “He can be tough to deal with.”

“It’s all right, I will make some suggestions,” Killian offered with a soft smile. Again, interpreting that she wanted to say more about her husband but biting back on it. “I may not be able to get him to agree on the front yard but perhaps the backyard could be negotiable.”

Emma smiled back at him. One that reached her eyes.

“Which tiles would you like me to suggest?” he asked, pointing to the magazines on the table. Not even realizing that he had used his prosthetic hand to do so. He tried to pull it away before she noticed but her head had frozen. And not on the clutter on the table. “I... um…”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize…” she stumbled over her words, an adorable shade of pink highlighting her cheeks. “I would have never noticed, you usually wear the gloves.”

“Boating accident… when I was seven years old,” he said, catching her looking. He remained calm though, mostly because she wasn’t riddled with disgust or judgement. Emma’s face was simply kind in expression.

“I didn’t mean to stare…”

“It’s quite alright, love.” He took a step toward her, now they were only a few inches apart, as his prosthetic hand extended in her direction. She took it, with much trepidation, and other than the day he met her when they shook hands, this was the only other time they had touched.

Her fingers slowly traced the palm, the soft manicured tips dragging along the prosthetic. He felt himself wishing it was his real hand she was touching, but then again wouldn’t that be incredibly inappropriate?

“It doesn’t prevent me from doing anything.”

Emma considered him, her eyes searching his face. He turned away, knowing that if someone were to walk in right now it would be a horrible scene.

At the same moment, she seemed to also realize that the two of them had crossed a line. It was unspoken, not entirely obvious, but nevertheless the air in the room had shifted.

“So,” Killian cleared his throat, stepping slightly away from Emma. “The tiles. I will have a quote for you by the end of the day.”

“Perfect,” she replied. Her posture stiffened and she busied her hands with sorting the magazines on the table. Out of the corner of his eye Killian could see the fencework coming along, and while he could have let Emma Swan trace his palm all day he had no business doing that. “I’ll um, I’ll be around so just let me know.”

“Certainly.” His smile was terse and he knew it, forced. But hers was the same.

And as he headed back into the yard to continue doing his job, he wondered if Emma Swan was thinking the same thing that he was.

That night, after spending the rest of the day working in the Emerald Forest, Killian and Will plopped their arses down on two barstools for a well earned round of drinks at The Rose and the Thorn.

“What’ll it be, boys?” Robin joked as he poured their usual two fingers of rum into tumblers and slid them down the wooden bar.

Killian graciously took the glass and tilted it so the liquid coated his throat. It went down smooth, it usually did on Saturdays when he found himself planted on a barstool washing away the week. He twirled the empty glass in his hand, focusing on the surface marks from frequent use.

“Another?” Robin asked, pulling Killian’s attention away.

He thought on it, hesitating a little too long before setting the glass down for his friend to finish it.

“Ah, there he is, I hoped you weren’t getting lazy,” said Will nudging Killian on the shoulder. They both went through another round and then rose from the barstools to claim the dartboard before it got busy. The night was young, it had just gotten dark outside, which meant soon enough people would start pouring in.

“Don’t look now but someone’s already staring at you,” said Will, taking the darts from the pegs and handing them to Killian. Who looked in the direction Will was. “Hey, I told you not to look.”

“I’ve never been a great listener.”

Killian gave Will a sardonic look. This was all part of their normal banter for a Saturday night. It was the familiarity of it that Killian appreciated, because it wasn’t like he had a family with traditions or dinners. His friends were his family now.

“One of these days I want to trade faces with you… just to see what it’s like.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Killian muttered while throwing the first dart, it landed just below the center.

“Oh don’t pretend.” Will threw the next dart. “You draw a crowd everywhere.”

“It’s just the dim lighting.”

“Normally you would have been over there in a heartbeat.”

Killian looked to the small table of young women, specifically the one who had also been looking at him. She was pretty, brunette, dark eyes, a knowing smile on her face. She was his type and someone that usually caught his eye, Will was right. He politely nodded and went back to his dart throwing. Robin brought them over another round and stayed for a drink of his own before the bar got busy.

They spent so much time at this bar because Robin owned it, and Ruby worked there also. They could all spend time together, but on nights like tonight when the place was packed to the gills it was hard to have any sort of quality time.

The air was thick, with all of the bodies packed in the tight space. Will had wandered off to talk to some girl who often spent her weekends in the bar. Which left Killian alone with his drink, he toyed with his phone and let his mind drift to when he used to spend his Saturday nights in the company of a woman he actually cared for.

The crowd drowned out many other sounds but it couldn’t quiet the voice in his head. The one that told him to stop using these distractions as a means to avoid opening back up again. It was so much easier to take the easy way out.

His eyes locked with a woman a few feet from him. Not the same from before, she was different. Her hair was long, it hung in curls down her back and it was a light blonde. He had to look twice, to make sure it wasn’t Emma. It wasn’t, the woman was beautiful certainly but she wasn’t a match. Not even close.

Killian downed the rest of his drink and made his way over to the blonde. Her hair was a few shades darker and her skin wasn’t the same smooth, fair complexion. Her eyes weren’t a striking shade of green. But if he was honest with himself, truly honest, he knew why he allowed himself to be drawn to her.

Sunday morning bright and early, Emma was throwing in a few loads of laundry. The basement of the new house was unfinished, for now, but that was where the washer and dryer were. So she spent an awful lot of time in the dark, cinder block space throwing in load after load of clothes.

The boxes that had been on the back porch were now down here, stacked neatly in a corner. Emma had decided to assemble the deck furniture on her own one night when Neal neglected to call before coming home.

That was the thing with him, he would make grandiose promises to her about the future, and then they would fall by the wayside as quickly as they had been dreamt up.

She had sorted out all of the delicate clothes, wanting to do some of those to save money on dry cleaning when she stumbled upon a pair of Neal’s pants with his house keys in the pocket. Emma rolled her eyes, if she had a dollar for every time she found something he had forgotten to take out she could have bought all of Storybrooke ten times over.

It was a small inconvenience for her, to have to check Neal’s pockets, but these days the tiny things were adding up to mean more and more.

Like the surprise party Neal was apparently planning in their backyard. The one that had kept Emma on edge for the past week. It was probably why she had snapped so quickly when the bricks had arrived. The ones Neal had picked without talking to her.

Was it odd that her first instinct had been to call Killian and not Neal? Well, that wasn’t something she was willing to dive into.

After doing the laundry, and thinking far too much about things she couldn’t control, Emma began to get dressed in the master bathroom.

And a car horn began honking. She was just about finished, securing her watch on her wrist, putting small gold studs in her ears, zipping the knee high brown boots she wore over her jeans.

Mary Margaret had asked Emma if she had any interest in going to the Storybrooke farmers market. And it seemed like just as good of an excuse as any to get out of her house. To get out of her own head.

“I got us coffee for the ride, it takes a bit to get into town,” Mary Margaret said when Emma climbed into her car. The steaming to-go mugs left an aroma in the car of coffee that was calming. The morning was chilly, and it felt cosy in the car. She wasn’t sure what it was about this woman, but everything about her felt like home.

“Thank you,” Emma said taking a cup and sipping it. “How far away is town?”

“Well, on a good day… twenty minutes but today probably closer to forty. There’s a lot of construction.”

There was a time when Emma lived within walking distance of a farmers market. That was a trade off of living in the wide open suburbs where she had to get into a car anytime she needed a gallon of milk.

The highway was sectioned off by large orange cones from all of the road work that was happening. Emma noticed a few other incomplete neighborhoods that she remembered Neal pointing out to her as the work of his father. Well… and now Neal she supposed.

The trees were few and far between as the housing developments took over and the landscape became more manicured. Row after row of box houses lined up ready for families to move in. That’s where Neal had been all weekend, working on some plumbing issue in one of the developments. She fixed her eyes elsewhere, on anything. An old gum wrapper on the floor, an air freshener hanging on the mirror, the name of the radio station on the screen.

Neal hadn’t been around since the brick incident. So he had no idea she was angry, no idea she felt like he micromanaged her even when he wasn’t there. But for her, it wasn’t so much the appearance of the bricks, it was more so that they were exactly the same as everyone else’s.

Emma didn’t consider herself to be particularly high maintenance, but one thing she didn’t like was falling in line with everyone else. Her whole life had been a rebellious streak where she continuously ran the other way from what was expected of her.

It was how she had run away from several group homes even though it would have been easier to just stay there quiet. It was how she had met Neal. In a bar, in a shady neighborhood, that took fake ID’s and let her in without so much as a second glance at 17. It was how she had run from him the second she found out he would be working for his father. It was how she had done it again when he told her they would have to move to Storybrooke.

The closer they got to the central city of Storybrooke, the more Emma felt intrigued. Where she was living was such a stiff, suburban complex but the town at the center was much different. The symmetrical neighborhoods and manicured shrubs turned to old townhouses and apartment buildings. Little sidewalks lined with unique, quirky structures where no two looked the same.

Young people flooded the streets, which were narrow and crowded. There were couples walking dogs, groups of friends sharing coffee on stoops, and cars parked all along the sides.

“I’m so terrible at parallel parking, that’s the one issue with coming to this,” Mary Margaret mumbled as she cut the wheel and backed the car into a narrow spot along the street. “They block off half of this street.”

Emma looked ahead at the wooden structures blocking off the roadway. Just beyond that she could see the farmer’s market bustling with people. The tops of white tents were visible and Emma could smell the fresh scent of donuts and sweets as she climbed out of the car.

“This is quite the operation isn’t it?” Emma said, taking in all of the activity. It was probably the most at home she had felt since moving here. She was a city person, always had been, and while it wasn’t Boston she was stepping into, it was a place that was different.

“I think you’ll like it here, there’s all kind of fun things to see,” Mary Margaret said, her steps on the cracked sidewalk falling in pace with Emma’s. “Thanks for coming along.”

Emma looked over at Mary Margaret. Her face and smile were soft, she wore a pretty blue sweater. Even though they hadn’t known each other for that long, she was one of the few people she had warmed to not just in Storybrooke but in years.

“Are you kidding? I love this kind of stuff.”

“You do?” Mary Margaret seemed surprised at Emma’s admission. “I only mean that you seem like you aren’t interested in the town much…”

She looked over at the dark-haired woman again, trying to gauge what she was getting at. Her soft face had gone concerned, her brows furrowing in on one another. Emma made note of how tense she herself had gone. Instead of holding onto that resistance, she let it go. Mary Margaret wasn’t being nasty, she was a nice person just scared to breach the guardedness.

It was then that Emma realized how good she had gotten at reading people.

They made their way through the crowd. Mostly young people perusing the various stands. Between the food options and the boutique tents there was a lot to see. Mary Margaret led them through the maze of people toward a restaurant on the corner. The front windows took up the face of the building and inside Emma could see people eating breakfast at the checkered cloth tables.

“I figured we could stop by Granny’s and grab Ruby.” Mary Margaret held the door for her to the sound of a ringing bell above. “She works Sunday mornings so she should be good to leave soon.”

“There you two are I was beginning to waste away here,” Ruby said from behind the breakfast bar. The brunette was tall, and clearly garnered a male following, the men at the bar stools eating the breakfasts right where she was polishing silverware. Her long legs were in a pair of tight red shorts and her hair was in two pigtails. She and Mary Margaret were night and day in comparison.

“Sorry, it took a while to get into town,” Mary Margaret took a seat on one of the swivel stools on the end, Emma followed. “You know how it is Sunday’s.”

“That’s why I get here at 6 am,” the brunette smirked as she polished off the last fork and walked over to take her apron off. Emma could practically hear the men at the counter sigh.

“Emma, this is Ruby’s grandma’s place, it’s a bit of an institution…”

“Yeah, years ago when the city started the revamp, some developer offered her big money for this place… to turn it into apartments. And she wouldn’t do it.”

Emma looked around. The place was certainly charming. It wasn’t massive, the whole space was cozy. Filled with booths and a jukebox, metal chairs and checkered floors. It was the quintessential small town diner, in a city that had exploded around it.

The swinging doors the led to the area behind the breakfast bar swung open, and much to Emma’s surprise, out walked Killian Jones. Looking more worse for wear than she had ever seen him.

“Morning sunshine,” Ruby said when she noticed him. He had hardly looked up. His black hair a raggedy mess, his eyes fixated on the cup of coffee he was pouring, his feet dragging on the floor. When he finally looked up his eyes landed directly on Emma and she felt her whole body spike in response.

“Rough night?” she said quickly, not knowing what else to say when his gaze was still aimed at her. He was in the outfit she had seen him in yesterday at her house. And now here he was on a Sunday morning, fresh off a one night stand. But why was that any of her business?

“I’ve had better,” he said back.

Emma realized they had company. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Ruby’s gaze, who watched on pensively. She wasn’t sure what pull she felt toward him or why, but it was something. Each time she saw Killian Jones, or thought of him for that matter, that tether got the tiniest bit stronger.

And she caught herself thinking of him more often than she would admit out loud.

“Last I saw you were twelve drinks deep buying another round for a bachelorette party,” Ruby chimed in thankfully, bringing the other two people into the conversation.

Killian’s right hand reached up and scratched behind his ear, a soft hint of red hitting his cheeks. Emma tried to picture him in a bar, buying drinks for women, maybe going home with one of them. And then she stopped there. For whatever reason, her imagination couldn’t go beyond that.

“The bar next door is owned by an old friend of ours,” Mary Margaret leaned into Emma’s ear and said.

“You can get there through those swinging doors,” Ruby pointed. Now she was assembling some sort of sandwich on a plate for Killian. It was an intimate act, prepping someone’s favorite food when they were worse for wear without them even asking. “I’m gonna grab my bag then I’ll be ready to go. Killian, eat something so you don’t look like a zombie all day.”

Ruby handed him the sandwich and almost immediately he leaned over the counter to dig in. His hands wrapped around the buttered biscuit on either side.

“I’m gonna run to the ladies room I’ll be right back,” said Mary Margaret before hurrying off.

Then it was just the two of them.

“I apologize for you having to see me in this state, love,” he said before taking another bite. His face almost immediately perked up at the taste of the greasy sandwich, a feeling Emma knew well. After a late night, a breakfast sandwich was all she ever needed. And back in the day it had been all she could afford.

“It’s ok, I recognize that face…” She used to look like that on Sunday mornings. Before becoming a housewife, she thought but chose not to add.

“Ah, well, I must have missed you out last night.” He smirked.

“Unless you were in my living room watching Lifetime movies, I don’t think we would have crossed paths.”

“Sounds far lovelier than anything I partook in,” he shook his head. Emma smiled, he was oddly an easy person for her to talk to.

“In fairness, this is your side of town, not mine. You were just doing what you do.” Emma didn’t necessarily want to know what it was that he did, and with whom but she tried to remain nonchalant as she toyed with the sleeves of her sweater that peeked out of her jacket. “Unless you don’t do this every weekend….”

He stopped chewing and looked her way, his facial hair grown longer than usual, his eyes foggy from lack of sleep.

“I try not to,” he offered. “Every other Sunday I don’t schedule myself any work.”

“Interesting…” Emma studied him, it felt like he wanted to say more. “That must be hard to do though, especially during this time of year.”

A beat went by, and Emma thought that would be the end of it. It certainly seemed like a nice end point for a conversation between her and her gardener.

“Every other Sunday I go to see my mum.”

“Oh.” It surprised even Emma that he said it. Mostly because he had told her he had lost his parents. “Does she live far away….?”

“It’s about a two hour drive from here.” He stood up, his sandwich gone and the coffee drained from the cup. “I can’t go that often…. She’s in… It’s complicated.”

“I get complicated…” Just as Emma was about to tell him he didn’t have to get into it if he didn’t want, their conversation was cut off by Ruby and Mary Margaret returning to the counter.

“Alright, let’s get me out of here, I’ve already worked a full shift and I need some food truck nachos,” Ruby said.

“Perfect,” Emma replied, standing up from the stool a bit too quickly. It made her nervous, that he felt so comfortable talking to her. Because she was starting to feel it toward him, and she had spent most of her life repressing that sort of thing.

“Killian seems to be doing a bit better these days,” Mary Margaret said a little later when the three of them were walking down a city block with a shared order of pulled pork nachos.

“He has his good days and bad days,” Ruby replied, eating a glob of sour cream off of her finger. “Sunday’s are always tough though, cause he goes to see his mom.”

“It must be brutal.”

“Is she sick or something?” Emma asked. She had never had parents, so she had no idea what it would be like to make a decent drive once a week to visit family. “He was saying it’s hard to visit her…”

“He talked about her with you?” Both Ruby and Mary Margaret stopped walking, their eyes locked on Emma who was not expecting that reaction.

She treaded lightly, nervous to say the wrong thing.

“Just a little bit, before we left the diner when you two weren’t there…”

“Oh,” Ruby said, falling into step again. “He just doesn’t bring her up much.”

Emma wasn’t sure why this felt like such a victory for her. Maybe it was because she enjoyed talking to him, maybe it was something beyond that. Either way she was starting to feel a comfort with Killian Jones that was unlike other dynamics in her life.

“I didn’t know his mother was alive, he had said before that his brother raised him. So I assumed his parents were both-”

“He talked to you about Liam?” The women stopped yet again to look at Emma like she had a third eye.

“Briefly.” Emma went on the defense. Her guard up even though Ruby and Mary Margaret weren’t threatening in any way. But the last thing she needed was her new friends worrying. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“His mom is in prison. For killing his father.”

Now Emma was the one staring wide eyed. His mother had killed his father?

“Ruby…” Mary Margaret interrupted.

“What? It’s public knowledge, if she wanted to look it up she could.” Ruby picked up another chip and ate it. “Besides, it seems he’s more open with her than normal.”

This thought made Emma squirm. Not because she didn’t like being around Killian, she did, but perhaps a little too much. Certainly too much for someone who was for all intents and purposes ‘married’ to someone else.

Later that night, as Emma returned to her new home on Willow Lane, she breezed past Neal’s car parked in the driveway and headed inside where she could already hear him on the phone with someone in his home office. She had stayed out with Ruby and Mary Margaret all day, enjoying the farmer’s market and then eating dinner at Granny’s after. Emma had to admit, it was probably the best grilled cheese she had ever tried.

The entire house smelled like fast food, and Emma crinkled her nose, not that she was opposed to it. Her career as a personal trainer didn’t prohibit her from being human and craving a greasy burger. But it was the mood that accompanied the whole thing. And all of the good feelings that had come as a distraction during the day, were gone.

When Neal caught sight of her from the office, she could see the greasy bag on the edge of the desk. Their eyes locked and his were only filled with contempt. Like he couldn’t fathom the idea of her not being there to cook him.

Ice shot through Emma’s veins at his stare. And then just as quickly as it had happened, it was gone. All of his focus went back to his work. As per usual.

Neal could run late, miss meals, birthdays, take calls at parties, and Emma would say nothing. But the second she fell out of step, he turned nasty.

It had been a while since she had seen it, and standing in the kitchen right now watching through the french doors as he ignored her, she was on her best behavior all the time without realizing it.

“I’m going to bed,” she said coldly, careful to make her steps extra heavy as she made her way upstairs to the bedroom. The sound of the office doors closing made her jump but she kept walking. Not that she would be sleeping anywhere near him tonight. Emma quickly changed and crawled into bed in the guest room.

Emma wondered what it would be like to curl into bed next to a warm body. It was something she felt herself wanting more these days than she cared to admit. Nowadays the only warmth she got was from her pillows.

She rolled over onto her side so she could see out the window. The sky was foggy, so she couldn’t see the stars. Emma reached her hand down between the mattress and the boxspring. For what she had found in Neal’s pants pocket earlier that day when she was doing laundry. The tiny plastic baggie that had been buried underneath his forgotten house keys. It was only a matter of time before he noticed it was gone.

The white powder glistened in the moonlight, the baggie resting between Emma’s fingers. Cocaine. It was his. It had to be. Why else would it have been in his pants pocket that he thought was going to the dry cleaner’s?

She had done her best to forget about it, all day but that was easier said than done. Emma had no idea what to do with it. For now, she would slip it back between the mattresses, rest her head on the down pillow. And for once, allow herself a few minutes to think that somewhere out there, a better life awaited her.

Bookends 1 of 2 (Lovecraft AU)

“So you’re going into space.  Looking forward to your trip, fraulein?”

“No, not really.  Space scares me.  All that vacuum surrounding me and if one little thing goes wrong, poof!”  Kitty clapped her hands together.  “There are no second chances in space.  One mistake and you’re dead.”  She shivered.  “But Jean says that something important is happening, there’s someone there we need to rescue, so to space I go.”

“You can’t stay behind?  Marie and Bobby aren’t going.”  A blob of shadow rested at the foot of her bed like some abyssal hellhound.

“Rogue and Iceman have a different mission they need to attend to.  And the only reason Kelly’s letting us go up in the shuttle at all is because I asked him.  I can’t not go unless we want to break into a government facility, and Mr. Summers is right.  As the most public mutant organization in the US, we can’t afford to have the bad PR that stunt would generate.”

“Take some of the bamfs with you.  If you get into trouble, they can teleport you all back here.  I know you’ve been practicing with them.”

She shook her head.  “Are you kidding?  Can you imagine how much chaos the bamfs could cause in that type of environment?  No, they have to stay home.”

A twitching tail (for sanity’s sake she refused to admit it was another tentacle) wrapped around her wrist.  “Who exactly is going up?”

“Myself, Jean, Cyclops, and Beast.  Storm can’t be in such a closed environment for long due to her claustrophobia, Iceman and Rogue are on a mission already, and Scott doesn’t trust Logan after you ate his mind.  Angel and Colossus can’t fit into the space suits and Dazzler’s on tour.  There’s one more slot to fill, but I can’t think of anyone else I’d actually want up there with me.  I guess the original crew can just throw dice or rock-paper-scissors it to decide which of them also gets to go with us.”

“Hmm, why don’t I go with you?”

“You?  Like any of us are going to trust you in a tense situation like that!”

“I’m hurt, liebling.”  A massive grin split the creature’s face in half.  “If there’s one thing you can trust me for, it’s that I always keep my word.  If I promise to aid you in your mission and not seek any to kill, hurt or traumatize you for the duration, you know my aid would be invaluable.”

She gave him a suspicious glare out of her hazel eyes, but he did have a point.  Everything Yana had told her and all of Jimaine’s books had agreed that the Crawling Chaos took his bargains very seriously.  It wouldn’t prevent him from exploiting loopholes, but as long as it was more entertaining to keep them intact, he could probably be counted on.  Still . . .

“Are you going looking like that?  Because there’s a Dr. Corveau who’s still coming on the mission not to mention the crew of the station.”

“You underestimate me, kinder.”  He sat up, pulled Jimaine Szardos’s face out of thin air, and placed it on the blobby area that might have been a head.  Paralyzed with shock, Kitty watched as the form solidified to a female human’s, the complexion lightened from indigo blue to pale peach and gold hair started growing from the head.

“No!” She shouted.  “Don’t do that!  Not someone we’ve all seen you kill.”

“I have others.”  He pulled the mask off (a scene that was going to repeat itself in Kitty’s nightmares) then conjured another one in its place.  Kitty turned around and closed her eyes, only looking back when the sticky wet noises of the transformation had stopped.

The man who stood there was actually fairly handsome, with pale Caucasian skin, curly black hair and deep blue eyes.  He was maybe a handspan taller than her, and well-muscled although not to the point of absurdity.  His nose and jaw were both a trifle too large for his face, just enough to save his facade from boring perfection.

“You forgot that you’ll need clothes.”

“Oops!”

“Shroud, who’s the last-minute addition to the team?” Cyclops asked as they flew to  Cape Canaveral.  “I hope you didn’t pull one of the students in for this.”

“Er, well, you see . . . “ Her shoulders slumped.  “It’s Nightcrawler.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He wanted to come along!  And it’s not like I can stop him from doing whatever he wants!  At least this way he won’t freak out the Dr. Corveau or the station crew.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t get hungry during the trip.”

“Tschk!  Humans.”  The Crawling Chaos looked at the gas coming through the vents.  “I don’t suppose that idiot will open the door until everyone’s out.  So I guess I’ll just have to come to him instead.”

The black-haired ‘man’ walked over to the inner airlock.  He raised his ‘hands’ and tore through the 2.5 cm thick steel with ease.  On the other side were a couple of mind-controlled humans and a Shi’ar system commander.  Before any of them could react he teleported behind them.  Two swift but restrained blows destroyed the devices on the men’s necks, causing them to pass out.  While Nightcrawler was occupied with that, the Shi’ar dashed into the control room.  The other considered going after him but decided to work on rousing the X-Men instead.  

Once everyone was awake they ran to follow.  “You fools are too late to assist Lilandra!  I’ve detected the incoming portal and armed a cannon to fire on her ship as soon as it emerges!”

Dr. Corveau peered at the screens from behind Cyclops.  “I don’t what’s going on, but the targeting is still manual!  If we destroy the panel, we can prevent him from aiming, though the cannon will still fire!”

“Done!”  Before the Shi’ar could react, Cyclops fired his beams, causing the control board to blow up.  Unfortunately, it overloaded all those circuits and everything around them started sparking and flares appeared on the equipment.

Still, through the window, they could see the portal open up.  A ship of unknown design came through, then a beam of light from the station flashed at it.  To the X-Men’s relief and the Shi’ar’s dismay, the beam only clipped the side of the ship.

“Damn you!” hissed the red-armored alien.  “If I can take her down in my ship, then your efforts will have been in vain!”  With that he turned and ran through one of the side doors, taking two of the still mind-controlled humans with him.

“Dr. Corveau, Shroud, can you get the panel working again?  Maybe we can use the cannon he attached to shoot him down.”  The two technologically inclined members of the mission didn’t even bother looking.

“I think attaching the cannon in the first place did some damage.  Between firing it and you destroying the panel, this station’s about to blow!”

“Back to the shuttle!”  Before anyone could move, black tentacles came up from the ground and grabbed everyone.  There was a loud BAMF, a sensation of heat and pressure, then everyone found themselves on the shuttle.  After a second, the two crewmen who had been helping the Shi’ar at the airlock also showed up, dropped from a black hole that appeared in midair.

“Thank you, Nightcrawler.”  Once they had cleared the station, barely dodging the explosion, Cyclops took stock of the situation.

“Jean, is the pilot of that ship the person we need to rescue from your premonition?”

“She is.”

“Alright, the shuttle doesn’t have any weapons.  I think we can still ram that other ship and interfere with its aim.  Dr. Corveau are you a skilled enough pilot to do that?”

“I am, but why are we doing all this?  We don’t know the person on the ship or the weird psychopath on the station.  Why don’t we just run away?”

“One of my mutant abilities is precognition,” stated Jean, still focused on the battle in front of them.  “I’m not clear on all the details, but I do know we have to rescue the person who came through the wormhole.  Otherwise, the entire Earth will be enslaved.”

“And how accurate are your predictions?”

“Over 80%.  And most of the ones that don’t come true are due to people taking actions based on my prompting.  We don’t want this one to come true.”

“Besides,” broke in Kitty.  “The other guy was definitely mind-controlling the station crew.  That’s evil enough that we should at least give his opponent the benefit of the doubt.”

“Points taken.”  Dr. Corveau steered them towards the pursuing ship.  While they closed in, Cyclops had another idea.  “Nightcrawler, would it be possible for you to teleport the escaping party here?  Then we could just let the other ship blow up and fake his or her death.”

“I cannot.”  The statement was so unexpected it drew every X-Man’s attention.  A flash of sharp teeth warned them from making any derogatory statements.  “Or rather I could, but I choose not to.  Call it professional courtesy.

“I could teleport you to the other ship but I don’t recommend it.  The quarters there are quite cramped and most of you would not survive having your insides melded with inanimate objects.  Shroud perhaps-”

“No.”  Cyclops was firm about this.  “Shroud has the least amount of combat training of all of us.  We’ll try-”

This time it was the ruby-glassed man’s turn to be cut off.  There was a large bang and the shuttle bucked and shuddered.  “I took out the pursuer’s weapons and he’s breaking off the chase, but we’ve got another problem now!”  Shouted Corveau from the cockpit.  Everyone raced back, except for Nightcrawler who sauntered like he had not a care in the world.

“I’ve damaged the steering,” said the physicist, jaw clenched with stress.  “There’s enough to get her down safely but not enough to get us out of the damaged ship’s blowback.”

“Will the other ship come down safely?”

“At this point, that’s up to how sturdily that ship was built and how good the pilot is.  Nothing we can do about it now.”  Cyclops nodded.

“Nightcrawler, can you teleport us back down?”

“Everyone but Jean.”

The taller man snarled.  “Let me guess, professional courtesy again?”

Fangs flashed again, causing Corveau to shrink away.  “Exactly”

“That’s unacceptable!”

“What if we put Jean in the solar module?” asked Beast, trying to head off another argument.  “Then the rest of us could teleport down and we could pick her up after this thing lands.  The module should be good enough to shield her from the radiation.”

“No good,” stated Corveau.  “I mean, the solar module could do that.  But the autopilot of the shuttle is out and someone will need to stay at the controls all the way down.  Whoever’s doing that is going to die.”

“What if we combine the two?”  Jean stepped in at this point.  “Everyone else goes into the solar module, while I stay out here and pilot.  I could take the knowledge of how to fly from Dr. Corveau and shield myself from the radiation with my kinetic abilities.  I’m the only one who has a chance to survive this, other than the obvious.”

“It’s too risky-”

“It’s my decision.”  Jean knocked out her former fiancee, then passed him to Beast.  She reached out to Dr. Corveau.  He hesitated for just a second.  “Are you sure?”

“It’s the only way I have a remote chance of surviving.”

“Alright then.”  He relaxed and let her touch his face, passing out when she was done.

Beast, Shroud, and Nightcrawler carried all the other knocked out humans into the solar module and sealed the door.

Beast and Shroud listened as the module shuddered and transmitted the scream of stressed metal from the outside.  Nightcrawler, on the other hand, continued to watch the door, a sinister smile on his face.

AN: I refuse to do the whole Phoenix Saga.  I don’t like the people involved and it pretty much goes the same way as the 90s cartoon, except Nightcrawler teleports more people and less angst about Jean.  So Part 2 is going to skip ahead to the end.  If anyone wants to write about what happened between the two parts, feel free.